JULIUS CAESAR. William Shakespeare

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       Lay’st thou thy leaden mace upon my boy,

       That plays thee music?—Gentle knave, good night;

       I will not do thee so much wrong to wake thee:

       If thou dost nod, thou breakst 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 Caesar.]

       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 makest my blood cold and my hair to stare?

       Speak to me what thou art.

       GHOST.

       Thy evil spirit, Brutus.

       BRUTUS.

       Why comest thou?

       GHOST.

       To tell thee thou shalt see me at Philippi.

       BRUTUS.

       Well; then I shall see thee again?

       GHOST.

       Ay, at Philippi.

       BRUTUS.

       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 thee.—

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

       LUCIUS.

       The strings, my lord, are false.

       BRUTUS.

       He thinks he still is at his instrument.—

       Lucius, awake!

       LUCIUS.

       My lord?

       BRUTUS.

       Didst thou dream, Lucius, that thou so criedst out?

       LUCIUS.

       My lord, I do not know that I did cry.

       BRUTUS.

       Yes, that thou didst: didst thou see any thing?

       LUCIUS.

       Nothing, my lord.

       BRUTUS.

       Sleep again, Lucius.—Sirrah Claudius!—

       [To Varro.] Fellow thou, awake!

       VARRO.

       My lord?

       CLAUDIUS.

       My lord?

       BRUTUS.

       Why did you so cry out, sirs, in your sleep?

       VARRO. CLAUDIUS.

       Did we, my lord?

       BRUTUS.

       Ay: saw you any thing?

       VARRO.

       No, my lord, I saw nothing.

       CLAUDIUS.

       Nor I, my lord.

       BRUTUS.

       Go and commend me to my brother Cassius;

       Bid him set on his powers betimes before,

       And we will follow.

       VARRO. CLAUDIUS.

       It shall be done, my lord.

       [Exeunt.]