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.

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 a while,
And touch thy instrument, a strain or two?

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;
I know, young bloods look for a time of rest.

Luc.
I have slept, my lord, already.

Bru.
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. [Musick and a Song.

This is a sleepy tune—O murth'rous slumber!
Lay'st thou thy leaden mace upon my boy,
That plays thee musick? 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.
But let me see—is not the leaf turn'd down,
Where I left reading? here it is, I think. [He sits down to read.

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