That tidings came) With this fhe fell diftract,
And, her attendants abfent, fwallow'd fire.

Caf. And dy'd fo?

Bru. Even fo.

Caf. O ye immortal Gods!

Enter Boy with Wine and Tapers.

Bru. Speak no more of her. Give me a bowl of wine.

In this I bury all unkindness, Caffius.

[Drinks. Caf. My heart is thirty for that noble pledge. Fill, Lucius, 'till the wine o'er-fwell the cup; I cannot drink too much of Brutus' love.

Bru. Come in, Titinius.-Welcome, good Meffala.

SCENE V.

Enter Titinius, and Meffala.

Now fit we close about this taper here,
And call in queftion our neceffities.
Caf. Oh Porcia! 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 tow'rd Philippi.

Mef. Myfelf have letters of the felf-fame tenour.
Bru. With what addition ?

Mef. That by Profcription and bills of Outlawry, Octavius, Antony and Lepidus

Have put to death an hundred Senators.

Bru. Therein our letters do not well Mine fpeak of fev'nty Senators that dy'd By their Profcriptions, Cicero being one. Caf. Cicero one ?

Mef. Cicero is dead;

And by that order of profcription.

agree;

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, Porcia. We muft die, Meffala. With meditating that fhe muft die once,

I have the patience to endure it now.

Mef. Evin 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

Of marching to Philippi presently?

Caf. I do not think it good.

Bru. Your reason?

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 fhall 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 utmoft of our friends,

Our legions are brim full, our cause is ripe;
The enemy encreaseth every day,

We, at the height, are ready to decline.
There is a tide in the affairs of men,

Which,

Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
Omitted, all the Voyage of their Life
Is bound in shallows, 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
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 ret.
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. 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 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 cushions in my Tent.

Luc. Varro, and Claudius!

SCENE VI.

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 bufinefs to my brother Caffius.

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 fhall otherwise bethink me.

Look, Lucius, here's the book 1 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 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, Sir.

Bru. I fhould not urge thy duty past 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 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.
-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.

SCENE

SCENE VII.

Enter the Ghost of Cæfar.

How ill this taper burns!-ha! who comes here ?
I think, it is the weakness of mine eyes,
That fhapes 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 stare?
Speak to me, what thou art.

Ghoft. Thy evil fpirit, Brutus.

Bru. Why com'st thou?

Ghoft. To tell thee, thou fhalt fee me at Philippi. Bru. Then, I fhall fee thee again.

Ghoft. Ay, at Philippi.

[Exit Ghoft. 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, 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 ft 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. Sirrah, Claudius, fellow! (8) Thou! awake.

Var. My Lord!

Clau. My Lord.

Bru. Why did you fo cry out, Sirs, in your sleep? Both. Did we, my Lord?

(8) Thou! awake.] The accent is fo unmuficaf 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. I read,

Varro! awake.

WARBURTON.