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Now be a freeman; and, with this good sword,
That ran through Cæsar's bowels, search this bosom.
Stand not to answer: Here, take thou the hilts;
And, when my face is cover'd, as 'tis now,
Guide thou the sword.—Cæsar, thou art reveng'd,
Even with the sword that kill'd thee.

(Dies.
Pin. So, I am free; yet would not so have been,
Durst I have done my will. O Cassius!
Far from this country Pindarus shall run,
Where never Roman shall take note of him.

[Exit.

Re-enter Titinius, with MESSALA.

my heart!

Mes. It is but change, Titinius; for Octavius
Is overthrown by noble Brutus' power,
As Cassius' legions are by Antony.

Tit. These tidings will well comfort Cassius.
Mes. Where did you leave him?
Tit.

All disconsolate, With Pindarus his bondman, on this hill.

Mes. Is not that he, that lies upon the ground?
Tit. He lies not like the living. O
Mes. Is not that he?
Tit.

No, this was he, Messala,
But Cassius is no more.-0 setting sun!
As in thy red rays thou dost sink to night,
So in his red blood Cassius' day is set;
The sun of Rome is set! Our day is gone;
Clouds, dews, and dangers come; our deeds are done!
Mistrust of my success hath done this deed.

Mes. Mistrust of good success hath done this deed.
O hateful error, melancholy's child!
Why dost thou show to the apt thoughts of men

The things that are not? O error, soon conceiv'd,
Thou never com'st unto a happy birth,
But kill'st the mother that engender'd thee.

Tit. What, Pindarus! Where art thou, Pindarus?

Mes. Seek him, Titinius: whilst I go to meet
The noble Brutus, thrusting this report
Into his ears: I may say, thrusting it;
For piercing steel, and darts envenomed,
Shall be as welcome to the ears of Brutus,
As tidings of this sight.
Tit.

Hie you, Messala,
And I will seek for Pindarus the while.

[Exit Messala.
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 't thee? Didst thou not hear their

shouts ?
Alas, thou hast misconstrued every thing.
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. Re-enter MESSALA, with BRUTUS, young

CATO, Strato, VOLUMNIUS, and Lucilius.
Bru. Where, where, Messala, doth his body lie?
Mes. Lo, yonder; and Titinius mourning it.
Bru. Titinius' face is upward.
Cato.

He is slain.
Bru. O Julius Cæsar, thou art mighty yet!
Thy spirit walks abroad, and turns our swords
In our own proper entrails. [Low Alarums.
Cato.

Brave Titinius! Look, whe'r he have not crown'd dead Cassius!

Bru. 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, 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. Caro is over

powered, and falls. Luc. 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.”

being Cato's son,] i. e. worthy of him.

i Sold. Yield, or thou diest. Luc.

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.

I Sold. We must not.-A noble prisoner! 2 Sold. Room, ho! Tell Antony, Brutus is ta’en. i Sold. I'll tell the news. Here comes the

general:

Enter ANTONY.

lord.

Brutus is ta’en, Brutus is ta'en, my

Ant. Where is he?

Luc. 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.

SCENE V.

Another Part of the Field.

Enter BRUTUS, DARDANIUS, CLITUS, STRATO, and

VOLUMNIUS. Bru. Come, poor remains of friends, rest on this Cli. Statilius show'd the torch-light; but, my lord, He came not back; he is or ta'en, or slain.

rock.

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. Dar.

I do such a deed? 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 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: 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 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. Farewell to you;-and you;—and you, Vo

Jumnius.

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