Bru. Why, farewel, Porcia-we must die, Messala. With meditating that the muft 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
Of marching to Philippi presently?

Caf. I do not think it good.

Bru. Your reafon?

Caf. This it is:

'Tis better, that the

enemy

feek us;

you think

So fhall he wafte his means, weary his foldiers,
Doing himself offence; whilft we, lying ftill,
Are full of reft, defence and nimblenefs.

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 shall make a fuller number

up,

Come on refresht, new added, and encourag'd;
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 caufe 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 fhallows, and in miferies.
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 fay.

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 repofe.

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 Bratus.

Bru. Farewel, every one.

[Exeunt

Give me the Gown. Where is thy inftrument?

Luc. Here, in the Tent.

Bru. What, thou fpeak'ft drowfily?

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 cufhions 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 so;
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.

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

[Mufick and a Song.

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 dost nod, thou break'ft 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.

-ha! who comes here?

How ill this taper burns!—

I think, it is the weakness of mine eyes,

That shapes this monstrous apparition !

It comes upon me- -Art thou any thing?
Art thou fome God, fome angel, or fome devil,
That mak'st my blood cold, and my hair to stare?
Speak to me, what thou art.

Ghost. 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 Ghost.

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 falfe.

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

Luc. My lord!

Bru. Didft thou dream, Lucius, that thou fo cried'st

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 harm, 'tis impoffible, the Poet could begin his Verfe thus. Brutus, certainly, was intended to speak to Both his other Men: who Both awake, and answer, at an inftant.

Mr. Warburton.

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

Enter Octavius, Antony, and their Army.

NOW

OCTAVIUS.

OW, Antony, our hopes are answered.
You faid, the enemy would not come down,
But keep the hills and upper regions;

It proves not fo; 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 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.

Octa. Upon the right hand I, keep thou the left.
Ant. Why do you cross me in this exigent?

Octa. I do not cross you; but I will do fo. [March.

Drum. Enter Brutus, Caffius, and their army.

Bru. They ftand, and would have parley.
Caf. Stand faft, Titinius, we muft out and talk.