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 afloat;

And we must take the current when it serves,
Or lose our ventures.

Cass.

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, And nature must obey necessity;

Which we will niggard with a little rest.

There is no more to say?

Cass.

No more.

Good night:

Early to-morrow will we rise, and hence.

Bru. Lucius, my gown! Farewell, good Messala: Good night, Titinius: noble, noble Cassius,

Good night, and good repose.

Cass.
0 my dear brother!
This was an ill beginning of the night:
Never come such division 'tween our souls!

Let it not, Brutus.

Give me the gown. Where is thy instrument?

Luc.

Bru.

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!

It

Var. Calls

Enter VARRO and CLAUDIUS.

my lord?

Bru. I pray you, sirs, lie in my tent and sleep;

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.

[Varro and Claudius 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?

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 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.

[Music, and a song, towards the end of which Lucius falls asleep.

This is a sleepy tune:

O murderous slumber,
Lay'st thou thy leaden mace upon my boy,

That plays thee music? 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.

Enter the Ghost of CESAR,

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.

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.

Bru. Why, I will see thee at Philippi, then. [Exit Ghost. Now I have taken heart thou vanishest:

Ill spirit, I would hold more talk with thee.

Boy, Lucius! - Varro! Claudius!

Claudius!

Sirs, awake!

Luc. The strings, my lord, are false.

Bru. He thinks he still is at his instrument.

Lucius, awake!

Luc. My lord?

Bru. Didst thou dream, Lucius, that thou so criedst out?

Luc. My lord, I do not know that I did cry.

Bru.

Yes, that thou didst: didst thou see any thing?

Luc. Nothing, my lord.

Bru. Sleep again, Lucius.

[To Var.] Fellow thou, awake!

Var. My lord?

Clau. My lord?

Sirrah Claudius!

Bru. Why did you so cry out, sirs, in your sleep?
Var. Clau. Did we, my lord?

Bru.

Ay: saw you any thing?

Var. No, my lord, I saw nothing.
Clau

Nor I, my lord

Bru. Go and commend me to my brother Cassius; Bid him set on his powers betimes before,

SCENE I. The plains of Philippi.

Enter OCTAVIUS, ANTONY, and their Army.
Oct. Now, Antony, our hopes are answered:
You said the enemy would not come down,
But keep the hills and upper regions:
It proves not so; their battles are at hand;
They mean to warn us at Philippi here,
Answering before we do demand of them.

Ant. Tut, I am in their bosoms, and I know
Wherefore they do it: they could be content
To visit other places; and come down

With fearful bravery, thinking by this face

To fasten in our thoughts that they have courage;
But 'tis not so.

Mess.

Enter a Messenger.

Prepare you, generals:

The enemy comes on in gallant show;

Their bloody sign of battle is hung out,
And something to be done immediately.

Ant. Octavius, lead your battle softly on,

Upon the left hand of the even field.

Oct. Upon the right hand I; keep thou the left.
Ant. Why do you cross me in this exigent?
Oct. I do not cross you; but I will do so.

[March

Drum. Enter BRUTUS, CASSIUS, and their Army; LUCILIUS,
TITINIUS, MESSALA, and others.

Bru. They stand, and would have parley. Col
Cass. Stand fast, Titinius: we must out and talk.

Oct. Mark Antony, shall we give sign of battle? Ant. No, Cæsar, we will answer on their charge. Make forth; the generals would have some words. Oct. Stir not until the signal.

Bru.

Words before blows:

is it so, countrymen? (Oct. Not that we love words better, as you do.

Bru. Good words are better than bad strokes, Octavius. Ant. In your bad strokes, Brutus, you give good words; Witness the hole you made in Cæsar's heart,

Crying, "Long live! hail, Cæsar!"

Cass.

Antony, The posture of your blows are yet unknown; But for your words, they rob the Hybla bees, And leave them honeyless.

Ant.

Not stingléss too.
Bru. O, yes, and soundless too;

For you have stol'n their buzzing, Antony,

And very wisely threat before you sting.

Ant. Villains, you did not so, when your vile daggers Hack'd one another in the sides of Cæsar:

You show'd your teeth like apes, and fawn'd like hounds, And bow'd like bondmen, kissing Cæsar's feet;

Whilst damned Casca, like a cur, behind

Struck Cæsar on the neck. O flatterers!

Cass. Flatterers! - Now, Brutus, thank yourself:

This tongue had not offended so to-day,

If Cassius might have rul'd.

Oct. Come, come, the cause: if arguing make us sweat, The proof of it will turn to redder drops.

`Look,

I draw a sword against conspirators;

When think you that the sword goes up again?

Never, till Cæsar's three-and-thirty wounds

Be well aveng'd; or till another Cæsar

Have added slaughter to the sword of traitors.

Bru. Cæsar, thou canst not die by traitors' hands,

Unless thou bring'st them with thee.