That ran through Cæsar's bowels, search this bosom. 45 Guide thou the sword. [PINDARUS stabs him.] Cæsar, thou art reveng'd, Even with the sword that kill'd thee. [Dies. Pin. So, I am free; yet would not so have been, 55 Re-enter TITINIUS with MESSALA. Mes. It is but change, Titinius; for Octavius Tit. These tidings will well comfort Cassius. Tit. All disconsolate, No, this was he, Messala, 60 But Cassius is no more. O setting sun, As in thy red rays thou dost sink to night, So in his red blood Cassius' day is set; The sun of Rome is set! Our day is gone; Clouds, dews, and dangers come; our deeds are done! 65 Mistrust of my success hath done this deed. Mes. Mistrust of good success hath done this deed. O hateful error, melancholy's child, Why dost thou show to the apt thoughts of men The things that are not? O error, soon conceiv'd, 70 Thou never com'st unto a happy birth, But kill'st the mother that engender'd thee! [Exit Tit. What, Pindarus! where art thou, Pindarus? For piercing steel and darts envenomed Tit. Did I not meet thy friends? and did not they [Exit MESSALA. And bid me give it thee? Didst thou not hear their shouts ? Alas, thou hast misconstrued every thing! 85 But, hold thee, take this garland on thy brow; Thy Brutus bid me give it thee, and I By your leave, gods: this is a Roman's part: 90 Come, Cassius' sword, and find Titinius' heart. [Kills himself. Alarum. Re-enter MESSALA, with BRUTUS, young CATO, and others. Bru. Where, where, Messala, doth his body lie? Cato. In our own proper entrails. Cato. [Low alarums. 100 It is impossible that ever Rome Should breed thy fellow. Friends, I owe moe tears Lest it discomfort us. And come, young Cato: let us to the field. Labeo and Flavius, set our battles on. 'Tis three o'clock; and, Romans, yet ere night 110 We shall try fortune in a second fight. 15 SCENE IV. Another part of the field Alarum. Enter fighting, Soldiers of both armies; then [Exeunt. 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! 5 A foe to tyrants, and my country's friend; I am the son of Marcus Cato, ho! Bru. And I am Brutus, Marcus Brutus, I; Brutus, my country's friend; know me for Brutus ! [Exit, charging the enemy. CATO is overpower'd, and falls. Lucil. O young and noble Cato, art thou down? 10 Why, now thou diest as bravely as Titinius, And mayst be honour'd, being Cato's son. First Sold. Yield, or thou diest. Lucil. Only I yield to die: Offering money] There is so much that thou wilt kill me. straight; Kill Brutus, and be honour'd in his death. First Sold. We must not. A noble prisoner! Sec. Sold. Room, ho! Tell Antony, Brutus is ta'en. Enter ANTONY. Brutus is ta'en, Brutus is ta'en, my lord. Ant. Where is he? 20 Lucil. Safe, Antony; Brutus is safe enough. I dare assure thee that no enemy Shall ever take alive the noble Brutus: The gods defend him from so great a shame! 25 He will be found like Brutus, like himself. Ant. This is not Brutus, friend, but, I assure you, Such men my friends than enemies. Go on, [Exeunt. SCENE V. Another part of the field Enter BRUTUS, DARDANIUS, CLITUS, STRATO, and Bru. Come, poor remains of friends, rest on this rock. Bru. Sit thee down, Clitus: slaying is the word; Bru. Hark thee, Dardanius. Cli. O Dardanius! [Whispering. I'll rather kill myself. [Whispering. Shall I do such a deed? 10 Dar. O Clitus! Cli. What ill request did Brutus make to thee? 15 Bru. Come hither, good Volumnius; list a word. Vol. It is more worthy to leap in ourselves 25 Than tarry till they push us. Good Volumnius, Vol. That's not an office for a friend, my lord. 30 [Low alarums. [Alarum still. Cli. Fly, fly, my lord; there is no tarrying here. Bru. Farewell to you; and you; and you, Volumnius. Strato, thou hast been all this while asleep; Farewell to thee too, Strato. Countrymen, My heart doth joy that yet in all my life 35 I found no man but he was true to me. I shall have glory by this losing day, So, fare you well at once; for Brutus' tongue 40 Hath almost ended his life's history: Night hangs upon mine eyes; my bones would rest, |