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 humour 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.
Enter Poet, followed by Lucilius, Titinius and Lucius.
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.