Within the Tent of BRUTUS. | |
| |
Enter BRUTUS and CASSIUS. | |
| Cas. That you have wrong’d me doth appear in this: | |
| You have condemn’d and noted Lucius Pella | 4 |
| For taking bribes here of the Sardians; | |
| Wherein my letters, praying on his side, | |
| Because I knew the man, were slighted off. | |
| Bru. You wrong’d yourself to write in such a case. | 8 |
| Cas. In such a time as this it is not meet | |
| That every nice offence should bear his comment. | |
| Bru. Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself. | |
| Are much condemn’d to have an itching palm; | 12 |
| To sell and mart your offices for gold | |
| To undeservers. | |
| Cas. I an itching palm! | |
| You know that you are Brutus that speak this, | 16 |
| Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last. | |
| Bru. The name of Cassius honours this corruption, | |
| And chastisement doth therefore hide his head. | |
| Cas. Chastisement! | 20 |
| Bru. Remember March, the ides of March remember: | |
| Did not great Julius bleed for justice’ sake? | |
| What villain touch’d his body, that did stab, | |
| And not for justice? What! shall one of us, | 24 |
| That struck the foremost man of all this world | |
| But for supporting robbers, shall we now | |
| Contaminate our fingers with base bribes, | |
| And sell the mighty space of our large honours | 28 |
| For so much trash as may be grasped thus? | |
| I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon, | |
| Than such a Roman. | |
| Cas. Brutus, bay not me; | 32 |
| I’ll not endure it: you forget yourself, | |
| To hedge me in. I am a soldier, I, | |
| Older in practice, abler than yourself | |
| To make conditions. | 36 |
| Bru. Go to; you are not, Cassius. | |
| Cas. I am. | |
| Bru. I say you are not. | |
| Cas. Urge me no more, I shall forget myself; | 40 |
| Have mind upon your health; tempt me no further. | |
| Bru. Away, slight man! | |
| Cas. Is ’t possible? | |
| Bru. Hear me, for I will speak. | 44 |
| Must I give way and room to your rash choler? | |
| Shall I be frighted when a madman stares? | |
| Cas. O ye gods! ye gods! Must I endure all this? | |
| Bru. All this! ay, more: fret till your proud heart break; | 48 |
| Go show your slaves how choleric you are, | |
| And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge? | |
| Must I observe you? Must I stand and crouch | |
| Under your testy humour? By the gods, | 52 |
| You shall digest the venom of your spleen, | |
| Though it do split you; for, from this day forth, | |
| I’ll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter, | |
| When you are waspish. | 56 |
| Cas. Is it come to this? | |
| Bru. You say you are a better so dier: | |
| Let it appear so; make your vaunting true, | |
| And it shall please me well. For mine own part, | 60 |
| I shall be glad to learn of noble men. | |
| Cas. You wrong me every way; you wrong me, Brutus; | |
| I said an elder soldier, not a better: | |
| Did I say, ‘better?’ | 64 |
| Bru. If you did, I care not. | |
| Cas. When Cæsar liv’d, he durst not thus have mov’d me. | |
| Bru. Peace, peace! you durst not so have tempted him. | |
| Cas. I durst not! | 68 |
| Bru. No. | |
| Cas. What! durst not tempt him! | |
| Bru. For your life you durst not. | |
| Cas. Do not presume too much upon my love; | 72 |
| I may do that I shall be sorry for. | |
| Bru. You have done that you should be sorry for. | |
| There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats; | |
| For I am arm’d so strong in honesty | 76 |
| That they pass by me as the idle wind, | |
| Which I respect not. I did send to you | |
| For certain sums of gold, which you denied me; | |
| For I can raise no money by vile means: | 80 |
| By heaven, I had rather coin my heart, | |
| And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring | |
| From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash | |
| By any indirection. I did send | 84 |
| To you for gold to pay my legions, | |
| Which you denied me: was that done like Cassius? | |
| Should I have answer’d Caius Cassius so? | |
| When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous, | 88 |
| To lock such rascal counters from his friends, | |
| Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts; | |
| Dash him to pieces! | |
| Cas. I denied you not. | 92 |
| Bru. You did. | |
| Cas. I did not: he was but a fool | |
| That brought my answer back. Brutus hath riv’d my heart. | |
| A friend should bear his friend’s infirmities, | 96 |
| But Brutus makes mine greater than they are. | |
| Bru. I do not, till you practise them on me. | |
| Cas. You love me not. | |
| Bru. I do not like your faults. | 100 |
| Cas. A friendly eye could never see such faults. | |
| Bru. A flatterer’s would not, though they do appear | |
| As huge as high Olympus. | |
| Cas. Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come, | 104 |
| Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius, | |
| For Cassius is aweary of the world; | |
| Hated by one he loves; brav’d by his brother; | |
| Check’d like a bondman; all his faults observ’d, | 108 |
| Set in a note-book, learn’d, and conn’d by rote, | |
| To cast into my teeth. O! I could weep | |
| My spirit from mine eyes. There is my dagger, | |
| And here my naked breast; within, a heart | 112 |
| Dearer than Plutus’ mine, richer than gold: | |
| If that thou be’st a Roman, take it forth; | |
| I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart: | |
| Strike, as thou didst at Cæsar; for, I know, | 116 |
| When thou didst hate him worst, thou lov’dst him better | |
| Than ever thou lov’dst Cassius. | |
| Bru. Sheathe your dagger: | |
| Be angry when you will, it shall have scope; | 120 |
| Do what you will, dishonour shall be humour. | |
| O Cassius! you are yoked with a lamb | |
| That carries anger as the flint bears fire, | |
| Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark, | 124 |
| And straight is cold again. | |
| Cas. Hath Cassius liv’d | |
| To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus, | |
| When grief and blood ill-temper’d vexeth him? | 128 |
| Bru. When I spoke that I was ill-temper’d too. | |
| Cas. Do you confess so much? Give me your hand. | |
| Bru. And my heart too. | |
| Cas. O Brutus! | 132 |
| Bru. What’s the matter? | |
| Cas. Have not you love enough to bear with me, | |
| When that rash humour which my mother gave me | |
| Makes me forgetful? | 136 |
| Bru. Yes, Cassius; and from henceforth | |
| When you are over-earnest with your Brutus, | |
| He’ll think your mother chides, and leave you so. [Noise within. | |
| Poet. [Within.] Let me go in to see the generals; | 140 |
| There is some grudge between ’em, ’tis not meet | |
| They be alone. | |
| Lucil. [Within.] You shall not come to them. | |
| Poet. [Within.] Nothing but death shall stay me. | 144 |
| |
Enter Poet, followed by LUCILIUS, TITINIUS, and LUCIUS. | |
| Cas. 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; | 148 |
| For I have seen more years, I’m sure, than ye. | |
| Cas. Ha, ha! how vilely doth this cynic rime! | |
| Bru. Get you hence, sirrah; saucy fellow, hence! | |
| Cas. Bear with him, Brutus; ’tis his fashion. | 152 |
| Bru. I’ll know his humour, when he knows his time: | |
| What should the wars do with these jigging fools? | |
| Companion, hence! | |
| Cas. Away, away! be gone. [Exit Poet. | 156 |
| Bru. Lucilius and Titinius, bid the commanders | |
| Prepare to lodge their companies to-night. | |
| Cas. And come yourselves, and bring Messala with you, | |
| Immediately to us. [Exeunt LUCILIUS and TITINIUS. | 160 |
| Bru. Lucius, a bowl of wine! [Exit LUCIUS. | |
| 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 | 164 |
| If you give place to accidental evils. | |
| Bru. No man bears sorrow better: Portia is dead. | |
| Cas. Ha! Portia! | |
| Bru. She is dead. | 168 |
| 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, | 172 |
| 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. | 176 |
| Cas. And died so? | |
| Bru. Even so. | |
| Cas. O ye immortal gods! | |
| |
Enter LUCIUS, with wine and tapers. | 180 |
| 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; | 184 |
| I cannot drink too much of Brutus’ love. [Drinks. | |
| Bru. Come in, Titinius. [Exit LUCIUS. | |
| |
Re-enter TITINIUS, with MESSALA. | |
| Welcome, good Messala. | 188 |
| 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. | 192 |
| Messala, I have here received letters, | |
| That young Octavius and Mark Antony | |
| Come down upon us with a mighty power, | |
| Bending their expedition towards Philippi. | 196 |
| 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, | 200 |
| 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. | 204 |
| Cas. Cicero one! | |
| Mes. Cicero is dead, | |
| And by that order of proscription. | |
| Had you your letters from your wife, my lord? | 208 |
| Bru. No, Messala. | |
| Mes. Nor nothing in your letters writ of her? | |
| Bru. Nothing, Messala. | |
| Mes. That, methinks, is strange. | 212 |
| 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: | 216 |
| 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. | 220 |
| 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 think | 224 |
| Of marching to Philippi presently? | |
| Cas. I do not think it good. | |
| Bru. Your reason? | |
| Cas. This is it: | 228 |
| ’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. | 232 |
| 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: | 236 |
| 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, | 240 |
| 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 beside, | 244 |
| That we have tried 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. | 248 |
| 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 miseries. | 252 |
| 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; | 256 |
| 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. | 260 |
| There is no more to say? | |
| Cas. No more. Good-night: | |
| Early tomorrow will we rise, and hence. | |
| Bru. Lucius! | 264 |
| |
Re-enter LUCIUS. | |
| My gown. [Exit LUCIUS. | |
| Farewell, good Messala: | |
| Good-night, Titinius. Noble, noble Cassius, | 268 |
| 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! | 272 |
| Let it not, Brutus. | |
| Bru. Every thing is well. | |
| Cas. Good-night, my lord. | |
| Bru. Good-night, good brother. | 276 |
| Tit. Mes. Good-night, Lord Brutus. | |
| Bru. Farewell, every one. [Exeunt CASSIUS, TITINIUS, and MESSALA. | |
| |
Re-enter LUCIUS, with the gown. | |
| Give me the gown. Where is thy instrument? | 280 |
| 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; | 284 |
| I’ll have them sleep on cushions in my tent. | |
| Luc. Varro! and Claudius! | |
| |
Enter VARRO and CLAUDIUS. | |
| Var. Calls my lord? | 288 |
| 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. | 292 |
| 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. [VARRO and CLAUDIUS lie down. | 296 |
| Luc. I was sure your lordship did not give it me. | |
| Bru. Bear with me, good boy, I am much forgetful. | |
| Canst thou hold up thy heavy eyes awhile, | |
| And touch thy instrument a strain or two? | 300 |
| Luc. Ay, my lord, an ’t please you. | |
| Bru. It does, my boy: | |
| I trouble thee too much, but thou art willing. | |
| Luc. It is my duty, sir. | 304 |
| 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 was well done, and thou shalt sleep again; | 308 |
| I will not hold thee long: if I do live, | |
| I will be good to thee. [Music, and a Song. | |
| This is a sleepy tune: O murderous slumber! | |
| Lay’st thou thy leaden mace upon my boy, | 312 |
| That plays thee music? Gentle knave, good-night; | |
| I will not do thee so much wrong to wake thee. | |
| If thou dost nod, thou break’st thy instrument; | |
| I’ll take it from thee; and, good boy, good-night. | 316 |
| Let me see, let me see; is not the leaf turn’d down | |
| Where I left reading? Here it is, I think. | |
| |
Enter the Ghost of CÆSAR. | |
| How ill this taper burns! Ha! who comes here? | 320 |
| I think it is the weakness of mine eyes | |
| That shapes this monstrous apparition. | |
| It comes upon me. Art thou any thing? | |
| Art thou some god, some angel, or some devil, | 324 |
| That mak’st my blood cold and my hair to stare? | |
| Speak to me what thou art. | |
| Ghost. Thy evil spirit, Brutus. | |
| Bru. Why com’st thou? | 328 |
| Ghost. To tell thee thou shalt see me at Philippi. | |
| Bru. Well; then I shall see thee again? | |
| Ghost. Ay, at Philippi. | |
| Bru. Why, I will see thee at Philippi then. [Ghost vanishes. | 332 |
| Now I have taken heart thou vanishest: | |
| Ill spirit, I would hold more talk with thee. | |
| Boy, Lucius! Varro! Claudius! Sirs, awake! | |
| Claudius! | 336 |
| Luc. The strings, my lord, are false. | |
| Bru. He thinks he still is at his instrument. | |
| Lucius, awake! | |
| Luc. My lord! | 340 |
| Bru. Didst thou dream, Lucius, that thou so criedst out? | |
| Luc. My lord, I do not know that I did cry. | |
| Bru. Yes, that thou didst. Didst thou see any thing? | |
| Luc. Nothing, my lord. | 344 |
| Bru. Sleep again, Lucius. Sirrah, Claudius! | |
| Fellow thou! awake! | |
| Var. My lord! | |
| Clau. My lord! | 348 |
| Bru. Why did you so cry out, sirs, in your sleep? | |
| Var. & Clau. Did we, my lord? | |
| Bru. Ay: saw you any thing? | |
| Var. No, my lord, I saw nothing. | 352 |
| Clau. Nor I, my lord. | |
| Bru. Go, and commend me to my brother Cassius. | |
| Bid him set on his powers betimes before, | |
| And we will follow. | 356 |
| Var. Clau. It shall be done, my lord. [Exeunt. | |