Cas.
That you have wrong'd me doth appear in this:
You have condemn'd and noted Lucius Pella
For taking bribes here of the Sardians;
Wherein ^note my letters, praying on his side,
Because I knew the man, were ^note slighted off ^note.

Bru.
You wrong'd yourself to write in such a case ^note.

Cas.
In such a time as this it is not meet
That every nice offence should bear his ^note comment.

Bru.
Let ^note me tell you, Cassius, you yourself
Are much condemn'd to have an itching palm,
To sell and mart your offices for gold
To undeservers.

Cas.
I ^note an itching palm!
You know that you are Brutus that speaks ^note this,
Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last.

Bru.
The name of Cassius honours this corruption,
And chastisement doth ^note therefore hide his ^note head.

Cas.
Chastisement!

Bru.
Remember March, the ides of March remember:
Did not great Julius bleed for justice' ^note sake?
What villain touch'd his body, that did stab,

And not for justice? What, shall one of us,
That struck the foremost man of all this world
But for supporting robbers, shall we now
Contaminate our fingers with base bribes,
And sell the mighty space of our large honours
For so much trash as may be grasped thus?
I had rather be a dog, and bay ^note the moon,
Than such a Roman.

Cas.
Brutus, bait ^note not me;
I'll not endure it: you forget yourself,
To hedge me in; I ^note am a soldier, I,
Older in practice, abler than yourself
To make conditions.

Bru.
Go to ^note; you are not, Cassius ^note.

Cas.
I am.

Bru.
I say ^note you are not.

Cas.
Urge me no more, I shall forget myself;
Have mind upon your health, tempt me no farther ^note.

Bru.
Away, slight man!

Cas.
Is't possible?

Bru.
Hear me, for I will speak.
Must I give way and room to your rash choler?
Shall I be frighted when a madman stares?

Cas.
O ye gods ^note, ye gods! must I endure all this?

Bru.
All this! ay, more: fret till your proud heart break;
Go show your slaves how choleric you are,
And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge ^note?
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 ^note 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?

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 noble ^note men.

Cas.
You wrong me every way; you ^note wrong me, Brutus ^note;
I said, an elder ^note soldier, not a better:
Did I say, better ^note?

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.

Bru.
You have done that you should be sorry for.
There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats;
For I am arm'd 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 ^note. I did send
To you for gold to pay my legions,
Which you denied me: was that done like Cassius?

Should I have answer'd 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 ^note him to pieces!

Cas.
I denied you not.

Bru.
You did.

Cas.
I did not: he was but a fool
That brought my ^note answer back ^note. Brutus hath rived my heart:
A friend should bear his ^note friend's infirmities,
But Brutus makes mine greater than they are.

Bru.
I do not, till ^note you practise them on me. ^note

Cas.
You love me not.

Bru.
I do not like your faults.

Cas.
A friendly eye could never see such faults.

Bru.
A flatterer's would not, though they do ^note appear
As huge as high Olympus.

Cas.
Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come,
Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius,
For Cassius is a-weary of the world;
Hated by one he loves; braved by his brother;
Check'd like a bondman; all his faults observed,
Set in a note-book, learn'd and conn'd by rote,
To cast into my ^note 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' ^note mine, richer than gold:
If that thou be'st a Roman ^note, 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.

Bru.
Sheath ^note your dagger:
Be angry when you will, it shall have scope;
Do what you will, dishonour shall be humour ^note.
O Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb ^note,
That carries anger as the flint bears fire,
Who ^note, much enforced, shows a hasty spark
And straight is cold again.

Cas.
Hath Cassius lived
To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus,
When grief and blood ill-temper'd ^note vexeth him?

Bru.
When I spoke that, I was ill-temper'd too.

Cas.
Do you confess so much? Give me your hand. ^note

Bru.
And my heart too.

Cas.
O Brutus!

Bru.
What's the matter?

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

Bru.
Yes, Cassius, and from ^note henceforth,
When you are over-earnest with your Brutus,
He'll think your mother chides, and leave you so.

Poet. [Within ^note]
Let me go in to see the generals;
There is some grudge between 'em ^note; 'tis not meet
They be alone.

Lucil. [Within ^note]
You shall not come to them.

Poet. [Within ^note]
Nothing but death shall stay me. Enter Poet, followed by Lucilius, Titinius, and Lucius. ^note

Cas.
How now! what's the matter?

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.

Cas.
Ha, ha! how vilely ^note doth ^note this cynic rhyme!

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

Cas.
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 jigging ^note fools?
Companion, hence!

Cas.
Away, away, be gone! ^note [Exit Poet. ^note

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 ^note Lucilius and Titinius.

Bru.
Lucius, a bowl of wine! [Exit Lucius. ^note

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: Portia is ^note dead.

Cas.
Ha! Portia! ^note

Bru.
She is dead.

Cas.
How 'scaped I killing when I cross'd you so?
O insupportable and touching loss!
Upon what sickness?

Bru.
Impatient ^note 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 died so?

Bru.
Even so.

Cas.
O ye ^note immortal gods! Re-enter Lucius, with wine and taper. ^note

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' ^note love. [Drinks. ^{note note}

Bru.
Come in, Titinius! [Exit Lucius. ^note Re-enter ^note Titinius, with Messala.
Welcome, good Messala ^note.
Now sit we close about this taper here,
And call in question our necessities.

Cas.
Portia ^note, art thou gone?

Bru.
No more, I pray you.
Messala, I have here ^note received letters,
That young Octavius and Mark Antony
Come down upon us with a mighty power,
Bending their expedition toward ^note Philippi.

Mes.
Myself have letters of the selfsame tenour ^note.

Bru.
With what addition? ^note

Mes.
That by proscription ^note and bills of outlawry ^{note note}
Octavius, Antony and Lepidus,

Have put to death an ^note 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 ^note one!

Mes.
Cicero ^note is dead, ^note
And by that ^note order of proscription ^note. ^note
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? ^note

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 is dead, and by strange manner.

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.

Cas.
I have as much of this in art as you,
But yet my nature could not bear it so.

Bru.
Well, to our work alive. What do you think
Of marching to Philippi presently? ^note

Cas.
I do not think it good.

Bru.
Your reason?

Cas.
This it is: ^note
'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.

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 refresh'd, new-added ^note and encouraged;
From which advantage shall we ^note cut him off ^note
If at Philippi we do face him there, ^note
These people at our back.

Cas.
Hear me, good brother. ^note

Bru.
Under your pardon. You must note beside
That we have tried 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
Which taken at the flood leads on to fortune;
Omitted, all the voyage of their life
Is bound in shallows and in miseries.
On such a full sea are we now afloat,
And we must take the current when it serves,
Or lose our ventures.

Cas.
Then, with your will ^note, go on;
We'll along ^note ourselves ^note and meet them at Philippi ^note.

Bru.
The deep of night is crept upon our talk,
And nature must obey necessity;
Which we will niggard with a little rest.
There is no more to say? ^note

Cas.
No more. Good night:
Early to-morrow will we rise and hence.

Bru.
Lucius! [Re-enter Lucius.] My ^note gown. [Exit Lucius. ^note] Farewell ^note, good Messala:
Good night, Titinius: noble, noble Cassius,
Good night, and good repose.

Cas.
O my dear brother!
This was an ill beginning of the night:
Never come ^note such division 'tween our souls!
Let it not, Brutus.

Bru.
Every thing is well.

Cas.
Good night, my lord.

Bru.
Good night, good brother ^note.

Tit. Mes.
Good night, Lord Brutus.

Bru.
Farewell, every one. [Exeunt ^note all but Brutus. Re-enter ^note Lucius, with the gown.
Give me the gown. Where is thy instrument?

Luc.
Here in the tent.

Bru.
What, thou speak'st drowsily?
Poor knave, I blame thee not ^note; thou art o'er-watch'd.
Call Claudius ^note and some other of my men;
I'll have them sleep on cushions in my tent.

Luc.
Varro ^note and Claudius ^note! Enter ^note Varro and Claudius. ^note

Var.
Calls ^note my lord?

Bru.
I pray you, sirs, lie in my tent and sleep;
It may be I shall raise you by and by
On business to my brother Cassius.

Var.
So please you, we will stand and watch your pleasure ^note.

Bru.
I will not have it so: lie down, good sirs;
It may be I shall otherwise bethink me.
Look, Lucius, here's the book I sought for so;
I put it in the pocket of my gown. [Var. and Clau ^note. lie down.

Luc.
I was sure your lordship did not give it me.

Bru.
Bear with me, good boy, I am much forgetful.
Canst thou hold up thy heavy eyes awhile,
And touch thy instrument a strain or two ^note? ^note

Luc.
Ay, ^note my lord, an't please you.

Bru.
It does, my boy:
I trouble thee too much, but thou art willing.

Luc.
It is my duty, sir ^note. ^note

Bru.
I should not urge thy duty past thy might;
I know young bloods look for a time of rest.

Luc.
I have slept, my lord, already.

Bru.
It was well done; and thou shalt sleep again;
I will not hold thee long: if I do live,
I will be good to thee. [Music, and a song. ^note
This is a sleepy tune. O murderous slumber ^note,
Lay'st ^note thou thy leaden mace upon my boy,
That plays thee music? Gentle knave, good night;
I will not do thee so much wrong to wake thee:
If thou dost nod, thou break'st thy instrument; ^note
I'll take it from thee; and, good boy, good night.

Let me see, let me see ^note; ^note is not the leaf turn'd down
Where I left reading? Here it is, I think. [Sits down. ^{note note}Enter the Ghost of Cæsar.
How ill this taper burns! Ha! who comes here?
I think it is the weakness of mine eyes
That shapes this monstrous apparition.
It comes upon me. Art thou any thing?
Art thou some god, some angel, or some devil,
That makest my blood cold, and my hair to stare ^note?
Speak to me what thou art.

Ghost.
Thy evil spirit, Brutus. ^note

Bru.
Why comest thou?

Ghost.
To tell thee thou shalt see me at Philippi.

Bru.
Well ^note; then I shall see thee again?

Ghost.
Ay, at Philippi.

Bru.
Why, I will see thee at Philippi then. [Exit Ghost. ^note
Now I have taken heart thou vanishest.
Ill spirit, ^note I would hold more talk with thee.
Boy, Lucius! Varro ^note! Claudius ^note! Sirs, awake!
Claudius ^note!

Luc.
The strings, my lord, are false.

Bru.
He thinks he still is ^note at his instrument.
Lucius, awake! ^note

Luc.
My lord?

Bru.
Didst thou dream, Lucius ^note, that thou so criedst out? ^note

Luc.
My lord, I do not know that I did cry.

Bru.
Yes, that thou didst: didst thou see any thing?

Luc.
Nothing, my lord.

Bru.
Sleep again, Lucius. Sirrah Claudius ^note! [To Var. ^note]
Fellow ^note thou, ^note awake!

Var.
My lord?

Clau.
My lord?

Bru.
Why did you so cry out, sirs, in your sleep?

Var. Clau. ^note
Did we, my lord?

Bru.
Ay: saw you any thing?

Var.
No, my lord, I saw nothing.

Clau.
Nor I, my lord.

Bru.
Go and commend me to my brother Cassius;
Bid him set on his powers betimes before,
And we will follow.

Var. Clau.
It shall be done, my lord. [Exeunt.

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