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Tie. Ev'n 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 think Of marching to Philippi, presently?

Cas. I do not think it good.

Bru. Your reason ?

Cas. This it is:
Tis better that the enemy seek us;
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
better.
The people, 'twixt Philippi and this ground,
Do stand but in a forced affection;
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 encouraged ;
From which advantage shall we cut him off,
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, beside,
That we have try'd the utmost of our friends;
Our legions are brimful, our cause is ripe;
The enemy incrcaseth every day,
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 ;'
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 will along ourselves, and meet them at Philippi. o

Bru. The deep of night is crept upon our talk,
And nature must obey necessity.
There is no more to say.

Cas. No more;—Good night

Early to-morrow will we rise and hence.

Bru. 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. Every thing is well,

Casca. Good night, Lord Brutus.

Bru. Farewell, every one.— [Exeunt.

Enter Lucius.

Where is thy instrument?

Luc. Here, in the tent.

Bru. What, thou speak'st drowsily; Poor knave, I blame thee not; thou art o'erwatch'd. 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 again; I will not hold thee long. If I do live, I will be good to thee. [Music.

This is a sleepy tune O murd'rous slumber!

[Lucius sleeps. 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 brcak'st thy instrument;

I'll take it from thee;—and, good boy, good night.—•

But, let me see is not the leaf turn'd down,

Where I left reading;—Here it is, I think.—

[He sits down to read.

Enter the Ghost O/cksatl.

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. Then, I shall see thee again

Ghost. Ay, at Philippi. [Exit 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. Sure, they have rais'd some devil to their aid; And think to frighten Brutus with a shade; But ere the night closes this fatal day, I'll send more ghosts, this visit to repay. [Exit.

ACT THE FIFTH.

SCENE I.

The Field of Philippi, with the Two Camps.
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 Antony's Servant.

Serv. 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 Iwill do so.

[March.

Enter Brutus, Cassius, and their Army.

Bru. They stand, and would have parley. 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, Caesar!"

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 stole their buzzing, Antony;
And very wisely threat before you sting.

Ant. Villains! you did not so, when your vile dag-
gers
Hack'd one another in the sides of Caesar.
You show'd your teeth like apes, and fawn'd like

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

Cas. Flatterers!—Now, Brutus, thank yourself;
This tongue had not offended so to-day,
If Cassius might have rul'd.

Oct. Come, come, the cause; if arguing make us sweat, The proof of it will turn to redder drops. Behold, I draw a sword against conspirators; When think you, that the sword goes up again? Never, till Caesar's three and twenty 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 couldst not die more honourable.

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.
If you dare fight to-day, come to the field;
If not, when you have stomachs.

[Exeunt Octavius, Antony, and Army.

Cas. Why, now, blow wind, swell billow, and swim bark!

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