An old poet barges into the camp, and tries to convince the two men to stop fighting with a simplistic poem before he is thrown out. Brutus and Cassius swear friendship, and the others leave Brutus alone in his tent. He asks for Lucius to play music, invites his guards to sleep in the tent while he keeps watch, and tenderly watches Lucius as the boy falls asleep.
Brutus is startled and wakes the others, who noticed nothing. Brutus gives orders to Varro and Claudius to tell Cassius begin the march first. P lay M enu. Sign in Sign in Register. Sign in with: Clever Google. Search Close Menu. The person who brought you my reply was an idiot.
Brutus, you broke my heart. Friends should endure each other's faults, but you exaggerate mine beyond what they are. Come get me, Antony and young Octavius!
Take revenge on me alone, for I'm tired of the world, and I have have been hated by someone I love; challenged to a fight by my brother; chastised like a lowly servant; all my faults noted, recorded, memorized, and thrown back in my face. Oh, I could cry my soul away. Here's my dagger and here's my bare chest; inside, a heart more valuable than the gods' mines, richer than gold itself.
If you're a true Roman, cut it out of me. I, who denied you money, give you my heart. Stab me like you stabbed Caesar, for I know that even when you hated him most, you loved him more than you ever loved me. Put your dagger away. Be angry whenever you wish, it won't bother me. Act as you want; I won't object even if I think it's dishonorable. Oh, Cassius, you're working with a lamb. When I'm pressured, I get angry for moment, then I cool back down—just like flint gives off a brief spark when struck, but then immediately is cold again.
Has my life come to this—you just laugh at me with disdain when my objectionable actions and foul mood irritate you? Don't you love me enough to put up with me when that quick temper I inherited from my mother makes me forget myself? Yes, Cassius, I do. From now on, when you're being too blunt with me, I'll tell myself it's your mother criticizing me, and I'll ignore it.
There's some quarrel going on between them, it's not good that they should be alone. I'll accept his manner when he respects his time and place! In a time of war, what are we supposed to do with these frivolous fools.
Hey friend, get out! You aren't making very good use of your Stoic philosophy if you'll let accidental misfortunes upset you. How did you not kill me when I was angered you so? Oh what an unendurable and tragic loss! How did she die? She was so impatient with my absence, and upset that young Octavius and Mark Antony have raised strong armies—news of her death arrived along with that information—that these things made her lose her mind, and when her servants were out, she swallowed burning coals.
Don't talk about her anymore. Give me a bowl of wine. In drinking to your health, I put our quarrel behind us, Cassius. I have a great thirst for such a toast!
Fill it up, Lucius, until the wine spills over the top. I can't drink too much of Brutus' love. Welcome, good Messala. Now let's gather closely around this candle and take stock of the supplies we need. That Octavius, Antony, and Lepidus, having condemned them with charges of serious crimes, have had a hundred senators put to death. Mine informed me of only seventy senators being killed executed on their orders, among them Cicero. Well, farewell Portia.
We all must die, Messala. Knowing that she will die one day gives me the strength to endure her death now. I have as much capacity to rationalize death as you do, Brutus; but even so I know my heart couldn't endure it like that.
Well, let's focus on the work affecting the living. What do you think about marching to Philippi right away? This reason: it's better for the enemy to seek us out and waste their resources, tire out their soldiers, weakening themselves.
Meanwhile we will be well-rested, with well-prepared defenses, and able to respond quickly. Those are good reasons, but even good reasons must give way to better ones. The population between here and Philippi, we coerced to support us, and they grudgingly provided goods and money. They are not loyal to us except by force, for they resent the tribute we make them pay us.
The enemy marching through their territory can recruit them, coming on toward us in larger number of newly added, fresh, and motivated soldiers.
We can cut them off from this potential advantage by confronting them at Philippi, keeping these people behind us. If I may—you must also take into account that we have asked all we can of our allies, that our armies are full to the brim with soldiers, and that our justification for war is timely. The enemy is growing larger every day, while we're at our peak and are ready to decline. There's a natural ebb and flow in the affairs of history and acting at the high tide, so to speak, will lead to success.
Failing to act at the right time will lead us to misery like a boat stranded at low tide. We're at the high tide now, and we have to seize this opportune moment like a helpful current, or we will fail in our endeavor altogether. Night crept up on us while we were talking, and nature demands that we give in to our need for sleep. We'll be stingy to nature by taking just a short rest.
There's nothing more to say. Oh my dear brother! This night began so badly. Let there never be such a division between us again. Don't let it happen, Brutus. What, you sound sleepy? Poor boy, I don't blame you, you've been keeping watch too long. Call Claudius and some of the other men from my army. I'll have them sleep on cushions in my tent. Please, sirs, lie down in my tent and sleep.
I may wake you up in a short while with some message for my brother Cassius. No, I insist. Lie down and sleep, good sirs. I may change my mind and not need you to deliver any message. Look, Lucius, here's the book I was looking for. I had put it in the pocket of my robe. Bear with me, good boy, I have been very forgetful. Can you hold your eyes open a little longer and play a tune or two on your instrument?
Good job, and you'll be able to go back to sleep. I won't keep you up long. As long as I live, I'll treat you fairly. That's a sleepy song. Oh sleep, you murderer!
Have you hit my boy over the head when he played one of your songs? Gentle boy, goodnight. I won't be so mean as to wake you up. If you're nodding off like that, you might drop your instrument. I'll take it out of your hands; and goodnight, good boy. Let me see, let me see—didn't I fold the corner of the page where I left off reading? Here it is, I think. What a bad candle this is!
Who's that? It must be the weakness of my eyes making me see strange visions. It's coming towards me.
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