BRU. Even fo. CAS. O ye immortal gods! Enter LUCIUS, with wine and tapers. BRU. Speak no more of her.-Give me a bowl of wine : In this I bury all unkindness, Caffius. [Drinks. CAS. 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. Re-enter TITINIUS, with MESSALA. BRU. Come in, Titinius :-Welcome, good Meffala. Now fit we close about this taper here, And call in queftion our neceffities. CAS. Portia! 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 toward Philippi. MES. Myfelf have letters of the self-fame tenour. BRU. With what addition? MES. That by profcription, and bills of outlawry, Octavius, Antony, and Lepidus, Have put to death an hundred fenators. BRU. Therein our letters do not well agree; The tragick Abs and Obs interpolated by the players, are too frequently permitted to derange our author's measure. STEEVENS. Cas. Cicero one? MES. Ay, Cicero is dead,' And by that order of profcription.— 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 afk you? Hear you aught of her in yours? MES. 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 fhe is dead, and by strange manner. BRU. Why, farewell, Portia.-We muft die, Meffala: With meditating that the muft die once," MES. Even fo great men great loffes fhould endure. CAS. 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? 5 Ay, Cicero is dead,] For the infertion of the affirmative adverb, to complete the verse, I am answerable. STEEVENS. 6 once,] i. e. at fome time or other. So, in The Merry Wives of Windfor: I pray, thee once to-night "Give my fweet Nan this ring." See Vol. III. p. 434, n. 7. STEEVENS. 7 in art] That is, in theory. MALONE. CAS. I do not think it good. BRU. CAS. Your reafon? This it is: " 'Tis better, that the enemy feek us: So fhall he waste his means, weary his foldiers, BRU. Good reafons muft, of force, give place to better. The people, 'twixt Philippi and this ground, For they have grudg'd us contribution: These people at our back. CAS. Hear me, good brother. BRU. Under your pardon.-You must note be fide, That we have try'd the utmost of our friends, We, at the height, are ready to decline. 5 This it is:] The overflow of the metre, and the difagreeable elafh of it is, with 'Tis at the beginning of the next line, are almoft proofs that our author only wrote, with a common ellipfis,This STEEVENS. • There is a tide &c.] This paffage is poorly imitated by Beaumont and Fletcher, in The Cuftom of the Country: "There is an hour in each man's life appointed STEEVENS. Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; Is bound in shallows, and in miferies. And we must take the current when it ferves, CAS. Then, with your will, go on; We'll along ourselves, and meet them at Philippi. BRU. The deep of night is crept upon our talk, And nature muft obey neceffity; Which we will niggard with a little reft. There is no more to say? CAS. No more. Good night; Early to-morrow will we rife, and hence. BRU. Lucius, my gown. [Exit LUCIUS.] Farewell, good Meffala ; Good night, Titinius :-Noble, noble Caffius, Good night, and good repofe. CAS. O my dear brother! This was an ill beginning of the night: A fimilar fentiment is found in Chapman's Buffy d'Ambois, 1607: "There is a deep nick in time's restlefs wheel, "For each man's good; when which nick comes, it strikes. "So no man rifeth by his real merit, "But when it cries click in his raifer's fpirit." MALONE. 7 Never come fuch divifion 'tween our fouls !] So, in the mock play in Hamlet: "And never come mifchance between us twain.” STEEVENS, TIT. MES. Good night, lord Brutus. BRU. Farewell, every one. [Exeunt CAS. TIT. and MES. Re-enter LUCIUS, with the gown. Give me the gown. Where is thy inftrument? BRU. What, thou speak'ft drowfily? Poor knave, I blame thee not; thou art o'er-watch'd. I'll have them fleep on cufhions in my tent. Enter VARRO and CLAUDIUS. VAR. Calls my lord? BRU. I pray you, firs, 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 firs; It may be, I fhall otherwife bethink me. Look, Lucius, here's the book I fought for fo; [Servants lie down. Luc. I was fure, your lordship did not give it me. 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? BRU. It does, my boy : |