For I am arm'd so strong in honesty,
That they pass by me as the idle wind
Which I respect not. I did send to you

For certain sums of gold, which you denied me:
Was that done like Cassius?

Should I have answer'd Caius Cassius so?
When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous,
To lock such rascal counters from his friends,
Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts,
Dash him to pieces!

[Cassius.] I denied you not.

[Brutus.] You did.

[Cassius.] I did not: he was but a fool

That brought my answer. You have riv'd my heart:
A friend should bear a friend's infirmities,

But Brutus makes mine greater than they are.

[Brutus.] I do not: still you practise them on me. [Cassius.] You love me not.

[Brutus.] I do not like your faults.

[Cassius.] A friendly eye could never see such faults. [Brutus.] A flatterer's would not, though they did appear As huge as high Olympus.

[Cassius.] Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come, Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius;

For Cassius is a weary of the world:

Hated by one he loves; brav'd by his brother;
Check'd like a bondman; all his faults observ'd,
Set in a note-book, learn'd and conn'd by rote
To cast into his teeth. Oh, I could weep
My spirit from mine eyes!--There is my dagger,
And here my naked breast; within, a heart
Dearer than Plutus' mine, richer than gold:
If that thou needst a Roman's, take it forth;
I that denied thee gold, will give my heart;
Strike as thou didst at Cæsar; for I know

When thou didst hate him worst, thou lov'dst him better
Than even thou lov'dst Cassius.

[Brutus.] Sheathe 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,
Which, much enforced, shows a hasty spark,
And straight is cold again!

[Cassius.] Hath Cassius liv'd

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

[Brutus.] Cassius,

When I spoke that, I was ill-temper'd too.

[Cassius.] Do you confess so much? Give me yonr hand. [Brutus.] And my heart too.

[Cassius.] O, Brutus!

Have you not love enough to bear with me,

When that rash humour which my mother gave me,
Makes me forgetful?

[Brutus.] Yes, Cassius; and henceforth,

When you are over-earnest with your Brutus,
He'll think your mother chides, and leave you so.
Lucius! -a bowl of wine.

[Cassius.] I did not think you could have been so angry. [Brutus.] O, Cassius! I am sick of many griefs.

[Cassius.] Does Brutus yield to accidental evils?
You make no use of your philosophy,
If thus you do give way.

[dead.

[Brutus.] No man bears sorrow better: [a pause.] Portia's

[Cassius.] Portia ? Portia dead!

How scap'd I killing when I cross'd you so?
-Upon what sickness?

[Brutus.] Impatient of my absence,—

Grieving that young Octavius and Mark Antony
Had made themselves so strong,-she fell distract,
And her attendants absent, swallowed fire:
-Nay, speak no more of her: ho! Lucius ho!
The bowl of wine: 'tis well: give it me here.
In this I bury all unkindness, Cassius.

[Cassius.] My heart is thirsty for that noble pledge:
Fill, Lucius, till the wine o'erswell the cup:
I cannot drink too much of Brutus' love.

[Brutus.] Now, Cassius, let our officers come in,
And sit we close about the taper here,
To call in question our necessities.

Come in, Titinius; welcome, good Messála:
Sit, gentlemen-we pray you, take your seats.
Messala, I have here received letters,
That young Octavius and Mark Antony
Come down upon us with a mighty power,
Bending their expedition towa'rd Philippi.
What, therefore, think you, Cassius,
Of marching to Philippi presently?

[Cassius.] I do not think it good.

[Brutus.] Your reason?

[Cassius.] This it is:

'Tis better that the enemy seek us:

So shall he waste his means, weary his soldiers,
Doing himself offence; while we, lying still,
Are full of rest, defence, and nimbleness.

[Brutus.] Good reasons must, of force, give place to better. 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 further 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-

[Cassius.] But hear me, brother,

[Brutus.] Nay, pardon me: we ought to note besides,
That we have tried the utmost of our friends;
Or legions are brim full, our cause is ripe :
The enemy increaseth every day;

We, at the height, are ready to decline.
There is a tide in the affairs of men,

Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
Omitted, all the voyage of their life

Is bound in shallows and in miseries.
On such a full tide are we now afloat,

And we must take the current while it serves,
Or lose our ventures.

[Cassius.] Then, with your will, go on;

I will along, and meet you at Philippi.

[Brutus.] Thus are we well agreed.

The deep of night hath crept upon our talk,
And nature must obey necessity.

There is no more to say?

[Cassius.] No more; good night:

Early to-morrow will we rise, and hence.

[Brutus.] Noble, noble Cassius,

Good night, and good repose.

[Cassius.] O, my dear Brutus!

This was an ill beginning of the night:
Never come such division 'twixt our souls,-
Let it not, brother.

[Brutus.] All is well, Cassius. Farewell every one.
Lucius, before I sleep,

Canst touch thy instrument a strain or two?

[a pause.]

What, thou speakst drowsily: I blame thee not:

Canst thou hold up thy heavy eyes a while,

And take thy instrument?

[Lucius.] An't please you, sir.

[Brutus.] I trouble thee too much, but thou art willing.

[Lucius.] It is my duty, sir.

[Brutus.] I should not urge thy duty past thy strength: I know young bloods look for a time of rest.

[Lucius.] I ha've slept, my lord, already.

[Brutus.] It was well done; and thou shalt sleep again; I will not hold thee long: if I do live,

I will be good to thee.

[slumber, This is a sleepy tune. [a pause.] O murderous Layst thou thy leaden mace upon my boy

That plays the music? Gentle knave, good night:
I will not do thee so much wrong to wake thee.
If thou dost nod, thou breakst thy instrument,
I'll take it from thee; and, good boy, good night!
My book?-'tis here:-is not the leaf turned down
Where I left reading? this it is, I think.

How ill this taper burns!-Ha! who comes here?
I think it is the weakness of mine eyes
That shapes this monstrous apparition.

It comes upon me :-art thou anything?

Art thou some god, some angel, or some devil,
That mak'st my blood cold, and my hair to start?
Speak to me,-what art thou?

[Spirit.] Thine evil spirit, Brutus.

[Brutus.] Why comest thou?

[Spirit.] To tell thee, thou shalt see me at Philippi.

[Brutus.] Why, at Philippi I will see thee then.
Now I have taken heart thou vanishest.
Ill spirit, I would hold more talk with thee.
-Lucius, didst dream just now?

[Lucius.] My lord?