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,
1 note
In his own charge, 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.
-- 68 --
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;
But when they should endure the bloody spur,
They fall their crest, and, like deceitful jades,
Sink in the tryal. 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.
[Low march within.
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,
-- 69 --
And I will give you audience.
Cas.
Pindarus,
Bid our commanders lead their charges off
A little from this ground.
Bru.
Lucilius, do the like; and let no man
Come to our tent, 'till we have done our conference.
Let Lucius and Titinius guard the door.
[Exeunt.
Alexander Pope [1747], The works of Shakespear in eight volumes. The Genuine Text (collated with all the former Editions, and then corrected and emended) is here settled: Being restored from the Blunders of the first Editors, and the Interpolations of the two Last: with A Comment and Notes, Critical and Explanatory. By Mr. Pope and Mr. Warburton (Printed for J. and P. Knapton, [and] S. Birt [etc.], London) [word count] [S11301].
