Did I fay better

Bru. If you did, I care not.

Caf. When Calar liv'd, he durft not thus have mov'd me. Bru.- Peace, peace, you durft not fo have tempted him. Caf. I durft not!

Bru. No.

Caf. What? durft not tempt him!

Bru. For your Life you durft not.

Caf. Do not prefume too much upon my Love,
I may do that I fhall be forry for.

Bru. You have done that you should be forry for.
There is no Terror, Caffius, in your Threats,
For I am arm'd fo ftrong in honefty,

That they pafs by me, as the idle Wind,
Which I respect not. I did fend to you
For certain Sums of Gold, which you deny'd me;
For I can raise no Mony by vile means.
By Heav'n, 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 fend

To you for Gold to pay my Legions,

Which you deny'd me; was that done like Caffius?
Should I have answered Caius Caffius fo?
When Marcus Brutus grows fo covetous,
To lock fuch Rafcal Counters from his Friends,
Be ready Gods with all your Thunder-bolts,
Dafh him to pieces.

Caf. I deny'd you not.

Bru. You did.

Caf. I did not-He was but a Fool

That brought my answer back----Brutus hath riv'd my Heart,

A Friend fhould bear a Friend's Infirmities,

But Brutus makes mine greater than they are.

Bru. I do not 'till you practise them on me.
Caf. You love me not.

Bru. I do not like your Faults.

Caf. A friendly Eye could never see fuch Faults. Bru. A Flatterer's would not, tho' they do appear As huge as high Olympus.

Caf.

Caf. Come, Antoxy, and young Octavius come,
Revenge your felves alone oa Caffius,
For Caffius is a weary of the World;

Hated by one he loves, brav'd by his Brother,
Check'd like a Bondman, all his Faults obferv'd,
Set in a Note-Book, learn'd, and conn'd by rote,
To caft into my Teeth. OI could weep
My Spirit from mine Eyes! There is my Dagger,
And here my naked Breaft.. Within, a Heart
Dearer than Pluto's Mine, richer than Gold;
If that thou beeft a Roman take it forth.

I that deny'd thee Gold, will give my Heart;
Strike as thou didst at Cæfar, for I know,

When thou didst hate him worft, that lov'dft him better Than ever thou lov'dft Caffius.

Bru. Sheath your Dagger;

Be angry when you will, it fhall have scope,
Do what you will, Dishonour shall be Humour.
O, Caffius, you are yoaked with a Lamb,
That carries Anger as the Flint bears Fire,
Who much inforced, fhews a hafty (park,
And straight is cold again.

Caf. Hath Caffius liv'd

To be but Mirth and Laughter to his Brutus,
When Grief and Blood ill-temper'd vexeth him?
Bra. When I spoke that, I was ill-temper'd too.
Caf. Do you confefs fo much? Give me your hand.
Bru. And my Heart too.
[Embracing.
Caf. O Brutus!

Bru. What's the matter?

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

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

Poet. Let me go in to fee the Generals,

There is fome grudge between 'em, 'tis not meet

They be alone.

VOL. V.

P

Luc

Luc. You fhall not come to them.

Poet. Nothing but Death fhall ftay me.
Caf. How now? What's the matter?

Poet. For fhame you Generals? what do you mean?
Love, and be Friends, as two fuch Men fhould be,
For I have feen more Years I'm fure than ye.

Caf. Ha, ha-how vilely doth this Cynick rhime!
Bru. Get you hence, Sirrah; fawcy Fellow, hence.
Caf. Bear with him, Brutus, 'tis his fashion.

Bru. I'll know his Humour, when he knows his Time;
What should the Wars do with thefe jigging Fools?
Companion, hence.

Caf. Away, away, be gone.

[Exit Poet.

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

Caf. And come your felves, and bring Meffala with you Immediately to us. [Exeunt Lucilius and Titinius.

Bru. Lucius, a Bowl of Wine.

Caf. I did not think you could have been fo angry.
Bru. O Caffius, I am fick of many Griefs.

Caf. Of your Philosophy you make no use,

If you give place to accidental Evils.

Bru. No Man bears Sorrow better-Portia is dead.
Caf. Ha! Portia -

Bru. She is dead.

Caf. How fcap'd I killing, when I croft

O infupportable and touching Lofs!

Upon what Sickness?

Bru. Impatient of my abfence;

you fo?

And Grief, that young Octavius with Mark Antony,
Have made themselves fo ftrong: For with her Death

That tydings came.

With this fhe fell diftract,

And (her Attendants abfent) (wallow'd Fire.

Caf. And dy'd fo?

Bru. Even fo.

Caf. 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, Caffius.

[Drinks.

Caf

Caf. My Heart is thirfty for that noble Pledge,
Fill, Lucius, 'till the Wine o'er-fwell the Cup;
I cannot drink too much of Brutus's Love.
Enter Titinius, and Meffala.

Bru. Come in, Titinius; welcome, good Messala:
Now fit we clofe about this Taper here,
And call in queftion our Neceffities.
Caf. Portia! art thou gone?

Bru. No more, I pray you.
Meffala, I have here received Letters,
That young Octavius, and Mark Antony,
Come down upon us with a mighty Power,
Bending their Expedition toward Philippi.

Mef. My felf have Letters of the self-fame tenure.
Bru. With what Addition?

Mef. That by Profcription, 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 feventy Senators, that dy'd'
By their Profcriptions, Cicero being one.
Caf. Cicero one?-

Mef. Cicero is dead; and by that Order of Profcription. Had you your Letters from your Wife, my Lord?

Bru. No, Meffala.

Mef. Nor nothing in your Letters writ of her?
Bru. Nothing Meffala.

Mef. That, methinks, is ftrange.

Bru.Why ask you? hear you ought of her, in yours?
Mef. No, my Lord.

Bru. Now, as you are a Roman, tell me true.
Mef. Then like a Roman, bear the Truth I tell,
For certain fhe is dead, and by strange manner.
Bru. Why, farewel, Portia---we must die, Messala,
With meditating that the muft die once,

I have the patience to endure it now.

Mef. Even fo great Men, great Loffes fhould endure. Caf. 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.

Caf. I do not think it good.

Bru. Your Reafon?

Caf. This it is:

'Tis better that the Enemy feek us,

So hall he wafte his means, weary his Soldiers,
Doing himself Offence, whilft we lying ftill,
Are full of reft, defence and nimbleness.

Bru. Good Reasons muft of force give place to better.
The People 'twixt Philippi, and this Ground,
Do ftand but in a forc'd Affection;
For they have grudg'd us Contribution.
The Enemy, marching along by them,
By them fhall make a fuller number up,
Come on refresht, new added, and encourag'd;
From which Advantage fhall we cut him off,
If at Philippi we do face him there,

These People at our back.

Caf. Hear me, good Brother

Bru. Under your Pardon. You must note befide,
That we have try'd the utmoft 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 Miferies.
On fuch a full Sea, are we now a-float,

And we must take the Current when it ferves,
Or lose our Ventures.

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

Bru. The deep of Night is crept upon our T lk,
And Nature muft obey Neceffity,

Which we will niggard with a little Reft;
There is no more to fay.

Caf. No more; good Night;

Early to Morrow we will rife, and hence.

Enter