Part 6

Why didst thou send me forth, brave Cassius? Did I not meet thy friends? And did not they Put on my brows this wreath of victory, And bid me give it thee? Didst thou not hear their shouts? Alas, thou hast misconstrued everything! But, hold thee, take this garland on thy brow; Thy Brutus bid me give it thee, and I Will do his bidding. Brutus, come apace, And see how I regarded Caius Cassius. By your leave, gods. This is a Roman’s part. Come, Cassius’ sword, and find Titinius’ heart.

[_Dies._]

Alarum. Enter Brutus, Messala, young Cato, Strato, Volumnius and Lucilius.

BRUTUS. Where, where, Messala, doth his body lie?

MESSALA. Lo, yonder, and Titinius mourning it.

BRUTUS. Titinius’ face is upward.

CATO. He is slain.

BRUTUS. O Julius Caesar, thou art mighty yet! Thy spirit walks abroad, and turns our swords In our own proper entrails.

[_Low alarums._]

CATO. Brave Titinius! Look whether he have not crown’d dead Cassius!

BRUTUS. Are yet two Romans living such as these? The last of all the Romans, fare thee well! It is impossible that ever Rome Should breed thy fellow. Friends, I owe more tears To this dead man than you shall see me pay. I shall find time, Cassius, I shall find time. Come therefore, and to Thassos send his body. His funerals shall not be in our camp, Lest it discomfort us. Lucilius, come; And come, young Cato; let us to the field. Labeo and Flavius, set our battles on. ’Tis three o’clock; and Romans, yet ere night We shall try fortune in a second fight.

[_Exeunt._]

## SCENE IV. Another part of the field.

Alarum. Enter fighting soldiers of both armies; then Brutus, Messala, young Cato, Lucilius, Flavius and others.

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!

[_Charges the enemy._]

LUCILIUS. And I am Brutus, Marcus Brutus, I; Brutus, my country’s friend; know me for Brutus!

[_Exit, charging the enemy. Cato is overpowered, and falls._]

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;

[_Offering money_]

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.

Enter Antony.

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 everything is chanc’d.

[_Exeunt._]

## SCENE V. Another part of the field.

Enter Brutus, Dardanius, Clitus, Strato and Volumnius.

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.

[_Whispering._]

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.

[_Whispers him._]

DARDANIUS. Shall I do such a deed?

CLITUS. O Dardanius!

DARDANIUS. O Clitus!

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.

[_Low alarums._]

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 pr’ythee Hold thou my sword-hilts, whilst I run on it.

VOLUMNIUS. That’s not an office for a friend, my lord.

[_Alarums still._]

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.

[_Alarums. Cry within, “Fly, fly, fly!”._]

CLITUS. Fly, my lord, fly!

BRUTUS. Hence! I will follow.

[_Exeunt Clitus, Dardanius and Volumnius._]

I pr’ythee, 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.—Caesar, now be still: I kill’d not thee with half so good a will.

[_He runs on his sword, and dies._]

Alarum. Retreat. Enter Antony, Octavius, 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 prov’d Lucilius’ saying true.

OCTAVIUS. All that serv’d 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 tonight 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.

[_Exeunt._]