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When thou didst hate him worst, thou loy'dst him

better Than ever thou lov'dst Cassius. Bru.

Sheath your dagger Be angry when you will, it shall have scope; Do what you will, dishonour shall be humour. O Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb That carries anger, as the flint bears fire; Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark, And straight is cold again. Cas.

Hath Cassius liv'd To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus, When grief, and blood ill-temper'd, vexeth him?

Bru. When I spoke that, I was ill temper'd too. Cas. Do you confess so much ? Give me your

hand. Bru. And

heart too,

O Brutus!

What's the matter? Cas. Have you not love enough to bear with me, When that rash humour, which my mother gave

me, Makes me forgetful? Bru.

Yes, Cassius; and, henceforth,
When you are over-earnest with your Brutus,
He'll think

mother chides, and leave you so.

[Noise within. Poet. [within.] Let me go in to see the generals; There is some grudge between them, 'tis not meet They be alone.


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Luc. [within.] 'You shall not come to them.
Poet. [within.] Nothing but death shall stay me.

Enter Poet.

Cas. How now? What's the matter?
Poet. For shame, you generals; What do you

mean? Love, and be friends, as two such men should be; For I have seen more years, I am sure, than ye.

Cas. Ha, ha; how vilely doth this cynic rhime!
Bru. Get you hence, sirrah; saucy fellow, hence.
Cas. Bear with him, Brutus ; 'tis his fashion.
Bru. I'll know his humour, when he knows his

What should the wars do with these jigging fools?
Companion, hence.

Away, away, be gone. [Exit Poet. Enter LUCILIUS and TITINIUS. Bru. Lucilius and Titinius, bid the commanders Prepare to lodge their companies to-night. Cas. And come yourselves, and bring Messala with

you Immediately to us.

[Exeunt Lucilius and Titinius. Bru.

Lucius, a bowl of wine. Cas. I did not think, you could have been so

angry. Bru. O Cassius, I am sick of many griefs.

Cas. Of your philosophy you make no use, If you give place to accidental evils.

Bru. No man bears sorrow better :-Portia is dead.
Cas. Ha! Portia ?
Bru. She is dead.
Cas. How scap'd I killing, when I cross'd you

O insupportable and touching loss !-
Upon what sickness ?
· Bru.

Impatient of my absence; And grief, that young Octavius with Mark Antony Have made themselves so strong ;--for with her

That tidings came; -With this she fell distract,
And, her attendants absent, swallow'd fire 33

Cas. And died so ?
Bru. Even so.
Cas. 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, Cassius. [Drinks.

Cas. My heart is thirsty for that noble pledge:Fill, Lucius, till the wine o'er-swell the cup; I cannot drink too much of Brutus' love. [Drinks.

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Re-enter TITINIUS, with MESSALA. Bru. Some in, Titinius :-Welcome, good Mes

sala, Now sit we close about this taper here, And call in question our necessities.



Cas. Portia! art thou gone ? -

No more, I pray you.
Messala, I have here received letters,
That young Octavius, and Mark Antony,
Come down upon us with a mighty power,
Bending their expedition toward Philippi.

Mes. Myself have letters of the self-same tenour. Bru. With what addition?

Mes. That by proscription, and bills of outlawry,
Octavius, Antony, and Lepidus,
Have put to death an hundred senators.

Brų. Therein our letters do not well agree;
Mine speak of seventy senators, that died
By their proscriptions, Cicero being one.

Cus. Cicero one?

Ay, Cicero is dead,
And by that order of proscription.-
Had you your

letters from

your wife,
Bru. No, Messala.
Mes. Nor nothing in your letters writ of her?
Bru. Nothing, Messala.

That, methinks, is strange.
Bru. Why ask you? Hear you aught of her in

Mes. No, my lord.
Bru. Now, as you are a Roman, tell me true.

Mes. Then like a Roman bear the truth I tell :
For certain she is dead, and by strange manner.
Bru. Why, farewell, Portia.--We must die,

Messala :

e, my lord?


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With meditating that she must die once,
I have the patience to endure it now.
Mes. Even so great men great losses should en-

Cas. I have as much of this in art as you,
But yet my nature could not bear it so.
Bru. Well, to our work alive. What do you

Of marching to Philippi presently?

Cas. I do not think it good.

Your reason?

This it is:
'Tis better, that the enemy seek us:
So shall he waste his means, weary his soldiers,
Doing himself offence; whilst we, lying still,
Are full of rest, defence, and nimbleness.
Bru. Good reasons must, of force, give place to

The people, 'twixt Philippi and this ground,
Do stand but in a forc'd affection;
For they have grudg'd us contribution :
The enemy, marching along by them,
By them shall make a fuller number up,
Come on refresh d, new-added, and encourag'd;
From which advantage shall we cut him off,
If at Philippi we do face him there,
These people at our back.

Hear me, good brother.
Bru. Under your pardon.--You must note beside,


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