: Bru. Lucius, a bowl of wine. Cas. I did not think, you could have been so angry. Bru. O Cassius, I am sick of many griefs. Cas. Of your philosophy you make no use, If you give place to accidental evils. Bru. No man bears sorrow better:-Portia is dead. Cas. Ha! Portia ? Bru. She is dead. Cas. How scap'd I killing, when I cross'd you so? 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 tidings came;-With this she fell distract, And, her attendants absent, swallow'd fire.* 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. Re-enter TITINIUS, with MESSALA. [Drinks. Bru. Come in, Titinius :-Welcome, good Messala.— Now sit we close about this taper here, And call in question our necessities. No more, I pray you. Messala, I have here received letters, kswallow'd fire.] This circumstance is taken from Plutarch. It is also mentioned by Valerius Maximus.-The latter, however, says that she survived Brutus, and killed herself on hearing that her husband was defeated and slain at Philippi.-STEEVENS and MALONE. Come down upon us with a mighty power, Mes. Myself have letters of the self-same tenour. Mes. That by proscription, and bills of outlawry, Have put to death an hundred senators. Bru. Therein our letters do not well agree; 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? 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 once, I have the patience to endure it now. Mes. Even so great men great losses should endure. 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 Of marching to Philippi presently? Cas. I do not think it good. Bru. Cas. think Your reason? This it is: So shall he waste his means, weary his soldiers, VOL. VII. 1 m once,] i. e. At some time or other. F Bru. Good reasons must, of force, give place to better. For they have grudg'd us contribution: These people at our back. Cas. Hear me, good brother. Bru. Under your pardon.-You must note beside, That we have try'd the utmost of our friends, Our legions are brim-full, our cause is ripe : We, at the height, are ready to decline. Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; And we must take the current when it serves, 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? Early to-morrow will we rise, and hence. Good night. 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. Bru. Every thing is well. Give me the gown. Where is thy instrument? 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. And touch thy instrument a strain or two? It does, my boy: I trouble thee too much, but thou art willing. Luc. It is my duty, sir. Bru. I should not urge thy duty past thy might; I know, young bloods look for a time of rest. Luc. I have slept, my lord, already. Bru. It is well done; and thou shalt sleep again; I will not hold thee long: if I do live, I will be good to thee. [Musick, and a Song. This is a sleepy tune:-O murd'rous slumber! Enter the Ghost of CESAR. How ill this taper burns!-Ha! who comes here? Art thou some god, some angel, or some devil, Ghost. Thy evil spirit, Brutus. Bru. Why com'st thou? Ghost. To tell thee, thou shalt see me at Philippi. Bru. Well; Then I shall see thee again? Ghost. Ay, at Philippi. [Ghost vanishes. Bru. Why, I will see thee at Philippi then.- Ill spirit, I would hold more talk with thee.- Luc. The strings, my lord, are false. Bru. He thinks, he still is at his instrument.Lucius, awake. Luc. My lord! Bru. Didst thou dream, Lucius, that thou so cry'dst out? Bru. Yes, that thou didst: Didst thou see any thing? тисе- • Ghost of Cæsar.] Shakspeare has on this occasion deserted his original. It does not appear from Plutarch that the Ghost of Casar appeared to Brutus, but "a wonderful, strange, and monstrous shape of a body."-This apparition could not be at once the shade of Casar, and the evil genius of Brutus.-STEEVENS. |