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! Cato. Should breed thy fellow.-Friends, I owe more tears Lest it discomfort us.-Lucilius, come '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. Alar 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:- A foe to tyrants, and my country's friend; [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, 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. 1 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. 1 Sold. We must not.-A noble prisoner! 2 Sold. Room, ho! Tell Antony, Brutus is ta'en. 1 Sold. I'll tell the news.-Here comes the general: Enter Antony. Brutus is ta'en, Brutus is ta'en, my lord. Ant. Where is he? Luc. Safe, Antony; Brutus is safe enough: Shall ever take alive the noble Brutus: Ant. This is not Brutus, friend; but, I assure you, A prize no less in worth: keep this man safe, [Exeunt. 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, Člitus. [Whispering. Cli. What, I, my lord? No, not for all the world. Bru. Peace then, no words. (1) Whether. Cli. I'll rather kill myself. Bru. Hark thee, Dardanius! Dar. Cli. O, Dardanius! Dar. O, Clitus! [Whispers him. 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? 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. It is more worthy to leap in ourselves, Than tarry till they push us. Good Volumnius, Strato, thou hast been all this while asleep ; 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. Bru. Hence; I will follow thee. Thy life hath had some smatch of honour in it: 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, Messala, Lucilius, and their 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. Luc. So Brutus should be found.-I thank thee, That thou hast prov'd Lucilius' saying true. 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: (1) Receive into my service. (2) Recommend. All the conspirators, save only he, up, Did that they did in envy of great Cæsar; Of this tragedy many particular passages deserve regard, and the contention and reconcilement of Brutus and Cassius is universally celebrated; but I have never been strongly agitated in perusing it, and think it somewhat cold and unaffecting, compared with some other of Shakspeare's plays: his adherence to the real story, and to the Roman manners, seems to have impeded the natural vigour of his genius. JOHNSON. |