Lucil. 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. This is not Brutus, friend; but, I assure

you,

Go on,

A prize no less in worth: keep this man safe;
Give him all kindness: I had rather have
Such men my friends than enemies.
And see whether Brutus be alive or dead;
And bring us word unto Octavius' tent
How every thing is chanced.

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[Exeunt.

SCENE V. Another part of the field.

Enter BRUTUS, DARDANIUS, CLITUS, STRATO,
and VOLUMNIUS.

Bru. Come, poor remains of friends, rest on this rock.

Cli. Statilius show'd the torch-light, but, my lord,

He came not back: he is or ta'en or slain.

Bru. Sit thee down, Clitus: slaying is the

word;

It is a deed in fashion.

Hark thee, Clitus.

[Whispers.

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

Cli. O Dardanius!

Dar. O Clitus!

Cli. What ill request did Brutus make to thee?
Dar. To kill him, Clitus. Look, he meditates.
Cli. Now is that noble vessel full of grief,

That it runs over even at his eyes.

Bru. Come hither, good Volumnius; list a word.

Vol. What says my lord?

Bru.

Why, this, Volumnius :
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.

Vol.

Not so, my lord.

Bru. Nay, I am sure it is, Volumnius.
Thou seest the world, Volumnius, how it goes;
Our enemies have beat us to the pit:

[Low alarums.

It is more worthy to leap in ourselves,
Than tarry till they push us.
Thou know'st that we two

gether:

Good Volumnius, went to school to

Even for that our love of old, I prithee,

Hold thou my sword-hilts, whilst I run on it.
Vol. That's not an office for a friend, my

lord.

[Alarum still.

Cli. Fly, fly, my lord; there is no tarrying

here.

Bru. Farewell to you; and you; and you,
Volumnius.

Strato, thou hast been all this while asleep;
Farewell to thee too, Strato. 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

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More than Octavius and Mark Antony
By this vile conquest shall attain unto.

So fare you well at once; for Brutus' tongue
Hath almost ended his life's history:

Night hangs upon mine eyes; my bones would

rest,

That have but labour'd to attain this hour.

[Alarum. Cry Within, 'Fly, fly, fly!'

Cli. Fly, my lord, fly.

Bru.

Hence! I will follow.

[Exeunt Clitus, Dardanius, and Volumnius.

I prithee, Strato, stay thou by thy lord:
Thou art a fellow of a good respect;

Thy life hath had some smatch of honour in it :
Hold then my sword, and turn away thy face,
While I do run upon it. Wilt thou, Strato?
Stra. Give me your hand first. Fare you well,

my lord.

Bru. Farewell, good Strato. [Runs on his sword.] Cæsar, now be still:

I kill'd not thee with half so good a will.

[Dies.

Alarum. Retreat. Enter OCTAVIUS, ANTONY,
MESSALA, LUCILIUS, and the army.

Oct. What man is that?

Mes. My master's man. Strato, where is thy

master?

Stra. Free from the bondage you are in,
Messala:

The conquerors can but make a fire of him;
For Brutus only overcame himself,

And no man else hath honour by his death.
Lucil. So Brutus should be found.

thee, Brutus,

I thank

That thou hast proved Lucilius' saying true.

46. smatch, taste.

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VOL. VIII

113

I

Oct. All that served Brutus, I will entertain

them.

Fellow, wilt thou bestow thy time with me?

Stra. Ay, if Messala will prefer me to you.
Oct. Do so, good Messala.

Mes. How died my master, Strato?

Stra. I held the sword, and he did run on it. Mes. Octavius, then take him to follow thee, That did the latest service to my master.

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.
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.

[Exeunt.

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70

80

thought, out of honest regard for the common good.

HAMLET,

PRINCE OF DENMARK