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.

BRUTUS. Why com'st 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.
Now I have taken heart, thou vanishest:
Ill spirit, I would hold more talk with thee.

But it had already disappeared, only to meet Brutus again on the fatal
day that followed.


FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 104: _Ep._, vii. 27.]

[Footnote 105: Plutarch, _Dion_, ii. 55.]

[Footnote 106: Dio Cassius, 55. 1. Cp. Suet., _Claud._, i.]