Bru. What's the matter?

Caf. Have you not love enough to bear with me, When that rash humour which my mother gave me, Makes me forgetful?

Bru. Yes, Caffius, and from henceforth

When you are over-earnest with your Brutus,
He'll think your mother chides, and leave you fo.

[A noife within.
Poet within. Let me go in to fee the Generals;
There is fome grudge between 'em, 'tis not meet
They be alone.

Luc. within. You fhall not come to them.

Poet within. Nothing but death shall stay me.
Enter Poet.

Caf. How now? what's the matter?

Poet. For fhame, you Generals; what do you mean? Love, and be friends, as two fuch men fhould be ; For I have seen more years, I'm fure, than ye.

Caf. Ha, ha-how vilely doth this Cynick rhime! Bru. Get you hence, firrah; fawcy fellow, hence. Caf. Bear with him, Brutus, 'tis his fashion.

Bru. I'll know his humour, when he knows his time; What should the wars do with these jingling fools? Companion, hence.

Caf. Away, away, be gone.

Enter Lucilius, and Titinius.

[Exit Poet.

Bru. Lucilius and Titinius, bid the commanders Prepare to lodge their companies to-night.

Caf. And come yourselves, and bring Messala with you Immediately to us.

[Exeunt Lucilius and litinius.

Bru. Lucius, a bowl of wine.

Caf. I did not think you could have been fo angry.

Bru. O Caffius, I am fick of many griefs.

Caf. Of your philofophy you make no ufe,

If you give place to accidental evils.

Bru. No man bears forrow better-Porcia's dead.
Caf. Ha! Porcia!.

Bru. She is dead.

Caf.

Caf. How fcap'd I killing, when I croft you fo? O infupportable and touching lofs! Upon what sickness ?

Bru. Impatient of my absence;

And grief, that young Octavius with Mark Antony Have made themselves fo ftrong: (for with her death That tidings came) With this the 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.

Caf. My heart is thirfty for that noble pledge.
Fill, Lucius, 'till the wine o'erfwell the cup;
I cannot drink too much of Brutus' love.

Bru. Come in, Titinius ;-welcome, good Meala.
Enter Titinius, and Meffala.

Now fit we clofe about this taper here,
And call in queftion our neceffities.
Caf. O 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 agree;

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. Had you your letters from your wife, my lord?

Bru

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 ought 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 strange manner. 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 fhould endure. Caf. 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 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 waste his means, weary his foldiers,
Doing himself offence; whilft we, lying ftill,

Are full of reft, defence and nimbleness.

Pru. 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 refresht, 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 encreaseth every day,

We, at the height are ready to decline.

There

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 serves,

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 must obey neceffity;

Which we will niggard with a little rest.

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 Meala, Good night, Titinius: noble, noble Caffius,

Good night, and good repofe.

Caf. 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, ev'ry 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'erwatch'd.

Call Claudius, and fome other of my men;

I'll have them fleep on cushions in my Tent.

Luc. Varro, and Claudius!

Var.

Enter Varro, and Claudius.

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 Caffius.

[pleature.

Var. So please you, we will ftand, and watch your
Bru. I will not have it fo; lie down, good Sirs:
It 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 forgetful. Canft thou hold up thy heavy eyes awhile,

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 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't 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 dost 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.

Enter the Ghost of Cæfar.

How ill this taper burns! Ha! who comes here? I think it is the weakness 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