« ZurückWeiter »
That ran through Cæsar's bowels, search this bosom.
45 Guide thou the sword. [PINDARUS stabs him.] Cæsar, thou
Even with the sword that kill'd thee.
Pin. So, I am free; yet would not so have been,
Durst I have done my will. O Cassius!
Far from this country Pindarus shall run, 50 Where never Roman shall take note of him.
Re-enter TITINIUS with MESSALA.
Mes. It is but change, Titinius; for Octavius
Tit. These tidings will well comfort Cassius.
With Pindarus his bondman, on this hill.
Mes. Is not that he that lies upon the ground?
No, this was he, Messala,
The sun of Rome is set! Our day is gone;
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
70 Thou never com'st unto a happy birth,
But kill'st the mother that engender'd thee!
Tit. What, Pindarus! where art thou, Pindarus?
For piercing steel and darts envenomed
Hie you, Messala,
And I will seek for Pindarus the while.
80 Why didst thou send me forth, brave Cassius? Did I not meet thy friends? and did not they Put on my brows this wreath of victory,
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
Will do his bidding. Brutus, come apace,
90 Come, Cassius' sword, and find Titinius' heart.
Alarum. Re-enter MESSALA, with BRUTUS, young CATO, and
Bru. Where, where, Messala, doth his body lie?
Mes. Lo, yonder, and Titinius mourning it.
Bru. Titinius' face is upward.
He is slain.
Bru. O Julius Cæsar, thou art mighty yet! 95 Thy spirit walks abroad, and turns our swords In our own proper entrails.
Bru. Are yet two Romans living such as these?
100 It is impossible that ever Rome
Should breed thy fellow. Friends, I owe moe tears
I shall find time, Cassius, I shall find time. Come therefore, and to Thasos send his body: 105 His funerals shall not be in our camp,
Lest it discomfort us. Lucilius, come;
"Tis three o'clock; and, Romans, yet ere night 110 We shall try fortune in a second fight.
SCENE IV. Another part of the field
Alarum. Enter fighting, Soldiers of both armies; then
Bru. Yet, countrymen, O, yet hold up your heads!
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.
Only I yield to die:
Offering money] There is so much that thou wilt kill me
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.
Here comes the general.
Brutus is ta'en, Brutus is ta'en, my lord.
Ant. Where is he?
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,
SCENE V. Another part of the field
Enter BRUTUS, DARDANIUS, CLITUS, STRATO, and
Bru. Come, poor remains of friends, rest on this rock.
He came not back; he is or ta'en or slain.
Bru. Sit thee down, Clitus: slaying is the word;
5 It is a deed in fashion. Hark thee, Clitus.
Bru. Hark thee, Dardanius.
Cli. O Dardanius!
I'll rather kill myself.
Shall I do such a deed?
Cli. What ill request did Brutus make to thee?
15 Bru. Come hither, good Volumnius; list a word. Vol. What says my lord?
Why, this, Volumnius:
25 Than tarry till they push us.
Thou know'st that we two went to school together:
Hold thou my sword-hilts, whilst I run on it.
[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, More than Octavius and Mark Antony By this vile conquest shall attain unto.
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,