He is self-hypnotized,
so to speak, and his mind mercifully dulled for the moment on the Sea
of Fatalism.
Enter GHOST of CAESAR
Brutus: 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!
His very "scare," or rather his cold blood and staring hair are as
things apart, to be analysed and explained quickly and put aside.
Ghost: Thy evil spirit, Brutus.
That was frank enough, anyway.
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.
(Vanishes.)
That was very satisfactory, so far. But Brutus, having taken heart,
as he says, would hold more talk with the "ill spirit." A ghost
always needs to be taken quietly--it's no use getting excited and
threshing round. But Caesar's, being a new-chum ghost and bashful,
was doubtless embarrassed by his cool, matter-of-fact reception, and
left. It didn't matter much. They were to meet soon, above Philippi,
on more level terms.
But I cannot get away from the idea that Caesar's ghost's visit was
made in a friendly spirit.
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