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Must I observe you? Must I stand and crouch
Under your testy humour? By the gods,
You shall digest the venom of your spleen,
Though it do split you: for, from this day forth,
I'll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter,
When you are waspish.

Cas. Is it come to this?
540. Bru. You say you are a better soldier:

Let it appear so; make your vaunting true,
And it shall please me well. For mine own part,

I shall be glad to learn of abler men. 541. Cas. You wrong me every way, you wrong me, Brutus;

I said an elder soldier, not a better:
Did I say better?
Bru. If you did, I care not.
Cas. When Cæsar lived he durst not thus have moved

me.

Bru. Peace, peace; you durst not so have tempted

him.
Cas. I durst not?
Bru. No.
Cas. What? durst not tempt him?
Bru. For your life you durst not.

Cas. Do not presume too much upon my love: I may do that I shall be sorry for. 550. Bru. You have done that you should be sorry for.

There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats:
For I am armed 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;
For I can raise no money by vile means :
By heaven, I had rather coin my heart,
And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring
From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash
By any indirection. I did send
To you for gold to pay my legions,
Which you denied me. Was that done like Cassius?
Should I have answered 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 !

Cas. I denied you not.

Bru. You did. 553.

Cas. I did not: — - he was but a fool
That brought my answer back. - Brutus hath rived my

heart:
A friend should bear his friend's infirmities,
But Brutus makes mine greater than they are.

Bru. I do not, till you practise them on me.
Cas. You love me not.
Bru. I do not like your faults.

Cas. A friendly eye could never see such faults. 558. Bru. A flatterer's would not, though they do appear

As huge as high Olympus.
559. Cas. Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come,

Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius !
For Cassius is aweary of the world :
Hated by one he loves; braved by his brother;
Checked like a bondman; all his faults observed,
Set in a note-book, learned and conned by rote,
To cast into my teeth. O, 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 beest a Roman, 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 lovedst him better

Than ever thou lovedst Cassius. 560. Bru. Sheathe your dagger:

Be angry when you will, it shall have scope;
Do what you will, dishonor 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. 561. Cas. Hath Cassius lived

To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus,
When grief, and blood ill-tempered, vexeth him?

Bru. When I spoke that, I was ill-tempered too.

Cas. Do you confess so much? Give me your hand.
Bru. And my heart too.
Cas. O Brutus! -

Bru. What's the matter?
567. Cas. Have not you love enough to bear with me,

When that rash humour which my mother gave me

Makes me forgetful?
568. Bru. Yes, Cassius; and from henceforth,

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

[Noise within. - 569. Poet. [Within.] Let me go in to see the generals :

There is some grudge between 'em; 'tis not meet

They be alone. 570. Lucil. [Within.] You shall not come to them. Poet. [Within.] Nothing but death shall stay me.

Enter PoET. Cas. How now? What's the matter? 573. 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'm sure, than ye. 574 Cas. Ha, ha! how vilely doth this Cynic rhyme!

Bru. Get you hence, sirrah! saucy fellow, hence!

Cas. Bear with him, Brutus; 'tis his fashion. 577. Bru. I'll know his humour when he knows his time.

What should the wars do with these jigging fools?
Companion, hence!
Cas. Away! away, be gone!

[Exit Poet.

Enter LUCILIUS and TITINIUS. 579. Bru. Lucilius and Titinius, bid the commanders

Prepare to lodge their companies to-night. 580. 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 hav 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. 588. Cas. How 'scaped I killing, when I crossed you so?

O insupportable and touching loss! –

Upon what sickness?
589. 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, swallowed fire.

Cas. And died so?

Bru. Even so. 592. 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'erswell the cup;
I cannot drink too much of Brutus' love. [Drinks.

Re-enter TITINIUS, with MESSALA. 595. Bru. Come in, Titinius. – Welcome, good Messala. —

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

Cas. Portia, art thou gone? 597. Bru. 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.
598. Mes. Myself have letters of the self-same tenour.

Bru. With what addition ?
600. 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:
Mine speak of seventy senators that died
By their proscriptions, Cicero being one.

Cas. Cicero one? 603. Mes. Cicero is dead,

And by that order of proscription. —
Had you your letters from your wife, my lord?

Bru. No, Messala.
Mes. Nor nothing in your letters writ of her?
Bru. Nothing, Messala.
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 dead, and by strange manner. 612. 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. 614. Cas. I have as much of this in art as you,

But yet my nature could not bear it so. 615. Bru. Well, to our work alive. What do you think Of marching to Philippi presently?

Cas. I do not think it good.

Bru. Your reason? 618. Cas. 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. 619. Bru. Good reasons must, of force, give place to better.

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

Cas. Hear me, good brother. 621. Bru. Under your pardon. —You must note beside,

That we have tried the utmost of our friends :

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