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Another part of the field.
Enter Brutus, Dardanias, Clitus, Strato, and Va
lumpius. Bru. Come, poor remains of friends, rest on this
rock. Cli. Statilius show'd the torch-light; but, my lord, He came uot back; he is or ta'en, or slain.
Bru. Sit thee down, Clitus: Slaging is the word; It is a deed in fashion. Hark thee, Clitus.
[Whispering. 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! (Whispers him. Dar.
I do such a deed ? Cli. O, Dardanius! Dar, 0, 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,
Bru. Come hither, good Volumuius : list a word.
Why, this, Volumnius:
Not so, my lord.
It is more worthy to leap in ourselves,
[Alarum still. Cli. Fly, Ay, my lord; there is no tarrying here. Bru. Farewell to you ;-and you ;-and you, Vo
lumnius. 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 labour'd to attain this hour.
[Alarum. Cry within, Fly, fly, fly. Cli. Fly, my lord, Ay. Bru.
Hence; I will follow thee. [Ereunt Clitus, Dardanius, and Volumnius. I prythee, 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.-Cæsar, now be still : I kill'd not thee with half so good a will.
(He runs on his sword and dies.
Alarum. Retreat. Enter Octavius, Antony,
Messala, Lucilius, and their Army.
Mes. My master's man.-Strato, where is thy ma.
Oct. All that serv'd Brutus, I will entertain them, Fellow, wilt thou bestow thy time with me?
Stra.. Ay, if Messala will prefert me to you.
How died my master, Strato?
Ant. This was the noblest Roman of them all:
Oct. According to his virtue let us use him,
* Receive into my service.
Of this tragedy many particular passages deserve regard, and the contention and reconcilement of Brutus and Cassius is universally celebrated; but I have never been strongly agitated in perusing it, and think it somewhat cold and unaffecting, compared with some other of Shakspeare's plays: his adherence to the real story, and to the Roman man. ners, seems to have impeded the natural vigour of his genius.