Octa.
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 ^{9 note}

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, 9Q0936 thinking, by this face,
To fasten in our thoughts that they have courage;
But 'tis not so. Enter a Messenger.

Mes.
Prepare you, generals:
The enemy comes on in gallant shew;
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.

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

Ant.
Why do you cross me in this exigent?

Octa.
I do not cross you; but I will do so. [March. Drum. Enter Brutus, Cassius, and their Army; Lucilius, Titinius, Messala, &c.

Bru.
They stand, and would have parley.

Cas.
Stand fast, Titinius: We must out and talk.

Octa.
Mark Antony, shall we give sign of battle?

Ant.
No, Cæsar, we will answer on their charge.
Make forth, the generals would have some words.

Octa.
Stir not until the signal.

Bru.
Words before blows: Is it so, countrymen?

Octa.
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 are yet unknown; 9Q0937
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 stol'n 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 shew'd your teeth like apes, and fawn'd like hounds,
And bow'd like bondmen, kissing Cæsar's feet;
Whilst damned ^{1 note}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.

Octa.
Come, come, the cause: If arguing make 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 ^{2 note}three and twenty wounds
Be well aveng'd; or 'till another Cæsar
Have added slaughter to the sword of traitors.

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

Octa.
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!

Octa.
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. [Exeunt Octavius, Antony, and army.

Cas.
Why now, blow, wind; swell, billow; and swim, bark!
The storm is up, and all is on the hazard.

Bru.
Ho, Lucilius; hark, a word with you. [Lucilius, and Messala, stand forth.

Luc.
My lord. [Brutus speaks apart to Lucilius.

Cas.
Messala.

Mes.
What says my general?

Cas.
Messala^{3 note}

Coming from Sardis, on our foremost ensign^{4 note}
Two mighty eagles fell; and there they perch'd,
Gorging and feeding from our soldiers' hands;
Who to Philippi here consorted us:
This morning are they fled away, and gone;
And, in their steads, do ravens, crows, and kites,
Fly o'er our heads, and downward look on us,
As we were sickly prey; their shadows seem
A canopy most fatal, under which
Our army lies, ready to give up the ghost.

Mes.
Believe not so.

Cas.
I but believe it partly;
For I am fresh of spirit, and resolv'd
To meet all perils very constantly.

Bru.
Even so, Lucilius.

Cas.
Now, 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 do lose this battle, then is this
^{5 note}
The very last time we shall speak together:
What are you then determined to do?

Bru.
Even by the rule of that philosophy^{6 note}

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:—^{7 note}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 begun;
And whether we shall meet again, I know not.
Therefore our everlasting farewel take:—
For ever, and for ever, farewel, 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, farewel, Brutus!
If we do meet again, we'll smile indeed;
If not, 'tis true, this parting was well made.

Bru.
Why then, lead on.—O, 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! [Exeunt. SCENE II. Alarum. Enter Brutus, and Messala.

Bru.
Ride, ride, Messala, ride, and give these bills^{8 note}
Unto the legions on the other side: [Loud alarm.
Let them set on at once; for I perceive
But cold demeanor in Octavius' wing,
And sudden push gives them the overthrow.
Ride, ride, Messala; let them all come down. [Exeunt. SCENE III. Alarum. Enter Cassius, and Titinius.

Cas.
O, look, Titinius, 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.

Tit.
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. 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^{9 note}.—Look, look, Titinius;
Are those my tents, where I perceive the fire?

Tit.
They are, my lord.

Cas.
Titinius, 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 yon troops are friend or enemy.

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

^{1 note}Cas.
Go, Pindarus, get thither on that hill;
My sight was ever thick; regard Titinius,
And tell me what thou not'st about the field.— [Exit Pindarus.
This day I breathed first: time is come round* ^note
,
And, where I did begin, there shall I end;
My life is run his compass.—Sirrah, what news?

Pind. [above.]
O my lord!

Cas.
What news?

Pind.
Titinius is enclosed round about
With horsemen, that make to him on the spur;—
Yet he spurs on.—Now they are almost on him; now,
Titinius!—Now some 'light:—O, he 'lights too:—
He's ta'en;—and, hark, they shout for joy. [Shout.

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! Re-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 'tis now,
Guide thou the sword.—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. Re-enter Titinius, with Messala.

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

Tit.
These tidings will well comfort Cassius.

Mes.
Where did you leave him?

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

Mes.
Is not that he, that lies upon the ground?

Tit.
He lies not like the living. O my heart!

Mes.
Is not that he?

Tit.
No, this was he, Messala,
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!
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 shew to the apt thoughts of men
The things that are not? O error, soon conceiv'd,
Thou never com'st unto a happy birth,
But kill'st the mother that engender'd thee.

Tit.
What, Pindarus! Where art thou, Pindarus?

Mes.
Seek him, Titinius; whilst I go to meet

The noble Brutus, thrusting this report
Into his ears: I may say, thrusting it;
For piercing steel, and darts envenomed,
Shall be as welcome to the ears of Brutus,
As tidings of this sight.

Tit.
Hie you, Messala,
And I will seek for Pindarus the while. [Exit Mes.
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.
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,
And see how I regarded Caius Cassius.—
By your leave, gods:—This is a Roman's part;
Come, Cassius' sword, and find Titinius' heart. [Dies. Alarum. Enter Brutus, Messala, young Cato, Strato, Volumnius, and Lucilius.

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

Mes.
Lo, yonder; and Titinius mourning it.

Bru.
Titinius' face is upward.

Cato.
He is slain.

Bru.
Oh Julius Cæsar, thou art mighty yet!
Thy spirit walks abroad, and turns our swords
In our own proper entrails. [Low alarums.

Cato.
Brave Titinius!—
Look, whe'r he have not crown'd dead Cassius!

Bru.
Are yet two Romans living such as these?—
Thou last of all the Romans,^{2 note} 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.—
I shall find time, Cassius, I shall find time.—
Come, therefore, ^{3 note}