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 ; list a word. Bru. Why, this, Volumnius; The Ghost of Cæfar hath appear'd to me Vol. Not fo, my Lord. Bru. Nay, I am fure it is, Volumnius. Thou feeft the world, Volumnius, how it goes; [Alarum. It is more worthy to leap in our felves, Night hangs upon mine eyes, my bones would reft,. (35) Farewel to thee, to Strato, Countrymen ;] Thus has this Paffage all along been abfurdly pointed, to the Praife of our intelligent Editors. I had corrected it long ago; but am, notwithstanding, to make my Acknowledgments to an anonymous Gentleman, who, unknowingly concurr'd with me; and advis'd the Correction of the Pointing, as it is now reformed, by Letter. That 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. I pr'ythee, Strato, ftay thou by thy Lord; Thy life hath had some smatch of honour in't. fare you well, my Lord. Bru. Farewel, good Strato; Gafar, now be ftill; I kill'd not thee with half fo good a will. [He runs on his fword, and dies. Alarum. Retreat. Enter Antony, Octavius, 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 Conqu❜rors can but make a fire of him: For Brutus only overcame himself; And no man elfe, hath, honour by his death. Luc. So Brutus fhould be found. I thank thee, Brutus, That thou haft prov'd Lucilius' Saying 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 word, and he did run on it. Mef. Octavius, then take him to follow thee, That did the lateft fervice 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 Cæfar: So So mixt in him, that Nature might ftand up, [Exeunt omnes ANTONY |