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. [Exeunt Lucilius and Titinius.

Bru.
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. Porcia's dead.

Cas.
Ha! Porcia!—

Bru.
She is dead.

Cas.
How 'scap'd I killing, when I crost 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 dy'd so?

Bru.
Even so.

Cas.
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, Cassius. [Drinks.

Cas.
My heart is thirsty for that noble pledge.
Fill, Lucius, 'till the wine o'er-swell the cup;
I cannot drink too much of Brutus' love.

Bru.
Come in, Titinius.—Welcome, good Messala.

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