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I, that deny'd thee gold, will give my heart;
Strike as thou didft at Cefar; for I know,

When thou didst hate him worst, thou lov'dst him better

Than ever thou lov'dft Caffius.

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 yoaked with a Lamb,
"That carries anger, as the flint bears fire;
"Who, much enforced, fhews a hasty spark,
"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?
Bru. When I fpoke that, I was ill-temper'd too.
Caf. Do you confefs fo much? give me your hand.
Bru. And my heart too.
[Embracing.

Caf. O Brutus!

Bru. What's the matter?

Caf. Have you not love enough to bear with me, When that rash humour, which my mother gave me, Makes me forgetful?

Bru. Yes, Caffius, and from henceforth

When you are over-earneft with your Brutus,
He'll think, your mother chides, and leave you fo.

[A noife within.

Poet. [within.] Let me go in to fee the Generals;

time, provoked and exafperated at the other's reproaches, he upbraids him with the feverity of his temper, that would pardon nothing, but always aimed at the life of the offender; and delighted in his blood, tho' a Roman, and attached to him by the strongest bonds of alliance; hereby obliquely infinuating the case of Cafar. The fenfe being thus explained, it is evident we fhould read,

If that thou NEEDST A ROMAN's, take it forth. i. e. if nothing but another Roman's death can fatisfy the unrelenting severity of your temper, take my life as you did Cafar's.

There

There is some grudge between 'em, 'tis not meet
They be alone.

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

Enter Poet,

Caf. How now? what's the matter?

Poet. For fhame, you Generals; what do you mean? Love, and be friends, as two fuch men fhould be; For I have seen more years, I'm fure, than ye. Caf. Ha, ha-how vilely doth this Cynick rhime! Bru. Get you hence, firrah; faucy fellow, hence. Caf. Bear with him, Brutus, 'tis his fashion.

Bru. I'll know his humour, when he knows his
time;

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

Caf. Away, away, begone.

[Exit Poet.

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 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-Porcia's dead.
Caf. Ha! Porcia!

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Bru. She is dead.

Caf. How 'fcap'd I killing, when I croft you fo? Qinfupportable and touching lofs!

Upon

Upon what fickness?

Bru. Impatient of my abfence;'

And grief, that young Octavius with Mark Antony Have made themselves fo ftrong: (for with her death That tydings came) With this the fell distract,

And (her Attendants absent) fwallow'd fire.

Caf. And dy'd fo?

Bru. Even fo.

Caf. O ye immortal Gods!

Enter Boy with Wine and Tapers.

Bru. Speak no more of her: give me a bowl of wine. In this I bury all unkindness, Caffius.

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

Bru. Come in, Titinius ;-welcome, good Meffala.

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Now fit we close about this taper here,
And call in queftion our neceffities.
Caf. O Porcia! art thou gone?
Bru. No more, I pray you.-
Meffala, I have here received letters,
That young Octavius, and Mark Antony,
Come down upon us with a mighty Power,
Bending their expedition tow'rd Philippi.

Mef. My felf have letters of the felf-fame tenour,
Bru. With what addition ?

Mef. That by Profcription and bills of Outlawry, Octavius, Antony, and Lepidus

Have put to death an hundred Senators.

Bru. Therein our letters do not well agree;
Mine fpeak of fev❜nty Senators that dy'd
By their Profcriptions, Cicero being one.

Caf

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, Mellala.

Mef. That, methinks, is ftrange.

Bru. Why ask you? hear you aught of her in yours? Mef. No, my lord.

Bru. Now, as you are a Roman, tell me true. Mef. Then like a Roman bear the truth I tell; For certain fhe is dead, and by strange manner. Bru. Why, farewel, Porcia-we must die, Messala. With meditating that the muft die once,

I have the patience to endure it now.

Mef. Ev'n fo great men great loffes fhould 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

Of marching to Philippi prefently?

Caf. I do not think it good.

Bru. Your reafon ?

Caf. This it is:

'Tis better, that the enemy feek us;

you

think

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.
The enemy, marching along by them,
By them fhall make a fuller number up,
Come on refresht, new added, and encourag'd;

9 I have as much of this in art, as you,] i. e. I have as much of that affiftance which Philosophy affords as you have. Art for Philofophy.

From

From which advantage fhall we cut him off,
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 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,

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

Is bound in fhallows, and in miferies.
• On fuch a full fea are we now a-float:
And we must take the current when it ferves,
• Or lose our ventures,

;

Caf. Then, with your will, go on: we will along Our felves, and meet them at Philippi.

Bru. The deep of night is crept upon our talk,

And nature must obey neceffity;

Which we will niggard with a little rest.

There is no more to say.

Caf. No more; good night;

Early to morrow will we rife, and hence.

Enter Lucius.

Bru. Lucius, my gown; farewel, good Meffala, Good night, Titinius: noble, noble Caffius,

Good night, and good repofe.

Caf. O my dear brother!

This was an ill beginning of the night:
Never come fuch divifion 'tween our fouls;

Let it not, Brutus !

Enter Lucius with the Gown.

Bru. Ev'ry thing is well.

Tit. Mella. Good night, lord Brutus.

Bru.

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