I dare affure thee, that no enemy

Shall ever take alive the noble Brutus:

The Gods defend him from fo 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 affure 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.
And fee if Brutus be alive or dead,
And bring us word unto Octavius' tent
How every thing is chanc'd.

Go on,

[Exeunt. SCENE. VIII. Another part of the Field. Enter Brutus, Dardanius, Clitus, Strato, and Volumnius. Bru. Come, poor remains of friends, reft on this rock. Cli. Statilius 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. Bru. Peace then, no words.

Cli. I'll rather kill my self.
Bru. Hark thee, Dardanius!
Dar. I do fuch a deed?
Cli. Oh Dardanius!

Dar. Oh Clitus!

Cli. What ill request did Brutus make to thee?
Dar. To kill him, Clitus: look, he meditates.
Cli. Now is that noble veffel full of grief,
That it runs over even at his eyes.

Bru. Come hither, good Volumnius, lift a word.
Vol. What fays my Lord ?

Bru. Why this, Volumnius ;

The ghoft of Cafar hath appear'd to me
Two feveral times by night; at Sardis, once;
And this last 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;

Out

Our enemies have beat us to the pit :

It is more worthy to leap in our felves,

[Alarum.

Than tarry 'till they pufh us. Good Volumnius,
Thou know'ft that we two went to school together;
Even for that, our love of old, I pr'ythee

Hold thou my fword's hilt, while I run on it.
Vol. That's not an office for a friend, my Lord.
[Alarum ftill.
Cli. Fly, fly, my Lord, there is no tarrying here.
Bru. Farewel to you, and you; and you, Volumnius.
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 fhall have glory by this lofing 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 hiftory.

Night hangs upon mine eyes, my bones would reft,
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.

I pr'ythee, Strato, ftay thou by thy Lord;
Thou art a fellow of a good refpect,

Thy life hath had some smatch of honour in't.
Hold then my fword, 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 Cæfar, now be ftill;
I kill'd not thee with half fo good a will.

[He runs on his fword and dies.

SCENE IX.

Alarum. Retreat. Enter Antony, Octavius, Meffala, Lucilius, and the Army.

O. What man is that?

Mef. My mafter's man. Strato, where is thy mafter? Stra. Free from the bondage, you are in, Meffala;

The conqu'rors can but make a fire of him:

For Brutus only overcame himself,

And no man elfe hath honour by his death.

Luc. So Brutus fhould be found. I thank thee, Brutus, That thou haft prov'd Lucilius' faying true.

08. All that ferv'd Brutus I will entertain them.

Fellow, wilt thou bestow thy time with me? Stra. Ay, if Mesala will prefer me to you. 08. Do fo, good Meffala.

Mef. How died my Lord, Strato?

Stra. I held the fword, and he did run on it. Mef. Octavius, take him then to follow thee, That did the lateft fervice to my mafter.

Ant. This was the nobleft Roman of them all :
All the confpirators, fave only he,

Did that they did in envy of great Cæfar:
He only, in a general honeft thought

And common good to all, made one of them.
His life was gentle; and the elements
So mixt in him, that nature might stand up,
And fay to all the world, This was a man !

O. According to his virtue let us ufe him,
With all refpect, and rites of burial.
Within my tent his bones to-night shall lye,
Moft like a foldier, order'd honourably.
So call the field to reft, and let's away,
To part the glories of this happy day.

[Exeunt omnes.

ANTONY

AND

CLEOPATRA.

X 2