Into the channel, till the lowest stream Do kiss the most exalted shores of all. [Exeunt Citizens.

101

THE EVE OF PHILIPPI.

Enter Lucius with the gown. Brutus. GIVE me the gown. Where is thy instrument?

Lucius. Here, in the tent.

Bru. What, thou speakest drowsily? Poor knave, I blame thee not; thou art

o'er-watched.

Call Claudius, and some other of my men;
I'll have them sleep on cushions in my tent.
Luc. Varro and Claudius!

Enter Varro and Claudius.
Varro. 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?

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 instru

ment:

I'll take it from thee; and, good boy, good night.

Let me see, let me see:-is not the leaf turned down,

Where I left reading? Here it is, I think.

The Ghost of Cæsar enters.

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 anything?
Art thou some god, some angel, or some
devil,

That makest my blood cold, and my hair to stare?

Speak to me what thou art.
Ghost.

Thy evil spirit, Brutus.
Bru. Why comest thou?
Ghost. To tell the thou shalt see me at
Philippi.

Bru. Well; then I shall see thee again?
Ghost.

Ay, at Philippi.

Bru. Why, I will see thee at Philippi, then.[Ghost vanishes. Now I have taken heart thou vanishest: Ill spirit, I would hold more talk with

HUBERT AND ARTHUR.

Northampton. A room in the Castle, Enter Hubert and two Attendants. Hubert. HEAT me these irons hot; and look thou stand

Within the arras: when I strike my foot Upon the bosom of the ground, rush forth, And bind the boy, which you shall find with me,

Fast to the chair: be heedful: hence and watch.

1 Attendant. I hope your warrant will bear out the deed.

Hub. Uncleanly scruples! fear not you: look to 't.- [Exeunt Attendants. Young lad, come forth; I have to say with you.

Enter Arthur.

Arthur. Good morrow, Hubert.
Good morrow, little prince.
Hub.
Arth. As little prince (having so great
a title

To be more prince) as may be. -You are

sad.

Hub. Indeed, I have been merrier.
Arth.
Mercy on me!
Methinks nobody should be sad but I:
Yet, I remember, when I was in France,
Young gentlemen would be as sad as
night,

Only for wantonness. By my christendom,
So I were out of prison, and kept sheep,
I should be as merry as the day is long;
And so I would be here, but that I doubt
My uncle practises more harm to me:
He is afraid of me, and I of him.
Is it my fault that I was Geffrey's son?
No, indeed, is 't not; and I would to
heaven

I were your son, so you would love me,
Hubert.

Hub. (aside). If I talk to him, with his innocent prate

He will awake my mercy, which lies dead; Therefore I will be sudden, and dispatch. Arth. Are you sick, Hubert? you look pale to-day.

Hub. (aside). His words do take possession of my bosom.Read here, young Arthur.

[Showing a paper. (Aside). How now, foolish rheum! Turning dispiteous torture out of door! I must be brief, lest resolution drop Out of mine eyes in tender womanish tears. Can you not read it? is it not fair writ?

Arth. Too fairly, Hubert, for so foul effect:

Must you with hot irons burn out both mine eyes?

Hub. Young boy, I must,

Arth.

And will you?

Hub.
And I will.
Arth. Have you the heart? When
your head did but ache,

I knit my handkerchief about your brows,
(The best I had, a princess wrought it me)
And I did never ask it you again;
And with my hand at midnight held your
head;

And, like the watchful minutes to the hour, Still and anon cheered up the heavy time, Saying, "What lack you?" and, "Where lies your grief?"

Or, "What good love may I perform for you?"

Many a poor man's son would have lain still,

And ne'er have spoke a loving word to you; But you at your sick service had a prince. Nay, you may think my love was crafty love,

And call it cunning:-do, an if you will: If Heaven be pleased that you must use me ill,

Why, then you must. Will you put out mine eyes?

These eyes that never did, nor never shall So much as frown on you?

Hub. I have sworn to do it; And with hot irons must I burn them out.

Arth. Ah, none but in this iron age would do it!

The iron of itself, though heat red-hot, Approaching near these eyes, would drink my tears,

And quench this fiery indignation,
Even in the matter of mine innocence;
Nay, after that, consume away in rust,
But for containing fire to harm mine eye.

Arth. Alas! what need you be so boisterous-rough?

I will not struggle, I will stand stone-still. For Heaven's sake, Hubert, let me not be bound!

Nay, hear me, Hubert !-drive these men away,

And I will sit as quiet as a lamb;

I will not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word,
Nor look upon the iron angerly:
Thrust but these men away, and I'll for-
give you,

Whatever torment you do put me to.

Hub. Go, stand within; let me alone with him.

I Attend. I am best pleased to be from such a deed. [Exeunt Attendants. Arth. Alas! I then have chid away my friend:

He hath a stern look, but a gentle heart: Let him come back, that his compassion