Cas. My heart is thirsty for that noble pledge.

Fill, Lucius, till the wine o'erswell the cup;

[Exit LUCIUS.

I cannot drink too much of Brutus' love.
Bru. Come in, good Casca. Come, Trebonius.
Enter CASCA and TREEONIUS.

Now sit we close about this taper here,
And call in question our necessities.
Cas. O Portia! art thou gone ?
Bru. No more, I pray you-
Trebonius, I have here received letters,
That young Octavius, and Mark Antony,
Come down upon us with a mighty power,
Bending their expedition tow'rd Philippi.
Tre. Myself have letters of the self-same tenor.
Bru. With what addition ?

Tre. That by proscription, and bills of outlawry,

Octavius, Antony, and Lepidus,
Have put to death an hundred senators.

Cas. Cicero one?

Tre. Cicero is dead; and by that order of pro

scription.

Had you your letters from your wife, my lord ?

Bru. No, Trebonius.

Tre. Nor nothing in your letters writ of her?
Bru. Nothing, Trebonius.

Tre. That, methinks, is strange.

Bru. Why ask you? hear you aught of her, in

yours?

Tre. No, my lord.

Bru. Now, as you are a Roman, tell me true. Tre. 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, Tre

bonius;

With meditating that she must die once,
I have the patience to endure it now.

Tre. 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 forc'd 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 encourag'd;
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 increaseth 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.

G

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.

Enter LUCIUS.

Where is thy instrument ?

Luc. Here, in the tent.

Bru. What, thou speak'st drowsily;

[Exeunt.

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.

This is a sleepy tune O murd'rous slumber!

[Music.

[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 break'st thy instrument;