Cato. Brave Titinius! Look where he have not crown'd dead Caffius. Should breed thy Fellow. Friends, I owe more Tears 'Tis three a Clock, and, Romans, yet e'er Night, [Exeunt. Alarum. Enter Brutus, Meffala, Cato, Lucilius, and Flavius. Bru. Yet Countrymen, O yet, hold up your Heads. Cato. What Baftard 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. Enter Soldiers and fight. Bru. And I am Brutus, Marcus Brutus, I. Luc. Only I yield to die; There is so much, that thou wilt kill me ftraight; Sold. We muft not; a Noble Prisoner. Enter Antony. 2 Sold. Room ho! tell Antony, Brutus is ta'en. I Sold. I'll tell thee News, here comes the General, Brutus is ta'en, Brutus is ta'en, my Lord. Ant. Where is he? Luc. Safe Antony, Brutus is fafe enough. I dare affure thee, that no Enemy Shall ever take alive the Noble Brutus: Ant. This is not Brutus, Friend, but I affure you, [Exeunt Enter Brutus, Dardanius, Clitus, Strato, and Volumnius. Bru. Come, poor remains of Friends, reft on this Rock Cli. Statillius fhew'd the Torch-light, but, my Lord, He came not back, he is, or ta'en, or flain. Bru. Sit thee down, Clitus; flaying is the word, It is a deed in fashion. Hark thee, Clitus -[Whispering Cli. What I, my Lord? No, not for all the World. Cli. I'll rather kill my felf. Dar. O Clitus! Cli. What ill request did Brutus make to thee? That it runs over even at his Eyes. Bru. Come hither, good Volumnius, list a word. Bru. Why this, Volumnius; The Ghoft of Cafar hath appear'd to me Two feveral times by Night; at Sardis, once; And this laft Night, here in Philippi-Fields. I know my hour is come. Vol. Not fo, my Lord. Bru. Nay, I am fure it is, Volumnius. Thou feeft the World, Volumnius, how it goes, [Low Alarum. It It is more worthy, to leap in our felves, Good Voluminus, Hold thou my Sword's Hilt, while I run on it. Alarum ftill. Night hangs upon mine Eyes, my Bones would reft, [Alarum. Cry within, Fly, fly, fly. Cli. Fly, my Lord, fly Bru. Hence; I will follow; I prethee, Strato, ftay thou by thy Lord, Thou art a Fellow of a good refpect; Thy Life hath had fome fmatch of Honour in it. While I do run upon it. Wilt thou, Strato? Stra. Give me your Hand firft. Fare you well, my Lord. Bru. Farewel, good Strato Cafar, now be ftill, I kill'd not thee with half fo good a Will. He runs on his Sword and dies. Alarum. Retreat. Enter Antony, Octavius, Meffala, Lu cilius, and the Army. Ofta. What Man is that? Mef. My Mafter's Man. Strato, where is thy Master ? Stra. Free from the Bondage you are in, Meffala; The Conquerors can but make a Fire of him: For Brutus only overcame himself, And no Man elfe hath Honour by his Death. Luc. Luc. So Brutus fhould be found. I thank thee, Brutus, That thou haft prov'd Lucillius faying true. Ofta. All that ferv'd Brutus I will entertain them, Mef. How died my Lord, Strato ? Stra. I held the Sword, and he did run on it. Mef. Octavius, then take him to follow thee, That did the latest Service to my Master. Ant. This was the nobleft Roman of them all; Did that they did, in envy of great Cafar: So call the Field to reft, and let's away, Το part the Glories of this happy Day. [Exeunt omnes. |