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Bru. No man bears sorrow better:-Portia is dead.
Impatient of my
Cas. And died so?
Enter Lucius, with Wine and Tapers. Bru. Speak no more of her.-Give me a bowl of
wine: In this I bury all unkindness, Cassius. [Drinks.
Cas. My heart is thirsty for that noble pledge:Fill, Lucius, till the wine o'erswell the cup; I cannot drink too much of Brutus’ love. [Drinks.
Re-enter TITINIUS, with MessALA. Bru. Come in, Titinius:-Welcome, good Mes
Cas. Portia, art thou gone?
pray you.Messala, 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. Myself have letters of the self-same tenour. Bru. With what addition?
Mes. That by proscription, and bills of outlawry, Octavius, Antony, and Lepidus, Have put to death an hundred senators. Bru. Therein our letters do not well
Cas. Cicero one?
Ay, Cicero is dead,
Bru. No, Messala.
That, methinks, is strange. Bru. Why ask 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:
Mes. Even so great men great losses should endure.
Cas. I have as much of this in art* as you, But yet my nature could not bear it so.
Bru. Well, to our work alive. What do you think Of marching to Philippi presently?
Cas. I do not think it good.
Your reason? Cas.
That it is:
once,] i. e. at some time or other.
'Tis better, that the enemy seek us:
Hear me, good brother.
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,
Good night; Early to-morrow will we rise, and hence.
Bru. Lucius, my gown. [Exit Lucius.] Fare
well, good Messala;-
Every thing is well.
Good night, good brother.
Farewell, every one.
Re-enter Lucius, with the Gown.
Luc. Here in the tent.
What, thou speak'st drowsily?
Luc. Varro, and Claudius!
Enter VARRO and CLAUDIUS. Var. Calls
[Servants lie down.
Luc. I was sure, your lordship did not give it me.
Luc. Ay, my lord, an it please you.
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 rest.
Luc. I have slept, my lord, already. - Bru. It is 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 musick?—Gentleknave, good night; I will not do thee so much wrong to wake thee. If thou dost nod, thou break'st thy instrument ; I'll take it from thee; and, good boy, good night. Let me see, let me see;—Is not the leaf turn'd down, Where I left reading ? Here it is, I think.
[He sits down.
Enter the Ghost of CÆSAR. 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 soine devil, That mak’st my blood cold, and my hair to stare? Speak to me, what thou art.
Ghost. Thy evil spirit, Brutus.
thy leaden mace -) A mace is the ancient term for a