Cas. [Exit Poet. Away, away, be gone. 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. Bru. [Exeunt LUCILIUS and TITINIUS. 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 so? 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 death That tidings came; With this she fell distract, And, her attendants absent, swallow'd fire. 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 In this I bury all unkindness, Cassius. [Drinks. Cas. 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. [Drinks. Re-enter TITINIUS, with MESSALA. Bru. Come in, Titinius: Welcome, good Mes sala. Now sit we close about this taper here, Bru. Mes. Myself have letters of the self-same tenour Mes. That by proscription, and bills of outlawry, Octavius, Antony, and Lepidus, Have put to death an hundred senators. Bru. Therein our letters do not well agree; Mes. Ay, Cicero is dead, Had you your letters from your wife, my lord? Mes. Nor nothing in your letters writ of her? Mes. That, methinks, is strange.. Bru. Why ask you? Hear you aught of her in yours? 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: With meditating that she must die once, I have the patience to endure it now. Mes. Even so great men great losses should endure. 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 think Of marching to Philippi presently? Cas. I do not think it good. Bru. Cas. Your reason? This it is: 'Tis better, that the enemy seek us: So shall he waste his means, weary his soldiers, Bru. Good reasons must, of force, give place to better. The people, 'twixt Philippi and this ground, For they have grudg'd us contribution: These people at our back. Cas. Hear me, good brother. Bru. Under your pardon. You must note be side, That we have try'd the utmost of our friends, The enemy increaseth every day, We, at the height, are ready to decline. 5 Theory, Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; Cas. Which we will niggard with a little rest. Cas. No more. Good night; Early to-morrow will we rise, and hence. Bru. Lucius, my gown. [Exit LUCIUS.] Farewell, good Messala; Good night, Titinius:- Noble, noble Cassius, Good night, and good repose. Cas. my dear brother! This was an ill beginning of the night: Never come such division 'tween our souls! Tit. Mess. Good night, lord Brutus. Bru. Re-enter LUCIUS, with the Gown. Give me the gown. Where is thy instrument? Luc. Here in the tent. Bru. What, thou speak'st drowsily? Poor knave, I blame thee not; thou art o'er-watch'd. Call Claudius, and some other of my men; Enter VARRO and CLAUdius. Var. Calls my lord? Bru. I pray you, sirs, lie in my tent, and sleep; It may be, I shall raise you by and by On business to my brother Cassius. Var. So please you, we will stand, and watch your pleasure. Bru. I will not have it so: lie down, good sirs; It may be, I shall otherwise bethink me. Look, Lucius, here's the book I sought for so; I put it in the pocket of my gown. [Servants lie down. Luc. I was sure, your lordship did not give it me. Bru. Bear with me, good boy, I am much for getful. Canst thou hold up thy heavy eyes awhile, Bru. Bru. I should not urge thy duty past thy might; I know, young bloods look for a time of rest. Luc. I have slept, my lord, already. Bru. It is well done; and thou shalt sleep again; I will not hold thee long: if I do live, I will be good to thee. [Musick, and a Song. This is a sleepy tune: O murd'rous slumber! Lay'st thou thy leaden mace 6 upon my boy, That plays thee musick?-Gentle knave, good night; I will not do thee so much wrong to wake thee. down, Where I left reading? Here it is, I think. [He sits down. 6 Sceptrc. |