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Cassius:
Hath Cassius liv’d
To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus,
When grief and blood ill-temper’d vexeth him?
Brutus:
When I spoke that, I was ill-temper’d too.
Cassius:
Do you confess so much? Give me your hand.
Brutus:
And my heart too.
Cassius:
O Brutus!
Brutus:
What’s the matter?
Cassius:
Have not you love enough to bear with me,
When that rash humour which my mother gave me
Makes me forgetful?
Brutus:
Yes, Cassius; and from henceforth,
When you are over-earnest with your Brutus,
He’ll think your mother chides, and leave you so.
Enter Poet, followed by Lucilius, Titinius and Lucius.
Poet:
(Within.) Let me go in to see the generals,
There is some grudge between ’em; ’tis not meet
They be alone.
Lucilius:
(Within.) You shall not come to them.
Poet:
(Within.) Nothing but death shall stay me.
Cassius:
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.
Cassius:
Ha, ha! How vilely doth this cynic rhyme!
Brutus:
Get you hence, sirrah. Saucy fellow, hence!
Cassius:
Bear with him, Brutus; ’tis his fashion.
Brutus:
I’ll know his humour when he knows his time.
What should the wars do with these jigging fools?
Companion, hence!
Cassius:
Away, away, be gone!
(Exit Poet.)
Brutus:
Lucilius and Titinius, bid the commanders
Prepare to lodge their companies tonight.
Cassius:
And come yourselves and bring Messala with you
Immediately to us.
(Exeunt Lucilius and Titinius.)
Brutus:
Lucius, a bowl of wine.
(Exit Lucius.)
Cassius:
I did not think you could have been so angry.
Brutus:
O Cassius, I am sick of many griefs.
Cassius:
Of your philosophy you make no use,
If you give place to accidental evils.
Brutus:
No man bears sorrow better. Portia is dead.
Cassius:
Ha? Portia?
Brutus:
She is dead.
Cassius:
How ’scap’d I killing, when I cross’d you so?
O insupportable and touching loss!
Upon what sickness?
Brutus:
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.
Cassius:
And died so?
Brutus:
Even so.
Cassius:
O ye immortal gods!
Enter Lucius, with wine and a taper.