Abbildungen der Seite


MES. Is not that he that lies upon the ground?
TIT. He lies not like the living. O my heart!
MES. Is not that he?


No, this was he, Messala,
O setting Sun,

But Cassius is no more.

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 success1 hath done this deed.
O hateful Error, Melancholy's child,

Why dost thou shew 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.


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




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 it 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.

1 a prosperous issue.


[kills himself.

Alarum. Re-enter MESSALA, with BRUTUS, Young


BRU. Where, where, Messala, doth his body lie?
MES. Lo, yonder, and Titinius mourning it.
BRU. Titinius' face is upward.

[blocks in formation]

BRU. O Julius Cæsar, thou art mighty yet!

Thy Spirit walks abroad, and turns our swords
In our own proper entrails.


[Low alarums.

Brave Titinius!

Look, whe'r he have not crown'd dead Cassius!
BRU. Are yet two Romans living such as these?
Thou 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 Thasos send his body:
His funerals shall not be in our camp,

[blocks in formation]

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.




SCENE IV. Another Part of the Field.

Alarum. Enter, fighting, Soldiers of both Armies; then
BRUTUS, Young CATO, LUCILIUS, and others.

BRU. Yet, Countrymen, O, yet hold up your heads!

CATO. What bastard doth not? Who will

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!

BRU. And I am Brutus, Marcus Brutus, I;

Brutus, my country's friend; know me for Brutus !


Sc. IV

ACT V LUCIL. 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.
FIRST SOLD. Yield, or thou diest.


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.

FIRST SOLD. We must not. A noble prisoner!

SEC. SOLD. Room, ho! Tell Antony, Brutus is ta'en.
FIRST SOLD. I'll tell the news. Here comes the General.


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

ANT. Where is he?

LUCIL. 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.




SCENE V. Another Part of the Field.



BRU. Come, poor Remains of Friends, rest on this

CLI. Statilius shew'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. [whispers.

CLI. What, I, my Lord? No; not for all the world.

BRU. Peace then! no words.

BRU. Hark thee, Dardanius.

CLI. O Dardanius!

DAR. O Clitus!

I'll rather kill myself.


Shall I do such a deed?

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?

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.


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

[ocr errors][merged small]

[Low alarums.

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 pr'ythee,
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, Volumnius.
Strato, thou hast been all this while asleep;
Farewell 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 their vile conquest shall attain unto.

So fare you well at once; for Brutus' tongue
Hath almost ended his life's history:


Sc. V




Sc. V

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!


Hence! I will follow.


I pr'ythee, Strato, stay thou by thy Lord:
Thou art a fellow of a good respect;

Thy life hath had some smatch1 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

BRU. Farewell, good Strato. [runs on his sword.] Cæsar,
now be still:

I kill'd not thee with half so good a will.

Alarum. Retreat. Enter OCTAVIUS, ANTONY,

MESSALA, LUCILIUS, and the Army.

OCT. What man is that?



MES. My master's man. Strato, where is thy master?
STRA. Free from the bondage you are in, Messala:

The conquerors can but make a fire of him;

For Brutus only overcame himself,

And no man else hath honour by his death.
LUCIL. So Brutus should be found.


I thank thee,

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, good 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.
ANT. This was the noblest Roman of them all:
All the conspirators, save only he,

Did that they did in envy of great Cæsar;

1 taste.

[merged small][ocr errors][subsumed]
« ZurückWeiter »