ABSTRACT
Plutarch's Lives of Noble Grecians and Romalles I 15 chamber, and Brutus brought his friendes with him. So when they were set at supper, Phaonius came to sit downe after he had washed. Brutus tolde him alowd, no man sent for him, and bad them set him at the upper end: meaning in deede at the lower ende of the bed. Phaonius made no ceremonie, but thrust in amongest the middest of them, and made all the companye laugh at him: so they were merry all supper tyme, and full of their Philosophie. The next daye after,! Brutus, upon complaynt of the Sardians, did condemne and noted Lucius Pella for a defamed person, that had bene a Prretor of the Romanes, and whome Brutus had given charge unto: for that he was accused and convicted of robberie, and pilferie in his office. This judgement much misliked Cassius: bicause he him selfe had secretly (not many dayes before) warned two of his friends, attainted and convicted of the like offences, and openly had eleered them: but yet he did not therefore leave to employ them in any manner of service as he did before. And therefore he greatly reproved Brutus, for that he would shew him selfe so straight and seveare in such a tyme, as was meeter to beare a litle, then to take thinges at the worst. Brutus in contrary manner aunswered, that he shoulde remember the Ides of Marche, at which tyme they slue Julius Cresar: who nether pilled nor polled the contrye, but onely was a favorer and suborner of all them that did robbe and spoyle, by his countenaunce and authoritie. And if there were any occasion whereby they might honestly sette aside justice and equitie: they should have had more reason to have suffered Cresars friendes, to have robbed and done what wronge and injurie they had would, then to beare with their owne men. For then sayde he, they could but have sayde they had bene cowards: and nowe they may accuse us of injustice, beside the paynes we take, and the daunger we put our selves into. And thus may we see what Brutus intent and purpose was.2 But as they both prepared to passe over againe, out of Asia into Europe: there went a rumor that there appeared a wonderful! signe unto him. Brutus was a carefull man, and slept very litle, both for that his dyet was moderate, as also bicause he was continually occupied. He never slept in the day tyme, and in the night no lenger, then the tyme he was driven to be alone, and when every bodye els tooke their rest.3 But nowe whilest he was in warre, and his heade ever busily occupied to thinke of his affayres, and what would happen: after he had slumbered a litle after supper, he spent al! the rest of the night in dispatching of his waightiest causes, and
Julius CdJsar after he had taken order for them, if he had any leysure left him, he would read some booke till the third watche of the night, at what tyme the Captaines, petty Captaines and Colonells, did use to come unto him.1 So, being ready to goe into Europe, one night very late (when all the campe tooke quiet rest) as he was in his tent with a litle light, thinking of waighty matters: he thought he heard one come in to him, and casting his eye towards the doore of his tent, that he saw a wonderfull straunge and monstruous shape of a body comming towards him, and sayd never a word. So Brutus boldly asked what he was, a god, or a man, and what cause brought him thither. The spirit aunswered him, I am thy evill spirit, Brutus: and thou shalt see me by the citie of Philippes.2 Brutus beeing no otherwise affrayd, replyed againe unto it: Well, then I shall see thee agayne. The spirit presently vanished away: and Brutus called his men unto him, who tolde him that they heard no noyse, nor sawe any thinge at all. 3 Thereuppon Brutus returned agayne to thinke on his matters as he did before: and when the daye brake, he went unto Cassius, to tell him what vision had appeared unto him in the night. Cassius beeing in opinion an Epicurian, and reasoning thereon with Brutus, spake to him touching the vision thus. In our secte, Brutus, we have an opinion, that we doe not alwayes feele, or see, that which we suppose we doe both see and feele: but that our senses beeing credulous, and therefore easily abused (when they are idle and unoccupied in their owne objects) are induced to imagine they see and conjecture that, which they in truth doe not.4 For, our minde is quicke and cunning to worke (without eyther cause or matter) any thinge in the imagination whatsoever. And therefore the imagination is resembled to claye, and the minde to the potter: who without any other cause than his fancie and pleasure, chaungeth it into what facion and forme he will. And this doth the diversitie of our dreames shewe unto us.5 For our imagination doth uppon a small fancie growe from conceit to conceit, altering both in passions and formes of thinges imagined. For the minde of man is ever occupied, and that continuall moving is nothing but an imagination. But yet there is a further cause of this in you. For you being by nature given to melancholick discoursing, and of late continually occupied: your wittes and sences having bene overlabored, doe easilier yeelde to such imaginations. For, to say that there are spirits or angells, and
