have here received letters, That young Octavius and Mark Antony Come down upon us with a mighty power, Bending their expedition toward Philippi. Myself have letters of the selfsame tenor. With what addition? That by proscription and bills of outlawry, Octavius, Antony, and Lepidus, Have put to death an hundred senators. Therein our letters do not well agree; Mine speak of seventy senators that died By their proscriptions, Cicero being one. Cicero one! Cicero is dead, And by that order of proscription. Had you your letters from your wife, my lord? No, Messala. Nor nothing in your letters writ of her? Nothing, Messala. That, methinks, is strange. Why ask you? hear you aught of her in yours? No, my lord. Now, as you are a Roman, tell me true. Then like a Roman bear the truth I tell: For certain she is dead, and by strange manner. Why, farewell, Portia. We must die, Messala: With meditating that she must die once, I have the patience to endure it now. Even so great men great losses should endure. I have as much of this in art as you, But yet my nature could not bear it so. Well, to our work alive. What do you think Of marching to Philippi presently? I do not think it good. Your reason? This it is: 'Tis better that the enemy seek us: So shall he waste his means, weary his soldiers, Doing himself offence; whilst we, lying still, Are full of rest, defense, and nimbleness. Good reasons must, of force, give place to better. The people 'twixt Philippi and this ground Do stand but in a forced affection; For they have grudged us contribution: The enemy, marching along by them, By them shall make a fuller number up, Come on refresh'd, new-added, and encouraged; From which advantage shall we cut him off, If at Philippi we do face him there, These people at our back. Hear me, good brother. Under your pardon. You must note beside, That we have tried the utmost of our friends, Our legions are brim-full, our cause is ripe: The enemy increaseth every day; We, at the height, are ready to decline. There is a tide in the affairs of men, Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; Omitted, all the voyage of their life Is bound in shallows and in miseries. On such a full sea are we now afloat; And we must take the current when it serves, Or lose our ventures. Then, with