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CAS. And died so?

BRU. Even so.

CAS. O ye immortal gods'!

Enter Lucius, 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'erswell the cup; I cannot drink too much of Brutus' love. [Drinks.

Re-enter TITINIUS, with 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,

See also Martial, lib. i. ep. 42. Valerius Maximus, and Nicolaus, and Plutarch, all agree in saying that she put an end to her life; and the letter, if authentick, ascertains that she did so in the life-time of Brutus.

Our author, therefore, we see, had sufficient authority for his representation; and there is, I think, little ground for supposing with Dryden that Shakspeare knew that Portia had survived Brutus, and that he, "on purpose neglected a little chronology, only to give Brutus an occasion of being more easily exasperated.” MALONE.

9 And died so? &c.] I suppose, these three short speeches were meant to form a single verse, and originally stood as follows:

"Cas. And died so?

"Bru.

Even so.

"Cas.

Immortal gods!"

The tragick Ahs and Ohs interpolated by the players, are too frequently permitted to derange our author's measure.

STEEVENS.

Come down upon us with a mighty power,
Bending their expedition toward Philippi.

MES. Myself have letters of the self-same tenour. 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 died
By their proscriptions, Cicero being one.
Cas. Cicero one?

MES. Ay, 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 aught 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, farewell, Portia.-We must die, Messala:

With meditating that she must die once2,
I have the patience to endure it now.

MES. Even so great men great losses should en

dure.

'Ay, Cicero is dead,] For the insertion of the affirmative adverb, to complete the verse, I am answerable. STEEVENS. 2 - once,] i. e. at some time or other. So, in The Merry Wives of Windsor:

I pray thee, once to-night "Give my sweet Nan this ring." See vol. viii. p. 137, n. 6. STEEVENS.

3

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.

CAS.

Your reason?

This it is 1:

'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 refresh'd, 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 be

side,

That we have try'd 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,

3

in ART] That is, in theory. MALONE.

4 This IT IS ] The overflow of the metre, and the disagreeable clash of it is, with 'Tis at the beginning of the next line, are almost proofs that our author only wrote, with a common ellipsis, -This:- STEEVENS.

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, go on; We'll along ourselves, 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.

BRU. Lucius, my gown. [Exit LUCIUS.] Farewell, 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 such division 'tween our souls"!

Let it not, Brutus.

5 There is a tide, &c.] This passage is poorly imitated by Beaumont and Fletcher, in The Custom of the Country:

"There is an hour in each man's life appointed

"To make his happiness, if then he seize it," &c.

STEEVENS.

Beaumont and Fletcher in The Bloody Brother, Act II. Sc. I. have a passage much more nearly resembling the text than that which has been quoted by Mr. Steevens:

66

Consider then and quickly :

"And like a wise man take the current with you,

"Which once turn'd head, will sink you." BOSWELL.

A similar sentiment is found in Chapman's Bussy D'Ambois, 1607:

"There is a deep nick in time's restless wheel,

"For each man's good; when which nick comes, it strikes. "So no man riseth by his real merit,

"But when it cries click in his raiser's spirit." MALONE. "Never come such division 'tween our souls!] So, in the mock play in Hamlet :

BRU.

Every thing is well.

Cas. Good night, my lord.

BRU.

Good night, good brother.

TIT. MES. Good night, lord Brutus.

BRU.

Farewell, every one.

[Exeunt Cas. TIT. and MES.

Re-enter 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; 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, 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.

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.

[Servants lie down. Luc. I was sure, your lordship did not give it me. BRU. Bear with me, good boy, I am much for

getful.

Canst thou hold up thy heavy eyes awhile,

And touch thy instrument a strain or two?
Luc. Ay, my lord, an't please you.
BRU.

It does, my boy:

"And never come mischance between us twain."

STEEVENS.

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