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Me). Myself have letters of the self-fame tenour.
Bru. With what addition ?
Mes

. That by proscription, and bills of outlawry,
O&avius, Antony, and Lepidus,
Have put to death an hundred senators.

Bru. Therein our letters do not well agree;
Mine speak of seventy senators, that dy'd
By their proscriptions, Cicero being one,

Caf. Cicero one?
Mer

. Cicero is dead ;
And by that order of proscription
Had you your letters from your wife, my lord ?

Bru. No, Meffala.
Mes

. Nor nothing in your letters writ of her ?
Bru. Nothing, Meffala.
Mes. That, methinks, is strange.
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.

Mes. Then like a Roman bear the truth I tell.
For certain she is dead, and by strange manner.

Bru. Why, farewel, Portia. -We muit die, Mer

sala:

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

. Even so great men great losles should endure.
Cal. 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 presently?

Caf. I do not think it good.
Bru. Your reason ?

Caf. This it is :
'Tis better, that the enemy seek us :
So fall we waste his means, weary his soldiers,

Doing

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Doing himself offence ; whilst we, lying still,
Are full of rest, defence, and nimbleness.
Bru. Good reasons' muft 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, refrelh’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.

Caf. Hear me, good brother

Bru. Under your pardon.—You must note beside, That we have tryd 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 food, 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 a-float; And we must take the current when it serves, Or lose our ventures.

Caf. Then, with your will, go on; we will along Ourselves, and meet them at Philippi.

Bru. The deep of night is crept upon our talk, And nature must obey necesity; Which we will niggard with a little rest, There is no more to say.

2 There is a tide, &c.] This passage is poorly imitated by B. and Fletcher, in the Custom of the Country.

There is an hour in each man's life appointed
To make bis happiness, if then be seize it, &c.

STEEVENS.

Cas. No more.

Good night : Early to-morrow will we rise, and hence. Bru. Lucius, my gown. [Exit Luc.] Farewel,

good Meffala,
Good night, Titinius.--Noble, noble Cassius,
Good night, and good repose.

Caf. O my dear brother!
This was an ill beginning of the night :
Never come such division 'tween our souls,
Let it not, Brutus !

Re-enter Lucius with the gown.
Bru. Every thing is well.
Tit. Mef. Good night, lord Brutus.
Bru. Farewell, every one.

[Exeunt, Give me the gown. 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. Call Claudius, and some other of my men; I'll have them sleep 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 shall raise you by and by, On business to my brother Caffius. Var. So please you, we will stand, and watch your

pleasure. Bru. I will not have it fo: lie down, good firs • It may be, I shall otherwise bethink me. Look, Lucius, here's the book I fought for so; I put it in the pocket of my gown. Luc. I was sure, your lordship did not give it me. Bru. Bear with me, good boy, I am much forgetful.

Canft

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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, lir.

Bru. I should not urge thy duty past thy might; I know, young bloods look for a time of reft.

Luc. I have Nept, iny lord, already.

Bru. It was well done ; and thou shalt seep again ;
I will not hold thee long. If I do live,
I will be good to thee.

'[ Musick and a fong.
This is a seepy tune: -O murd'rous Number!
Lay'st thou thy leaden mace upon my boy,
That plays thee musick ?-Gentle knave, good night.
I will not do thee so much wrong to wake thee.
If thou dost nod, thou break'st thy instrument;
I'll take it from thee; and, good boy, good night.
-Let me see, let me see,-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 monstrous apparition.
It comes upon me :-Art thou any thing?
Art thou soine God, fome 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'ít thou ?
Ghost. To tell thee, thou shalt see me at Philippi.
Brú. Well : then I shall see thee again ? 3

3 Well then, I shall see thee again. This reply is taken exactly from the old translation of Plutarch.

STEEVENS.

Ghoft. Ay, at Philippi.

Exit Ghost.
Bru. Why, I will see thee at Philippi then.
Now I have taken heart, thou vanishest :
III 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 is still at his instrument.--
Lucius ! awake.

Luc. My lord!
Bru. Didst thou dream, Lucius, that thou so

criedst 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! 4 thou! awake.

Var. My lord !
Clau. My lord !
Bru. Why did you so cry out, sirs, in your sleep?
Both. Did we, my lord ?
Bru. Ay, saw you any thing?
Var. No, my lord, I saw nothing.
Clau. Nor 1, my lord.

Bru. Go, and commend me to my brother Caffius;
Bid him set on his pow'rs betimes before,
And we will follow.

Both. It shall be done, my lord. . [Exeunt.
4 Thou! awake.) The accent is so unmusical and harsh, 'tis
impossible 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. I read,
Varro! awake.

WARBURTON.

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