Bru. Why, farewel, Porcia-we muft die, Meffala. With meditating that the muft die once, I have the patience to endure it now. Mef. Ev'n fo great men great loffes should 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 prefently? Caf. I do not think it good. Bru. Your reafon ? Caf. This it is: 'Tis better, that the enemy feek us; So fhall he wafte his means, weary his foldiers, Bru. Good reafons muft of force give place to better. For they have grudg'd us contribution. Come on refresh'd, new added, and encourag'd; Thefe 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 cause is ripe; The enemy increafeth every day, We, at the height, are ready to decline. Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; And we must take the current when it ferves, Our lofe our ventures. Caf Then, with your will, go on: we will along Ourtelves, and meet them at Philippi. Bra. Bru. The deep of night is crept upon our talk, Which we will niggard with a little rest. Caf. No more; good night; Early to-morrow will we rife, and hence. Enter Lucius. Bru. Lucius, my gown; farewel, good Meffala, Caf. O my dear brother! This was an ili beginning of the night: Enter Lucius with the Gorun. Bru. Ev'ry thing is well. Tit. Mef. Good-night, Lord Brutus. Bru. Farewel, every one. Give me the gown. Where is thy inftrument? Luc. Here, in the tent. Bru. What, thou speak'ft drowfily? [Exeunt. 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 cushions 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 fleep; It may be, I fhall raise you by and by, On business to my brother Cafius. Var. So pleafe 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, Look, Lucius, here's the book I fought for fo; 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 ftrain or two? I trouble thee too much, but thou art willing. Bru. I fhould not urge thy duty paft thy might; 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. [Mufick and a Song. This is a fleepy tune-O murd'rous flumber! Lay'st thou thy leaden mace upon my boy, That plays thee mufick? gentle knave, good night. [He fits down to read. Enter the Ghoft of Cæfar. How ill this taper burns! ha! who comes here? I think it is the weakness of mine eyes, That fhapes this monstrous apparition !- Art thou fome God, fome angel, or fome devil, Ghost. Thy evil fpirit, Brutus. Bru. Why com'it thou? Ghost. To tell thee, thou fhalt fee me at Philippi. Bru. Then, I fhall fee thee again. Ghoft. Ay, at Philippi._ [Exit Ghoft. Bru. Bru. Why, I will fee thee at Philippi then.. Luc. The ftrings, my Lord, are falfe. Bru. He thinks, he is still at his instrument. 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; firrah, Claudius, fellow! Varro! awake. (16) Var. My Lord! Clau. My Lord! Bru. Why did you fo cry out, Sirs, 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. (16) 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 anfwer, at an inftant. Mr. Warburton. *** ACT ACT V. SCENE, the Fields of Philippi, with the two Camps. Enter Octavius, Antony, and their Army. OCTAVIUS. NOW, Antony, our hopes are answered. You faid, the enemy would not come down, Enter a Meffenger. Me. Prepare you, Generals; Ant. Octavius, lead your battle foftly on, Octa. Upon the right hand I, keep thou the left. Dru. |