Ant.
These many then shall die, their Names are prickt.

Oct.
Your Brother too must die; consent you, Lepidus?

Lep.
I do consent.

Oct.
Prick him down, Antony.

Lep.
Upon condition Publius shall not live,
Who is your Sister's Son, Mark Antony.

Ant.
He shall not live; look, with a spot, I damn him.
But Lepidus, go you to Cæsar's House;
Fetch the Will hither, and we shall determine
How to cut off some Charge in Legacies.

Lep.
What? shall I find you here?

Oct.
Or here, or at the Capitol. [Exit Lepidus.

Ant.
This is a slight unmeritable Man,
Meet to be sent on Errands: Is it fit
The three-fold World divided, he should stand
One of the three to share it?

Oct.
So you thought him,
And took his Voice, who should be prickt to die,
In our black Sentence and Proscription.

Ant.
Octavius, I have seen more Days than you;
And though we lay these Honours on this Man,

To ease our selves of divers sland'rous Loads,
He shall but bear them, as the Ass bears Gold;
To groan and sweat under the Business,
Either led or driven, as we print the way,
And having brought our Treasure, where we will,
Then take we down his Load, and turn him off,
Like to the empty Ass, to shake his Ears,
And graze in Commons.

Oct.
You may do your Will;
But he's a try'd and valiant Soldier.

Ant.
So is my Horse, Octavius, and for that,
I do appoint him store of Provender.
It is a Creature that I teach to fight,
To wind, to stop, to run directly on,
His corporal Motion, govern'd by my Spirit;
And in some taste, is Lepidus but so;
He must be taught, and train'd, and bid go forth,
A barren spirited Fellow, one that feeds
On Objects, Arts, and Imitations.
Which out of use, and stal'd by other Men,
Begin his fashion. Do not talk of him,
But as a Property. And now, Octavius,
Listen great things—Brutus and Cassius
Are levying Powers; we must straight make Head.
Therefore let our Alliance be combin'd,
Our best Friends made, and our best Means stretcht out,
And let us presently go sit in Council,
How covert Matters may be best disclos'd,
And open Perils surest answered.

Oct.
Let us do so; for we are at the stake,
And bayed about with many Enemies,
And some that smile have in their Hearts, I fear,
Millions of Mischiefs. [Exeunt. SCENE II. Before Brutus's Tent, in the Camp near Sardis. Drum. Enter Brutus, Lucilius, and Soldiers: Titinius and Pindarus meeting them.

Bru.
Stand, ho!

Luc.
Give the word, ho! and stand!

Bru.
What now, Lucilius? is Cassius near?

Luc.
He is at hand, and Pindarus is come
To do you Salutation from his Master.

Bru.
He greets me well. Your Master, Pindarus,
In his own change, or by ill Officers,
Hath given me some worthy cause to wish
Things done, undone; but if he be at hand,
I shall be satisfied.

Pin.
I do not doubt
But that my Noble Master will appear
Such as he is, full of Regard, and Honour.

Bru.
He is not doubted. A word, Lucilius,—
How he receiv'd you, let me be resolv'd.

Luc.
With courtesie, and with respect enough,
But not with such familiar Instances,
Nor with such free and friendly Conference,
As he hath us'd of old.

Bru.
Thou hast describ'd
A hot Friend, cooling; ever note, Lucilius,
When Love begins to sicken and decay,
It useth an enforced Ceremony.
There are no Tricks in plain and simple Faith;
But hollow Men, like Horses hot at hand,
Make gallant shew, and promise of their Mettle, [Low March within.
But when they should endure the bloody Spur,
They fall their Crest, and like deceitful Jades,
Sink in the Trial. Comes his Army on?

Luc.
They mean this Night in Sardis to be quarter'd;
The greater part, the Horse in general,
Are come with Cassius. Enter Cassius and Soldiers.

Bru.
Hark, he is arriv'd;
March gently on to meet him.

Cas.
Stand, ho!

Bru.
Stand, ho! speak the word along.

Within.
Stand!

Within.
Stand!

Within.
Stand!

Cas.
Most Noble Brother! you have done me wrong.

Bru.
Judge me, you Gods! wrong I mine Enemies?
And if not so, how should I wrong a Brother?

Cas.
Brutus, this sober form of yours, hides wrongs,
And when you do them—

Bru.
Cassius, be content,
Speak your Griefs softly, I do know you well.
Before the Eyes of both our Armies here,
(Which should perceive nothing but Love from us)
Let us not wrangle. Bid them move away;
Then in my Tent Cassius enlarge your Griefs,
And I will give you Audience.

Cas.
Pindarus,
Bid our Commanders lead their Charges off
A little from this Ground.

Bru.
Lucilius, do you the like, and let no Man
Come to our Tent, 'till we have done our Conference.
Let Lucius and Titinius guard our Door. [Exeunt. Manent Brutus and Cassius.

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, my Letter praying on his side,
Because I knew the Man, was slighted off.

Bru.
You wrong'd your self to write in such a case.

Cas.
In such a time as this, it is not meet,
That every nice Offence should bear his Comment.

Bru.
Let me tell you, Cassius, you your self
Are much condemn'd to have an itching Palm,
To sell, and mart your Offices for Gold
To Undeservers.

Cas.
Ay, an itching Palm?
You know that you are Brutus that speaks this,
Or by the Gods, this Speech were else your last.

Bru.
The name of Cassius honours this Corruption,
And Chastisement doth therefore hide his Head.

Cas.
Chastisement!—

Bru.
Remember March, the Ides of March remember;
Did not great Julius bleed for Justice 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 bait the Moon,
Than such a Roman.

Cas.
Brutus, bait not me,
I'll not endure it; you forget your self,
To hedge me in, I am a Soldier, I,
Older in practice, abler than your self
To make Conditions.

Bru.
Go to; you are not Cassius.

Cas.
I am.

Bru.
I say, you are not.

Cas.
Urge me no more, I shall forget my self—
Have mind upon your Health—Tempt me no farther.

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 mad Man stares?

Cas.
O ye Gods! ye Gods! must I endure all this?

Bru.
All this! Ay more. Fret 'till your proud Heart break,
Go shew your Slaves how Cholerick you are,
And make your Bondmen tremble. Must I budge?
Must I observe you? Must I stand and crouch
Under your testy Humour? By the Gods
You shall digest the venom of your Spleen,
Tho' 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 Noblemen.

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 liv'd, he durst not thus have mov'd 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 deny'd me;
For I can raise no Mony by vile means,
By Heaven, I had rather coin my Heart,
And drop my Blood for Drachma's, 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 deny'd 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 Thunder-bolts,
Dash him to pieces.

Cas.
I deny'd you not.

Bru.
You did.

Cas.
I did not—He was but a Fool
That brought my answer back—Brutus hath riv'd 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.

Bru.
A Flatterer's would not, tho' they do appear
As huge as high Olympus.

Cas.
Come, Antony, and young Octavius come,
Revenge your selves alone on Cassius,
For Cassius is a weary of the World;
Hated by one he loves, brav'd by his Brother,
Check'd like a Bondman, all his Faults observ'd,
Set in a Note-Book, learn'd, and conn'd 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 Pluto's Mine, richer than Gold;
If that thou beest a Roman, take it forth.
I that deny'd thee Gold, will give my Heart;
Strike as thou didst at Cæsar, for I know,
When thou didst hate him worst, thou lov'dst him better
Than ever thou lov'dst Cassius.

Bru.
Sheath your Dagger;
Be angry when you will, it shall have scope,
Do what you will, Dishonour shall be Humour.
O, Cassius, you are yoaked with a Lamb,
That carries Anger as the Flint bears Fire,
Who much inforced, shews a hasty spark,
And straight is cold again.

Cas.
Hath Cassius liv'd
To be but Mirth and Laughter to his Brutus,
When Grief and Blood ill-temper'd, vexeth him?

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

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

Bru.
And my Heart too. [Embracing.

Cas.
O Brutus!

Bru.
What's the matter?

Cas.
Have not you love enough to bear with me,
When that rash Humour which my Mother gave me
Makes me forgetful?

Bru.
Yes, Cassius, and from henceforth
When you are over-earnest with your Brutus,
He'll think your Mother chides, and leave you so. Enter Lucilius and Titinius, and a Poet.

Poet.
Let me go in to see the Generals,
There is some grudge between 'em, 'tis not meet
They be alone.

Luc.
You shall not come to them.

Poet.
Nothing but Death shall stay me.

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 doth this Cynick rhime!

Bru.
Get you hence, Sirrah; sawcy 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 Fools?
Companion, hence.

Cas.
Away, away, be gone. [Exit Poet.

Bru.
Lucilius and Titinius, bid the Commanders
Prepare to lodge their Companies to Night.

Cas.
And come your selves, 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—Portia is dead.

Cas.
Ha! Portia!—

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 tydings 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's Love. Enter Titinius, and Messala.

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?

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.

Mes.
My self have Letters of the self-same tenure.

Bru.
With what Addition?

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 dy'd
By their Proscriptions, Cicero being one.

Cas.
Cicero one?—

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 ought 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 is dead, and by strange manner.

Bru.
Why, farewel, 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.

Cas.
I do not think it good.

Bru.
Your Reason?

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.

Bru.
Good Reasons must of force give place to better.
The People 'twixt Philippi, and this Ground,
Do stand but in a forc'd Affection;
For they have grudg'd us Contribution.
The Enemy, marching along by them,
By them shall make a fuller number up,
Come on refresht, new added, and encourag'd;
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—

Bru.
Under your Pardon. You must note beside,
That we have try'd the utmost of our Friends;
Our Legions are brim full, our Cause is ripe,
The Enemy encreaseth 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 a-float,
And we must take the Current when it serves,
Or lose our Ventures.

Cas.
Then with your will go on; we will along
Our selves, and meet them at Philippi.

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.

Cas.
No more; good Night;—
Early to Morrow will we rise, and hence.

Enter Lucius.

Bru.
Lucius, my Gown; farewel, 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 came such Division 'tween our Souls;
Let it not, Brutus. Enter Lucius with the Gown.

Bru.
Every thing is well.

Cas.
Good Night, my Lord.

Bru.
Good Night, good Brother.

Tit. Messa.
Good Night, Lord Brutus!

Bru.
Farewel, every one. [Exeunt.
Give me the Gown. Where is thy Instrument?

Luc.
Here in the Tent.

Bru.
What, thou speakest drowsily?
Poor Knave, I blame thee not, thou art o'er-watch'd.
Call Claudius, and some other of my Men,
I'll have them sleep on Cushions in my Tent.

Luc.
Varro and Claudius. Enter Varro and Claudius.

Var.
Calls my Lord?

Bru.
I pray you, Sirs, lye 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.

Bru.
I will not have it so; lye down, good Sirs,
It may be I shall otherwise bethink me.
Look Lucius, here's the Book I sought for so;
I put in the Pocket of my Gown.

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 a while,
And touch thy Instrument, a strain or two?

Luc.
Ay, 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.

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. [Musick and a Song.
This is a sleepy Tune—O murderous slumber!
Lay'st thou thy Leaden Mace upon my Boy,
That plays thee Musick? Gentle Knave, good Night;
I will not do thee so much wrong to wake thee.
If thou dost nod, thou break'st thy Instrument,
I'll take it from thee, and, good Boy, good Night.
Let me see, let me see? is not the Leaf turn'd down
Where I left reading? Here it is, I think. [He sits down to read. 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 mak'st my Blood cold, and my Hair to stare?
Speak to me, what thou art?

Ghost.
Thy evil Spirit, Brutus.

Bru.
Why com'st thou?

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

Bru.
Well—then I shall see thee again—

Ghost.
Ay, at Philippi. [Exit Ghost.

Bru.
Why, I will see thee at Philippi then;
Now I have taken heart, thou vanishest,
Ill Spirit; I would hold more talk with thee.
Boy! Lucius! Varro! Claudius! Sirs! awake!
Claudius!

Luc.
The strings, my Lord, are false.

Bru.
He thinks he is still at his Instrument.
Lucius! awake.

Luc.
My Lord!—

Bru.

Didst thou dream, Lucius, that thou so criedst out?

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, Fellow!
Thou! awake.

Var.
My Lord!

Clau.
My Lord!

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

Both.
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.

Both.
It shall be done, my Lord. [Exeunt.

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