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.

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