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Bru. Why, farewel, Porciamwe must die, Mefala.
With meditating that she must die once,
I have the patience to endure it now.

Mel. Ev'n so great men great toffes hould endure.

Caj. 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 Philipti presently?

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

Cas. This it is :
'Tis better, that the enemy feek
So fall he waste his means, weary his soldiers,
Doing himself offence ; whilft we, lying still,
Are full of reft, defence and nimbleness.

Bru. Good reasons must 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 refresh’d, new added, and encourag'd;
From which advantage Hall we cut him of,
If at Philippi we do face him there
These people at our back.

Caf. Hear me, good brother
Dru. Under your pardon.--You muit note befide,
That we have try'd 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,
Our lose our ventures.

Cal Then, with your will, go on: we will along
Ourtelves, and meet them at Philippi.


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

Cas. No more ; good night;
Early to-inorrow will we rise, and hence.

Enter Lucius.

Bru. Lucius, my gown ; farewel, good Meffala,
Good-night, Tinius : noble, nobie Calfius,
Good-night, and good repose.

Caf. O my dear brother !
This was an ili beginning of the night :
Never come such division 'tween our fouls ;
Ler it not, Brutus !

Enter Lucius with the Gorn.

Bru. Ev'ry thing is well.
Tit. Mef. Good-night, Lord Brutus.
Bru. Farewel, every one.

[Exeunt. Give me the gown.

Where is thy inftrument? Luc. Here, in the tent.

Bru. What, thou speak'st drowsily i Poor knave, I blame thee not; thou art o'er-watch'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


Lord ? Brut. I pray you, Sirs, lie in my tent and fleep; It may be, I shall raise you by and by, On business to my brother Cafius. Var. So please you, we will stand, and watch your

pleasure. Bru. I will not have it fo ; lie down, good Sirs : It may be, I shall otherwise bethink me.


Look, Lucius, here's the book I fought for fo;
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.
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, Sir.

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

Luc. I have slept, my Lord, already.

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

[Musick and a Song.
This is a sleepy tune -O murd'rous slumber!
Lay'st thou thy leaden mace upon my boy,
That plays thee mufick ? gentle knave, good night.
I will not do thee so much wrong to wake thee.
If thou dost nod, thou break’t thy instrument,
I'll take it from thee; and, good boy, good night.
But 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.

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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 some God, some angel, or some devil,
That mak'st my blood cold, and my hare to stare?
Speak to me, what thou art.

Ghoft. Thy evil spirit, Brutus.
Bru. Why com’it thou ? "
Ghoft. To’te!l thee, thou shalt see me at Philippi.
Brú. Then, I shall see thee again.--
Ghoft. Ay, at Philippi.

[Ex' Gloft.



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!
Caudius !

Luc. The strings, my Lord, are falfe.

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

Luc. My Lord!
Bru. Didit thou dream, Lucius, that thou so criedst out?
Luc. My Lord, I do not know that I did cry.
Bru. Yes, that thou didit ; didst thou see 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, saw you any thing?
Var. No, my Lord, I saw nothing.
Clau. Nor I, my

Bru. Go, and commend me to my brother Callius ;
Bid him set on his Pow’rs betimes before,
And we will follow.
Both. It shall be done, my Lord.



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(16) Thou! awake.] The Accent is so `nmufical 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.

Mr. Warburton.


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SCENE, the Fields of Philippi, with the

two Camps.

Enter Octavius, Antony, and their Army.




OW, 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 faften in our thoughts that they have courage.
But 'tis not so.

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Enter a Messenger. :
Mel. Prepare you, Generals ;
The enemy comes on in gallant thew;
Their bloody fign of battle is hung out,
And something to be done immediately.

Ant. Oétavius, lead your battle softly on,
Upon the left hand of the even field.

Oeta. Upon the right hand I, keep thou the left.
Ant. Why do you cross me in this exigent ?
Osta. I do not cross you; but I will do so. [March.


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