CLITUS.
I’ll rather kill myself.
BRUTUS.
Hark thee, Dardanius.
[Whispers him.]
DARDANIUS.
Shall I do such a deed?
CLITUS.
O Dardanius!
DARDANIUS.
O Clitus!
CLITUS.
What ill request did Brutus make to thee?
DARDANIUS.
To kill him, Clitus. Look, he meditates.
CLITUS.
Now is that noble vessel full of grief,
That it runs over even at his eyes.
BRUTUS.
Come hither, good Volumnius; list a word.