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.

Bru.
Why com'st thou?

Ghost.
To tell thee, thou shalt see me at Philippi.

Bru.
Then, I shall see thee again.—

Ghost.
Ay, at Philippi. [Exit Ghost.

Bru.
Why, I will 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!
Claudius!

Luc.
The strings, my lord, are false.

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

Luc.
My lord!—

Bru.
Didst thou dream, Lucius, that thou so cried'st 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!
^{1 note}Varro! awake.

Var.
My lord!

Clau.
My lord!

Bru.
Why did you so cry out, Sirs, in your sleep?

Both.
Did we, my lord?

Bru.
Ay, saw you any thing?

Var.
No, my lord, I saw nothing.

Clau.
Nor I, my lord.

Bru.
Go and commend me to my brother Cassius;
Bid him set on his Pow'rs betimes before,
And we will follow.

Both.
It shall be done, my lord. [Exeunt.

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