Part 22

Bru. Lucius my Gowne: farewell good Messala, Good night Titinius: Noble, Noble Cassius, Good night, and good repose

Cassi. O my deere Brother: This was an ill beginning of the night: Neuer come such diuision 'tweene our soules: Let it not Brutus. Enter Lucius with the Gowne.

Bru. Euery thing is well

Cassi. Good night my Lord

Bru. Good night good Brother

Tit. Messa. Good night Lord Brutus

Bru. Farwell euery one.

Exeunt.

Giue me the Gowne. Where is thy Instrument? Luc. Heere in the Tent

Bru. What, thou speak'st drowsily? Poore knaue I blame thee not, thou art ore-watch'd. Call Claudio, and some other of my men, Ile haue them sleepe on Cushions in my Tent

Luc. Varrus, and Claudio. Enter Varrus and Claudio.

Var. Cals my Lord? Bru. I pray you sirs, lye in my Tent and sleepe, It may be I shall raise you by and by On businesse to my Brother Cassius

Var. So please you, we will stand, And watch your pleasure

Bru. I will it not haue it so: Lye downe good sirs, It may be I shall otherwise bethinke me. Looke Lucius, heere's the booke I sought for so: I put it in the pocket of my Gowne

Luc. I was sure your Lordship did not giue it me

Bru. Beare with me good Boy, I am much forgetfull. Canst thou hold vp thy heauie eyes a-while, And touch thy Instrument a straine or two

Luc. I 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

Brut. I should not vrge thy duty past thy might, I know yong bloods looke for a time of rest

Luc. I haue slept my Lord already

Bru. It was well done, and thou shalt sleepe againe: I will not hold thee long. If I do liue, I will be good to thee.

Musicke, and a Song.

This is a sleepy Tune: O Murd'rous slumber! Layest thou thy Leaden Mace vpon my Boy, That playes thee Musicke? Gentle knaue good night: I will not do thee so much wrong to wake thee: If thou do'st nod, thou break'st thy Instrument, Ile take it from thee, and (good Boy) good night. Let me see, let me see; is not the Leafe turn'd downe Where I left reading? Heere it is I thinke. Enter the Ghost of Caesar.

How ill this Taper burnes. Ha! Who comes heere? I thinke it is the weakenesse of mine eyes That shapes this monstrous Apparition. It comes vpon me: Art thou any thing? Art thou some God, some Angell, or some Diuell, That mak'st my blood cold, and my haire to stare? Speake to me, what thou art

Ghost. Thy euill Spirit Brutus? Bru. Why com'st thou? Ghost. To tell thee thou shalt see me at Philippi

Brut. Well: then I shall see thee againe? Ghost. I, at Philippi

Brut. Why I will see thee at Philippi then: Now I haue taken heart, thou vanishest. Ill Spirit, I would hold more talke with thee. Boy, Lucius, Varrus, Claudio, Sirs: Awake: Claudio