184

189

Mes.

Cicero is dead,
And by that order of proscription.
Had you your letters from your wife, my lord?
Bru. No, Messala.

181
Mes. Nor nothing in your letters writ of her?
Bru. Nothing, Messala.
Mes.

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.
Bru.

Your reason?
Cas.

This is it: 'Tis better that the

enemy

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

192

196

us:

200

side,

The people 'twixt Philippi and this ground
Do stand but in a forc'd affection;

204
For they have grudg'd us contribution:
The enemy, marching along by them,
By them shall make a fuller number up,
Come on refresh'd, new-added, and encourag'd;
From which advantage shall we cut him off,

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,
And nature must obey necessity,
Which we will niggard with a little rest.
There is no more to say?

220 232

Cas.

No more.

Good-night: 228
Early to-morrow will we rise, and hence.
Bru. Lucius !

Enter 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 not, Brutus.
Bru.

Everything is well.
Cas. Good-night, my lord.
Bru.

Good-night, good brother. 236
Tit.
Mes.
Bru.

Farewell, every one.

Exeunt [all but Brutus).
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 !

} Good-night, Lord Brutus.

240

Enter Varro and Claudius.

Var. Calls my lord?

252

256

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.

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.
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.

Luc. It is my duty, sir.
Bru. I should not urge thy duty past thy

might;
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,

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

260

268 272

276

Let me see, let me see; is not the leaf turn'd

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

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 anything?
Art thou some god, some angel, or some devii,
That mak'st my blood cold and my hair to stare?
Speak to me what thou art.

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.
Lucius, awake!
Luc. My lord!

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

288

296