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Cli. What, I, my lord? no, not for all the world.
Bru. Peace then, no words.

Cli. I'll rather kill myself.
Bru. Hark thee, Dardanius.
Dar. I do fuch a deed!
Cli. O Dardanius!

Dar. O Clitus!

Cli. What ill request did Brutus make to thee?

Dar. To kill him, Clitus: look, he meditates.

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Cli. Now is that noble veffel full of grief,

That it runs over even at his eyes.

Bru. Come hither, good Volumnius; lift a word.
Vol. What fays my lord?

Bru. Why, this, Volumnius;

The ghost of Cafar hath appear'd to me
Two feveral times by night: at Sardis, once;

And this last night, here in Philippi' fields.
I know, my hour is come.

Vol. Not fo, my lord.

Bru. Nay, I am fure it is, Volumnius.

Thou seeft the world, Volumnius, 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 Volumnius,

[alarum.

Thou know'ft that we two went to school together;
Even for that our love of old, I pr'ythee,

[alarum ftill.

and you, Volumnius.

Hold thou my fword's hilt, while I run on it.
Vol. That's not an office for a friend, my lord.
Cli. Fly, fly, my lord, there is no tarrying here.
Bru. Farewel to you; and you; - and
Strato, thou haft been all this while asleep;
Farewel 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 fhall have glory by this lofing day,
More than Octavius and Mark Antony

By

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 reft,
That have but labour'd to attain this hour.

Cli. Fly, my lord, fly.

[alarum. cry within, Fly, fly, fly.

Bru. Hence; I will follow thee.

I pr'ythee, Strato, ftay thou by thy lord:
Thou art a fellow of a good refpect;

Thy life hath had fome fmatch of honour in't:
Hold then my fword, 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. Farewel, good Strato. Cæfar, now be still;

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

SCENE

Alarum.

[he runs on his fword and dies.

IX.

Retreat.

Enter Antony, Octavius, Messala, Lucilius, and the Army.

Oct. What man is that?

Mef. My master's man. - Strato, where is thy mafter?
Stra. Free from the bondage you are in, Meffala;

The conqu❜rors can but make a fire of him:

For Brutus only overcame himself,

And no man else hath honour by his death.

Luc. So Brutus fhould be found. — I thank thee, Brutus,

That thou haft prov'd Lucilius' faying true.

Oct. All that ferv'd Brutus I will entertain them..

Fellow, wilt thou bestow thy time with me?

Stra. Ay, if Meffala will prefer me to you.
Oct. Do fo, good Meffala.

Mef. How died my lord, Strato?

Stra. I held the fword, and he did run on it.

Mef.

Mef. Octavius, take him then to follow thee, That did the latest service to my mafter.

Ant. This was the nobleft Roman of them all:
All the confpirators, fave only he,

Did that they did in envy of great Cæfar;
He only, in a general honeft 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 fay to all the world, This was a man!

Oct. According to his virtue let us use him,
With all refpect, and rites of burial.
Within my tent his bones to-night shall lie,
Moft like a foldier, order'd honourably.
So, call the field to reft; and let's away,
To part the glories of this happy day.

[Exeunt omnes.

VILLE DE LYON

Biblioth. du Palais des Arts

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