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Bru. I fhould not urge thy duty paft thy might; I know young bloods look for a time of rest. Luc. I have flept, my Lord, already.

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

[Mufic, and a Song. This is a fleepy tune---O murd'rous flumber! Layeft thou thy leaden mace upon my boy, That plays thee mufic? gentle knave, good night; I will not fo thee fo much wrong to wake thee. If thou doft nod, thou breakest thy inftrument. I'll take it from thee; and, good boy, good night, But let me fee-is not the leaf turned down

Where I left reading? here it is, I think.

[He fits down to read.

Enter the Ghost of CESAR.

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

That fhapes this monftrous apparition !

It comes upon me.

Art thou any thing?

Art thou fome god, fome angel, or fome devil, Thou makeft my blood cold, and my hair to stare?

Speak to me what thou art.

Ghoft. Thy evil fpirit, Brutus.

Bru. Why comest thou?

Ghoft. To tell thee, thou fhalt 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 :

1 Spirit, I would hold more talk with thee.
Boy! Lucius! Varro! Claudius! Sirs! awake!
Claudius!

Luc. The ftrings, my Lord, are false.

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

Luc. My Lord!.

Bru. Didft thou dream, Lucius, that thou fo criedit 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. (30)

Var. My Lord!

Chru. My Lord!

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

Bru. Ay, faw ye 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 powers betimes before,

And we will follow.

Both. It fhall be done, my Lord.

A CT V.

[Exeunt.

SCENE, the Fields of Philippi, with the two Camps.

Enter OCTAVIUS, ANTONY, and their Army.

OCTAVIUS.

NOW, Antony, our hopes are answered.

You faid the enemy would not come down,

But keep the hills and upper regions;

(30) Thou! awake.] The accent is fo unmufical and harth, 'tis impoffible the Poet could begin his verse thus. Brutus certainly was intended to fpeak to both his other men, who both awake, and anfwer at an inftant.

Mr Warburter,

It proves not fo; their battles are at hand,
They mean to warn us at Philippi here,
Anfwering before we do demand of them.

Ant. Tut, I am in their bofoms, and I know
Wherefore they do it; they could be content
To vifit other places, and come down

With fearful bravery; thinking, by this face,
To faften in our thoughts that they have courage.
But 'tis not fo.

Enter a Meffenger.

Mef. Prepare you, Generals;
The enemy comes on in gallant fhew;
Their bloody fign of battle is hung out,
And fomething to be done immediately.
Ant. Octavius, lead your battle foftly on,
Upon the left hand of the even field.

Oda. Upon the right hand I, keep thou the left.
Ant. Why do you crofs me in this exigent?
Ga. I do not crofs you; but I will do fo.

[March.
Drum. Enter BRUTUS, CASSIUS, and their.Army.
Bru. They ftand, and would have parley.
Caf. Stand falt, Titinius, we muft out and talk.
Ofta. Mark Antony, fhall we give fign of battle?
Ant. No, Cæfar, we will anfwer on their charge.
Make forth, the Generals would have fome words.
Ofta. Stir not until the fignal.

Bru. Words before blows. Is it fo, countrymen? Octa. Not that we love words better, as you do. Bru. Good words are better than bad. ftrokes, Octavius.

Ant. In your bad strokes, Brutus, you give good words.

Witness the hole you made in Cæfar's heart,
Crying, "Long live! hail, Cæfar!”

Caf. Antony,

The posture of your blows are yet unknown;
But for your words, they rob the Hybla bees,
And leave them honeyless.

Ant. Not ftingless too.

Bru. O yes, and foundless too:

For you have stolen their buzzing, Antony;
And very wifely threat, before you fting.

Ant. Villains! you did not fo, when your vile daggers

Hacked one another in the fides of Cæfar.

You thewed your teeth like apes, and fawned likė hounds,

And bowed like bondmen, kiffing Cæfar's feet;
Whilft damned Cafca, like a cur behind,
Struck Cæfar on the neck. O flatterers !

Caf. Flatterers! now, Brutus, thank yourself;
This tongue had not offended fo to-day,
If Caffius might have ruled.

Octa. Come, come, the caufe. If arguing make us fweat,

The proof of it will turn to redder drops.
Behold, I draw a fword against confpirators;
When think that the fword goes up again?
Never, 'till Cæfar's three and twenty wounds (31)
Be well avenged; or 'till another Cafar

you

(31) Three and thirty wounds] Thus all the editions impli-, citly; but I have ventured to reduce this number to three and twenty, from the joint authorities of Appian, Plutarch, and Suetonius; and I am perfuaded the error was not from the Poet, but his tranfcribers. The fame mistake has happened in the Nble Gentleman, by Beaumont and Fletcher:

So Cæfar fell, when in the Capitol

They gave his body two and thirty wounds.

For here we muft likewife correct three and twenty. Perhaps the number might be wrote in figures, and those accidentally tranfpofed.

Have added flaughter to the fword of traitors. Bru. Cæfar, thou canst not die by traitors hands, Unless thou bring'ft them with thee.

Ota. So I hope;

I was not born to die on Brutus' fword.

Bru. O, if thou wert the nobleft of thy ftrain, Young man, thou couldst not die more honourable. Caf. A peevish fchool-boy, worthlefs of fuch Joined with a mafker and a reveller.

Ant. Old Caffius ftill!

Ofta. Come, Antony, away;

[honour,

Defiance, traitors, hurl we in your teeth:
If
you dare fight to-day, come to the field;
If not, when you have ftomachs.

[Exe. Octavius, Antony, and Army. Caf. Why, now blow wind, fwell billow, and fwim bark!

The ftorm is up, and all is on the hazard.

Bru. Lucilius,-----hark, a word with you.

[Lucilius and Meffala ftand forth. Luc. My Lord. [Brutus speaks apart to Lucilius. Caf. Meffala.

Mef. What fays my General?

Caf. Mellala,

This is my birth-day; as this very day

Was Caffius born. Give me thy hand, Meffala;
Be thou my witness, that, against my will,

As Pompey was, am I compelled to fet
Upon one battle all our liberties.

You know that I held Epicurus ftrong,
And his opinion; now I change my mind,
And partly credit things that do prefage.
Coming from Sardis, on our foremost enfign
Two mighty eagles fell; and there they perched,
Gorging and feeding from our foldiers hands,
Who to Philippi here conforted us:

This morning are they fled away and gone,

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