Thy spirit walks abroad, and turns our swords

In our own proper entrails.

Cato. Brave Titinius!

[Low alarms.

Look, whether he have not crown'd dead Caffius !-
Bru. Are yet two Romans living, fuch as these?
Thou laft of all the Romans! fare thee well!
It is impoffible, that ever Rome

Should breed thy fellow.-Friends, I owe more tears
To this dead man, than you fhall fee me pay.-

I fhall find time, Caffius, I fhall find time.-
Come, therefore, and to Thaffos fend his body:
His funeral fhall not be in our camp,
Left it discomfort us.-Lucilius, come;-
And come, young Cato; let us to the field,-
Labeo and Flavius, fet our battles on:

'Tis three o'clock; and, Romans, yet ere night
We fhall try fortune in a fecond fight.

SCENE IV.

[Exeunt.

Alarm. Enter Brutus, Cato, Lucilius, and others. Bru. Yet, countrymen, oh yet, hold up your

heads!

Cato. What baftard doth not? Who will go with me? I will proclaim my name about the field :

I am the son of Marcus Cato,-ho!

A foe to tyrants, and my country's friend :
I am the son of Marcus Cato,-ho!

Enter Soldiers, and fight.

Bru. And I am Brutus, Marcus Brutus, I; Brutus, my country's friend :-Know me for Brutus.

[Exit.

+ and to Tharfus fend his body: Thus all the editions hitherto very ignorantly. But the whole tenor of history warrants us to write, as I have reftored the text, Thaos. H 3

THEOD.

Luc.

Luc. Oh young and noble Cato, art thou down? Why, now thou dy't as bravely as Titinius; And, may it be honour'd, 'being Cato's fon. Sold. Yield, or thou dieft.

6

Luc. Only I yield to die:

There is fo much, that thou wilt kill me ftraight;

[Offering money.

Kill Brutus, and be honour'd in his death.
Sold. We muft not.-A noble prisoner!

Enter Antony.

2 Sold. Room, ho! Tell Antony, Brutus is ta'en. 1 Sold. "I'll tell the news. Here comes the general:Brutus is ta'en, Brutus is ta'en, my lord,

Ant. Where is he?

Luc. Safe, Antony; Brutus is fafe enough: I dare affure thee, that no enemy

Shall ever take alive the noble Brutus :

The Gods defend him from fo great a fhame!
When you do find him, or alive, or dead,
He will be found like Brutus, like himfelf.

Ant. This is not Brutus, friend; but I affure you,
A prize no lefs in worth: keep this man fafe,
Give him all kindnefs. I had rather have
Such men my friends than enemies. Go on,
And fee if Brutus be alive or dead:

5-being Cato's fon.] i. e. worthy of him.

Luc. Only I yield to die:

WARB.

There is fo much, that thou wilt kill me firaight;] Dr. Warburton has been much inclined to find lacune, or paffages broken by omiffion, throughout this play. I think he has been always miftaken. The foldier here fays, Field, or thou dieft. Lucilius replies, I yield only on this condition, that I may die; here is fo much gold as thou feeft in my hand, which I offer thee as a reward for Ipeedy death. What now is there wanting?

7 I'll tell the news.] The old copy reads, I'll tell thee news.

JOHNSON.

JOHNSON.

And

And bring us word, unto Octavius' tent,
How every thing is chanc'd.

SCENE V.

Another part of the field.

[Exeunt.

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

Bru. Come, poor remains of friends, reft on this rock.

Cli. Statilius fhew'd the torch-light; but, my

lord,

He came not back; he is or ta'en, or flain.

Bru. Sit thee down, Clitus: flaying 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!

Dar. Shall I do fuch a deed?
Cli. Oh, Dardanius!

Dar. Oh, Clitus!

Cli. What ill request did Brutus make to thee? Dar. To kill him, Clitus: Look, he meditates. 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 Cæfar 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 feeft the world, Volumnius, how it goes;
Our enemies have beat us to the pit:

It is more worthy to leap in ourselves,

[Alarm.

Than tarry, 'till they push us. Good Volumnius,
Thou know'ft, that we two went to fchool together;
Even for that, our love of old, I pray thee,
Hold thou my fword's hilt, while I run on it.
Vol. That's not an office for a friend, my lord.
[Alarm ftill.
Cli. Fly, fly, 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;
8 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 fhall have glory by this lofing day,
More than Octavius, and Mark Antony,
By this vile conqueft fhall 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.

[Alarm. Cry within. Fly, fly, fly.

Cli. Fly, my lord, fly.

Bru. Hence; I will follow.

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

Thy life hath had fome fmack of honour in it:
Hold then my fword, and turn away thy face,
While I do run upon it. Wilt thou, Strato?

Stra. Give me your hand firft: fare you well, my

lord.

Farewell to thee too, Strato.] Thus the modern editions. I think, rightly. The old folio reads,

Farewell to thee, to Strato, countrymen.

JOHNSON.
Bru.

Bru. Farewell, good Strato.-Cæfar, now be still; I kill'd not thee with half fo good a will.

[He runs on his fword, and dies.

Alarm. Retreat. Enter Antony, O&tavius, Messala, Lucilius, and the army.

Oda. What man is that?

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

Stra. Free from the bondage you are in, Meffala: The conquerors can but make a fire of him For Brutus only overcame himself,

And no one else hath honour by his death.

;

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

That thou haft prov'd Lucilius' faying true.

Ola. 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.
Ota. Do fo, good Meffala.

Mef. How died my master, Strato?

Stra. I held the sword, and he did run on it. Mef. Octavius, then take him 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!

Ota. According to his virtue, let us ufe 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,