Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
Asia: Vols. XXI–XXIII. 1876–79.
The Ghost of Cæsar
By William Shakespeare (15641616) BL
B
Poor knave, I blame thee not; thou art o’erwatch’d.
Call Claudius and some other of my men;
I ’ll have them sleep on cushions in my tent.
L
B
It may be, I shall raise you by and by
On business to my brother Cassius.
V
B
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.)
L
B
Canst thou hold up thy heavy eyes awhile,
And touch thy instrument a strain or two?
L
B
I trouble thee too much, but thou art willing.
L
B
I know, young bloods look for a time of rest.
L
B
I will not hold thee long: if I do live,
I will be good to thee.(Music, and a Song.)
This is a sleepy tune.—O, murderous slumber!
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 break’st 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.(Sits down.)
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.
G
B
G
B
G
B
Now I have taken heart, thou vanishest:
Ill spirit, I would hold more talk with thee.