BRUTUS.
Caesar, thou canst not die by traitors’ hands,
Unless thou bring’st them with thee.
OCTAVIUS.
So I hope.
I was not born to die on Brutus’ sword.
BRUTUS.
O, if thou wert the noblest of thy strain,
Young man, thou couldst not die more honourable.
CASSIUS.
A peevish school-boy, worthless of such honour,
Join’d with a masker and a reveller.
ANTONY.
Old Cassius still!
OCTAVIUS.
Come, Antony; away!
Defiance, traitors, hurl we in your teeth.
If you dare fight today, come to the field;
If not, when you have stomachs.
[Exeunt Octavius, Antony and their Army.]
CASSIUS.
Why now, blow wind, swell billow, and swim bark!
The storm is up, and all is on the hazard.
BRUTUS.
Ho, Lucilius! Hark, a word with you.
LUCILIUS.
My lord?