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.

&plquo;Bru.
&plquo;O Cassius, I am sick of many griefs.&prquo;

&plquo;Cas.
&plquo;Of your philosophy you make no use,
&plquo;If you give place to accidental evils.&prquo;

&plquo;Bru.
&plquo;No man bears sorrow better—Porcia's dead.&prquo;

&plquo;Cas.
&plquo;Ha! Porcia!—&prquo;

&plquo;Bru.
&plquo;She is dead.&prquo;

&plquo;Cas.
&plquo;How 'scap'd I killing, when I crost you so?&prquo;
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' love.

Bru.
Come in, Titinius;—welcome, good Messala.

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