Act 5, Scene 5

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[Enter Brutus, Dardanius, Clitus, Strato, and Volumnius.]

Brutus

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

Clitus

Statilius showed the torchlight, but, my lord,
He came not back. He is or ta'en or slain.

Brutus

Sit thee down, Clitus. Slaying is the word;
It is a deed in fashion. Hark thee, Clitus.
[Brutus whispers to Clitus.]

Clitus

What, I, my lord? No, not for all the world!

Brutus

Peace then. No words.

Clitus

                                      I'll rather kill myself.

Brutus

Hark thee, Dardanius!
[Brutus whispers to Dardanius.]

Dardanius

                                      Shall I do such a deed?

Clitus

O Dardanius!

Dardanius

O Clitus!

Clitus

What ill request did Brutus make to thee?

Dardanius

To kill him, Clitus. Look, he meditates.

Clitus

Now is that noble vessel full of grief,
That it runs over even at his eyes.

Brutus

Come hither, good Volumnius, list a word.

Volumnius

What says my lord?

Brutus

                                 Why, this, Volumnius:
The ghost of Caesar hath appeared to me
Two several times by night — at Sardis once,
And, this last night, here in Philippi fields.
I know my hour is come.

Volumnius

                                          Not so, my lord.

Brutus

Nay, I am sure it is, Volumnius.
Thou seest the world, Volumnius, how it goes.
Our enemies have beat us to the pit.
[Low trumpets.]
It is more worthy to leap in ourselves
Than tarry till they push us. Good Volumnius,
Thou know'st that we two went to school together.
Even for that our love of old, I prithee
Hold thou my sword-hilts whilst I run on it.

Volumnius

That's not an office for a friend, my lord.
[Trumpets continue.]

Clitus

Fly, fly, my lord, there is no tarrying here.

Brutus

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,
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 labored to attain this hour.
[Trumpets sound. Cry from off stage, 'Fly, fly, fly!’]

Clitus

Fly, my lord, fly!

Brutus

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 honor in it.
Hold then my sword, and turn away thy face,
While I do run upon it. Wilt thou, Strato?

Strato

Give me your hand first. Fare you well, my lord.

Brutus

Farewell, good Strato. — Caesar, now be still.
I killed not thee with half so good a will.
[Runs onto his sword and dies. Trumpets sound the call to stop pursuing the enemy.
Enter Octavius, Antony, Messala, Lucilius, and the army.]

Octavius

[Indicating Strato] What man is that?

Messala

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

Strato

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 honor by his death.

Lucilius

So Brutus should be found. I thank thee, Brutus,
That thou hast proved Lucilius' saying true.

Octavius

All that served Brutus, I will entertain them.
Fellow, wilt thou bestow thy time with me?

Strato

Ay, if Messala will prefer me to you.

Octavius

Do so, good Messala.

Messala

How died my master, Strato?

Strato

I held the sword and he did run on it.

Messala

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

Antony

This was the noblest Roman of them all.
All the conspirators save only he
Did that they did in envy of great Caesar.
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!'

Octavius

According to his virtue let us use him,
With all respect and rites of burial.
Within my tent his bones tonight shall lie,
Most like a soldier, ordered honorably.
So call the field to rest, and let's away,
To part the glories of this happy day.
[Exeunt.]