Come down, behold no more.
O, coward that I am, to live so long,
To see my best friend ta'en before my face!
PINDARUS descends
Come hither, sirrah:
In Parthia did I take thee prisoner;
And then I swore thee, saving of thy life,
That whatsoever I did bid ...

What news?

Go, Pindarus, get higher on that hill;
My sight was ever thick; regard Titinius,
And tell me what thou notest about the field.
PINDARUS ascends the hill
This day I breathed first: time is come round,
And where I did begin, there shall I end;
My life is run his ...

Titinius, if thou lovest me,
Mount thou my horse, and hide thy spurs in him,
Till he have brought thee up to yonder troops,
And here again; that I may rest assured
Whether yond troops are friend or enemy.

This hill is far enough. Look, look, Titinius;
Are those my tents where I perceive the fire?

O, look, Titinius, look, the villains fly!
Myself have to mine own turn'd enemy:
This ensign here of mine was turning back;
I slew the coward, and did take it from him.

For ever, and for ever, farewell, Brutus!
If we do meet again, we'll smile indeed;
If not, 'tis true this parting was well made.

Then, if we lose this battle,
You are contented to be led in triumph
Thorough the streets of Rome?

Now, most noble Brutus,
The gods to-day stand friendly, that we may,
Lovers in peace, lead on our days to age!
But since the affairs of men rest still incertain,
Let's reason with the worst that may befall.
If we do lose this battle, then is this
The very ...

I but believe it partly;
For I am fresh of spirit and resolved
To meet all perils very constantly.

Messala,
This is my birth-day; as this very day
Was Cassius born. Give me thy hand, Messala:
Be thou my witness that against my will,
As Pompey was, am I compell'd to set
Upon one battle all our liberties.
You know that I held Epicurus strong
And his opinion ...

Messala!

Why, now, blow wind, swell billow and swim bark!
The storm is up, and all is on the hazard.

A peevish schoolboy, worthless of such honour,
Join'd with a masker and a reveller!

Flatterers! Now, Brutus, thank yourself:
This tongue had not offended so to-day,
If Cassius might have ruled.

Antony,
The posture of your blows are yet unknown;
But for your words, they rob the Hybla bees,
And leave them honeyless.

Stand fast, Titinius: we must out and talk.

Good night, my lord.

O my dear brother!
This was an ill beginning of the night:
Never come such division 'tween our souls!
Let it not, Brutus.

No more. Good night:
Early to-morrow will we rise, and hence.

Then, with your will, go on;
We'll along ourselves, and meet them at Philippi.

Hear me, good brother.

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.

I do not think it good.

I have as much of this in art as you,
But yet my nature could not bear it so.

Cicero one!

Portia, art thou gone?

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.

O ye immortal gods!

And died so?

How 'scaped I killing when I cross'd you so?
O insupportable and touching loss!
Upon what sickness?

Ha! Portia!

Of your philosophy you make no use,
If you give place to accidental evils.

I did not think you could have been so angry.

And come yourselves, and bring Messala with you
Immediately to us.

Away, away, be gone.

Bear with him, Brutus; 'tis his fashion.

Ha, ha! how vilely doth this cynic rhyme!

How now! what's the matter?

Have not you love enough to bear with me,
When that rash humour which my mother gave me
Makes me forgetful?

O Brutus!

Do you confess so much? Give me your hand.

Hath Cassius lived
To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus,
When grief, and blood ill-temper'd, vexeth him?

Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come,
Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius,
For Cassius is aweary of the world;
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 ...

A friendly eye could never see such faults.

You love me not.

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.

I denied you not.

Do not presume too much upon my love;
I may do that I shall be sorry for.

What, durst not tempt him!