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, Cato, Lucilius, and Others.

Bru. 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.

Bru. 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.

Luci. O young and noble Cato, art thou down? Why, now thou diest as bravely as Titinius;

And may'st be honour'd, being Cato's son. 1 Sold. Yield, or thou diest.

Luci.

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.

1 Sold. We must not.-A noble prisoner!

2 Sold. Room, ho! Tell Antony, Brutus is ta'en. 1 Sold. I'll tell the news.-Here comes the ge

neral:

Enter Antony.

Brutus is ta'en, Brutus is ta'en, my lord.

Ant. Where is he?

Luci. 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.

Ant. 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 whe'r Brutus be alive, or dead:
And bring us word, unto Octavius' tent,
How every thing is chanc'd.

[Exeunt.

H

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 torch-light; 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

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 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.

Vol.

Not so, my lord.

Bru. Nay, I am sure it is, Volumnius.

Thou see'st the world, Volumnius, how it goes;
Our enemies have beat us to the pit:

Good Volumnius,

It is more worthy, to leap in ourselves,
Than tarry till they push us.
Thou know'st, that we two went to school together;
Even for that our love of old, I pray thee,
Hold thou my sword-hilts, whilst I run on it.
Vol. That's not an office for a friend, my lord.

[Alarum still.

Cli. Fly, fly, my lord; there is no tarrying here. Bru. Farewel to you;-and you;-and you, Vo

lumnius.

Strato, thou hast been all this while asleep;
Farewel 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.

Cli. Fly, my lord, fly.

Bru.

Hence; I will follow thee.

[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?

Stra. Give me your hand first: Fare you well, my lord.

Bru. Farewel, 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, Mes

sala;

The conquerors can but make a fire of him;

For Brutus only overcame himself,

And no man else hath honour by his death.

Luci. 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, 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.