Mef. Myself have letters of the self-fame tenour. Bru. With what addition?

Mef. 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;
Mine speak of seventy fenators, that dy'd
By their profcriptions, Cicero being one,
Caf. Cicero one?

Mef. Cicero is dead;

And by that order of profcription

Had you your letters from your wife, my lord?
Bru. No, Meffala.

Mef. Nor nothing in your letters writ of her?
'Bru. Nothing, Meffala.

Mef. That, methinks, is ftrange.

Bru. Why afk you? Hear you aught of her in yours?

Mef. No, my lord.

Bru. Now, as you are a Roman, tell me true. Mef. Then like a Roman bear the truth I tell. For certain fhe is dead, and by ftrange manner. Bru. Why, farewel, Portia.-We muft die, Meffala:

With meditating that fhe muft die once,

I have the patience to endure it now.

Mef. Even 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 you think

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:

So fhall we wafte his means, weary his foldiers,

G4

Doing

Doing himself offence; whilft we, lying ftill,
Are full of reft, defence, and nimbleness.

Bru. Good reasons 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, refresh'd, 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 Ourfelves, and meet them at Philippi.

Bru. The deep of night is crept upon our talk, And nature must obey neceffity;

Which we will niggard with a little reft.

There is no more to fay.

2 There is a tide, &c.] This paffage is poorly imitated by E. and Fletcher, in the Cuftom of the Country.

There is an hour in each man's life appointed
To make his happiness, if then he feize it, &c.

STEEVENS.

Cof

Caf. No more. Good night:

Early to-morrow will we rife, and hence.

Bru. Lucius, my gown. [Exit Luc.] 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 !

Re-enter Lucius with the gown.

Bru. Every thing is well.

Tit. Mef. Good night, lord Brutus.

Bru. Farewell, every one.

[Exeunt.

Give me the gown. Where is thy inftrument?

Luc. Here, in the tent.

Bru. What, thou speak'ft drowsily?

Poor knave, I blame thee not; thou art o'erwatch'd.
Call Claudius, and some other of my men;

I'll have them fleep on cushions in my tent.
Luc. Varro, and Claudius!——

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 bufinefs to my brother Caffius.

It

Var. So please you, we will ftand, and watch your pleasure.

Bru. I will not have it fo: lie down, good firs⚫ may be, I fhall otherwife bethink me.

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

I put it in the pocket of my gown.

Luc. I was fure, your lordship did not give it me. Bru. Bear with me, good boy, I am much for

getful.

Canft

Canft thou hold up thy heavy eyes a while,
And touch thy inftrument, a ftrain 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, fir.

Bru. I should 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 fhalt 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 fong.

-O murd'rous flumber!

Lay'ft 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 doft nod, thou break'ft thy inftrument;
I'll take it from thee; and, good boy, good night.
-Let me fee, 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 Cafar.

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

That shapes this monftrous apparition.

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

Ghoft. Thy evil spirit, Brutus.

Bru. Why com'ft thou?

Ghost. To tell thee, thou fhalt fee me at Philippi. Bru. Well then I fhall fee thee again? 3

3 Well then, I fall fee thee again.] This reply is taken exactly from the old tranflation of Plutarch.

STEEVENS.

Gloft.

Ghoft. Ay, at Philippi.
[Exit Ghoft.
Bru. Why, I will fee thee at Philippi then.
Now I have taken heart, thou vanishest:

Ill fpirit, I would hold more talk with thee.-
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 criedft out?

Luc. My Lord, I do not know that I did cry. Bru. Yes, that thou didft: didst thou fee any thing?

Luc. Nothing, my lord.

Bru. Sleep again, Lucius. Sirrah, Claudius! . Fellow! thou! awake.

Var. My lord!

Clau. My lord!

Bru. Why did you fo cry out, firs, in your fleep?

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.

Thou! awake.] The accent is fo unmufical and harsh, 'tis impoffible the poet could begin his verfe thus. Brutus certainly was intended to fpeak to both his other men; who both awake, and answer, at an inftant. I read,

Varro! awake.

WARBURTON.

ACT