Bru. Lucius, my gown. [Exit Lucius.] Farewell,

good Messala ;-
Good-night, Titinius :-Noble, noble Cassius,
Good-night, and good repose.
Cas.

O my dear brother!
This was an ill beginning of the night:
Never come such division 'tween our souls !
Let it pot, Brutus.
Bru.

Every thing is well.
Cas. Good night, my lord.
Bru.

Good night, good brother.
Tit. Mes. Good night, lord Brutus.
Bru.

Farewell, every one. [Ereunt Cas. Tit. and Mes.

Re-enter Lucius, with the gown.
Give me the gown. Where is thy instrument?

Luc. Here in the tent.
Bru.

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 !

Enter Varro and Claudius. Var. Calls

my

lord? Bru. I pray you, sirs, lie in my tent, and sleep; 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. Look, Lucius, here's the bouk I sought for so; I put it in the pocket of my gown.

[Servants lie down. Luc. I was sure, your lordship did not give it ine. Bru. Bear with me, good boy, I am much forget

ful.

1

Canst thou hold up thy heavy eyes awhile,
And touch thy instrument a strain or two?

Luc. Ay, my lord, an it please you.
Bru.

It does, my boy:
I trouble thee too much, but thou art willing.

Luc. It is my duty, sir.

Bru. I should not urge thy duty past thy might; I know, young bloods look for a tiine of rest.

Luc. I have slept, my lord, already.

Bru. It is well Jone; and thou shalt sleep again;
I will not hold thee long: if I do live,
I will be good to thee. [Musick, and a song.
This is a sleepy tune :-0 murd'rous slumber!
Lay'st thou thy leaden mace* upon my boy,
That plays thee musick ?-Gentleknave, good night;
I will not do thee so mucli wrong to wake thee.
If thou dost nod, thou break'st thy instruinent;
I'll take it from thee; and, good boy, good night.
Let me see, let me see;-Is not the leaf turu'd

down,
Where I left reading? Here it is, I think.

[He sits down,

Enter the Ghost of Cæsar.
How ill this taper burns !-Ha! who comes here?
I think, it is the weakness of mine eyes,
That shapes this monstrous apparition.
It comes upon me:-Art thou any thing?
Art thou some god, some angel, or some devil,
That mak'st my blood cold, and my hair to stare?
Speak to me, what thou art.

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.

(Ghost vanishes. • Sceptre.

Bru. Why, I will see thee at Philippi then.Now I have taken heart, thou vavishest: 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. Lucius, awake.

Luc. My lord !
Bru. Didst thou dream, Lucius, that thou so

cry’dst out? Luc. My lord, I do not know that I did cry. Bru. Yes, that thou didst : Didst thou see any

thing? Luc. Nothing, my lord.

Bru. Sleep again, Lucius. Sirrah, Claudius ! Fellow thou! awake.

Var. My lord.
Clau. My lord.
Bru. Why did you so cry out, sirs, in your sleep
Var. Clau. Did we, my lord ?
Bru.

Ay: Saw you any thing?
Var. No, my lord, I saw nothing.
Clau.

Nor I, my lord, Bru. Go, and commend me to my brother Case

sius;

Bid him set on his powers betimes before,
And we will follow.
Var. Clau. It shall be done, my lord.

(Exeunt,

ACT V.

SCENE I. The plains of Philippi.

Enter Octavius, Antony, and their army.
Oct. Now, Antony, our hopes are answered:
You said, the enemy would not come down,
But keep the hills and upper regions;
It proves not so: their battles are at hand;
They mean to warn* us at Philippi here,
Answering before we do demand of them.

Ant. Tut, I am in their bosoms, and I know
Wherefore they do it: they could be content
To visit other places; and come down
With fearful bravery, thinking, by this face,
To fasten in our thoughts that they have courage;
But 'tis not so.

Enter a Messenger. Mess.

Prepare you, generals: The enemy comes on in gallant show; Their bloody sign of battle is hung out, And something to be done immediately.

Ant. Octavius, lead your battle softly on,
Upon the left hand of the even field.

Oct. Upon the right hand I, keep thou the left.
Ant. Why do you cross me in this exigent?
Oct. I do not cross you; but I will do so.

[March. Drum. Enter Brutus, Cassius, and their army;

Lucilius, Titinius, Messala, and others. Bru. They stand, and would have parley. Cas. Stand fast, Titinius: We must out and talk,

. Summon.

Oct. Mark Antony, shall we give sign of battle?

Ant. No, Cæsar, we will answer on their charge. Make forth, the generals would have some words.

Oct. Stir not until the signal.
Bru. Words before blows: Is it so, countrymen?
Oct. Not that we love words better, as you do.
Bru. Good words are better than bad strokes,

Octavius.
Ant. In your bad strokes, Brutus, you give good

words:
Witness the hole you made in Cæsar's heart,
Crying, Long live! hail, Cæsar!
Cas.

Antony,
The posture of your blows are yet unknown;
But for your words, they rob the Hybla bees,
And leave them honeyless.
Ant.

Not stingless too.
Bru. O, yes, and soundless too;
For

you have stol'n their buzzing, Antony, And, very wisely, threat before you sting. Ant. Villains, you did not so, when your vile

daggers Hack'd one another in the sides of Cæsar: You show'd your teeth like apes, and fawn'd like

hounds,
And bow'd like bondmen, kissing Cæsar's feet;
Whilst damned Casca, like a cur, behiod,
Struck Cæsar on the neck. O flatterers !

Cas. Flatterers !-Now, Brutus, thank yourself:
This tongue had not offended so to-day,
If Cassius might have ruld.
Oct. Come, come, the cause : If arguing make us

sweat,
The proof of it will turn to redder drops.
Look;
I draw a sword against conspirators;
When think you that the sword goes up again!
Never, till Cæsar's three and twenty wounds
Be well aveng'd; or till another Cæsar
Have added slaughter to the sword of traitors.