Did I fay better? Bru. If you did, I care not. Caf. When Cæfar liv'd he durft not thus have mov'd me. Bru. Peace, peace, you durft not so have tempted him. Caf. I durft not! Bru, No. Caf. What? durft not tempt him! Bru. For life Caf. Do not prefume too much upon my love, Bru. You have done that you fhould be forry for. That they pafs by me, as the idle wind, By heaven, I had rather coin my heart, And drop my blood for drachma's, than, to wring To you for gold to pay my legions, Which you denied me; was that done like Caffius? When Marcus Bratus grows fo covetous, To lock fuch rafcal counters from his friends, Caf. I deny'd you not. Bru. You did. Caf. I did not- he was but a fool That brought my answer back-Brutus hath riv'd my heart. A friend fhould bear a friend's infirmities, But Brutus makes mine greater than they are. Bru. I do not will you practise that on me? Caf. You love me not. Bru. I do not like your faults, Caf. A friendly eye could never fee fuch faults. Bru. A flatt'rer's would not, tho' they do appear As huge as high Olympus. Caf. Caf. Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come! Revenge your felves alone on Caffius, For Caffius is a weary of the world; Hated by one he loves, brav'd by his brother, My fpirit from mine eyes!-There is my dagger, Bru. Sheath your dagger; Be angry when you will, it shall have scope; Caf. Hath Caffius liv'd To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus, Caf. O Brutus! Bru. What's the marter? Caf. Have not you love enough to bear with me, When that rafh humour which my mother gave me Makes me forgetful? Bru. Yes, Caffius, and from henceforth When you are over-earneft with your Brutus, and leave you fo. Enter Lucius and Titinius, and a Poet. Poet. Let me go in to fee the Generals, There is fome grudge between 'em, 'tis not meet They be alone. Lue. SCENE IV. Enter Lucilius and Titinius. Bru. Lucilius and Titinius, bid the commanders Prepare to lodge their companies to-night. Caf. And come your felves, and bring Messala with you Caf. I did not think you could have been so angry. Bru. No man bears forrow better- Portia's dead. Bru. She is dead. Caf. How 'fcap'd I killing, when I croft you so ? Bru. Impatient of my abfence, And grief, that young Octavius with Mark Antony And (her attendants abfent) swallow'd fire. Caf. And dy'd fo? Bru. Even fo. Caf. O ye immortal Gods! Enter Lucius with Wine and Tapers. Bru. Speak no more of her: give me a bowl of wine. In this I bury all unkindness, Caffius. Caf. My heart is thirfty for that noble pledge. Luc. You fhall not come to them. Poet. For fhame, you Genera's; what do you mean? Caf. Ha, ha how vilely doth this Cynick rhime! Bru. I'll know his humour, when he knows his time; Caj. Away, away, be gone. Bru. Lucilius and Titinius, &c. [Drinks. (Exit Pu Fill, Lucius, 'till the wine o'er-fwell the cup; SCENE V. Enter Titinius and Meffala. Bru. Come in, Titinius; welcome, good Meffala! Mef. My felf have letters of the self-same tenour. Mef. That by profcriptions, and bills of outlawry Have put to death an hundred Senators. Bru. Therein our letters do not well agree; Caf. Cicero one? -- Mef. Cicero is dead; and by that order of profcription. Had you your letters from your wife, my Lord? Bru. No, Meffala. Mef. Nor nothing in your letters writ of her? Bru. Nothing, Meffala. Mef. That, methinks, is ftrange. Bru. Why afk you? hear you ought of her in yours? Bru. Now, as you are a Roman, tell me true. I have the patience to endure it now. Mef. Ev'n fo great men great loffes fhould endure. But yet my nature could not bear it fo. Bru. Well, to our work alive, What do you think Of Of marching to Philippi presently? Caf. I do not think it good. Caf. This it is: 'Tis better that the enemy feek us, So fhall he wafte his means, weary his foldiers, Bru. Good reafons muft of force give place to better. For they have grudg'd us contribution. These people at our back. Caf. Hear me, good brother Bru. Under your pardon. You must note befide, That we have try'd the utmost of our friends, Our legions are brim-full, our cause is ripe ; The enemy encreaseth every day, We, at the height, are ready to decline. Which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; And we must take the current when it serves, Caf. Then with your will, go on: we will along Bru. The deep of night is crept upon our talk, And nature muft obey neceffity, Which we will niggard with a little rest. There is no more to fay. Caf. No more; good night; Early to-morrow we will rife, and hence. Enter |