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Cas. Cicero one?


Ay, Cicero is dead,

And by that order of proscription.—

Had you your letters from your wife, my lord?
Bru. No, Messala.

Mes. Nor nothing in your letters writ of her?
Bru. Nothing, Messala.


That, methinks, is strange.

Bru. Why ask you? Hear you aught of her in yours?
Mes. No, my lord.

Bru. Now, as you are a Roman, tell me true.
Mes. Then like a Roman bear the truth I tell :

For certain she is dead, and by strange manner.

Bru. Why, farewell, Portia.-We must die, Messala: With meditating that she must die once,

I have the patience to endure it now.

Mes. Even so great men great losses should endure.
Cas. I have as much of this in art as you,

But yet my nature could not bear it so.

Bru. Well, to our work alive. What do you think Of marching to Philippi presently?

Cas. I do not think it good.



Your reason.

This it is:

"Tis better, that the enemy seek us:

So shall he waste his means, weary his soldiers,
Doing himself offence; whilst we, lying still,

Are full of rest, defence, and nimbleness.

Bru. Good reasons must, of force, give place to better. The people, 'twixt Philippi and this ground,

Do stand but in a forc'd affection;

For they have grudg'd 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.


Hear me, good brother.

Bru. Under your pardon.-You must note beside,

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.


Then, with your will, go on:

We'll along ourselves, and meet them at Philippi.
Bru. 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?


No more.

Good night;

Early to-morrow will we rise, and hence.

Bru. Lucius, my gown.-[Exit LUCIUS.]-Farewell, good Mes


Good night, Titinius.-Noble, noble Cassius,

Good night, and good repose.


O my dear brother!

This was an ill beginning of the night:
Never come such division 'tween our souls!

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What, thou speak'st drowsily?

Poor knave, I blame thee not; thou art o'er-watch'd.

Call Claudius, and some other of my men;

I'll have them sleep on cushions in my tent.

Luc. 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 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:

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?
Luc. Ay, my lord, an it please you.


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;
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.

This is a sleepy tune :-O murd'rous slumber!
Lay'st thou thy leaden mace upon my boy,

[Music, and a song.

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;
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 CESAR.

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 mak'st my blood cold, and my hair to stare?
Speak to me, what thou art.

Ghost. Thy evil spirit, Brutus.

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.

Bru. Why, I shall see thee at Philippi then.Now I have taken heart, thou vanishest:

Ill spirit, I would hold more talk with thee.

Boy! Lucius!-Varro! Claudius! Sirs, awake!

Luc. The strings, my lord, are false.

Bru. He thinks, he still is at his instrument.Lucius, awake.

Luc. My lord!

[He sits down

[Ghost vanishes.

Bru. Didst thou dream, Lucius, that thou so cry'dst out?
Luc. My lord, I do not know that I did cry.

Bru. Yes, that thou didst: Didst thou see any thing?

Luc. Nothing, my lord.

Bru. Sleep again, Lucius.-Sirrah, Claudius!

Fellow thou! awake.

Var. My lord.

Clau. My lord.

Bru. Why did you so cry out, sirs, in your sleep?
Var. Clau. Did we, my lord?


Ay, saw you any thing?

Nor I, my lord.

Var. No, my lord, I saw nothing.

Bru. Go, and commend me to my brother Cassius;

Bid him set on his powers betimes before,

And we will follow.

Var. Clau. It shall be done, my lord.



The fifth Act is occupied with the battle of Philippi, the defeat and death of Brutus and Cassius. They perish by their own hands. The Drama ends with the following eulogium on Brutus, by Antony and Octavius.

Ant. This was the noblest Roman of them all :

All the conspirators, save only he,

Did that they did in envy of great Cæsar;
He, only, in a general honest thought,
And common good to all, made one of them.
His life was gentle; and the elements
So mix'd in him, that Nature might stand up,
And say to all the world, This was a man!

Oct. According to his virtue let us use him,
With all respect, and rites of burial.
Within my tent his bones to-night shall lie,
Most like a soldier, order'd honorably.-
So, call the field to rest: and let's away,
To part the glories of this happy day.





Shakspeare appears to have invariably sought for the originals of his plots from sources within his reach.-The Italian novelists of his period furnished ample materials for his purpose, but although there are traces to be found in the present Comedy, of incidents, which are evidently borrowed from these sources, yet even the industrious and acute researches of the critics cannot distinctly trace out the precise authorities, to which the Poet is indebted for the groundwork of this delightful Comedy.

There is in this Drama, an under plot,-skilfully interwoven into the main subject, yet, in no degree necessary to the chief action of the Play. The nature of our design, has induced the rejection of the comic incidents, which form the minor plot, so that we might incorporate into our selections, the entire main story, with all its charming beauties of graceful and touching Poetry.


ORSINO, Duke of Illyria.

SEBASTIAN, a young gentleman, brother to Viola.

ANTONIO, a sea captain, friend to Sebastian.

A sea captain, friend to Viola.

VALENTINE, CURIO, gentlemen attending on the Duke.

Sir TOBY BELCH, uncle of Olivia.


MALVOLIO, Steward to Olivia.

FABIAN, Clown, servants to Olivia.

OLIVIA, a rich Countess.

VIOLA, in love with the Duke.

MARIA, Olivia's woman.

Lords, Priests, Sailors, Officers, Musicians, and other Attendants.

SCENE-A City in ILLYRIA; and the Sea-coast near it.

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