Oct.
Now, Antony, our hopes are answered:
You said, the enemy would not come down,
But keep the hills and upper regions:
It proves not so: their battles are at hand;
They mean to warn us at Philippi here,
Answering before we do demand of them.

Ant.
Tut, I am in their bosoms, and I know
Wherefore they do it: they could be content
To visit other places; and come down
With fearful bravery, thinking, by this face,
To fasten in our thoughts that they have courage;
But 't is not so. Enter Servius.

Ser.
Prepare you, generals:
The enemy comes on in gallant show;
Their bloody sign of battle is hung out,
And something to be done immediately.

Ant.
Octavius, lead your battle softly on,
Upon the left hand of the even field.

Oct.
Upon the right hand I, keep thou the left.

Ant.
Why do you cross me in this exigent?

Oct.
I do not cross you; but I will do so. [A Flourish of Trumpets.] Enter Cassius, Brutus, Trebonius, Metellus, Titinius, Pindarus,—Ensign of Battle,—Standards, S. P. Q. R.—Silver Eagles,—Lictors,—and Guards.

Bru.
They stand, and would have parley.—
Words before blows: Is it so, countrymen?

Oct.
Not that we love words better, as you do.

Bru.
Good words are better than bad strokes, Octavius.

Ant.
In your bad strokes, Brutus, you give good words:
Witness the hole you made in Cæsar's heart,
Crying, Long live! hail, Cæsar!

Cas.
Antony,
The posture of your blows is yet unknown;
But, for your words, they rob the Hybla bees,
And leave them honeyless.

Ant.
Not stingless too.

Bru.
O, yes, and soundless too;
For you have stolen their buzzing, Antony,
And, very wisely, threat before you sting.

Ant.
Villains, you did not so, when your vile daggers
Hack'd one another in the sides of Cæsar:
You show'd your teeth like apes, and fawn'd like hounds,
And bow'd like bondmen, kissing Cæsar's feet;
Whilst damned Casca, like a cur behind,
Struck Cæsar on the neck. O you flatterers!

Cas.
Flatterers!—Now, Brutus, thank yourself:
This tongue had not offended so to-day,
If Cassius might have rul'd.

Oct.
Come, come:—The cause if arguing makes us sweat,
The proof of it will turn to redder drops.
Look,—
I draw a sword against conspirators:
When think you that the sword goes up again?
Never, till Cæsar's three and twenty wounds
Be well aveng'd; or till another Cæsar
Have added slaughter to the sword of traitors.

Bru.
Cæsar, thou canst not die by traitors' hands,
Unless thou bring'st them with thee:

Oct.
So I hope;
I was not born to die on Brutus' sword.

Bru.
O, if thou wert the noblest of thy strain,
Young man, thou could'st not die more honourable.

Cas.
A peevish school-boy, worthless of such honour,
Join'd with a masker and a reveller.

Ant.
Old Cassius still!

Oct.
Come, Antony; away.—
Defiance, traitors, hurl we in your teeth:
If you dare fight to-day, come to the field;
If not, when you have stomachs. [Flourish of Trumpets.] [Exeunt Octavius, Antony, and their Attendants.

Cas.
Why now, blow, wind! swell, billow; and swim, bark!
The storm is up, and all is on the hazard.—
Most noble Brutus,
The gods to-day stand friendly; that we may,
Lovers in peace, lead on our days to age!
But, since the affairs of men rest still uncertain,
Let 's reason with the worst that may befall.
If we lose this battle, then is this
The very last time we shall speak together:
What are you then determined to do?

Bru.
Even by the rule of that philosophy,
By which I did blame Cato for the death
Which he did give himself:—I know not how,

But I do find it cowardly and vile,
For fear of what might fall, so to prevent
The time of life:—arming myself with patience,
To stay the providence of some high powers
That govern us below.

Cas.
Then, if we lose this battle,
You are contented to be led in triumph
Thorough the streets of Rome?

Bru.
No, Cassius, no: think not, thou noble Roman,
That ever Brutus will go bound to Rome;
He bears too great a mind.—But, this same day
Must end that work, the ides of March began:
And, whether we shall meet again, I know not;
Therefore our everlasting farewell take:—
For ever, and for ever, farewell, Cassius!
If we do meet again, why, we shall smile;
If not, why then this parting was well made.

Cas.
For ever, and for ever, farewell, Brutus!
If we do meet again, we 'll smile indeed;
If not, 't is true, this parting was well made.

Bru.
Why then, lead on.—Oh, that a man might know
The end of this day's business, ere it come!
But, it sufficeth that the day will end,
And then the end is known.—Come, ho! away! [Flourish of Trumpets.] [Exeunt. SCENE II. The Plains of Philippi. Another Part of the Field. [Alarums.] Enter Cassius, with an Eagle in his hand, and Trebonius.

Cas.
O look, Trebonius, look, the villains fly!
Myself have to mine own turn'd enemy:

This ensign here of mine was turning back;
I slew the coward, and did take it from him.

Tre.
O Cassius, Brutus gave the word too early,
Who, having some advantage on Octavius,
Took it too eagerly; his soldiers fell to spoil,
Whilst we by Antony are all enclos'd. [Alarums.] Enter Pindarus.

Pin.
Fly further off, my lord, fly further off;
Mark Antony is in your tents, my lord:
Fly therefore, noble Cassius, fly far off.

Cas.
This hill is far enough—Look, look, Trebonius:—
Are those my tents, where I perceive the fire?

Tre.
They are, my lord. [Alarums.]

Cas.
Trebonius, if thou lov'st me,
Mount thou my horse, and hide thy spurs in him,
Till he have brought thee up to yonder troops,
And here again; that I may rest assur'd,
Whether yond' troops are friend or enemy.

Tre.
I will be here again, even with a thought. [Exit Trebonius.

Cas.
Go, Pindarus, get higher on that hill;
My sight was ever thick; regard Trebonius,
And tell me what thou not'st about the field.— [Exit Pindarus.
This day I breathed first: time is come round,
And where I did begin, there shall I end;
My life is run his compass.—Sirrah, what news?

Pin. [Without]
O, my Lord!—

Cas.
What news?

Pin. [Without]
Trebonius is
Enclosed round about with horsemen, that
Make to him on the spur;—yet he spurs on:—
Now they are almost on him:—Now, Trebonius!—
Now some 'light: O, he 'lights too:—he 's ta'en;— [Shouts, and Flourish of Trumpets.]

And hark,—
They shout for joy.

Cas.
Come down, behold no more.—
O, coward that I am, to live so long,
To see my best friend ta'en before my face!— Enter Pindarus.
Come hither, sirrah:
In Parthia did I take thee prisoner;
And then I swore thee, saving of thy life,
That whatsoever I did bid thee do,
Thou should'st attempt it. Come now, keep thine oath;
Now be a freeman; and, with this good sword,
That ran through Cæsar's bowels, search this bosom.
Stand not to answer: Here, take thou the hilts;
And, when my face is cover'd, as 't is now,
Guide thou the sword.— [Pindarus takes the Sword, and Cassius runs upon it.]
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,
Durst I have done my will—O Cassius!
Far from this country Pindarus shall run,
Where never Roman shall take note of him. [Exit. [Alarums.] Enter Trebonius, with a Laurel Crown on his head, and Titinius.

Tit.
It is but change, Trebonius; for Octavius
Is overthrown by noble Brutus' power,
As Cassius' legions are by Antony.

Tre.
These tidings will well comfort Cassius.

Tit.
Where did you leave him?

Tre.
All disconsolate,
With Pindarus his bondman, on this hill.

Tit.
Is not that he that lies upon the ground?

Tre.
He lies not like the living.—O my heart!
Mistrust of my success hath done this deed.—
What, Pindarus!—Where art thou, Pindarus?

Tit.
Seek him, Trebonius; while I go to bring
The noble Brutus to this piercing sight. [Exit Titinius.

Tre.
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 't thee? Didst thou not hear their shouts?
Alas, thou hast misconstru'd every thing. Enter Titinius, Brutus, Metellus, Lucius, Varro, Standards, S. P. Q. R.—Silver Eagles,—Lictors,—and Guards.

Bru.
Where, where, Titinius, doth his body lie?

Tit.
Lo, yonder,—and Trebonius mourning it.

Bru.
O, Julius Cæsar, thou art mighty yet;
Thy spirit walks abroad, and turns our swords
In our own proper entrails.—
The last of all the Romans, fare thee well!
It is impossible, that ever Rome
Should breed thy fellow.—Friends, I owe more tears
To this dead man, than you shall see me pay.—
Stoop, soldiers, stoop,—and bear the body hence.— [Soldiers prepare to bear away the Body.]
Now let us to the field; for yet ere night
We will try fortune in a second fight. [Alarums.] [Exeunt.

SCENE III. The Plains of Philippi. Another Part of the Field. [Alarums.] Enter Flavius, Titinius, Servius, Standards, S. P. Q. R.—Silver Eagles,—Lictors,—and Guards.

Fla.
Run, ho!—Tell Antony, Brutus is ta'en.

Ser.
Here comes the general. [Flourish of Trumpets.] Enter Antony, Clitus, Strato, Standards, S. P. Q. R.—Golden Eagles,—Lictors,—and Guards.

Fla.
Brutus is ta'en, my lord,—Brutus is ta'en.

Ant.
Where is he?

Tit.
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!
When you do find him, or alive, or dead,
He will be found like Brutus, like himself.

Ant.
Keep this man safe,
Give him all kindness: I had rather have
Such men my friends, than enemies.
This is not Brutus, sirs; but, I assure you,
A prize well worth a soldier's arm.—Go on,
And see whe'r Brutus be alive, or dead:
And bring us word, unto Octavius' tent,
How every thing is chanc'd. [Flourish of Trumpets.] Exeunt Servius and Flavius,—Antony, Titinius, Clitus, Strato, &c.

SCENE IV. The Plains of Philippi. Another Part of the Field. [A Retreat sounded.] Enter Metellus, Brutus, Varro, and Lucius.

Bru.
Come, poor remains of friends, let 's rest us here.—
Slaying is the word;
It is a deed in fashion.—Hark thee, Lucius. [Whispering him.]

Luc.
What, I, my lord? No, not for all the world.

Bru.
Peace then, no words.

Luc.
I'll rather kill myself.

Bru.
Come hither, good Metellus: list a word:—
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.

Met.
Brutus! Not so.

Bru.
Nay, I am sure it is.
Thou see'st the world, Metellus, 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 Metellus,
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.

Met.
Brutus, that's not an office for a friend. [Alarums.]

Luc.
Fly, fly, my lord; there is no tarrying here.

Bru.
Farewell to you;—and you;—and you, Metellus.—
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 their vile conquest shall attain unto.—
Retire, and let me think awhile. [They withdraw to a little distance.]

Luc.
Look, he meditates.

Met.
Now is that noble vessel full of grief,
That it runs over even at his eyes.

Bru.
This was the justest cause that ever men
Did draw their swords for; and the gods renounce it.—
Disdaining life, to live a slave in Rome,
Thus Brutus strikes his last—for liberty!— [He stabs himself.]
Farewell,
Beloved country!—Cæsar, now be still;
I kill'd not thee with half so good a will. [Dies.] [A Flourish of Trumpets.] Enter Octavius, Antony, Titinius, Servius, Flavius, Clitus, Strato,—Standards, Star,— S. P. Q. R.—Golden Eagles,—Silver Eagles,—Lictors, and Guards.

Oct.
What man is that?

Tit.
'T is Brutus' man.—Where is thy master, Lucius?

Met.
Free from the bondage you are in, Titinius:
The conquerors can but make a fire of him;
For Brutus only overcame himself,
And no man else hath honour by his death.

Tit.
So Brutus should be found.—I thank thee, Brutus,
That thou hast prov'd Titinius' saying true.

Oct.
All that serv'd Brutus, I will entertain them.

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.

Ant.
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. [Flourish of Martial Instruments.] [Exeunt. THE END.

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