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That we have try'd the utmost of our friends,
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,
dear brother! This was an ill beginning of the night : Never come such division 'tween our souls ! Let it not, Brutus. Bru.
Every thing is well. Cas. Good night, my lord.
Good night, good brother.
Farewell, every one. [Exeunt Cas. Tit. and Mes.
Re-enter. LUCIUS, with the
gown. Give me the gown. Where is thy instrument?
Luc. Here in the tent.
What, thou speak'st 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, lie in my tent, and sleep; It may be, I shall raise you by and by On business to my brother Cassius, Var. So please you, we will stand, and watch your
pleasure. Bru. I will not have it so: lie down, good sirs; It may be, I shall otherwise bethink me. Look, Lucius, here's the book I sought for so; I put it in the pocket of my gown. [Servants lie down.
Luc. I was sure, your Lordship did not give it me.
Bru. Bear with me, good boy, I am much forgetful. Canst thou hold up thy heavy eyes awhile, And touch thy instrument a strain or two?
Luć. 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 ?-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 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 some devil, That mak'st my blood cold, and my hair to stare? Speak to me, what thou art.
Ghost. Thy evil spirit, Brutus.
Why com'st thou ?
Ay, at Philippi.
[Ghost vanishes. Bru. Why, I will see 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 strings, my lord, are false.
Bru. He thinks, he still is at his instrument.
Luc. My lord!
cry'dst out? Luc. My lord, I do not know that I did cry. Bru. Yes, that thou didst: Didst thou see any
Bru. Sleep again, Lucius.--Sirrah, Claudius!
Var. My lord.
Ay; saw you any thing?
Nor I, my lord.