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Me). Myself have letters of the self-fame tenour.
. That by proscription, and bills of outlawry,
Bru. Therein our letters do not well agree;
Caf. Cicero one?
. Cicero is dead ;
Bru. No, Meffala.
. Nor nothing in your letters writ of her ?
. No, my lord.
Mes. Then like a Roman bear the truth I tell.
Bru. Why, farewel, Portia. -We muit die, Mer
With meditating that she must die once,
. Even so great men great losles should endure.
yet my nature could not bear it fo.
Caf. I do not think it good.
Caf. This it is :
Doing himself offence ; whilst we, lying still,
Caf. Hear me, good brother
Bru. Under your pardon.—You must note beside, That we have tryd the utmost of our friends, Our legions are brim full, our cause is ripe ; The enemy increaseth every day, We at the height are ready to decline. There is a tide in the affairs of men, Which, taken at the food, 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 Ourselves, and meet them at Philippi.
Bru. The deep of night is crept upon our talk, And nature must obey necesity; Which we will niggard with a little rest, There is no more to say.
2 There is a tide, &c.] This passage is poorly imitated by B. and Fletcher, in the Custom of the Country.
There is an hour in each man's life appointed
Cas. No more.
Good night : Early to-morrow will we rise, and hence. Bru. Lucius, my gown. [Exit Luc.] Farewel,
Caf. O my dear brother!
Re-enter Lucius with the gown.
[Exeunt, Give me the gown. Where is thy instrument?
Luc. Here, in the tent.
Bru. What, thou speak'st drowsily? Poor knave, I blame thee not; thou art o'erwatch'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 Caffius. Var. So please you, we will stand, and watch your
pleasure. Bru. I will not have it fo: lie down, good firs • It may be, I shall otherwise bethink me. Look, Lucius, here's the book I fought for so; I put it 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 forgetful.
Canst thou hold up thy heavy eyes a while,
Luc. Ay, my lord, an’t please you.
Bru. It does, my boy :
Luc. It is my duty, lir.
Bru. I should not urge thy duty past thy might; I know, young bloods look for a time of reft.
Luc. I have Nept, iny lord, already.
Bru. It was well done ; and thou shalt seep again ;
'[ Musick and a fong.
[He fits down to read.
Ghost. Thy evil spirit, Brutus.
3 Well then, I shall see thee again. This reply is taken exactly from the old translation of Plutarch.
Ghoft. Ay, at Philippi.
Luc. The strings, my lord, are false.
Bru. He thinks, he is still at his instrument.--
Luc. My lord!
thing? Luc. Nothing, my lord.
Bru. Sleep again, Lucius. Sirrah, Claudius!
Var. My lord !
Bru. Go, and commend me to my brother Caffius;
Both. It shall be done, my lord. . [Exeunt.