TITINIUS.
Brutus with chearful News greets Caius Cassius;
And, having broke the Forces of Octavius,
Is hasting hither to relieve his Friend.

OFFICER.
Alas, he comes too late, see there lies Cassius!

Enter Brutus with Officers.

BRUTUS.
Is Cassius on the Ground? O my dear Friend! (Runs to Cassius.
I came to fill thy Ears with pleasing News;
But such a Sight has turn'd my Joy to Grief

CASSIUS.
What, has my feeble Hand made me be taken?
Is Cassius to become the Scorn of Antony? (Rising a little, believing it to be Antony.

BRUTUS.
Rather the Grief of ev'ry worthy Roman.
What cursed Hand has slain my dearest Friend?

CASSIUS.
What do I hear, and see? is Brutus there?
A Pris'ner too?

BRUTUS.
The Gods forbid that, Cassius:
Look up, and see thy mournful Friend victorious.

CASSIUS.
Have you then sav'd the Liberty of Rome?
I ask no more, and dye with full Content.
But yet I leave my Junia behind:
Oh, still be tender of that best of Women!
In being kind to her, remember me. (Dyes in his Arms.

BRUTUS.
Remember thee? Who can forget thy Worth!
With a dead Friend Disputes are all forgot,
And what is tender takes up all the Mind;
Grief only thinks on that which most promotes it: (Turns to his Officers.
And oh, I long to give my Sorrow vent.
But our dear Countrey now claims all my Care.
Summon our Soldiers, that I may with Praise
Keep up that Spirit which has fir'd their Souls. Enter a confused Multitude of Soldiers.
Hail Fellow-Soldiers, worthy of that Cause

For which you fight so well. Your Actions past
Urge you to more: Be your own great Example.
On far unequal Terms these Armies meet;
They fight, to make Ambition Tyranny,
And themselves Slaves; their Vict'ry is their Ruin.
But if for this one Day you can submit
To one who but commands you for your sakes;
(Now proud to lead, while you are pleas'd to follow)
You ev'ry one shall be a Conqueror,
And equal to your General, who seeks
No other Triumph but his Country's Freedom.
End but that Work, and then to foreign Wars.
There's no Man here but may by Merit hope
To lead an Army, and have Me his Soldier. Acclamations of Applause.
Let prodigal Antonius promise Treasures,
Wrench'd from hard Hands of wretched lab'ring Swains,
Who lift them up to Heav'n to call down Vengeance.

I can out-bid him, spite of all his Riches:
Hark to the pleasing Sound! 'tis Liberty!
That only nam'd, I need to say no more. (Exeunt Soldiers shouting.

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