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Alas, thou hast misconstrued everything!
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.

He kills himself.

Messala has found Brutus, and now returns with him, Lucilius, and
young Cato, [Strato, and Volumnius).
Brutus. Where, where, Messala, doth his body lie?
Messala. Lo, yonder, and Titinius mourning it.
Brutus. Titinius' face is upward.

He is slain.
Brutus. O Julius Cæsar, thou art mighty yet!

Thy spirit walks abroad, and turns our swords
Into our own bodies.

(Low alarums.] Cato.

Brave Titinius!
Look, whether he have not crowned dead Cassius!
Brutus. 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.
[Cut lights.)

Another part of the field (Alarum.] There enter [R.] soldiers 2 of both armies, fighting. (Exit L.] Brutus, young Cato, and Lucilius appear [R., running and

looking backward over their shoulders). Brutus. [Facing round again.) Yet, countrymen, O, yet hold

up your heads. Cato. Who doth not? Who will go with me?

I will proclaim my name about the field.


1 [Cut lights.] The stage should be momentarily darkened. The scene need not be changed, but when the lights are turned on again the bodies of Cassius and Titinius should not be there. Lowering the curtain does not serve quite the same purpose as cutting the lights; it breaks the continuity of the act more.

2 soldiers. The number will be governed, of course, by the size of the cast. It may be necessary to omit them altogether.


Brutus. Yet, countrymen, O, yet hold up your heads!

I am the son of Marcus Cato, ho!
A foe to tyrants, and my country's friend.

[Charges back into the battle R.]
Brutus. And I am Brutus, Marcus Brutus, I;
Brutus, my country's friend; know me for Brutus!

He follows young Cato into the thick of the battle. Lucilius. O young and noble Cato, art thou down?

Why, now thou diest as bravely as Titinius,

And mayst be honored being Cato's son.
Two Soldiers. (Returning L.]. Yield, or thou diest.
Lucilius. I only yield to die:
There is so much that thou wilt kill me straight;1

[Offering money.)
Kill Brutus, and be honored in his death.
1 Soldier. We must not. A noble prisoner!
2 Soldier. Room, ho! Tell Antony, Brutus is taken.
1 Soldier. I'll tell the news. Here comes the general.

[Enter Antony R.] 2
Brutus is taken, Brutus is taken, my lord.
Antony. Where is he?
Lucilius. 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, alive or dead,

He will be found like Brutus, like himself.
Antony. 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

straight: immediately. 2 Enter Antony. Of course, if the cast of characters is large enough, Antony should not be unaccompanied, but there should be borne before him his standard with golden eagles, and a body guard should be with him. Likewise Lucilius should be captured not by two single soldiers, but by a number, who overwhelm him.


Such men my friends than enemies. Go on,
And see whether Brutus be alive or dead.

(Exeunt R.] Night falls, and on another part of the field, Brutus enters, with Dardanius, Clitus, Strato, and Volumnius (R.). Brutus. Come, poor remains of friends, rest on this rock. Clitus. Statilius? showed the torchlight, but, my lord,

He came not back. He is taken or slain.
Brutus. Sit thee down, Clitus; slaying is the word,
It is a deed in fashion. Hark thee, Clitus.

He whispers to him (and offers him his sword].
Clitus. No, my lord, not for all the world.
Brutus. Peace then! no words.

I'd rather kill myself. [Clitus draws away from him to the back of the stage, where his attention is caught by low alarums, and he begins to peer fearfully

into the darkness off stage R.]
Brutus. Hark thee, Dardanius. [Whispers to him.]

Shall I do such a deed?
(He also retires to back of stage.]
Clitus. O, Dardanius!
Dardanius. 0, Clitus!
Clitus. What ill request did Brutus make to thee?
Dardanius. To kill him, Clitus. Look, he meditates.
Clitus. Now is that noble vessel full of grief,

That it runs over at his eyes.
Brutus. Come hither, good Volumnius; list a wora.
Volumnius. What says my lord?

Why, this, Volumnius: The ghost of Cæsar hath appeared to me

1 Night falls, and on another part of the field. This may be the same part of the field on the stage, but the faces of the characters should be lighted only by the faint light of their torches and perhaps a tiny red fire.

2 Statilius (stă-til'l-ůs) was sent to reconnoiter.

Two several times by night; at Sard's once,
And, this last night, here in Philippi fields.

I know my hour is come.

Not so, my lord.
Brutus. Nay, I am sure it is, Volumnius.

Thou seest the world, Volumnius, how it goes;
Our enemies have beat us to the pit. (Low alarums.)
It is more worthy to leap in ourselves,
Than tarry till they push us. Good Volumnius,
Thou knowest that we two went to school together;
Even for that our love of old, I prithee,

Hold thou my sword whilst I run on it.
Volumnius. That's not an office for a friend, my lord.

(Louder alarums.]
Clitus. Fly, fly, my lord; there is no tarrying here.
Brutus. Night hangs upon mine eyes; my bones would rest,
That have but labored to attain this hour.

[The stage grows a little lighter.]

Alarum and the cry, "Fly, fly, fly!"
Clitus. Fly, my lord, fly.

Hence! I will follow.
(Exeunt Clitus, Dardanius, and Volumnius.]
I prithee, Strato, stay thou by thy lord.
Thou art a fellow of a good respect;1
Thy life hath had some smack of honor in it.
Hold then my sword, and turn away thy face,

While I do run upon it. Wilt thou, Strato?
Strato. Give me your hand first. Fare you well, my lord.
Brutus. Farewell, good Strato. (Runs on the sword.]

Cæsar, now be still;
I killed not thee with half so good a will.

1 of a good respect: well respected or esteemed.

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