Caf O gods! ye gods! muft I endure all this? Bru. All this? ay, more. Fret till your proud heart break; "Go, fhew your flaves how choleric you are, "And make your bondmen tremble. Muft I budge ? Caf. Is it come to this? Bru. You fay, you are a better foldier; Caf. You wrong me every way - Bru. If you did, I care not. you wrong me... [Brutus ; Caf. When Cæfar liv'd, he durft not thus have mov'd me. E. Peace, peace, you durft not fo have tempted him. Caf. I durft not. Bru. No. Cof. What, durft not tempt him? Bru. For your life you durft not. Caf. Do not prefume too much upon my love I may do that I thall be forry for. Bru. You have done that you fhould be forry for. "There is no terror, Caffius, in your threats; "For I am arm'd fo firong in honesty, "That they pafs by me, as the idle wind, "For certain fums of gold, which you deny'd me ; "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 Should I have anfwer'd Caius Caffius fo? "When Marcus Brutus grows fo covetous, "To lock fuch rafcal counters from his friends, Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts, "Dash him to pieces. 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 should bear a friend's infirmities, 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. Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come! Revenge yourselves alone on Caffius, For Caffius is a-weary of the world; Hated by one he loves; brav'd by his brother; My spirit from mine eyes! There is my dagger, When thou didst hate him worst, thou lov'dst him better Bru. Sheath your dagger; Be angry when you will, it shall have scope; "Do what you will, difhonour fhall be humour.. "O Caffius, you are yoked with a lamb, "That carries anger, as the flint bears fire; "Who much inforced, fhews a hafty fpark, "And ftraight is cold again. Caf. Hath Caffius liv'd To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus,, When grief, and blood ill temper'd vexeth him? Caf. O Brutus ! Bru. What's the matter? Caf. Have you not 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 earnest with your Brutus, SCENE IV. Bru. Lucilius and Titinius, bid the commanders Prepare to lodge their companies to-night. Caf. And come yourselves, and bring Meffala with you Immediately to us. [Exeunt Lucilius and Titinius. Bru. Lucius, a bowl of wine. Caf. I did not think you could have been fo angry. Bru. O Caffius, I am fick of many griefs. Caf. Of your philofophy you make no ufe, • If you give place to accidental evils. Bru. No man bears forrow better-Portia's dead. and leave you fo, Poet. [within.] Let me go in to fee the Genera's; Luc. [within.] You shall not come to them. Enter Paet. Caf. How now? what's the matter! [A noife within Poct. For fhame, you Generals; what do you mean? Love, and be friends, as two fuch men fhould be; For I have feen more years, I'm fure, than ye. Caf. Ha, ha-how vilely doth this cynic rhime! Bru. I'll know his humour, when he knows his time; Caf. Away, away, begone. SCENE, br. [Exit Poet. Gaf. How 'fcaped I killing, when I cross'd you fo? O infupportable and touching lofs! Upon what ficknefs? Bru. Impatient of my abfence; And grief, that young Octavius with Mark Antony Have made themfelves fo ftrong; (for with her death That tidings came, with this the fell diftract, And (her attendants abfent) fwallow'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. Drinks. Gaf. My heart is thirty for that noble pledge. Fill, Lucius, till the wine o'erfwell the cup; I cannot drink too much of Brutus' love. Bru. Come in, Titinius ;-welcome, good Meffala. SCENE V. Enter Titinius and Meffula. Now fit we clofe about this taper here, And call in queftion our neceffities. Caf. O Portia! art thou gone? Mef. Myfelf have letters of the self-fame tenor. Mef. That, by profcription and bills of outlawry, Octavius, Antony, and Lepidus Have put to death an hundred fenators. Bru. Therein our letters do not well agree; Mine speak of fev'nty fenators that dy'd By their profcriptions, Cicero being one, 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? Mef. That methinks is strange. Bru. Why afk you? hear you aught of her in your's? Bru. Now, as you are a Roman, tell me true. With meditating that the muft die once, I have the patience to endure it now. Mef. Ev'n fo great men great loffes should endure. Caf. I have as much of this in art * as you; But yet my nature could not bear it fo. Bru. Well, to our work alive. What do you think Of marching to Philippi presently? Caf. I do not think it good. Bru. Your reafon? Gaf. This it is: 'Tis better that the enemy feek us; So fhall he wafte his means, weary his foldiers, Doing himself offence; whilft we lying ftill, Are full of reft, defence, and nimbleness. Bru. Good reafons muft of force give place to better. The people 'twixt Philippi and this ground, Do ftand but in a forc'd affection; For they have grudg'd us contribution. Come on refresh'd, new added, and encourag'd; If at Philippi we do face him there, 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 caufe is ripe We, at the height, are ready to decline.. • art, for philofophy,. |