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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 book 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 me.
Bru. Bear with me, good boy; I am much forgetful. Canst thou hold up thy heavy eyes a while, 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
This is a sleepy tune. — 0 murth'rous slumber!
[He sits down
Enter the Ghost of Cjesar. 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.
Bru. Why, I will see thee at Philippi then. —
[_Ghost vanishes. Now I have taken heart, thou vanishest: 111 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. Did'st thou dream, Lucius, that thou so cried'st out?
Luc. My lord, I do not know that I did cry.
Bru. Yes, that thou did'st. Did'st thou see any thing?
Luc. Nothing, my lord.
Bru. Sleep again, Lucius. — Sirrah, Claudius! Fellow thou: awrake!
Var. My lord.
Claudius. My lord.
Bru. Why did you so cry out, sirs, in your sleep?
cto.)Did we' mylord?
Bru. Ay: saw you any thing? Tar. No, my lord, I saw nothing.
Clau. Nor I, my lord.
Bru. Go, and commend me to my brother Cassius: Bid him set on his powers betimes before, And we will follow.
__ S> It shall be done, my lord.
Scene I. — The Plains of Philippi.
NOW, Antony, our hopes are answered.
Ant. Tut! I am in their bosoms, and I know
Enter a Messenger.
Messenger. Prepare you, Generals; The enemy comes on in gallant shew:
Their bloody sign of battle is hung out,
Ant. Octavius, lead your battle softly on,
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.
Drum. Enter Brutus, Cassius, and their Army; Lucilius, Titinitts, Messala, and Others.
Bru. They stand, and would have parley.
Cas. Stand fast, Titinius: we must out and talk.
Oct. Mark Antony, shall we give sign of battle?
Ant. No, Csesar, 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 Caesar's heart, Crying, "Long live! hail, Csesar!"
The posture of your blows are yet unknown;
Ant. Not stingless, too.
Bru. O, yes, and soundless too;
Ant. Villains! you did not so when your vile daggers
Hack'd one another in the sides of Caesar;
You shew'd your teeth like apes, and fawn'd like
Cas. Flatterers!—Now, Brutus, thank yourself:
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 Caesar's three and thirty wounds Be well aveng'd; or till another Caesar Have added slaughter to the sword of traitors.
Bru. Caesar, thou canst not die by traitors' hands, Unless thou bring'st them with thee.
Oct. So I hope:
I was not born to die on Brutus' sword.
Bru. O, if thou wert the noblest of thy strain, Young man, thou could'st not die more honourably.
Cas. A peevish schoolboy, worthless of such honour, Join'd with a masker and a reveller.
Ant. Old Cassius still.
Oct. Come, Antony; away ! —
Defiance, traitors, hurl we in your teeth.
[Exeunt Octavius, Antony, and their Army.
Cas. Why now, blow wind, swell billow, and swim bark? The storm is up, and all is on the hazard.