[Exit Lucius.]
CASSIUS.
I did not think you could have been so angry.
BRUTUS.
O Cassius, I am sick of many griefs.
CASSIUS.
Of your philosophy you make no use,
If you give place to accidental evils.
BRUTUS.
No man bears sorrow better. Portia is dead.
CASSIUS.
Ha? Portia?
BRUTUS.
She is dead.
CASSIUS.
How ’scap’d I killing, when I cross’d you so?
O insupportable and touching loss!
Upon what sickness?
BRUTUS.
Impatient of my absence,
And grief that young Octavius with Mark Antony
Have made themselves so strong; for with her death
That tidings came. With this she fell distract,
And, her attendants absent, swallow’d fire.
CASSIUS.
And died so?