JULIUS CAESAR. William Shakespeare

you your letters from your wife, my lord?

       BRUTUS.

       No, Messala.

       MESSALA.

       Nor nothing in your letters writ of her?

       BRUTUS.

       Nothing, Messala.

       MESSALA.

       That, methinks, is strange.

       BRUTUS.

       Why ask you? hear you aught of her in yours?

       MESSALA.

       No, my lord.

       BRUTUS.

       Now, as you are a Roman, tell me true.

       MESSALA.

       Then like a Roman bear the truth I tell:

       For certain she is dead, and by strange manner.

       BRUTUS.

       Why, farewell, Portia. We must die, Messala:

       With meditating that she must die once,

       I have the patience to endure it now.

       MESSALA.

       Even so great men great losses should endure.

       CASSIUS.

       I have as much of this in art as you,

       But yet my nature could not bear it so.

       BRUTUS.

       Well, to our work alive. What do you think

       Of marching to Philippi presently?

       CASSIUS.

       I do not think it good.

       BRUTUS.

       Your reason?

       CASSIUS.

       This it is:

       ‘Tis better that the enemy seek us;:

       So shall he waste his means, weary his soldiers,

       Doing himself offense; whilst we, lying still,

       Are full of rest, defense, and nimbleness.

       BRUTUS.

       Good reasons must, of force, give place to better.

       The people ‘twixt Philippi and this ground

       Do stand but in a forced affection;

       For they have grudged us contribution:

       The enemy, marching along by them,

       By them shall make a fuller number up,

       Come on refresh’d, new-added, and encouraged;

       From which advantage shall we cut him off,

       If at Philippi we do face him there,

       These people at our back.

       CASSIUS.

       Hear me, good brother.

       BRUTUS.

       Under your pardon. You must note besides,

       That we have tried 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 flood, 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 afloat;

       And we must take the current when it serves,

       Or lose our ventures.

       CASSIUS.

       Then, with your will, go on:

       We’ll along ourselves, and meet them at Philippi.

       BRUTUS.

       The deep of night is crept upon our talk,

       And nature must obey necessity;

       Which we will niggard with a little rest.

       There is no more to say?

       CASSIUS.

       No more. Good night:

       Early tomorrow will we rise, and hence.

       BRUTUS.

       Lucius!—My gown.—Farewell now, good Messala:—

       Good night, Titinius:—noble, noble Cassius,

       Good night, and good repose.

       CASSIUS.

       O my dear brother!

       This was an ill beginning of the night.

       Never come such division ‘tween our souls!

       Let it not, Brutus.

       BRUTUS.

       Every thing is well.

       CASSIUS.

       Good night, my lord.

       BRUTUS.

       Good night, good brother.

       TITINIUS. MESSALA.

       Good night, Lord Brutus.

       BRUTUS.

       Farewell, everyone.—

       [Exeunt Cassius, Titinius, and Messala.]

       [Re-enter Lucius, with the gown.]

       Give me the gown. Where is thy instrument?

       LUCIUS.

       Here in the tent.

       BRUTUS.

       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.

       LUCIUS.

       Varro and Claudius!

       [Enter Varro and Claudius.]

       VARRO.

       Calls my lord?

       BRUTUS.

       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 Cassius.

       VARRO.

       So please you, we will stand and watch your pleasure.

       BRUTUS.

       I would 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;

       I put it in the pocket of my gown.

       [Servants lie down.]

       LUCIUS.

       I was sure your lordship did not give it me.

       BRUTUS.

       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?

       LUCIUS.

       Ay, my lord, an’t please you.

       BRUTUS.

       It does, my boy:

       I trouble thee too much, but thou art willing.

       LUCIUS.

       It is my duty, sir.

       BRUTUS.

       I should not urge thy duty past thy might;

       I know young bloods look for a time of rest.

       LUCIUS.

       I have slept,