| |
| BRUTUS. Give me the gown. Where is thy instrument? | |
| LUCIUS. 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; | 5 |
| 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 | 10 |
| 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: | 15 |
| 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? | 20 |
| 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: | 25 |
| 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. (Music, and a Song.) | 30 |
| 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: | 35 |
| 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. (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, | 40 |
| 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. | 45 |
| 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. (Vanishes.) | 50 |
| 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. | |
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