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Enter Trebonius and Casca.

Tre. It is but change, good Casca: for Octavius Is overthrown by noble Brutus' power, As Cassius' legions are by Antony.

Casca. These tidings will well comfort Cassius.

Tre. Where did you leave him?

Casca. All disconsolate,
With Pindarus his bondman, on this hill.

Tre. Is not that he that lies upon the ground?

Casca. He lies not like the living. Oh my heart I

Tre. Is not that he?

Casca. No, this was he, Trebonius; But Cassius is no more! Oh, setting sun! As 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, dews, and dangers come; our deeds are done. Mistrust of my success hath done this deed.

Tre. Mistrust of good success hath done this deed.

Casca. What, Pindarus! where art thou, Pindarus?

Tre. Seek him, whilst I go meet the noble Brutus, With tidings of this sight.

Casca. Hie you, Trebonius,
And I will seek for Pindarus, the while.

[Exit Trebonius.
Why didst 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; didst thou not hear their

shouts?
Alas, thou hast misconstru'd every thing.
But hold thee, take this garland on thy brow.
Thy Brutus bid me give it thee; and I
Will do his bidding. Brutus, come apace;
And see how I regarded Caius Cassius.

By your leave, gods This is a Roman's part.

[Stabs himself. Alarum.

Enter Brutus, Trebonius, Decius, Cinna, and

Metellus.

Bru. Where, where, Trebonius, doth his body lie?

Tre. Lo, yonder, and Casca mourning it.

Bru. Casca's face is upward.
Are yet two Romans living, such as these?
Thou 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.
Oh, Julius Caesar, thou art mighty yet,
Thy spirit stalks abroad, and turns our swords
Into our own proper entrails.
Come, let us to the field, and yet ere night,
We'll try our fortunes in a second fight. [Exeunt.

SCENE III.

Field at PhiMppi.

Enter several Soldiers, with Trebonius Prisoner, meeting Antony.

1 Sold. Here comes the general: Brutus is ta'en, Brutus is ta'en, my lord.

Ant. Where is he?

Tre. 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
A prize no less in worth; keep this man safe,
Give him all kindness. I had rather have

Such men my friends than enemies. Go on,

And see if Brutus be alive or dead;

And bring us word unto Octavius' tent,

How every thing hath chanc'd. [Exeunt.

Enter Brutus, Decius, Metellus, and Cinna.

Bru. Come, poor remains of friends, rest here. Slaying is the word; v

It is a deed in fashion. Hark thee, Decius.

[Whispering.

Dec. What I, my lord? no, not for all the world.

Bru. Peace then, no words.

Dec. I'll rather kill myself.

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

Met. What says my lord?

Bru. Why, this, Metellus;
The ghost of Caesar 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.

Met. Not so, my lord.

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

It is more worthy to leap in ourselves,
Then tarry till they push us. Good Metellus,
Thou know'st that we two went to school together;
Even for that, our love of old, I pr'ythee,
Hold thou my sword's hilt, while I run on it.

Met. That's not an office for a friend, my lord.

[Alarum still.

Bru. Why, then, farewell;
My heart hath 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.
Retire, and let me think a while—
Now, one last look, and then, farewell to all;
Scorning to view his country's wrongs,

Thus Brutus always strikes for liberty.

Poor slavish Rome, farewell.

Caesar, now be still;

I kill'd not thee with halfso good a will. Oh!

[He runs on his Sword, and dies.

Enter Antony and Octavius, with Trebonius Prisoner.

Ant. Whom mourn you over ?

Met. 'Tis Brutus.

Tie. So Brutus should be found. Thank
Thee, noble Brutus, that thou hast
Proved Trebonius' saying true.

Ant. 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!''

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 Omnee.

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