For fo much trash, as may be grafped thus ? Caf. Brutus, bay not me, I'll not endure it; you forget your felf, Bru. Go to; you are not Caffius. Bru. I fay, you are not. Caf. Urge me no more, I fhall forget my felfHave mind upon your health-tempt me no farther. Bru. Away, flight man! Caf. Is't poffible? Bru. Hear me, for I will speak. Muft I give way and room to your rafh choler? Caf. O Gods! ye Gods! must I endure all this? Bru. All this! ay, more. Fret, 'till your proud heart break; Go, fhew your flaves how cholerick 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 Brutus ; I faid, an elder foldier; not a better. Did I fay, better? Bru. If you did, I care not. you wrong me, Caf. When Cafar liv'd, he durft not thus have mov'd me. Bru, Bru. Peace, peace, you durft not fo have tempted him. Caf. I durft not! Bru. No. Caf. 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 fhall be forry for. Bru. You have done that, you should be forry for. That they pafs by me, as the idle wind, To you for gold to pay my legions, Which you denied me; was that done like Caffius? When Marcus Brutus grows fo covetous, To lock such rascal counters from his friends, 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 fhould bear a friend's infirmities, But Brutus makes mine greater than they are. 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 O&avius, come; Revenge Revenge your felves alone on Caffius, Hated by one he loves; brav'd by his brother; My fpirit from mine eyes!-There is my dagger, When thou didst hate him worft, thou lov'dft him better Than ever thou lov'dft Caffius. Bru. Sheath your dagger; Be angry when you will, it fhall have scope; Caf. Hath Caffius liv'd To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus, · 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, [A noife within. Poet within. Let me go in to fee the Generals; There is fome grudge between 'em, 'tis not meet They be alone. Luc. Luc. within. You fhall not come to them. 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? Caf. Away, away, begone. Enter Lucilius, and Titinius. [Exit Poet. Bru. Lucilius and Titinius, bid the commanders Prepare to lodge their companies to night. Caf. And come your felves, and bring Messala 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 use, If you give place to accidental evils. Bru. No man bears forrow better-Porcia's dead. Caf. Ha! Porcia! Bru. She is dead. Caf. How 'fcap'd I killing, when I croft you fo? O infupportable and touching lofs! Upon what fickness ? Bru. Impatient of my absence; 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 abfent) swallow'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 thirsty 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 Meala. Now fit we close about this taper here, Mef. My felf have letters of the felf-fame tenour. Mef. That by Profcription and bills of Outlawry, Otavius, 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. 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, Meffala. 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 she is dead, and by strange manner. Bru. |