« AnteriorContinua »
Luc. You shall not come to them.
Poet. Nothing but Death shall stay me.
Caf. How now? What's the matter?
Poet. For shame you Generals? what do you mean?
Love, and be Friends, as two such Men should be,
For I have seen more Years I'm sure than
Caf. Ha, ha---how vilely doth this Cynick rhime!
Bru. Get you hence, Sirrah; 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 jigging Fools?
Caf. Away, away, be gone.
[Exit Poeta Bru, Lucilius and Titinius, bid the Commanders Prepare to lodge their Companies to Night.
Caf. And come your selves, and bring Messala with you Immediately to us. [Exeunt Lucilius and Titinius.
Bru. Lucius, a Bowl of Wine.
Caf. I did not think you could have been so angry.
Bru. O Cassius, I am sick of
Caf. Of your Philosophy you make no use,
If you give place to accidental Evils.
Bru. No Man bears Sorrow better---Portia is dead.
Caf. Ha! Portia!
Bru. She is dead.
Caf. How fcap'd I killing, when I crost you so?
O insupportable and touching Loss!
Upon what Sickness?
Bru. Impatient of my abfence;
And Grief, that young O&tavius with Mark Antony,
Have made themselves so strong: For with her Death
That tydings came. With this she fell distract,
And (her Attendants absent) swallow'd Fire.
Cas. And dy'd fo?
Bru. Even so.
Caf. O ye immortal Gods!
Enter Boy with Wine and Tapers.
Brn. Speak no more of her : Give me a Bowl of Winc,
In this I bury all unkindness, Calius.
Caf. My Heart is thirsty for that noble Pledge,
Fill, Lucius, 'till the Wine o'er-swell the Cup;
I cannot drink too much of Brutus's Love.
Enter Titinius, and Messala.
Bru. Come in, Titinius; welcome, good Meffala :
Now fit we close about this Taper here,
And call in question our Neceflities.
Caf. Portial art thou gone?
Bru, No more, I pray you.
Mesala, I have here received Letters,
That young O&tavius; and Mark Antony,
Come down upon us with a mighty Power,
Bending their Expedition toward Philippio
Mes. My self have Letters of the self-fame tenure.
Bru. With what Addition?
Mes. That by Profcription, and Bills of Outlawry,
Otaviss, Antony, and Lepidus,
Have put to Death an hundred Senators.
Bru. Therein our Letters do not well agree;
Mine speak of seventy Senators, that dy'd
By their Proscriptions, Cicero being one.
Caf. Cicero one?
Mes. Cicero is dead; and by that Order of Proscription. Had you your Letters from your Wife, my Lord?
Bru. No, Meffala.
Mef. Nor nothing in your Letters writ of her?
Brú. Nothing, Messala.
Mef. That, methinks, is strange.
Bru.Why ask 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 the is dead, and by strange manner.
Bru. Why, farewel, Portia---we must die, Meffala,
With meditating that she must die once,
I have the patience to endure it now.
Mes. Even so great Men, great Lofles 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 presently.
Caf. I do not think it good.
Bru. Your Reason?
Caf. This it is:
'Tis better that the Enemy seek us,
So shall he waste his means, weary his Soldiers,
Doing himself Offence, whilst we lying still,
Are full of rest, defence and nimbleness.
Bru. Good Reasons must of force give place to better.
The People 'twixt Philippi, and this Ground,
Do stand but in a forc'd Affe&ion
For they have grudg'd us Contribution.
The Enemy, marching along by them,
By them thall make a fuller number up,
- Come on refresht, new added, and encouragd ;
From which Advantage shall 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 beside,
That we have try'd the utmost 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 taken at the Flood, leads on to Fortune;
Omitted, all the Voyage of their Life,
Is bound in Shallows, and in Miseries.
On such a full Sea, are we now a-float,
And we must take the Current when it serves,
Or lose our Ventures.
Caf. Then with your will go on; we will along
Our selves, and meet them at Philippi.
Bru. The deep of Night is crepe upon our Talk,
And Nature must obey Neceflity,
Which we will niggard with a little Rest;
There is no more to say.
Caf. No more; good Night;
Early to Morrow will we rise, and hence.
Bru. Lucius, my Gown; farewel, good Meffala,
Good Night, Titinius: Noble, Noble Cassius,
Good Night, and good Repose.
Caf. O my dear Brother!
This was an ill beginning of the Night,
Never came such Division 'tween our Souls;
Let it not, Brutus.
Enter Lucius with the Gown.
Bru. Every thing is well.
Cas. Good Night, my Lord.
Bru. Good Night, good Brother,
Tit. Messa. Good Night, Lord Brutus !
Bru. Farewel, every one.
[Exeunz. Give me the Gown. Where is thy Instrument?
Luc. Here in the Tent.
Bru. What, thou speakest drowsily?
Poor Knave, I blame thee not, thou art o'er-watch'd.
Call Claudius, and some other of my Men,
I'll have them sleep on Cushions in my Tent.
Luc. Varro and Claudius.
Enter Varro and Claudius.
Var. Calls my Lord ?
Bru. I pray you, Sirs, lye in my Tent, and sleep,
It may be, I shall raise you by and by,
On Business to my Brother Caffius.
Var. So please you, we will stand, and watch your Pleasure.
Bru. I will not have it so; lye down, good Sirs,
It may be I shall otherwise bethink me.
Look Lucius, here's the Book I fought for so;
I put in the Pocket of my Gown.
Luc. I was sure your Lordship did not give it me.
Bru. Bear with me, good Boy, I am much
Canst thou hold up thy heavy Eyes a while,
And touch thy Instrument, a strain or two?
Luc. Ay, my Lord, an't please you.
Bry. It does, my Boy ;
I trouble thee too much, but thou art willing.
Lm. It is my Duty, Sir.
Brø. 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 was well done, and thou shalt sleep again;
I will not hold thee long. If I do live,
I will be good to thee.
This is a sleepy Tune murderous flumber!
Lay'st thou thy Leaden Mace upon my Boy,
That plays thee Musick Gentle Knave, 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 fee, let me see? 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 Táper 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 some Devil,
That mak’st my Blood cold, and my Hair to ftare?
Speak to me, what thou art?
Ghost. Thy evil Spirit, Brutus.
Bru. Why com'st thou?
Ghost. To tell thee thou shalt see me at Philippi.
Bru. Well then I shall see thee again-
Ghost. Ay, at Philippi.
Brú. Why, I will see thee at Philippi then;
Now I have taken heart, thou vanilheft,
Ill Spirit ; I would hold more talk with thee.
Boy! Lucius! Varro! Claudius! Sirs ! awake!
Luc. The strings, my Lord, are false.
Bru. He thinks he is still at his Instrument. Lucius ! awake.
Luc. My Lord!
Bru. Didst thou dream, Lucius, that thou so. criedft out? Luc. My Lord, I do not know that I did cry,