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Cicero is dead,
Had you your letters from your wife, my lord?
Bru. No, Messala.
Mes. Nor nothing in your letters writ of her?
That, methinks, is strange. Bru. Why ask you? Hear you aught of her in yours?
Mes. No, my lord.
Bru. Now, as you are a Roman, tell me true. Mes. Then like a Roman bear the truth I tell: For certain she is dead, and by strange manner. Bru. Why, farewell, Portia. We must die, Mes
With meditating that she must die once,
Mes. Even so great men great losses should en
Cas. I have as much of this in art as you,
But yet my nature could not bear it so.
Bru. Well, to our work alive. What do you think Of marching to Philippi presently?
Cas. I do not think it good.
183 Nothing, Messala; cf. n.
190 once: some day
195 alive: which concerns the living
This is it:
'Tis better that the enemy seek us:
So shall he waste his means, weary his soldiers, Doing himself offence; whilst we, lying still, 200 Are full of rest, defence, and nimbleness.
Bru. Good reasons must, of force, give place to better.
193 art: theory
202 force: necessity
The people 'twixt Philippi and this ground
Bru. Under your pardon.
That we have tried the utmost of our friends,
We, at the height, are ready to decline.
Which we will niggard with a little rest.
Hear me, good brother.
204 Are friendly to us only under compulsion
208 new-added: newly augmented
213 That we have drawn on our friends to the utmost
219 Omitted: if it is neglected
220 bound in: confined to 223 ventures: investments
Then, with your will, go on; We'll along ourselves, and meet them at Philippi. 224 Bru. The deep of night is crept upon our talk, And nature must obey necessity,
227 So to nature's need we will dole out a little rest
with your will: according to your prefer
Early to-morrow will we rise, and hence.
Cas. Good-night, my lord.
Everything is well.
Good-night, good brother.
Good-night, Lord Brutus.
Enter Lucius, with the gown.
Give me the gown. Where is thy instrument?
Farewell, every one. Exeunt [all but Brutus].
Enter Varro and Claudius.
Var. Calls my lord?
Bru. I pray you, sirs, lie in my tent and sleep: 240 knave: boy o'er-watch'd: worn out by lack of sleep
What, thou speak'st drowsily? Poor knave, I blame thee not; thou art o'erwatch'd.
Call Claudius and some other of my men;
It may be I shall raise you by and by
On business to my brother Cassius.
Var. So please you, we will stand and watch your pleasure.
Bru. I will not have it so; lie down, good sirs; It may be I shall otherwise bethink me.
[Varro and Claudius lie down.] Look, Lucius, here's the book I sought for so; I put it in the pocket of my gown.
Luc. I was sure your lordship did not give it me. Bru. Bear with me, good boy, I am much forgetful. Canst thou hold up thy heavy eyes awhile, And touch thy instrument a strain or two? Luc. Ay, my lord, an 't please you. Bru.
It does, my boy:
I trouble thee too much, but thou art willing.
Bru. I should not urge thy duty past thy
I know young bloods look for a time of rest.
Luc. I have slept, my lord, already.
Bru. It was well done, and thou shalt sleep again;
I will not hold thee long: if I do live,
I will be good to thee.
246 raise: rouse
254 much: very
256 Play a tune or two on thy lute
266 murderous: because rendering apparently lifeless 267 leaden: dull and heavy
I will not do thee so much wrong to wake thee.
248 watch: wakefully await
mace: bailiff's staff for arresting people
Let me see, let me see; is not the leaf turn'd
Where I left reading? Here it is, I think.
How ill this taper burns. Ha! Who comes here?
Art thou some god, some angel, or some devil,
Now I have taken heart, thou vanishest:
Ghost. Thy evil spirit, Brutus.
Luc. Nothing, my lord.
274 How . . . burns: accepted sign of an apparition's presence 277 upon: towards
Luc. The strings, my lord, are false.
Bru. He thinks he, still is at his instrument. Lucius, awake!
Luc. My lord!
Bru. Didst thou dream, Lucius, that thou so criedst
Luc. My lord, I do not know that I did cry.
279 stare: stand on end