And see whe'r Brutus be alive, or dead: [Exeunt. SCENE V.-Another Part of the Field. Enter BRUTUS, DARDANIUS, CLITUS, STRATO, and VOLUMNIUS. Bru. Come, poor remains of friends, rest on this rock. Cli. Statilius show'd the torchlight; but, my lord, He came not back; he is or ta'en, or slain. Bru. Sit thee down, Clitus: Slaying is the word; It is a deed in fashion. Hark thee, Clitus. [Whispering. Cli. What, I, my lord? No, not for all the world. Bru. Peace then, no words. Cli. I'll rather kill myself. Bru. Hark thee, Dardanius. [Whispers him. Cli. O, Dardanius! Dar. O, Clitus! Cli. What ill request did Brutus make to thee? Dar. To kill him, Clitus. Look, he meditates. Cli. Now is that noble vessel full of grief, That it runs over even at his eyes. Bru. Come hither, good Volumnius: list a word. Vol. What says my lord? Bru. Why, this, Volumnius: The ghost of Cæsar hath appeared to me Vol. Not so, my lord. Bru. Nay, I am sure it is, Volumnius. Thou seest the world, Volumnius, how it goes; It is more worthy to leap in ourselves, Than tarry till they push us. Good Volumnius, Hold thou my sword-hilts, whilst I run on it. Bru. Farewell to you-and you;-and you, Volumnius. Strato, thou hast been all this while asleep; Night hangs upon mine eyes; my bones would rest, That have but labour'd to attain this hour. [Alarum. Cry within, Fly, fly, fly! Cli. Fly, my lord, fly! Hence; I will follow. I prithee, Strato, stay thou by thy lord: Stra. Give me your hand first: Fare you well, my lord. Bru. Farewell, good Strato.-Cæsar, now be still: I kill'd not thee with half so good a will. [He runs on his sword, and dies. Alarum. Retreat. Enter OCTAVIUS, ANTONY, MESSALA, LUCILIUS, and their Army. Oct. What man is that? Mes. My master's man.-Strato, where is thy master? Stra. 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. Luc. So Brutus should be found. -I thank thee, Brutus, That thou hast prov'd Lucilius' saying true. Oct. All that serv'd Brutus, I will entertain them. Fellow, wilt thou bestow thy time with me? Stra. Ay, if Messala will prefer me to you. Oct. Do so, good Messala. Mes. How died my master, Strato? Stra. I held the sword, and he did run on it. Mes. Octavius, then take him to follow thee, That did the latest service to my master. Ant. This was the noblest Roman of them all : All the conspirators, save only he, Did that they did in envy of great Cæsar; He only, in a general honest thought, Oct. According to his virtue let us use him, [Exeunt. |