 Act IV. Scene one. A house in Rome. Antony Octavius and Lepidus seated at a table. These many, then, shall die. Their names are pricked. Your brother, too, must die. Consent you, Lepidus? I do consent. Prick him down, Antony. Upon condition, Publius shall not live. Who is your sister's son, Mark Antony? He shall not live. Look, with a spot I damn him. But Lepidus, go you to Caesar's house, fetch the will hither, and we shall determine how to cut off some charge in legacies. Shall I find you here? Or here, or at the capital? Accent Lepidus. This is a slight unmeritable man, meet to be sent on errands. Is it fit that the threefold world divided, he should stand one of the three to share it? So you thought him, and took his voice, who should be pricked to die in our black sentence and prescription. Octavius, I have seen more days than you, and though we lay these honors on this man to ease ourselves of diver's slanderous loads, he shall but bear them as the ass bears gold, to groan and sweat under the business, either lead or driven, as we point the way. And having brought our treasure where we will, then take we down his load and turn him off, like to the empty ass to shake his ears and graze in commons. You may do your will, but he's a tried and valiant soldier. So is my horse, Octavius, and for that I do appoint him store a provender. It is a creature that I teach to fight, to win, to stop, to run directly on, his corporal motion governed by my spirit. And in some taste is Lepidus but so. He must be taught and trained and bid go forth. A barren spirited fellow, one that feeds on abjects, orts, and imitations, which, out of use and staled by other men, begin his fashion. Do not talk of him but as a property. And now, Octavius, listen great things. Brutus and Cassius are levying powers. We must straight make head. Therefore let our alliance be combined, our best friends made, our means stretched, and let us presently go sit in council. How covert matters may be best disclosed, and open perils surest answered. Let us do so, for we are at the stake, and bade about with many enemies, and some that smile have in their hearts I fear millions of mischiefs. Exiant. Scene two. Camp near Sardis, before Brutus' tent. Drum. Enter Brutus, Lucilius, Lucius, and soldiers. Tintinius and Pendarus meeting them. Stand. Ho! Give the word ho, and stand. What now, Lucilius? Is Cassius near? He is at hand, and Pendarus is come, to do you salutation from his master. He greets me well. Your master, Pendarus, in his own charge, or by ill officers, hath given me some worthy cause, to wish things done, undone. But if he be at hand, I shall be satisfied. I do not doubt, but that my noble master will appear, such as he is, full of regard and honor. He is not doubted. A word, Lucilius, how he received you, let me be resolved. With courtesy and with respect enough, but not with such familiar instances, nor with such free and friendly conference, as he hath used of old. Thou hast described a hot friend cooling. Ever note, Lucilius, when love begins to sicken and decay, it useth and enforced ceremony. There are no tricks in plain and simple faith. But hallow men, like horses hot at hand, make gallant show and promise of their metal. But when they should endure the bloody spur, they fall their crests, and like deceitful jades, sink in the trial. Comes his army on. They mean this night in Sardis to be quartered. The greater part, the horse in general, are come with Cassius. Hark, he is arrived. Low march within. March gently on to meet him. Enter Cassius and his powers. Stand ho. Stand ho. Speak the word along. Stand. Stand. Stand. Most noble brother, you have done me wrong. Judge me, you gods. Wrong I mine enemies. And, if not so, how should I wrong a brother? Brutus, this sober form of yours hides wrongs, and when you do them— Cassius, be content. Speak your griefs softly. I do know you well. Before the eyes of both our armies here, which should perceive nothing but love from us, let us not wrangle. Bid them move away. Then, in my tent, Cassius, enlarge your griefs, and I will give you audience. Pindaris, bid our commanders lead their charges off a little from this ground. Lucilius, do the like, and let no man come to our tent, till we have done our conference. Let Lucius and Tentenius guard the door. Exiant. Scene three, Brutus' tent. Enter Brutus and Cassius. That you have wronged me, doth appear in this. That you have condemned and noted Lucius Pella for taking bribes hereof the Sardians. We're in my letters praying on his side because I knew the man was slighted off. You wronged yourself to write, in such a case. In such a time as this it is not me to that every nice offense should bear his comment. Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself are much condemned to have an itching palm to sell and mark your offices for gold to undeservers. I an itching palm? You know that you were Brutus that speak this, or by the gods this speech were else your last. The name of Cassius honors this corruption. And Chastisement doth therefore hide his head. Chastisement? Remember March. The Ides of March remember. Did not great Julius bleed for justice's sake? What villain touched his body that did stab and not for justice? What shall one of us that struck the foremost man of all this world but for supporting robbers shall we now contaminate our fingers with base bribes and sell the mighty space of our large honors for so much trash as may be grasped thus. I had rather be a dog and be the moon than such a Roman. Brutus, be me not, or not endure it. You forget yourself to hedge me in. I am a soldier, I older in practice, abler than yourself to make conditions. Go to. You are not, Cassius. I am. I say, you are not. Urge me no more, I shall forget myself. Have mind upon your health, tempt me no further. Away, slight man. Is it possible? Hear me, for I will speak. Must I give way and room to your rash color? Shall I be frighted when a madman stares? No, ye gods, ye gods, must I endure all this? All this? I more. Fret till your proud heart break. Go show your slaves how caloric you are and make your bondamen tremble. Must I, budge? Must I observe you? Must I stand and crouch under your testy humor? By the gods, you shall digest the venom of your spleen. Though it do split you. For from this day forth I use you for my mirth, ye for my laughter when you are waspish. Is it come to this? You say you are a better soldier. Let it appear so. Make your vanting true, and it shall please me well. For mine own part I shall be glad to learn of noble men. You wronged me everywhere. You wronged me, Brutus. I said an elder soldier not a better. Did I say better? If you did, I care not. When Caesar lived, he dost not thus have moved me. Peace, peace. You dost not so have tempted him. I dost not. No. What dost not tempt him? For your life, you durst not. Do not presume too much upon my love. I may do that I shall be sorry for. You have done that you should be sorry for. There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats. For I am armed so strong in honesty that they pass by me as the idle wind, which I respect not. I did send to you for certain sums of gold, which you denied me, for I can raise no money by vile means. By heaven I had rather coined my heart and dropped my blood for drachmas than to ring from the hard hands of peasants their vile trash by any indirection. I did send to you for gold to pay my legions, which you denied me. Was that done like Cassius? Should I have answered Cais Cassius so? When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous to lock such rascal counters from his friends, be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts. Dash him to pieces. I denied you not. You did. I did not. He was but a fool that brought my answer back. Brutus hath reaved my heart. A friend should bear his friend's infirmities, but Brutus makes mine greater than they are. I do not, till you practice them on me. You love me not. I do not like your faults. A friendy I could never see such faults. A flatterer's would not, though they do appear as huge as high Olympus. Come, Anthony and young Octavius, come. Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius. For Cassius is a weary of the world, hated by one he loves, braved by his brother, checked like a bondman all his faults observed, set in a notebook, learned and conned by rote to cast into my teeth. No, I could weep my spirit from mine eyes. There is my dagger and here my naked breast, within a heart dearer than Brutus' mine, richer than gold. If that thou beest a Roman, take it forth. Thy that denied thee gold will give my heart. Strike as thou didst its Caesar, for I know when thou didst hate him worse, thou lovest him better than ever thou lovest Cassius. Sheath, your dagger. Be angry when you will. It shall have scope. Do what you will. Dishonour shall be humour. Oh, Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb that carries anger as the flint bears fire, who much enforced shows a hasty spark and straight is cold again. Have Cassius lived to be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus when grief and blood ill-tempered vexeth him? When I spoke that, I was ill-tempered, too. Do you confess so much? Give me your hand. And my heart, too. Oh, Brutus. What's the matter? Have not you love enough to bear with me, when that wrath's humour which my mother gave me makes me forgetful? Yes, Cassius. And from henceforth, when you are over earnest with your Brutus, he'll thank your mother chides and leave you so. Within. Let me go in to see the generals. There is some grudge between them. It is not meat. They be alone. Within. You shall not come to them. Within. Nothing but death shall stay me. Enter Poet, followed by Lucilius, Titinius, and Lucius. How now? What's the matter? For shame, you generals. What do you mean? Love and be friends as two such men should be. For I have seen more years, I'm sure, than ye. How vilely doth this cynic rhyme. Get you hence, Sera. Sassy fellow, hence. Bear with him, Brutus, tis his fashion. I'll know his humour when he knows his time. What should the wards do with these jigging fools? Companion, hence. Away. Away be gone. Exit Poet. Lucilius and Titinius bid the commanders prepare to lodge their companies to-night. And come yourselves, and bring Massala with you immediately to us. Exient Lucilius and Titinius. Lucius, a bowl of wine. Exit Lucius. I did not think you could have been so angry. Oh, Cassius, I am sick of many griefs. Of your philosophy you make no use if you give place to accidental evils. No man bears sorrow. Better. Portia is dead. Ha! Portia? She is dead. How escaped I killing when I crossed you so. Oh, insupportable and touching loss. Upon what sickness? Impatient of my absence. And grief that young Octavius with Mark Antony have made themselves so strong, for with her death that tidings came. With this she fell distract and her attendance absent swallowed fire. And died so? Even so. Oh, he immortal guards. Re-enter Lucius with wine and taper. Speak no more of her. Give me a bowl of wine. In this I bury all unkindness, Cassius. My heart is thirsty for that noble pledge. Fill Lucius till the wine or swell the cup. I cannot drink too much of Brutus' love. Come in, Titanius. Exit Lucius. Re-enter Titanius with Masala. Welcome, good Masala. Now sit we close about this taper here and call in question our necessities. Pasha, art thou gone? No more, I pray you. Masala, I have here received letters that young Octavius and Mark Antony come down upon us with a mighty power, bending their expedition toward Philippi. Myself have letters of the self-same tenor. With what addition? That by prescription and bills of outlawry Octavius, Antony, and Lepidus have put to death and hundred senators. Therein our letters do not well agree. Mine speak of seventy senators that died by their prescriptions. Cicero being one. Cicero one. Cicero is dead and by that order of prescription. Had you your letters from your wife, my lord? No, Masala. Nor nothing in your letters rid of her. Nothing, Masala? That me thinks is strange. Why ask you? Here you ought of her in yours. No, my lord. Now, as you are a Roman, tell me true. Then like a Roman, bear the truth, I tell. For certain she is dead and by strange manner. Why? Farewell, Portia. We must die, Masala, with meditating that she must die once. I have the patience to endure it now. Even so, great men, great losses should endure. I have as much of this in art as you, yet my nature could not bear it so. Well, to our work, alive, what do you think of marching to Philippi presently? I do not think it good. Your reason? This it is. It is better that the enemy seek us. So shall he waste his means, weary his soldiers doing himself offence. Whilst we, lying still, are full of rest, defence and nimbleness. Good reasons must, of force, give place to better. The people, twist Philippi and this ground, do stand but in a forced affection. For they have grudged us contribution. The enemy, marching along by them, by them shall make a fuller number up. Come on, refreshed, new added, and encouraged. From which advantage shall we cut him off? If at Philippi we do face him there, these people at our back. Hear me, good brother. Under your pardon. You must note, beside, that we have tried the utmost of our friends. Our legions are brim full. Our cause is ripe. The enemy increases every day. We, at the height, are ready to decline. There is a tide in the affairs of men, which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune. Omitted, all the voyage of their life is bound in shallows and in miseries. On such a full sea are we now afloat, and we must take the current when it serves, or lose our ventures. Then with your will go on. We'll along ourselves and meet them at Philippi. The deep of night is crept upon our talk, and nature must obey necessity. Which we will nigger with a little rest, there is no more to say. No more. Good night. Early tomorrow we will rise, and hence. Lucius. Enter Lucius. My gown. Exit Lucius. Farewell, good Missala. Good night, Tyntenius. Noble, noble Cassius. Good night, and good repose. Oh, my dear brother. This was an ill beginning to the night. Never come such division between our souls. Let it not, Brutus. Everything is well. Good night, my lord. Good night, good brother. Good night, lord Brutus. Farewell, everyone. Exient all but Brutus. Re-enter Lucius with the gown. Give me the gown. Where is thy instrument? Here in the tent. What? Thou speaks drowsily? Pornave, I blame thee not. Thou art or watched. Call Claudius and some other of my men. I'll have them sleep on cushions in my tent. Varo and Claudius. Enter Varo and Claudius. Calls my lord. I pray you, sirs, lie in my tent and sleep. It may be I shall raise you by and by, on business to my brother, Cassius. So please you, we will stand and watch your pleasure. I will not have it so. Lie down, good sirs. It may be I shall otherwise bethink me. Look, Lucius, here's the book I sought for so. I put it in the pocket of my gown. Varo and Claudius lie down. I was sure your lordship did not give it to me. Bear with me, good boy. I am much forgetful. Canst thou hold up thy heavy eyes a while and touch thy instrument a strain or two? I, my lord, I please you. It does, my boy. I trouble thee too much, but thou art willing. It is my duty, sir. I should not urge thy duty past thy might. I know youngbloods look for a time of rest. I have slept, my lord, already. It was well done. And thou shalt sleep again. I will not hold thee long. If I do live, I will be good to thee. Music and a song. This is a sleepy tune. O murderous slumber, laest thou thy letting mace upon my boy that plays thee music. Gentle name, good night. I will not do thee so much wrong to wake thee, if thou dost nod. Thou breaks thy instrument. I'll take it from thee. And, good boy, good night. Let me see, is not the leaf turned down where I left reading? Here it is, I think. Enter the ghost of Caesar. Oh, ill this taper burns. Who comes here? I think it is the weakness of my eyes that shapes this monstrous apparition. Comes upon me. Art thou any thing? Thou some god, some angel, some devil that makes my blood cold, and my hair to stare. You speak to me. What thou art? Thy evil spirit, Brutus. Why comes't thou? To tell thee thou shall see me at Philippi. Well, then, I shall see thee again. I at Philippi. Why, I will see thee at Philippi, then. Exit ghost. Now I have taken heart, thou vanishest. Ill spirit, I would hold more talk with thee. Boy, Lucius, Viro, Cloudius. Sirs, awake, Cloudius. The strings, my lord, are false. He thinks he is still at his instrument. Lucius, awake. My lord? Dits thou dream, Lucius, that thou so cryest out? My lord, I do not know that I did cry. Yes, that thou dits, dits thou see anything? Nothing, my lord. Sleep again, Lucius. Sirah, Cloudius. To Varo. So, thou, awake. My lord? My lord. Why, did you so cry out, sirs? In your sleep. Did we, my lord? I saw you anything. No, my lord, I saw nothing. No, I, my lord. Go and commend me to my brother Cassius. Bid him set on his powers be times before, and we will follow. It shall be done, my lord. Accident. End of Act Four. Act Five of Julius Caesar by William Shakespeare. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Julius Caesar by William Shakespeare. Act Five. Scene One. The Plains of Philippi. Ender Octavius, Antony, and their army. 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 warn us at Philippi here. Answering before we do demand of them. 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, thinking by this face to fasten in our thoughts that they have courage, but is not so. Enter a messenger. Prepare, you generals. The enemy comes on and gallant show. Their bloody sign of battle is hung out, and something to be done immediately. Octavius, lead your battle softly on, upon the left hand of the even field. Upon the right hand I. Keep thou the left. Why do you cross me in this exigent? I do not cross you, but I will do so. March. Drum. Enter Brutus, Cassius, and their army. Lucilius, Tintinius, Messola, and others. They stand, and would have parley. Stand fast, Tintinius. We must out and talk. Mark Antony. Shall we give sign of battle? No, Caesar. We will answer on their charge. Make forth. The generals would have some words. Stir not until the signal. Words before blows. Is it so, countrymen? Not that we love words better, as you do. Good words are better than bad strokes, Octavius. In your bad strokes, Brutus, you give good words. Witness the whole you made in Caesar's heart. Crying, live long, hail Caesar. Antony, the posture of your blows are yet unknown. But for your words, they rob the Habibes and leave them hunneless. Not stingless, too. Oh, yes, and soundless, too. For you have stolen their buzzing, Antony, and very wisely threat before you sting. Villains, you did not so. When your vile daggers hacked one another in the sides of Caesar, you showed your teeth like apes, and fawned like hounds, and bowed like bond men, kissing Caesar's feet. Well, it's damned Casca, like a cur, behind struck Caesar on the neck. Oh, you flatterers! Flatterers! Now, Brutus, thank yourself. This tongue had not offended so to-day if Cassius might have ruled. Come, come the cause. If arguing made us sweat, the proof of it will turn to redder drops. Look, I draw a sword against conspirators. When thank you that the sword goes up again. Never till Caesar's three and thirty wounds be well avenged, or till another Caesar have added slaughter to the sword of traitors. Caesar, thou canst not die by traitors' hands, unless thou bringst them with thee. So I hope. I was not born to die on Brutus's sword. Oh, if thou weren't the noblest of thy strain, young man, thou couldst not die more honorably. A peevish schoolboy worthless of such honor. Joined with a masquer and a reveler. Old Cassius still. 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. Exiant Octavius, Antony, and their army. Why now blow wind, swell billow, and swim bark? The storm is up, and all is on the hazard. Oh, Lucilius, hark, a word with you. Standing forth. My lord. Brutus and Lucilius converse apart. Masala. Standing forth. What says my general? Masala, this is my birthday, as this very day was Cassius born. Give me thy hand, Masala, be thou my witness that against my will as Pompey was, am I compelled to sit upon one battle all our liberties. You know that I held Epicurus strong, and his opinion, now I change my mind, and partly credit things that do presage. Coming from Sardis on our former ensign too mighty eagles fell, and there they perched, gorging and feeding from our soldiers' hands. Who to Philippi here consorted us? This morning they fled away and gone. And in their steds 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. Believe not so. But I believe it partly, for I am fresh of spirit and resolve to meet all perils very constantly. Even so, Lucilius. Now most know will Brutus. The gods today stand friendly, that we may, lovers in peace, lead on our days to age. But since the affairs of men rest still in certain, let's reason with the worst that may befall. If we do lose this battle, then is this the very last time we shall speak together. What are you then determined to do? Even by the rule of that philosophy, 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. Arming myself with patience, to stay the providence of some high powers that govern us below. Then if we lose this battle, you are content to be led in triumph through the streets of Rome. 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 aides of March begun, and whether we shall meet again, I know not. Therefore our everlasting farewell take, for ever, and for ever farewell, Cassius. If we do meet again, why, we shall smile. If not, why then, this parting was well made. For ever, and for ever farewell, Brutus. If we do meet again, we'll smile indeed. If not, it is true this parting was well made. Why then, lead on. Oh, that a man might know the end of this day's business ere it come. But it suffice it that the day will end, and then the end is known. Come, hoe, away! Excient. Scene two. The same, the field of battle. Alarm. Enter Brutus and Messola. Ride, ride, Messola, ride, and give these bills unto the legions on the other side. Loud alarm. Let them set on at once, for I perceive but gold demeanor in Octavius's wing, and sudden push gives them the overthrow. Right, ride, Messola, let them all come down. Excient. Scene three. Another part of the field. Alarms. Enter Cassius and Tintinius. Oh, look, Tintinius, look, the villains fly. Myself have to mine own turned enemy. The sense and hear of mine was turning back. I slew the coward and did take it from him. Oh, Cassius, Brutus gave the word too early, who, having some advantage in Octavius, took it too eagerly as soldiers fell to spoil, whilst we, by Antony, are all enclosed. Enter Penderus. Fly further off, my lord, fly further off. Mark Antony's in your tints, my lord. Fly, therefore, noble Cassius, fly far off. This hill is far enough. Look, look, Tintinius. Are those my tents where I perceive the fire? They are, my lord. Tintinius, if thou lovest me, mount thou my horse, and hide thy spurs in him, till he have brought thee up to yonder troops, and hear again, that I may rest assured where the yonder troops are friend or enemy. I will be here again, even with a thought. Accent. Go, Pindaris, get higher on that hill. My sight was ever thick. Regard Tintinius, and tell me what thou noticed about the field. Penderus ascends the hill. This day I breathed first. Time has come round, and where did I begin, there shall I end. My life has run his compass. Surah, what news? Above. Oh, my lord. What news? Above. Tintinius is enclosed round about with horsemen, that make to him on the spur, yet he spurs on. Now they are almost on him. Now, Tintinius, now some light. Oh, he lights too. He is taken. Shout. Ah, and arc. They shout for joy. Come down, behold no more. Oh, coward that I am to live so long, to see my best friend taken before my face. Penderus descends. Come here, Surah. In Parthia did I take thee prisoner, and then I swore thee saving of thy life, that whatsoever I did bid thee do, thou shouldst attempt it. Come now, keep thine oath. Now be a free man, and with this good sword, that ran through Caesar's bowels, searched this bosom. Stand now to answer. Here, take thou the hilts. And when my face is covered as it is now, guide thou the sword. Penderus stabs him. Caesar, thou art revenged. Even with the sword, that killed thee. Dies. So I am free. Yet would not so have been, derse to have done my will. O Cassius, far from this country, Penderus shall run, where never Roman shall take note of him. Exit. Re-enter to Tinius with Messela. It is but change to Tinius, for Octavius is overthrown by noble Brutus' power, as Cassius' legions are by Antony. These tidings will well come for Cassius. Where did you leave him? All disconsolate, with Penderus' bongmen, on this hill. Is not that he that lies upon the ground? He lies, not like the living. O my heart. Is not that he? No. This was he, Messela. But Cassius is no more. O setting sun, is 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, stews, and dangers come. Our deeds are done. Mis-trust of my success hath done this deed. Mis-trust of good success hath done this deed. O hateful error, melancholy's child, why dost thou show to the apt thoughts of men the things that are not? O error, soon conceived, thou never comest unto a happy birth, but kills the mother that engendered thee. What, Penderus? Where art thou, Penderus? Seek him to Tinius, whilst I go to meet the noble Brutus, thrusting this report into his ears. I may say, thrusting it, for piercing steel and darts in venom'd shall be as welcome to the ears of Brutus as tidings of this sight. Hi, you, Messela, and I will seek for Penderus the while. Exit, Messela. Why dost 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? Dith thou not hear their shouts? Alas, thou hast misconstrued everything. Behold thee, take this garland on thy brow. Thy Brutus bid me give it thee, and I will do his bidding. Brutus, come a pace, and see how I regarded Cias Cassius. Bioleave, gods. This is a Romans' part. Come, Cassius' sword, and find to Tinius's heart. Kills himself. Alarum, re-enter Messela with Brutus, Cato, Stratto, Volumnius, and Lucilius. Where? Where, Messela? Does his body lie? Lo, yonder, and to Tinius mourning it. Tintinius' face is upward. He is slain. Oh, Julius Caesar, thou art mighty yet. Thy spirit walks abroad and turns our swords in our own proper entrails. Lo, alarm's. Brave Tintinius, look whether he hath not crowned that Cassius. Are yet two Romans living such as these. The last of all the Romans 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, and to Thesos send his body. His funerals shall not be in our camp, lest it discomfort us. Lucilius, come, and come, young Cato. Let us to the field. Labio and Flavius set our battles on. It is three o'clock, and Romans, yet air night, we shall try fortune. In a second, fight. Exceint. Scene four. Another part of the field. Alarm. Enter fighting soldiers of both armies, then Brutus, Cato, Lucilius, and others. Yet, countrymen, oh, yet hold up your heads. Watch what that does not. Who will go with me? I will proclaim my name about the field. I am the son of Marcus Catoho, a photo tyrant and my country's friend. I am the son of Marcus Catoho. And I am Brutus. Marcus Brutus, I. Brutus, my country's friend, know me for Brutus. Exceint. Oh, young and noble Cato, art thou down? Why, now thou diest as bravely estitinius, and mayst be honoured being Cato's son. Yield, or thou diest. Only I yield to die. There is so much that thou wilt kill me straight. Offering money. Kill Brutus and be honoured in his death. We must not, a noble prisoner. Room whole. Tell Anthony Brutus is taken. I'll tell the news. Here comes the general. Enter Anthony. Brutus is Teyann. Brutus is Teyann, my lord. Where is he? Save, Anthony. 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. This is not Brutus, friend, but I assure you, a prize no less and worth. Keep this man safe. Give him all kindness. I had rather have such men my friends than enemies. Go on, and see whether Brutus be alive or dead, and bring us word unto Octavius' tent, how everything is chanced. Excellent. Scene five. Another part of the field. Enter Brutus, Dardanius, Clytus, Stratto, and Volumnius. Come, poor remains of friends. Rest on this rock. Stotilius showed the torchlight, but my lord, he came not back. He is Ortean, or Slane. Sit thee down, Clytus. Slane is the word. It is a deed in fashion. Hark thee, Clytus. Whispers. Clytus, I need Brutus' help. What, I, my lord? No, not for all the world. Peace, then. No words. I'll rather kill myself. Hark thee, Dardanius. Whispers. Shall I do such a deed? Oh, Dardanius! Oh, Clytus! What ill request did Brutus make to thee? To kill him, Clytus. Look, he meditates. Now is that noble vessel full of grief, that it runs over even at his eyes. Come hither, good Volumnius. List a word. What says my lord? 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. Not so, my lord. Nay, I am sure it is, Volumnius. Thou seeest the world, Volumnius, how it goes. Our enemies have beat us to the pit. Low alarms. It is more worthy to leap in ourselves than tarry till they push us. Good Volumnius. Thou knows that we too went to school together. Even for that our love of old I prithee. Hold thou my sword, hilts, whilst I run on it. That's not an office for a friend, my lord. Alarm still. Fly, fly, my lord. There is no tearing here. Farewell to you, and you, and you, Volumnius. Straight home thou hast been all this while asleep. Farewell to thee, too, straight home. Countryman, 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, farewell at once. For Brutus' tongue hath almost ended his life's history. Night hangs upon my nigh's. My bones would rest that have but labored to attain this hour. Alarm. Cry within. Fly, fly, fly. Fly, my lord, fly! Hence I will follow. Exiant, Clytus, Dardanius, and Volumnius. I prithee, straight home. 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. Thou, straight home. Give me your hand first. Fare ye well, my lord. Fare well. Good, straight home. Runs on his sword. Caesar, now be still. I killed not thee with half so good a will. Dies. Alarm. Retreat. Enter Octavius, Antony, Messola, Lucilius, and the army. What man is that? My master's man. Straighter, where is thy master? Free from the bondage you are in, Messola. The conquerors can but make a fire of him, for Brutus only overcame himself, and no man else hath honor by his death. So Brutus should be found. I thank thee, Brutus, that thou hast proved Lucilius saying true. All that served Brutus, I will entertain them. Fellow, wilt thou bestow thy time with me? I, if Messola will prefer me to you. Do so good, Messola. How died my master, Stratos? I held the sword, and he did run on it. Octavius, then take him to follow thee, that did the latest service to my master. 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 mixed in him, that nature might stand up and say to all the world, this was a man. 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. Exeant End of Act Five End of Julius Caesar by William Shakespeare