Cas. Portia, art thou gone? Bru. No more, I pray you. Messala, I have here received letters, Mes. Myself have letters of the self-same tenor. Mes. That by proscription, and bills of outlawry, Octavius, Antony, and Lepidus, Have put to death an hundred senators. Bru. Therein our letters do not well agree; Mes. Ay, Cicero is dead, Had you your letters from your wife, my lord? Mes. Nor nothing in your letters writ of her? 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, Messala; With meditating that she must die once,1 I have the patience to endure it now. Mes. Even so great men great losses should endure. 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 Of marching to Philippi presently? Cas. I do not think it good. Bru. Your reason? think 2 In art, that is, in theory. Cas. 'Tis better that the enemy seek us; This it is. So shall he waste his means, weary his soldiers, Bru. Good reasons must, of force, give place to better. For they have grudged us contribution. These people at our back. Cas. Hear me, good brother. Bru. Under your pardon.-You must note beside, That we have tried the utmost of our friends. Our legions are brim full, our cause is ripe; We, at the height, are ready to decline. There is a tide in the affairs of men, Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; 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. And nature must obey necessity; Which we will niggard with a little rest. There is no more to say? Cas. No more. Good night; Early to-morrow will we rise, and hence. 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: Bru. Every thing is well. Cas. Good night, my lord. Good night, good brother. Tit. Mes. Good night, lord Brutus. Bru. Farewell, every one. [Exeunt CAS., TIT., and MES. Re-enter LUCIUS, with the gown. Give me the gown. Where is thy instrument? Bru. What, thou speak'st drowsily Poor knave, I blame thee not; thou art o'erwatched. Call Claudius, and some other of my men ; 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 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 awhile, And touch thy instrument a strain or two? Bru. Luc. It is my duty, sir. Bru. I should not urge thy duty past thy might; Bru. It is well done; and thou shalt sleep again; I will not hold thee long; if I do live, I will be good to thee. [Music, and a song. This is a sleepy tune:-O murderous slumber! Lay'st thou thy leaden mace1 upon my boy, That plays thee music?-Gentle knave, good night! Enter the Ghost of CESAR. [He sits down. How ill this taper burns! Ha! who comes here? That shapes this monstrous apparition. It comes upon me.-Art thou any thing? 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. Bru. Why, I will see thee at Philippi, then.Now I have taken heart, thou vanishest. Ill spirit, I would hold more talk with thee.— 1 A mace is the ancient term for a sceptre. 2 Shakspeare has on this occasion deserted his original. It does not appear from Plutarch that the ghost of Cæsar appeared to Brutus, but “a wonderful straunge and monstrous shape of a body." In Plutarch's Life of Cæsar, it is called the ghost, and it is said that "the light of the lampe waxed very dimme." Boy! Lucius!-Varro! Claudius! Sirs, awake!— 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 cried'st 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? Nor I, my lord. Var. No, my lord, I saw nothing. Clau. Bru. Go, and commend me to my brother Cassius; Bid him set on his powers betimes before, Enter OCTAVIUS, ANTONY, and their Army, |