Poet (within): Nothing but death shall stay me.

("Within" in this case is, of course, without--outside the tent
where Lucilius and Titinius are on guard.)

Enter POET.

Cassius: How now! What's the matter?

Poet: For shame, you generals! What do you mean?
Love, and be friends, as two such men should be:
For I have seen more years, I'm sure, than ye.

Cassius: Ha, ha! how vilely doth this cynic rhyme!

Brutus: Get you hence, sirrah; saucy fellow, hence!

Cassius: Bear with him, Brutus; 'tis his fashion.

Brutus: I'll know his humour when he knows his time:
What should the wars do with these jingling fools?
Companion, hence!

Cassius: Away, away, be gone!

(Exit POET.)


Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall inherit a black eye