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Go on,

Such men my friends than enemies.
And see if Brutus be alive or dead ;
And bring us word unto Octavius' tent,
How every thing hath chanced.

[Exeunt. Enter BRUTUS, Decius, MeteLLUS, and Cinna.

Bru. Come, poor remains of friends, rest here.
Slaying is the word ;
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 Cæsar 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,
Than 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 whileNow, one last look, and then, farewell to all; Seorning to view his country's wrongs,

:

Thus Brutus always strikes for liberty.
Poor slavish Rome, farewell.
Cæsar, now be still:
I kill'd not thee with half so 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.

Tre. 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 Cæsar :
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 tant 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. (Excunt Omnes:

:

THE END,

A TRAGEDY,

IN FIVE ACTS ;

BY WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE.

WITH ALTERATIONS, AND WITH ADDITIONS FROM

DRYDEN.

AS NOW PERFORMED AT THE

THEATRE ROYAL, COVENT-GARDEN.

LONDON:

PRINTED FOR LONGMAN, HURST, REES, ORME, AND

BROWN, PATERNOSTER-ROW.

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