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 turned down
Where I left reading? Here it is, I think.

Enter the Ghost of CÆSAR

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[Sits down.

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

That shapes this monstrous apparition.
Art thou any thing?

It comes upon me.

Art thou some god,

some angel, or some devil,

That makest my blood cold, and my hair to stare? 280

Speak to me what thou art.

Ghost. Thy evil spirit, Brutus.

Bru.

Why comest 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! Sirs, awake!
Claudius!

Luc. The strings, my lord, are false.

Bru. He thinks he still is at his instrument.

Lucius, awake!

Luc. My lord?

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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 anything? Luc. Nothing, my lord.

Bru. Sleep again, Lucius. Sirrah Claudius!

[TO VARRO] Fellow thou, awake!

Var. My lord?

Clau. My lord?

300

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

ACT V

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.

Enter a Messenger

ΤΟ

Mess.

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.

Cct. 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.

19

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

Bru. They stand, and would have parley.
Cas. 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!"

Cas.

Antony,

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

Ant.

Not stingless too.

30

Bru. O, yes, and soundless too;

For you have stolen their buzzing, Antony,
And very wisely threat before you sting.

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

40

You showed your teeth like apes, and fawned like hounds,

And bowed like bondmen, kissing Cæsar's feet;
Whilst damned Casca, like a cur, behind
Struck Cæsar on the neck. O you flatterers!

Cas. Flatterers! Now, Brutus, thank yourself: This tongue had not offended so to-day,

If Cassius might have ruled.

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 avenged, or till another Cæsar

Have added slaughter to the sword of traitors.

50

Bru. Cæsar, thou canst not die by traitors' hands, Unless thou bring'st them with thee.

Oct.

So I hope;