Bru. No man beares sorrow better. Portia is dead
Cas. Ha? Portia?
Bru. She is dead
Cas. How scap'd I killing, when I crost you so?
O insupportable, and touching losse!
Vpon what sicknesse?
Bru. Impatient of my absence,
And greefe, that yong Octauius with Mark Antony
Haue made themselues so strong: For with her death
That tydings came. With this she fell distract,
And (her Attendants absent) swallow'd fire
Cas. And dy'd so?
Bru. Euen so
Cas. O ye immortall Gods!
Enter Boy with Wine, and Tapers.
Bru. Speak no more of her: Giue me a bowl of wine,
In this I bury all vnkindnesse Cassius.
Drinkes
Cas. My heart is thirsty for that Noble pledge.
Fill Lucius, till the Wine ore-swell the Cup:
I cannot drinke too much of Brutus loue.
Enter Titinius and Messala.
Brutus. Come in Titinius:
Welcome good Messala:
Now sit we close about this Taper heere,
And call in question our necessities
Cass. Portia, art thou gone?
Bru. No more I pray you.
Messala, I haue heere receiued Letters,
That yong Octauius, and Marke Antony
Come downe vpon vs with a mighty power,
Bending their Expedition toward Philippi