JULIUS CAESAR. William Shakespeare
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BRUTUS.
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.—
[Lucius plays and sings till he 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 breakst 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 Caesar.]
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 makest my blood cold and my hair to stare?
Speak to me what thou art.
GHOST.
Thy evil spirit, Brutus.
BRUTUS.
Why comest thou?
GHOST.
To tell thee thou shalt see me at Philippi.
BRUTUS.
Well; then I shall see thee again?
GHOST.
Ay, at Philippi.
BRUTUS.
Why, I will see thee at Philippi, then.
[Ghost vanishes.]
Now I have taken heart, thou vanishest:
Ill spirit, I would hold more talk with thee.—
Boy! Lucius!—Varro! Claudius! Sirs, awake!—Claudius!
LUCIUS.
The strings, my lord, are false.
BRUTUS.
He thinks he still is at his instrument.—
Lucius, awake!
LUCIUS.
My lord?
BRUTUS.
Didst thou dream, Lucius, that thou so criedst out?
LUCIUS.
My lord, I do not know that I did cry.
BRUTUS.
Yes, that thou didst: didst thou see any thing?
LUCIUS.
Nothing, my lord.
BRUTUS.
Sleep again, Lucius.—Sirrah Claudius!—
[To Varro.] Fellow thou, awake!
VARRO.
My lord?
CLAUDIUS.
My lord?
BRUTUS.
Why did you so cry out, sirs, in your sleep?
VARRO. CLAUDIUS.
Did we, my lord?
BRUTUS.
Ay: saw you any thing?
VARRO.
No, my lord, I saw nothing.
CLAUDIUS.
Nor I, my lord.
BRUTUS.
Go and commend me to my brother Cassius;
Bid him set on his powers betimes before,
And we will follow.
VARRO. CLAUDIUS.
It shall be done, my lord.
[Exeunt.]
ACT V.
SCENE I. The plains of Philippi.
[Enter Octavius, Antony, and their Army.]
OCTAVIUS.
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.
ANTONY.
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.]
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.
ANTONY.
Octavius, lead your battle softly on,
Upon the left hand of the even field.
OCTAVIUS.
Upon the right hand I; keep thou the left.
ANTONY.
Why do you cross me in this exigent?
OCTAVIUS.
I do not cross you; but I will do so.
[March. Drum. Enter Brutus, Cassius, and their Army;
Lucilius, Titinius, Messala, and Others.]
BRUTUS.
They stand, and would have parley.
CASSIUS.
Stand fast, Titinius: we must out and talk.
OCTAVIUS.
Mark Antony, shall we give sign of battle?
ANTONY.
No, Caesar, we will answer on their charge.
Make forth; the generals would have some words.
OCTAVIUS.
Stir not until the signal.
BRUTUS.
Words before blows: is it so, countrymen?
OCTAVIUS.
Not that we love words better, as you do.
BRUTUS.
Good words are better than bad strokes, Octavius.
ANTONY.
In your bad strokes, Brutus, you give good words:
Witness the hole you made in Caesar’s heart,
Crying, “Long live! Hail, Caesar!”
CASSIUS.
Antony,
The