Titin. All disconsolate,
With Pindarus his Bondman, on this Hill
Messa. Is not that he that lyes vpon the ground?
Titin. He lies not like the Liuing. O my heart!
Messa. Is not that hee?
Titin. No, this was he Messala,
But Cassius is no more. O setting Sunne:
As in thy red Rayes thou doest sinke to night;
So in his red blood Cassius day is set.
The Sunne of Rome is set. Our day is gone,
Clowds, Dewes, and Dangers come; our deeds are done:
Mistrust of my successe hath done this deed
Messa. Mistrust of good successe hath done this deed.
O hatefull Error, Melancholies Childe:
Why do'st thou shew to the apt thoughts of men
The things that are not? O Error soone conceyu'd,
Thou neuer com'st vnto a happy byrth,
But kil'st the Mother that engendred thee
Tit. What Pindarus? Where art thou Pindarus?
Messa. Seeke him Titinius, whilst I go to meet
The Noble Brutus, thrusting this report
Into his eares; I may say thrusting it:
For piercing Steele, and Darts inuenomed,
Shall be as welcome to the eares of Brutus,
As tydings of this sight
Tit. Hye you Messala,
And I will seeke for Pindarus the while:
Why did'st thou send me forth braue Cassius?
Did I not meet thy Friends, and did not they
Put on my Browes this wreath of Victorie,
And bid me giue it thee? Did'st thou not heare their showts?
Alas, thou hast misconstrued euery thing.
But hold thee, take this Garland on thy Brow,
Thy Brutus bid me giue it thee, and I
Will do his bidding. Brutus, come apace,
And see how I regarded Caius Cassius:
By your leaue Gods: This is a Romans part,
Come Cassius Sword, and finde Titinius hart.
Dies
Alarum. Enter Brutus, Messala, yong Cato, Strato, Volumnius, and
Lucillius.
Bru. Where, where Messala, doth his body lye?
Messa. Loe yonder, and Titinius mourning it
Bru. Titinius face is vpward
Cato. He is slaine
Bru. O Iulius Caesar, thou art mighty yet,
Thy Spirit walkes abroad, and turnes our Swords
In our owne proper Entrailes. Low Alarums
Cato. Braue Titinius,
Looke where he haue not crown'd dead Cassius
Bru. Are yet two Romans liuing such as these?
The last of all the Romans, far thee well:
It is impossible, that euer Rome
Should breed thy fellow. Friends I owe mo teares
To this dead man, then you shall see me pay.
I shall finde time, Cassius: I shall finde time.
Come therefore, and to Tharsus send his body,
His Funerals shall not be in our Campe,
Least it discomfort vs. Lucillius come,
And come yong Cato, let vs to the Field,
Labio and Flauio set our Battailes on:
'Tis three a clocke, and Romans yet ere night,
We shall try Fortune in a second fight.
Exeunt.
Alarum. Enter Brutus, Messala, Cato, Lucillius, and Flauius.
Bru. Yet Country-men: O yet, hold vp your heads
Cato. What Bastard doth not? Who will go with me?
I will proclaime my name about the Field.
I am the Sonne of Marcus Cato, hoe.
A Foe to Tyrants, and my Countries Friend.
I am the Sonne of Marcus Cato, hoe.
Enter Souldiers, and fight.
And I am Brutus, Marcus Brutus, I,
Brutus my Countries Friend: Know me for Brutus
Luc. O yong and Noble Cato, art thou downe?
Why now thou dyest, as brauely as Titinius,
And may'st be honour'd, being Cato's Sonne
Sold. Yeeld, or thou dyest
Luc. Onely I yeeld to dye:
There is so much, that thou wilt kill me straight:
Kill Brutus, and be honour'd in his death
Sold. We must not: a Noble Prisoner.
Enter Antony.
2.Sold. Roome hoe: tell Antony, Brutus is tane
1.Sold. Ile tell thee newes. Heere comes the Generall,
Brutus is tane, Brutus is tane my Lord
Ant. Where is hee?
Luc. Safe Antony, Brutus is safe enough:
I dare assure thee, that no Enemy
Shall euer take aliue the Noble Brutus:
The Gods defend him from so great a shame,
When you do finde him, or aliue, or dead,
He will be found like Brutus, like himselfe
Ant. This is not Brutus friend, but I assure you,
A prize no lesse in worth; keepe this man safe,
Giue him all kindnesse. I had rather haue
Such men my Friends, then Enemies. Go on,
And see where Brutus be aliue or dead,
And bring vs word, vnto Octauius Tent:
How euery thing is chanc'd.
Exeunt.
Enter Brutus, Dardanius, Clitus, Strato, and Volumnius.
Brut. Come poore remaines of friends, rest on this
Rocke
Clit. Statillius shew'd the Torch-light, but my Lord
He came not backe: he is or tane, or slaine
Brut. Sit thee downe, Clitus: slaying is the word,
It is a deed in fashion. Hearke thee, Clitus
Clit. What I, my Lord? No, not for all the World
Brut. Peace then, no words
Clit. Ile rather kill my selfe
Brut. Hearke thee, Dardanius
Dard. Shall I doe such a deed?
Clit. O Dardanius
Dard. O Clitus
Clit. What ill request did Brutus make to thee?
Dard. To kill him, Clitus: looke he meditates
Clit. Now is that Noble Vessell full of griefe,
That it runnes ouer euen at his eyes
Brut. Come hither, good Volumnius, list a word
Volum. What sayes my Lord?
Brut. Why this, Volumnius:
The Ghost of Caesar hath appear'd to me
Two seuerall times by Night: at Sardis, once;
And this last Night, here in Philippi fields:
I know my houre is come
Volum. Not so, my Lord
Brut. Nay, I am sure it is, Volumnius.
Thou seest the World, Volumnius, how it goes,
Our Enemies haue beat vs to the Pit:
Low Alarums.
It is more worthy, to leape in our selues,
Then tarry till they push vs. Good Volumnius,
Thou know'st, that we two went to Schoole together:
Euen for that our loue of old, I prethee
Hold thou my Sword Hilts, whilest I runne on it
Vol. That's not an Office for a friend, my Lord.
Alarum still.
Cly. Fly, flye my Lord, there is no tarrying heere
Bru. Farewell to you, and you, and Volumnius.
Strato, thou hast bin all this while asleepe:
Farewell to thee, to Strato, Countrymen:
My heart doth ioy, that yet in all my life,
I found no man, but he was true to me.
I shall haue glory by this loosing day
More then Octauius, and Marke Antony,
By this vile Conquest shall attaine vnto.
So fare you well at once, for Brutus tongue
Hath almost ended his liues History:
Night hangs vpon mine eyes, my Bones would rest,
That haue but labour'd, to attaine this houre.
Alarum. Cry within, Flye, flye, flye.
Cly. Fly my Lord, flye
Bru. Hence: I will follow:
I prythee Strato, stay thou by thy Lord,
Thou art a Fellow of a good respect:
Thy life hath had some smatch of Honor in it,
Hold then my Sword, and turne away thy face,
While I do run vpon it. Wilt thou Strato?
Stra. Giue me your hand first. Fare you wel my Lord
Bru. Farewell good Strato. - Caesar, now be still,
I kill'd not thee with halfe so good a will.
Dyes.
Alarum. Retreat. Enter Antony, Octauius, Messala, Lucillius, and
the
Army.
Octa. What man is that?
Messa. My Masters 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 onely ouercame himselfe,
And no man else hath Honor by his death
Lucil. So Brutus should be found. I thank thee Brutus
That thou hast prou'd Lucillius saying true,
Octa. All that seru'd Brutus, I will entertaine them.
Fellow, wilt thou bestow thy time with me?
Stra. I, if Messala will preferre me to you
Octa. Do so, good Messala
Messa. How dyed my Master Strato?
Stra. I held the Sword, and he did run on it
Messa. Octauius, then take him to follow thee,
That did the latest seruice to my Master
Ant. This was the Noblest Roman of them all:
All the Conspirators saue onely hee,
Did that they did, in enuy of great Caesar:
He, onely in a generall honest 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 vp,
And say to all the world; This was a man
Octa. According to his Vertue, let vs vse him
Withall Respect, and Rites of Buriall.
Within my Tent his bones to night shall ly,
Most like a Souldier ordered Honourably:
So call the Field to rest, and let's away,
To part the glories of this happy day.
Exeunt. omnes.