Bru. Even fo.

Caf. O ye immortal Gods!

Enter Boy with Wine and Tapers.

Bru. Speak no more of her: give me a bowl of wine. In this I bury all unkindness, Caffius.

Caf. My heart is thirsty for that noble pledge.
Fill, Lucius, 'till the wine o'er-fwell the cup!
I cannot drink too much of Brutus' love.

[Drinks.

Bru. Come in, Titinius;—welcome, good Meffala.
Enter Titinius, and Meffala.

Now fit we clofe about this taper here,
And call in question our neceffities.
Caf. Oh Porcia! art thou gone?
Bru. No more, I pray you.
Meffala, 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.

Mef. My felf have letters of the self-same tenour.
Bru. With what addition?

Mef. That by Profcription and bills of Outlawry,
Otavius, Antony, and Lepidus

Have put to death an hundred Senators.

Bru. Therein our letters do not well agree ;

Mine fpeak of fev'nty Senators that dy'd

By their Profcriptions, Cicero being one.

Caf. Cicero one?

Mel. Cicero is dead; and by that order of profcription.

Had you your letters from your wife, my lord?

Bru. No, Meffala.

Mef. Nor nothing in your letters writ of her?

Bru. Nothing, Meffala.

Mef. That, methinks, is ftrange.

Bru. Why ask you? hear you aught of her in yours? Mef. No, my lord.

Bru. Now, as you are a Roman, tell me true. Mef. Then like a Roman bear the truth I tell; For certain fhe is dead, and by strange manner.

Bru

Bru. Why, farewel, Porcia-we muft die, Meffala. With meditating that she must die once,

I have the patience to endure it now.

Mef. Ev'n fo great men great loffes fhould endure.
Caf. I have as much of this in art as you,
But yet my nature could not bear it fo.

Bru. Well, to our Work alive. What do you think Of marching to Philippi prefently?

Caf. I do not think it good.

Bru. Your reafon ?
Caf. This it is :

'Tis better, that the enemy feek us;

So fhall he waste his means, weary his foldiers,
Doing himself offence; whilft we, lying ftill,

Are full of reft, defence and nimbleness.

Bru. Good reafons muft of force give place to better.
The people, 'twixt Philippi and this ground,
Do ftand but in a forc'd affection;

For they have grudg'd us contribution.
The enemy, marching along by them,
By them fhall make a fuller number up,

Come on refresht, new added, and encourag'di
From which advantage fhall we cut him off,
If at Philippi we do face him there,

These people at our back.

Caf. Hear me, good brother

Bru. Under your pardon.-You must note befide, That we have try'd 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.

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 fuch a full fea are we now a-float;
And we must take the current when it ferves,

Or lofe our ventures.

Caf. Then, with your will, go on: we will along Our felves, and meet them at Philippi

Bru

Bru. The deep of night is crept upon our talk,
And nature must obey neceffity;

Which we will niggard with a little rest.
There is no more to say.

Caf. No more; good night;

Early to morrow will we rife, and hence.

Enter Lucius.

Bru. Lucius, my gown; farewel, good Meffala;
Good night, Titinius: noble, noble Caffius,
Good night, and good repose.

Caf. O my dear brother!

This was an ill beginning of the night:
Never come fuch divifion 'tween our fouls ;
Let it not, Brutus!

Enter Lucius with the Gown.

Bru. Ev'ry thing is well.

Tit. Meffa. Good night, lord Brutus.

Bru. Farewel, every one.

Give me the Gown. Where is thy instrument?

Luc. Here, in the Tent.

Bru. What, thou speak'ft drowfily?

[Exeunt.

Poor knave, I blame thee not; thou art o'er-watch'd. Call Claudius, and fome other of my men ;

I'll have them fleep on cushions in my Tent.

Luc. Varro, and Claudius!

Enter Varro and Claudius.

Var. Calls my lord?

Bru. I pray you, Sirs, lie in my Tent, and sleep; It may be, I fhall raise you by and by,

On business to my brother Caffius.

Var. So please you, we will ftand, and watch your pleasure.

Bru. I will not have it fo; lie down, good Sirs:

It may be, I fhall otherwise bethink me.

Look, Lucius, here's the book I fought for fo;

I put it in the pocket of my gown.

Luc. I was fure, your lordship did not give it me.

Bru

Bru. Bear with me, good boy, I am much forgetful. Canft thou hold up thy heavy eyes a while,

And touch thy inftrument, 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 fhould not urge thy duty paft thy might;
I know, young bloods look for a time of reft.
Luc. I have flept, my lord, already.

[Mufick and a Song.

Bru. It was well done, and thou shalt fleep again ;
I will not hold thee long. If I do live,
I will be good to thee.
This is a fleepy tune-
-O murth'rous flumber!
Lay'st thou thy leaden mace upon my boy,
That plays thee mufick? gentle knave, good night.
I will not do thee fo much wrong to wake thee.
If thou doft nod, thou break'it thy inftrument,
I'll take it from thee; and, good boy, good night.
But let me fee- is not the leaf turn'd down,
Where I left reading? here it is, I think.

[He fits down to read.

Enter the Ghost of Cæfar.

How ill this taper burns! -ha! who comes here!
I think, it is the weakness of mine eyes,

That shapes this monftrous apparition!

It comes upon me- Art thou any thing?

Art thou fome God, fome angel, or fome devil,
That mak'ft my blood cold, and my hair to ftare?

Speak to me, what thou art.

Ghoft. Thy evil fpirit, Brutus.

Bru. Why com'ft thou ?

Ghoft. To tell thee, thou shalt fee me at Philippi.
Bru. Then, I fhall fee thee again.-

Ghoft, Ay, at Philippi.

[Exit Ghoft.

Bru. Why, I will fee thee at Philippi then.

Now I have taken heart, thou vanishest :

Ill Spirit, I would hold more talk with thee.

Boy!

Boy! Lucius! Varro! Claudius! Sirs! awake!
Claudius!

Luc. The ftrings, my lord, are false.

Bru. He thinks, he is ftill at his inftrument Lucius! awake.

Luc. My lord!

Bru. Didft thou dream, Lucius, that thou fo cried't out?

Luc. My lord, I do not know that I did cry.

Bru. Yes, that thou didft; didft thou fee any thing?

Luc. Nothing, my lord.

Bru. Sleep again, Lucius; firrah, Claudius, fellow!

Varro! awake. (16)

Var. My lord!

Clau. My lord!

Bru. Why did you fo cry out, Sirs, in your sleep! Both. Did we, my lord?

Bru. Ay, faw you any thing?

Var. No, my lord, I faw nothing.

Clau. Nor I, my lord.

Bru. Go, and commend me to my brother Caffius; Bid him fet on his Pow'rs betimes before,

And we will follow.

Both. It fhall be done, my lord.

[Exeunt.

(16) Thou! awake.] The Accent is fo unmufical and harsh, 'tis impoffible, the Poet could begin his Verse thus. Brutus, certainly, was intended to speak to Both his other Men: who Both awake, and answer, at an instant. Mr. Warburton.

ACT