This is a sleepy Tune: O Murd'rous slumber! Layest thou thy Leaden Mace vpon my Boy, That playes thee Musicke? Gentle knaue good night: I will not do thee so much wrong to wake thee: If thou do'st nod, thou break'st thy Instrument, Ile take it from thee, and (good Boy) good night. Let me see, let me see; is not the Leafe turn'd downe Where I left reading? Heere it is I thinke. Enter the Ghost of Caesar.
How ill this Taper burnes. Ha! Who comes heere? I thinke it is the weakenesse of mine eyes That shapes this monstrous Apparition. It comes vpon me: Art thou any thing? Art thou some God, some Angell, or some Diuell, That mak'st my blood cold, and my haire to stare? Speake to me, what thou art
Ghost. Thy euill Spirit Brutus? Bru. Why com'st thou? Ghost. To tell thee thou shalt see me at Philippi
Brut. Well: then I shall see thee againe? Ghost. I, at Philippi
Brut. Why I will see thee at Philippi then: Now I haue taken heart, thou vanishest. Ill Spirit, I would hold more talke with thee. Boy, Lucius, Varrus, Claudio, Sirs: Awake: Claudio
Luc. The strings my Lord, are false
Bru. He thinkes he still is at his Instrument. Lucius, awake
Luc. My Lord
Bru. Did'st thou dreame Lucius, that thou so cryedst out? Luc. My Lord, I do not know that I did cry
Bru. Yes that thou did'st: Did'st thou see any thing? Luc. Nothing my Lord
Bru. Sleepe againe Lucius: Sirra Claudio, Fellow, Thou: Awake
Var. My Lord
Clau. My Lord
Bru. Why did you so cry out sirs, in your sleepe? Both. Did we my Lord? Bru. I: 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 Powres betimes before, And we will follow
Both. It shall be done my Lord.
Exeunt.