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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'di


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and VOLUMNIUS. Bru. Come, poor remains of friends, rest on this


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. Bru. Hark thee, Dardanius! [whispers him. Dar.

I do such a deed? Cli, O, Dardanius! Dar. O, Clitus! 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, 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, 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 pray thee, 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, Vo

Strato, thou hast been all this while asleeps
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 this vile conquest shall attain unto.
So, fare you well at once; for Brutus' tongue

Hath almost ended his life's history:
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 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,

MESSALA, LUCILIUS, and their Army. Oct. What man is that? · Mes. My master's man. Strato, where is thy

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.

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, Messala.

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 late 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;
He, only, in a general honest thought,
And common good to all, made one of them.
His life was gentle; and the elements
So mix'd in him, that Nature might stand up,
And say to all the world, This was a man!

Oct. According to his virtue let us use him,
With all respect, and rites of burial.
Within my tent his bones to-night shall lie,
Most like a soldier, order'd honourably.-
So, call the field to rest: and let's away,
To part the glories of this happy day. [Exeunt.







DECIUS-] This person was not Decius, but Decimus Brutus. The poet (as Voltaire has done since) confounds the characters of Marcus and Deci

Decimus Brutus was the most cherished by Cæsar of all his friends, while Marcus kept aloof, and declined so large a share of his favours and honours as the other had constantly accepted.

2 Sennet-] Sennet appears to be a particular tune or mode of martial musick.

JOHNSON. I have been informed that Sennet is derived from Senneste, an antiquated French tune formerly used in the army,

but the Dictionaries which I have consulted exhibit no such word.

3 To stale with ordinary oaths my love~) To invite every new protestor to my affection by the stale or allurement of customary oaths.

JOHNSON. 4 There was a Brutus once-] Lucius Junius Brutus.


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