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,
-- 73 --
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;
-- 74 --
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.
