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Cicero is dead,
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
sala: With meditating that she must die once, I have the patience to endure it now. Mes. Even so great men great losses should en
dure. 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.
This is it: 'Tis better that the
seek So shall he waste his means, weary his soldiers, Doing himself offence; whilst we, lying still, Are full of rest, defence, and nimbleness. Bru. Good reasons must, of force, give place to
183 Nothing, Messala; cf. n.
193 art: theory 202 force: necessity 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 with your will: according to your prefer. 227 So to nature's need we will dole out a little rest
The people 'twixt Philippi and this ground
209 If at Philippi we do face him there, These people at our back. Cas.
Hear me, good brother. Bru. Under your pardon. You must note be
212 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.
216 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. Cas.
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,
Farewell, good Messala:
O my dear brother!
Everything is well.
Good-night, good brother. 236
Farewell, every one.
Exeunt [all but Brutus).
Luc. Here in the tent.
What, thou speak'st drowsily? Poor knave, I blame thee not; thou art o'er
watch'd. Call Claudius and some other of my men; I'll have them sleep on cushions in my tent.
Luc. Varro! and Claudius !
} Good-night, Lord Brutus.
Enter Varro and Claudius.
Var. Calls my lord?
244 Bru. I pray you, sirs, lie in my tent and sleep: 240 knave: boy o'er-watch'd: worn out by lack of sleep
It may be I shall raise you by and by
248 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.
Luc. Ay, my lord, an 't please you.
It does, my boy: I trouble thee too much, but thou art willing.
Luc. It is my duty, sir.
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,
264 I will be good to thee.
Music, and a Song. This is a sleepy tune: 0 murderous slumber, Lay'st thou thy leaden mace upon my boy, That plays thee music? Gentle knave, good
night; I will not do thee so much wrong to wake thee. If thou dost nod, thou break'st thy instrument; I'll take it from thee; and, good boy, good-night. 246 raise: rouse
248 watch: wakefully await 254 much: very 256 Play a tune or two on thy lute 266 murderous: because rendering apparently lifeless 267 leaden: dull and heavy mace: bailif's staff for arresting people 279 stare: stand on end
Let me see, let me see; is not the leaf turn'd
Enter the Ghost of Cæsar.
Art thou anything?
280 Ghost. Thy evil spirit, Brutus. Bru.
Why com'st thou? Ghost. To tell thee thou shalt see me at Philippi. Bru. Well; then I shall see thee again? Ghost.
Ay, at Philippi. Bru. Why, I will see thee at Philippi then. 284
[Exit Ghost.] Now I have taken heart, thou vanishest: Ill spirit, I would hold more talk with thee. Boy, Lucius! Varro! Claudius! Sirs, awake! Claudius!
Luc. The strings, my lord, are false.
Bru. He thinks he still is at his instrument.
292 Bru. Didst thou dream, Lucius, that thou so criedst
out? Luc. My lord, I do not know that I did cry. Bru. Yes, that thou didst.
Didst thou see anything? Luc. Nothing, my lord. 274 How . . . burns: accepted sign of an apparition's presence 277 upon: towards