Imatges de pàgina
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I dare affure thee, that no Enemy
Shall ever take alive the Noble Brutus:
The Gods defend him from fo great a fhame,
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 affure you,
A prize no lefs in worth; keep this Man safe,
Give him all kindness. I had rather have
Such Men my Friends, than Enemies. Go on,
And fee where Brutus be alive or dead,

And bring us word unto Octavius Tent,
How every thing is chanc'd.

[Exeunt.

Enter Brutus, Dardanius, Clitus, Strato, and Volumnius. Bru. Come, poor remains of Friends, reft on this Rock. Cli. Statillius fhew'd the Torch-light, but, my Lord, He came not back, he is, or ta'en, or flain.

Bru. Sit thee down, Clitus; flaying 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 my felf.
Bru. Hark thee, Dardanius!
Dar. Shall I do fuch a Deed?
Cli. O Dardanius!

Dar. O Clitus!

Cli. What ill requeft did Brutus make to thee?
Dar. To kill him, Clitus; look he meditates.
Cli. Now is that Noble Veffel full of Grief,
That it runs over even at his Eyes.

Bru. Come hither, good Volumnius, lift a word.
Vol. What fays my Lord?

Bru. Why this, Volumnius;

The Ghost of Cafar hath appear'd to me

Two feveral times by Night; at Sardis, once;

And this laft Night, here in Philippi-Fields.

I know my hour is come.

Vol. Not fo, my Lord.

Bru. Nay, I am fure it is, Volumnius.

Thou feeft the World, Volumnius, how it goes,
Our Enemies have beat us to the Pit :

Low Alarum.

It

It is more worthy, to leap in our selves,
Than tarry 'till they push us.

Good Volumnius,
Thou knoweft that we two went to School together;
Even for that, our love of old, I prethee

Hold thou my Sword's Hilt, while I run on it.
Vol. That's not an Office for a Friend, my Lord.
[Alarum ftill.
Cli. Fly, fly, my Lord, there is no tarrying here.
Bru. Farewel to you, and you, and you, Volumnius.
Strato, thou haft been all this while asleep;
Farewel to thee, to Strato, Countrymen;
My Heart doth Joy, that yet in all
in all my Life,
I found no Man, but he was true to me.
I fhall have Glory by this lofing Day,
More than Octavius and Mark Antony,
By this vile Conqueft fhall attain unto.
So fare you well at once, for Brutus Tongue
Hath almost ended his Life's Hiftory.

Night hangs upon mine Eyes, my Bones would reft,
That have but labour'd, to attain this Hour.

Cli. Fly, my Lord, fly.

[Alarum. Cry within, Fly, fly, fly.

Bru. Hence; I will follow;

I prethee, Strato, ftay thou by thy Lord,
Thou art a Fellow of a good refpe&;

Thy Life hath had fome 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 firft. Fare you well, my Lord. Bru. Farewel, good Strato-Cafar, now be still,

I kill'd not thee with half fo good a Will.

[He runs on his Sword and dies.

Alarum. Retreat. Enter Antony, O&avius, Meffala, Lucilius, and the Army.

Octa. What Man is that?

Mef. My Master's Man. Strato, where is thy Mafter? Stra. Free from the Bondage you are in, Meffala; The Conquerors can but make a Fire of him: For Brutus only overcame himself,

And no Man elfe hath Honour by his Death.

Luc.

Luc. So Brutus fhould be found. I thank, thee, Brutus, That thou haft prov'd Lucillius faying true.

Octa. All that ferv'd Brutus I will entertain them,
Fellow, wilt thou beftow thy time with me?
Stra. Ay, if Meffala will prefer me to you.
Octa. Do fo, good Meffala.

Mef. How 'died my Lord, Strato?

Stra. I held the Sword, and he did run on it. Mef. Octavius, then take him to follow thee, That did the latest Service to my Mafter..

Ant. This was the nobleft Roman of them all;
All the Confpirators fave only he,

Did that they did, in envy of great Cafar:
He, only in a general honeft 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 up,
And fay to all the World; this was a Man.

Octa. According to his Virtue, let us ufe him,
With all respect, and rites of Burial.
Within my Tent his Bones to Night shall lye,
Most like a Soldier, ordered honourably.
So call the Field to reft, and let's away,
To part the Glories of this happy Day.

[Exeunt omnes.

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