Alarum. Enter fighting, Soldiers of both armies;
|BRUTUS||Yet, countrymen, O, yet hold up your heads!|
|CATO||What bastard doth not? Who will go with me?
I will proclaim my name about the field:
I am the son of Marcus Cato, ho!
A foe to tyrants, and my country's friend;
I am the son of Marcus Cato, ho!
|BRUTUS||And I am Brutus, Marcus Brutus, I;
Brutus, my country's friend; know me for Brutus!
|LUCILIUS||O young and noble Cato, art thou down?
Why, now thou diest as bravely as Titinius;
And mayst be honour'd, being Cato's son.
|First Soldier||Yield, or thou diest.|
|LUCILIUS||Only I yield to die:
There is so much that thou wilt kill me straight;
|Kill Brutus, and be honour'd in his death.|
|First Soldier||We must not. A noble prisoner!|
|Second Soldier||Room, ho! Tell Antony, Brutus is ta'en.|
|First Soldier||I'll tell the news. Here comes the general.|
|Brutus is ta'en, Brutus is ta'en, my lord.|
|ANTONY||Where is he?|
|LUCILIUS||Safe, Antony; Brutus is safe enough:
I dare assure thee that no enemy
Shall ever take alive the noble Brutus:
The gods defend him from so great a shame!
When you do find him, or alive or dead,
He will be found like Brutus, like himself.
|ANTONY||This is not Brutus, friend; but, I assure you,
A prize no less in worth: keep this man safe;
Give him all kindness: I had rather have
Such men my friends than enemies. Go on,
And see whether Brutus be alive or dead;
And bring us word unto Octavius' tent
How every thing is chanced.
|BRUTUS||Come, poor remains of friends, rest on this rock.|
|CLITUS||Statilius show'd the torch-light, but, my lord,
He came not back: he is or ta'en or slain.
|BRUTUS||Sit thee down, Clitus: slaying is the word;
It is a deed in fashion. Hark thee, Clitus.
|CLITUS||What, I, my lord? No, not for all the world.|
|BRUTUS||Peace then! no words.|
|CLITUS||I'll rather kill myself.|
|BRUTUS||Hark thee, Dardanius.|
|DARDANIUS||Shall I do such a deed?|
|CLITUS||What ill request did Brutus make to thee?|
|DARDANIUS||To kill him, Clitus. Look, he meditates.|
|CLITUS||Now is that noble vessel full of grief,
That it runs over even at his eyes.
|BRUTUS||Come hither, good Volumnius; list a word.|
|VOLUMNIUS||What says my lord?|
|BRUTUS||Why, this, Volumnius:
The ghost of Caesar hath appear'd to me
Two several times by night; at Sardis once,
And, this last night, here in Philippi fields:
I know my hour is come.
|VOLUMNIUS||Not so, my lord.|
|BRUTUS||Nay, I am sure it is, Volumnius.
Thou seest the world, Volumnius, how it goes;
Our enemies have beat us to the pit:
|It is more worthy to leap in ourselves,
Than tarry till they push us. Good Volumnius,
Thou know'st that we two went to school together:
Even for that our love of old, I prithee,
Hold thou my sword-hilts, whilst I run on it.
|VOLUMNIUS||That's not an office for a friend, my lord.|
|CLITUS||Fly, fly, my lord; there is no tarrying here.|
|BRUTUS||Farewell to you; and you; and you, Volumnius.
Strato, thou hast been all this while asleep;
Farewell to thee too, Strato. Countrymen,
My heart doth joy that yet in all my life
I found no man but he was true to me.
I shall have glory by this losing day
More than Octavius and Mark Antony
By this vile conquest shall attain unto.
So fare you well at once; for Brutus' tongue
Hath almost ended his life's history:
Night hangs upon mine eyes; my bones would rest,
That have but labour'd to attain this hour.
|[Alarum. Cry within, 'Fly, fly, fly!']|
|CLITUS||Fly, my lord, fly.|
|BRUTUS||Hence! I will follow.|
|[Exeunt CLITUS, DARDANIUS, and VOLUMNIUS]|
|I prithee, Strato, stay thou by thy lord:
Thou art a fellow of a good respect;
Thy life hath had some smatch of honour in it:
Hold then my sword, and turn away thy face,
While I do run upon it. Wilt thou, Strato?
|STRATO||Give me your hand first. Fare you well, my lord.|
|BRUTUS||Farewell, good Strato.|
|[Runs on his sword]|
|Caesar, now be still:
I kill'd not thee with half so good a will.
|[Alarum. Retreat. Enter OCTAVIUS, ANTONY, MESSALA,
LUCILIUS, and the army]
|OCTAVIUS||What man is that?|
|MESSALA||My master's man. Strato, where is thy master?|
|STRATO||Free from the bondage you are in, Messala:
The conquerors can but make a fire of him;
For Brutus only overcame himself,
And no man else hath honour by his death.
|LUCILIUS||So Brutus should be found. I thank thee, Brutus,
That thou hast proved Lucilius' saying true.
|OCTAVIUS||All that served Brutus, I will entertain them.
Fellow, wilt thou bestow thy time with me?
|STRATO||Ay, if Messala will prefer me to you.|
|OCTAVIUS||Do so, good Messala.|
|MESSALA||How died my master, Strato?|
|STRATO||I held the sword, and he did run on it.|
|MESSALA||Octavius, then take him to follow thee,
That did the latest service to my master.
|ANTONY||This was the noblest Roman of them all:
All the conspirators save only he
Did that they did in envy of great Caesar;
He only, in a general honest thought
And common good to all, made one of them.
His life was gentle, and the elements
So mix'd in him that Nature might stand up
And say to all the world 'This was a man!'
|OCTAVIUS||According to his virtue let us use him,
With all respect and rites of burial.
Within my tent his bones to-night shall lie,
Most like a soldier, order'd honourably.
So call the field to rest; and let's away,
To part the glories of this happy day.
To view other scenes from the show:
|Full Text||Act III, Scene 2 The Forum|
|Act I, Scene 1 Rome a street.||Act III, Scene 3 A street.|
|Act I, Scene 2 A public place.||Act IV, Scene 1 A house in Rome./ Act IV, Scene 2 Camp near Sardis. Before Brutus tent.|
|Act I, Scene 3 The same. A street.||Act IV Scene 3 Brutus tent.|
|Act II, Scene 1 Rome Brutus' orchard.||Act V, Scene 1 The plains of Philippi|
|Act II, Scene 2 Caesar's house.||Act V, Scene 2 The same. The field of battle./ Act V, Scene 3 Another part of the field.|
|Act II, Scene 3 A street near the capitol/Act II, Scene 4 Another part of the same street, before the house of Brutus.||Act V, Scene 4 Another part of the field./Act V, Scene 5 Another part of the field.|
|Act III, Scene 1 Rome. Before the capitol: the Senate sitting above.|
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|Richard III||Romeo & Juliet||Sir Thomas More||Taming of the Shrew||The Tempest||Timon of Athens|
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