| ACT IV SCENE III | Brutus's tent. | |
| | 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; | |
| | Wherein my letters, praying on his side, | 5 |
| | Because I knew the man, were slighted off. | |
| BRUTUS | You wronged yourself to write in such a case. | |
| CASSIUS | In such a time as this it is not meet | |
| | That every nice offence should bear his comment. | |
| BRUTUS | Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself | 10 |
| | 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, | 15 |
| | Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last. | |
| BRUTUS | The name of Cassius honours this corruption, | |
| | And chastisement doth therefore hide his head. | |
| CASSIUS | Chastisement! | |
| BRUTUS | Remember March, the ides of March remember: | 20 |
| | 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 | 25 |
| | 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. | 30 |
| CASSIUS | Brutus, bay not me; | |
| | I'll not endure it: you forget yourself, | |
| | To hedge me in; I am a soldier, I, | |
| | Older in practise, abler than yourself | |
| | To make conditions. | 35 |
| 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 further. | 40 |
| 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? | 45 |
| CASSIUS | O ye 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 | 50 |
| | 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. | 55 |
| 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 noble men. | 60 |
| 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. | 65 |
| 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! | 70 |
| 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 | 75 |
| | 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, | 80 |
| | 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? | 85 |
| | 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! | 90 |
| 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, | 95 |
| | 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. | 100 |
| 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 aweary of the world; | 105 |
| | Hated by one he loves; braved by his brother; | |
| | Cheque'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, | 110 |
| | 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, | 115 |
| | 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, dishonour shall be humour. | 120 |
| | 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 | 125 |
| | 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. | 130 |
| CASSIUS | O Brutus! | |
| BRUTUS | What's the matter? | |
| CASSIUS | Have not you love enough to bear with me, | |
| | When that rash humour which my mother gave me | |
| | Makes me forgetful? | 135 |
| BRUTUS | Yes, Cassius; and, from henceforth, | |
| | When you are over-earnest with your Brutus, | |
| | He'll think your mother chides, and leave you so. | |
| Poet | Within | |
| | There is some grudge between 'em, 'tis not meet | |
| | They be alone. | 140 |
| LUCILIUS | Within | |
| Poet | Within | |
| | Enter Poet, followed by LUCILIUS, TITINIUS, and LUCIUS | |
| 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! | 145 |
| BRUTUS | Get you hence, sirrah; saucy fellow, hence! | |
| CASSIUS | Bear with him, Brutus; 'tis his fashion. | |
| BRUTUS | I'll know his humour, when he knows his time: | |
| | What should the wars do with these jigging fools? | |
| | Companion, hence! | 150 |
| CASSIUS | Away, away, be gone. | |
| | Exit Poet | |
| BRUTUS | Lucilius and Titinius, bid the commanders | |
| | Prepare to lodge their companies to-night. | |
| CASSIUS | And come yourselves, and bring Messala with you | |
| | Immediately to us. | 155 |
| | 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. | 160 |
| 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! | 165 |
| | 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, | 170 |
| | 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 taper | |
| BRUTUS | Speak no more of her. Give me a bowl of wine. | 175 |
| | In this I bury all unkindness, Cassius. | |
| 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. | |
| BRUTUS | Come in, Titinius! | 180 |
| | 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. | 185 |
| | 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 tenor. | 190 |
| BRUTUS | With what addition? | |
| MESSALA | That by proscription and bills of outlawry, | |
| | Octavius, Antony, and Lepidus, | |
| | Have put to death an hundred senators. | |
| BRUTUS | Therein our letters do not well agree; | 195 |
| | 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. | 200 |
| | 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. | 205 |
| 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. | 210 |
| 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, | 215 |
| | 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? | 220 |
| CASSIUS | This it is: | |
| | '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, defense, and nimbleness. | 225 |
| 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, | 230 |
| | 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. | 235 |
| CASSIUS | Hear me, good brother. | |
| BRUTUS | Under your pardon. You must note beside, | |
| | That we have tried the utmost of our friends, | |
| | Our legions are brim-full, our cause is ripe: | |
| | The enemy increaseth every day; | 240 |
| | 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. | 245 |
| | 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. | 250 |
| 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: | 255 |
| | Early to-morrow will we rise, and hence. | |
| BRUTUS | Lucius! | |
| | Enter LUCIUS | |
| | My gown. | |
| | Exit LUCIUS | |
| | Farewell, good Messala: | |
| | Good night, Titinius. Noble, noble Cassius, | 260 |
| | 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. | 265 |
| BRUTUS | Every thing is well. | |
| CASSIUS | Good night, my lord. | |
| BRUTUS | Good night, good brother. | |
| TITINIUS | | | |
| | | Good night, Lord Brutus. | 270 |
| MESSALA | | | |
| BRUTUS | Farewell, every one. | |
| | Exeunt all but BRUTUS | |
| | 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? | 275 |
| | 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? | 280 |
| 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 will not have it so: lie down, good sirs; | 285 |
| | 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 | |
| LUCIUS | I was sure your lordship did not give it me. | |
| BRUTUS | Bear with me, good boy, I am much forgetful. | 290 |
| | 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. | 295 |
| 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; | 300 |
| | 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, | |
| | That plays thee music? Gentle knave, good night; | 305 |
| | 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. | |
| | Let me see, let me see; is not the leaf turn'd down | |
| | Where I left reading? Here it is, I think. | 310 |
| | 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, | 315 |
| | 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. | 320 |
| BRUTUS | Well; then I shall see thee again? | |
| GHOST | Ay, at Philippi. | |
| BRUTUS | Why, I will see thee at Philippi, then. | |
| | Exit Ghost | |
| | Now I have taken heart thou vanishest: | |
| | Ill spirit, I would hold more talk with thee. | 325 |
| | 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? | 330 |
| 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! | 335 |
| | To VARRO | |
| | Fellow thou, awake! | |
| VARRO | My lord? | |
| CLAUDIUS | My lord? | |
| BRUTUS | Why did you so cry out, sirs, in your sleep? | |
| VARRO | | | 340 |
| | | Did we, my lord? | |
| CLAUDIUS | | | |
| BRUTUS | Ay: saw you any thing? | |
| VARRO | No, my lord, I saw nothing. | |
| CLAUDIUS | Nor I, my lord. | 345 |
| 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. | 350 |
| CLAUDIUS | | | |
| | Exeunt | |