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 !- Should breed thy fellow.-Friends, I owe more tears I fhall find time, Caffius, I fhall find time.- 'Tis three o'clock; and, Romans, yet ere night 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 : 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. 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! Ant. This is not Brutus, friend; but I affure you, 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, 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? 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; Vol. Not fo, my lord. Bru. Nay, I am fure it is, Volumnius. It is more worthy to leap in ourselves, [Alarm. Than tarry, 'till they push us. Good Volumnius, lumnius. Strato, thou hast been all this while asleep; 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: Thy life hath had fome fmack of honour in it: 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. 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. 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: Did that they did in envy of great Cæfar So mix'd in him, that Nature might stand up, Ota. According to his virtue, let us ufe him So, |