Ghost. Thy evil spirit, Brutus.
Bru.

Why com’st thon?
Ghost. To tell thee, thou shalt see me at Philippi.

Bru, Well;
Then I shall see thee again?
Ghost.

Ay, at Philippi.

(Ghost vanishes. 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. Boy! Lucius!- Varro! Claudius! Sirs, awake! Claudius!

Luc. The strings, my lord, are false.

Bru. He thinks, he still is at his instrument. Lucius, awake.

A Luc. My lord! Bru. Dídst thou dream, Lucius, that thou so. cry'dst

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.

Claudius!
Fellow thou! awake.

Var. My lord.
Clau. My lord.
Bru. Why did you so cry out, sirs, in your sleep?
Var. Clau. Did we, my lord?
Bru,

Ay: Saw you any thing?
Var. No, my lord, I saw nothing.
Clau.

Nor I, my lord. Bru. Go, and commend me to my brother Cassius ; Bid bim set on his powers betimes before, And we will follow. Var. Clau. It shall be done, my lord.

[Exeunt.

-Sirrah,

SCENE I. The Plains of PuikipPI. 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 a Messenger. Mess. 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 I will do so. [March. Drum. Enter BRUTUS, Cassius, and their Army;

LUCILIUS, TITINIUS, MESSALA, and others. Bru. They stand, and would have parley. Cas. Stand fast, Titinius: We must out and talk. Oct. Mark Antony, shall we give sign of battle?

Ant. No, Cæsar, we will answer on their charge.
Make forth, the generals would have some words.

Oct. Stir not until the signal.
Bru. 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 Cæsar's heart,
Crying, Long live! huil, Cæsar!
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 stol'n their buzzing, Antony,
And, very wisely, threat before you sting.

Ant. Villains, you did not so, when your vile daggers
Hack'd one another in the sides of Cæsar:
You show'd your teeth like apes, and fawn'd like

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

Cas. Flatterers!--Now, Brytus, thank yourself:
This tongue bad not offended so to-day,
If Cassius might bave rul’d.

Oct. Come, come, the cause : If arguing make us

sweat,
The proof of it will turn to redder drops.
Look ;
I draw a sword against conspirators;
When think you that the sword goes up again?
Never, till Cæsar's three and twenty wounds
Be well aveng'd; or till another Cæsar
Have added slaughter to the sword of traitors.

Bru. Cæsar, thou canst not die by traitors,
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 their Army, Cas. Why now, blow, wind; swell, billow; and swim,

bark!
The storm is up, and all is on the hazard.

Bru. Ho!
Lucilius; hark, a word with you.
Luc.

My lord.
[Brutus and Lucilius converse apart.
Cas. Messala,-
Mes.

What says my general? Cas.

Messala, This is my birth-day'; as this very day Was Cassius born. Give me thy hand, Messala: Be thou my witness, that, against my will, As Pompey was, am I compell’d to set Upon one battle all our liberties. You know, that I held Epicurus strong, And his opinion: now I change my mind,

And partly credit things that do presage.
Coming from Sardis, on our former ensign
Two mighty eagles fell; and there they perch’d,
Gorging and feeding from our soldiers' hands;
Who to Philippi here consorled us.
This morning are they fled away, and gone;'.
And, in their steads, do ravens, crows, and kites,
Fly o'er our heads, and downward look on us,
As we were sickly prey; their shadows seem
A canopy, most fatal, under which
Our army lies, ready to give up the ghost. .

Mes. Believe, not so.
Cas.

I but believe it partly;
For I am fresh of spirit, and resolv'd
To meet all perils very constantly.
Bru. Even so, Lucilius.
Cas.

Now, most noble Brutus,
The gods to-day stand friendly; that we may,
Lovers in peace, lead, on our days to age!
But, since the affairs of men rest still uncertain,
Let's reason with the worst that

may befall.
If we do lose this battle, then is this
The very last time we shall speak together :
What are you then determined to do?

Bru. Even by the rule of that philosophy,
By which I did blame Cato for the death
Which he did give himself :- I know not how,
But I do find it cowardly and vile,
For fear of what might fall, so to prevent
The time of life:-arming myself with patience,
To stay the providence of some high powers,
That govern es below.
Cas.

Then, if we lose this battle,
You are contenled to be led in triumph
Thorough the streets of Rome?

Bru. No, Cassius, no: think not, thou noble Roman, That ever Brutus will go boand to Rome; He bears too great a mind. But this same day Must end that work, the ides of March begun; And whether we shall meet again, I know not.