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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. Cato is overpowered,
1st Sold. Yield, or thou diest.
Luc. Only I yield to die:
[Offering money. Kill Brutus, and be honour'd in his death.
Ist Sold. We must not.--A noble prisoner ! 2d Sold. Room, ho! Tell Antony, Brutus is ta'en. 1st Sold. I'll tell the news.--Here comes the gene
Enter ANTONY. Brutus is ta’en, Brutus is ta'en, my lord.
Ant. Where is he?
Luc. Safe, Antony; Brutus is safe enough:
Ant. This is not Brutus, friend; but, I assure you,
SCENE V.- Another Part of the field.
Enter Brutus, DARDANIUS, Clitus, Strato, and
VOLUMNIUS. Bru. Come, poor remains of friends, rest on this
rock. Cli. Statilius show'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.
[Whispering. Cli. What, I, my lord ? No, not for all the world. Bru. Peace then, no words.
Cli. I'll rather kill myself.
Cli. Now is that noble vessel full of grief,
Bru. Come hither, good Volumnius : list a word.
Bru. Why, this, Volumnius :
Vol. Not so, my lord.
Bru. Nay, I am sure it is, Volumnius.
[Alarum still. Cli. Fly, fly, my lord ; there is no tarrying here. Bru. Farewell to you ;-and you ;--and you, Vo
lumnius.--Strato, thou hast been all this while asleep; Farewell to thee too, Strato.-Countrymen,
My heart doth joy, that yet, in all my life,
[-Alarum. Cry within ; Fly, Ay, fly. Cli. Fly, my lord, fly. Bru. Hence; I will follow thee.
[Exeunt Clitus DARDANIUS, and VOLUMNIUS. I pr’ythee, Strato, stay thou by thy lord : Thou art a fellow of a good respect; Thy life hath had some smatch 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
lord. Bru. Farewell, good Strato.—Cæsar, now be still : I kill'd not thee with half so good a will.
[He runs on his Sword, and dies.
Alarum. Retreat. Enter Octavius, Antony, Mes
SALA, Lucilius, and their Army. Oct. What man is that? Mes. My master's man.-Strato, where is thy mas
ter? 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.
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.
Mes. Octavius, then take him to follow thee,
Ant. This was the noblest Roman of them all;
Oct. According to his virtue let us use him,