Poet. Let me go in to see the Generals, There is some grudge betweene 'em, 'tis not meete They be alone
Lucil. You shall not come to them
Poet. Nothing but death shall stay me
Cas. How now? What's the matter? Poet. For shame you Generals; what do you meane? Loue, and be Friends, as two such men should bee, For I haue seene more yeeres I'me sure then yee
Cas. Ha, ha, how vildely doth this Cynicke rime? Bru. Get you hence sirra: Sawcy Fellow, hence
Cas. Beare with him Brutus, 'tis his fashion
Brut. Ile know his humor, when he knowes his time: What should the Warres do with these Iigging Fooles? Companion, hence
Cas. Away, away be gone.
Exit Poet
Bru. Lucillius and Titinius bid the Commanders Prepare to lodge their Companies to night
Cas. And come your selues, & bring Messala with you Immediately to vs
Bru. Lucius, a bowle of Wine
Cas. I did not thinke you could haue bin so angry
Bru. O Cassius, I am sicke of many greefes
Cas. Of your Philosophy you make no vse, If you giue place to accidentall euils
Bru. No man beares sorrow better. Portia is dead
Cas. Ha? Portia? Bru. She is dead
Cas. How scap'd I killing, when I crost you so? O insupportable, and touching losse! Vpon what sicknesse? Bru. Impatient of my absence, And greefe, that yong Octauius with Mark Antony Haue made themselues so strong: For with her death That tydings came. With this she fell distract, And (her Attendants absent) swallow'd fire
Cas. And dy'd so? Bru. Euen so
Cas. O ye immortall Gods! Enter Boy with Wine, and Tapers.
Bru. Speak no more of her: Giue me a bowl of wine, In this I bury all vnkindnesse Cassius.
Drinkes
Cas. My heart is thirsty for that Noble pledge. Fill Lucius, till the Wine ore-swell the Cup: I cannot drinke too much of Brutus loue. Enter Titinius and Messala.
Brutus. Come in Titinius: Welcome good Messala: Now sit we close about this Taper heere, And call in question our necessities
Cass. Portia, art thou gone? Bru. No more I pray you. Messala, I haue heere receiued Letters, That yong Octauius, and Marke Antony Come downe vpon vs with a mighty power, Bending their Expedition toward Philippi
Mess. My selfe haue Letters of the selfe-same Tenure
Bru. With what Addition
Mess. That by proscription, and billes of Outlarie, Octauius, Antony, and Lepidus, Haue put to death, an hundred Senators
Bru. Therein our Letters do not well agree: Mine speake of seuenty Senators, that dy'de By their proscriptions, Cicero being one
Cassi. Cicero one? Messa. Cicero is dead, and by that order of proscription Had you your Letters from your wife, my Lord? Bru. No Messala
Messa. Nor nothing in your Letters writ of her? Bru. Nothing Messala
Messa. That me thinkes is strange
Bru. Why aske you? Heare you ought of her, in yours? Messa. No my Lord
Bru. Now as you are a Roman tell me true
Messa. Then like a Roman, beare the truth I tell, For certaine she is dead, and by strange manner
Bru. Why farewell Portia: We must die Messala: With meditating that she must dye once, I haue the patience to endure it now
Messa. Euen so great men, great losses shold indure
Cassi. I haue as much of this in Art as you, But yet my Nature could not beare it so