Act IV, Scene iii:
within the tent of Brutus.
within the tent of Brutus.
| [Enter Brutus and Cassius.] |
| CASSIUS: |
| That you have wrong'd me doth appear in this: |
| You have condemn'd and noted Lucius Pella |
| For taking bribes here of the Sardians; |
| Whereas my letters, praying on his side |
| Because I knew the man, were slighted off. |
| BRUTUS: |
| You wrong'd yourself to write in such a case. |
| CASSIUS: |
| In such a time as this it is not meet |
| That every nice offense should bear his comment. |
| BRUTUS: |
| Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself |
| Are much condemn'd to have an itching palm, |
| To sell and mart your offices for gold |
| To undeservers. |
| CASSIUS: |
| I an itching palm! |
| You know that you are Brutus that speak this, |
| Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last. |
| BRUTUS: |
| The name of Cassius honors this corruption, |
| And chastisement doth therefore hide his head. |
| CASSIUS: |
| Chastisement! |
| BRUTUS: |
| 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, |
| 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 |
| For so much trash as may be grasped thus? |
| I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon, |
| Than such a Roman. |
| CASSIUS: |
| Brutus, bay not me, |
| I'll not endure it: you forget yourself, |
| To hedge me in; I am a soldier, ay, |
| Older in practice, abler than yourself |
| To make conditions. |
| BRUTUS: |
| Go to; you are not, Cassius. |
| CASSIUS: |
| I am. |
| BRUTUS: |
| I say you are not. |
| CASSIUS: |
| Urge me no more, I shall forget myself; |
| Have mind upon your health, tempt me no farther. |
| BRUTUS: |
| Away, slight man! |
| CASSIUS: |
| Is't possible? |
| BRUTUS: |
| Hear me, for I will speak. |
| Must I give way and room to your rash choler? |
| Shall I be frighted when a madman stares? |
| CASSIUS: |
| O gods, ye gods! must I endure all this? |
| BRUTUS: |
| All this? ay, more: fret till your proud heart break; |
| 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, |
| 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. |
| CASSIUS: |
| Is it come to this? |
| BRUTUS: |
| You say you are a better soldier: |
| Let it appear so; make your vaunting true, |
| And it shall please me well: for mine own part, |
| I shall be glad to learn of abler men. |
| CASSIUS: |
| You wrong me every way, you wrong me, Brutus. |
| I said, an elder soldier, not a better: |
| Did I say "better"? |
| BRUTUS: |
| If you did, I care not. |
| CASSIUS: |
| When Caesar lived, he durst not thus have moved me. |
| BRUTUS: |
| Peace, peace! you durst not so have tempted him. |
| CASSIUS: |
| I durst not? |
| BRUTUS: |
| No. |
| CASSIUS: |
| What, durst not tempt him? |
| BRUTUS: |
| For your life you durst not. |
| CASSIUS: |
| Do not presume too much upon my love; |
| I may do that I shall be sorry for. |
| BRUTUS: |
| 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, |
| 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: |
| 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 |
| 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 |
| To lock such rascal counters from his friends, |
| Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts, |
| Dash him to pieces! |
| CASSIUS: |
| I denied you not. |
| BRUTUS: |
| You did. |
| CASSIUS: |
| I did not. He was but a fool |
| That brought my answer back. Brutus hath rived my heart: |
| A friend should bear his friend's infirmities, |
| But Brutus makes mine greater than they are. |
| BRUTUS: |
| I do not, till you practise them on me. |
| CASSIUS: |
| You love me not. |
| BRUTUS: |
| I do not like your faults. |
| CASSIUS: |
| A friendly eye could never see such faults. |
| BRUTUS: |
| A flatterer's would not, though they do appear |
| As huge as high Olympus. |
| CASSIUS: |
| Come, Antony and young Octavius, come, |
| Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius, |
| For Cassius is a-weary of the world; |
| Hated by one he loves; braved by his brother; |
| Check'd like a bondman; all his faults observed, |
| 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 |
| 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 Caesar; for I know, |
| When thou didst hate him worst, thou lovedst him better |
| Than ever thou lovedst Cassius. |
| BRUTUS: |
| Sheathe your dagger: |
| Be angry when you will, it shall have scope; |
| Do what you will, dishonor 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, |
| And straight is cold again. |
| CASSIUS: |
| Hath Cassius lived |
| 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 humor 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. |
| [Noise within.] |
| 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. |
| [Enter Poet, followed by Lucilius, and Titinius.] |
| 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 humor 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 'scaped 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! |
| [Re-enter Lucius, with wine and a taper.] |
| BRUTUS: |
| Speak no more of her.—Give me a bowl of wine.— |
| In this I bury all unkindness, Cassius. |
| [Drinks.] |
| CASSIUS: |
| 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.] |
| BRUTUS: |
| Come in, Titinius!— |
| [Exit Lucius.] |
| [Re-enter Titinius, with Messala.] |
| Welcome, good Messala.— |
| Now sit we close about this taper here, |
| And call in question our necessities. |
| CASSIUS: |
| Portia, art thou gone? |
| BRUTUS: |
| No more, I pray you.— |
| Messala, I have here received letters, |
| That young Octavius and Mark Antony |
| Come down upon us with a mighty power, |
| Bending their expedition toward Philippi. |
| MESSALA: |
| Myself have letters of the selfsame tenour. |
| BRUTUS: |
| With what addition? |
| MESSALA: |
| That by proscription and bills of outlawry |
| Octavius, Antony, and Lepidus |
| Have put to death an hundred Senators. |
| BRUTUS: |
| There in our letters do not well agree: |
| Mine speak of seventy Senators that died |
| By their proscriptions, Cicero being one. |
| CASSIUS: |
| Cicero one! |
| MESSALA: |
| Cicero is dead, |
| And by that order of proscription.— |
| Had you your letters from your wife, my lord? |
| BRUTUS: |
| No, Messala. |
| MESSALA: |
| Nor nothing in your letters writ of her? |
| BRUTUS: |
| Nothing, Messala. |
| MESSALA: |
| That, methinks, is strange. |
| BRUTUS: |
| Why ask you? hear you aught of her in yours? |
| MESSALA: |
| No, my lord. |
| BRUTUS: |
| Now, as you are a Roman, tell me true. |
| MESSALA: |
| Then like a Roman bear the truth I tell: |
| For certain she is dead, and by strange manner. |
| BRUTUS: |
| Why, farewell, Portia. We must die, Messala: |
| With meditating that she must die once, |
| I have the patience to endure it now. |
| MESSALA: |
| Even so great men great losses should endure. |
| CASSIUS: |
| I have as much of this in art as you, |
| But yet my nature could not bear it so. |
| BRUTUS: |
| Well, to our work alive. What do you think |
| Of marching to Philippi presently? |
| CASSIUS: |
| I do not think it good. |
| BRUTUS: |
| Your reason? |
| CASSIUS: |
| This it is: |
| 'Tis better that the enemy seek us;: |
| So shall he waste his means, weary his soldiers, |
| Doing himself offense; whilst we, lying still, |
| Are full of rest, defense, and nimbleness. |
| BRUTUS: |
| Good reasons must, of force, give place to better. |
| The people 'twixt Philippi and this ground |
| Do stand but in a forced affection; |
| For they have grudged us contribution: |
| The enemy, marching along by them, |
| By them shall make a fuller number up, |
| Come on refresh'd, new-added, and encouraged; |
| From which advantage shall we cut him off, |
| If at Philippi we do face him there, |
| These people at our back. |
| CASSIUS: |
| Hear me, good brother. |
| BRUTUS: |
| Under your pardon. You must note besides, |
| 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. |
| 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. |
| On such a full sea are we now afloat; |
| And we must take the current when it serves, |
| Or lose our ventures. |
| CASSIUS: |
| Then, with your will, go on: |
| We'll along ourselves, and meet them at Philippi. |
| BRUTUS: |
| 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? |
| CASSIUS: |
| No more. Good night: |
| Early to-morrow will we rise, and hence. |
| BRUTUS: |
| Lucius!—My gown.—Farewell now, good Messala:— |
| Good night, Titinius:—noble, noble Cassius, |
| Good night, and good repose. |
| CASSIUS: |
| O my dear brother! |
| This was an ill beginning of the night. |
| Never come such division 'tween our souls! |
| Let it not, Brutus. |
| BRUTUS: |
| Every thing is well. |
| CASSIUS: |
| Good night, my lord. |
| BRUTUS: |
| Good night, good brother. |
| TITINIUS: |
| Good night, Lord Brutus. |
| BRUTUS: |
| Farewell, everyone.— |
| [Exeunt Cassius, Titinius, and Messala.] |
| [Re-enter Lucius, with the gown.] |
| Give me the gown. Where is thy instrument? |
| LUCIUS: |
| Here in the tent. |
| BRUTUS: |
| 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. |
| LUCIUS: |
| Varro and Claudius! |
| [Enter Varro and Claudius.] |
| VARRO: |
| Calls my lord? |
| BRUTUS: |
| 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. |
| VARRO: |
| So please you, we will stand and watch your pleasure. |
| BRUTUS: |
| I would 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.] |
| LUCIUS: |
| I was sure your lordship did not give it me. |
| BRUTUS: |
| 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? |
| LUCIUS: |
| Ay, my lord, an't please you. |
| BRUTUS: |
| It does, my boy: |
| I trouble thee too much, but thou art willing. |
| LUCIUS: |
| It is my duty, sir. |
| BRUTUS: |
| I should not urge thy duty past thy might; |
| I know young bloods look for a time of rest. |
| LUCIUS: |
| I have slept, my lord, already. |
| BRUTUS: |
| It was well done; and thou shalt sleep again; |
| I will not hold thee long: if I do live, |
| I will be good to thee.— |
| [Lucius plays and sings till he falls asleep.] |
| This is a sleepy tune.—O murderous Slumber, |
| Lay'st thou thy leaden mace upon my boy, |
| That plays thee music?—Gentle knave, good night; |
| I will not do thee so much wrong to wake thee: |
| If thou dost nod, thou breakst thy instrument; |
| I'll take it from thee; and, good boy, good night.— |
| 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 Caesar.] |
| How ill this taper burns! Ha! who comes here? |
| 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, |
| That makest my blood cold and my hair to stare? |
| Speak to me what thou art. |
| GHOST: |
| Thy evil spirit, Brutus. |
| BRUTUS: |
| Why comest thou? |
| GHOST: |
| To tell thee thou shalt see me at Philippi. |
| BRUTUS: |
| Well; then I shall see thee again? |
| GHOST: |
| Ay, at Philippi. |
| BRUTUS: |
| Why, I will see thee at Philippi, then. |
| [Ghost vanishes.] |
| Now I have taken heart, thou vanishest: |
| Ill spirit, I would hold more talk with thee.— |
| Boy! Lucius!—Varro! Claudius! Sirs, awake!—Claudius! |
| LUCIUS: |
| The strings, my lord, are false. |
| BRUTUS: |
| He thinks he still is at his instrument.— |
| Lucius, awake! |
| LUCIUS: |
| My lord? |
| BRUTUS: |
| Didst thou dream, Lucius, that thou so criedst out? |
| LUCIUS: |
| My lord, I do not know that I did cry. |
| BRUTUS: |
| Yes, that thou didst: didst thou see any thing? |
| LUCIUS: |
| Nothing, my lord. |
| BRUTUS: |
| Sleep again, Lucius.—Sirrah Claudius!— |
| [To Varro.] Fellow thou, awake! |
| VARRO: |
| My lord? |
| CLAUDIUS: |
| My lord? |
| BRUTUS: |
| Why did you so cry out, sirs, in your sleep? |
| VARRO: |
| Did we, my lord? |
| BRUTUS: |
| Ay: saw you any thing? |
| VARRO: |
| No, my lord, I saw nothing. |
| CLAUDIUS: |
| Nor I, my lord. |
| BRUTUS: |
| Go and commend me to my brother Cassius; |
| Bid him set on his powers betimes before, |
| And we will follow. |
| VARRO: |
| It shall be done, my lord. |
| [Exeunt.] |
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