Bru. Yes Cassius, and from henceforth
When you are ouer-earnest with your Brutus,
Hee'l thinke your Mother chides, and leaue you so.
Enter a Poet.
Poet. Let me go in to see the Generals,
There is some grudge betweene 'em, 'tis not meete
They be alone
Lucil. You shall not come to them
Poet. Nothing but death shall stay me
Cas. How now? What's the matter?
Poet. For shame you Generals; what do you meane?
Loue, and be Friends, as two such men should bee,
For I haue seene more yeeres I'me sure then yee
Cas. Ha, ha, how vildely doth this Cynicke rime?
Bru. Get you hence sirra: Sawcy Fellow, hence
Cas. Beare with him Brutus, 'tis his fashion
Brut. Ile know his humor, when he knowes his time:
What should the Warres do with these Iigging Fooles?
Companion, hence
Cas. Away, away be gone.
Exit Poet