Julius Caesar

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. Messala

Mistrust of good success hath done this deed.
O hateful error, melancholy’s child,
Why dost thou show to the apt thoughts of men
The things that are not? O error, soon conceived,
Thou never comest unto a happy birth,
But kill’st the mother that engender’d thee!

Titinius What, Pindarus! where art thou, Pindarus? Messala

Seek him, Titinius, whilst I go to meet
The noble Brutus, thrusting this report
Into his ears; I may say, thrusting it;
For piercing steel and darts envenomed
Shall be as welcome to the ears of Brutus
As tidings of this sight.

Titinius

Hie you, Messala,
And I will seek for Pindarus the while. Exit Messala.
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 misconstrued everything!
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
Come, Cassius’ sword, and find Titinius’ heart. Kills himself.

Alarum. Re-enter Messala, with Brutus, young Cato, Strato, Volumnius, and Lucilius. Brutus Where, where, Messala, doth his body lie? Messala Lo, yonder, and Titinius mourning it. Brutus Titinius’ face is upward. Cato He is slain. Brutus

O Julius Caesar, thou art mighty yet!
Thy spirit walks abroad, and turns our swords
In our own proper entrails. Low alarums.

Cato

Brave Titinius!
Look, whether he have not crown’d dead Cassius!

Brutus

Are yet two Romans living such as these?
The 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.
I shall find time, Cassius, I shall find time.
Come, therefore, and to Thasos send his body:
His funerals shall not be in our camp,
Lest it discomfort us. Lucilius, come;
And come, young Cato; let us to the field.
Labeo and Flavius, set our battles on:
’Tis three o’clock; and, Romans, yet ere night
We shall try fortune in a second fight. Exeunt.

Scene IV

Another part of the field.

	Alarum. Enter fighting, Soldiers of both armies; then Brutus, young Cato, Lucilius, and others.
Brutus	Yet, countrymen, O, yet hold up your heads!
Cato	What bastard 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!
Brutus	And I am Brutus, Marcus Brutus, I; Brutus, my country’s friend; know me for Brutus! Exit.
Lucilius	O young and noble Cato, art thou down? Why, now thou diest as bravely as Titinius; And mayst be honour’d, being Cato’s son.
First Soldier	Yield, or thou diest.
Lucilius	Only I yield to die: There is so much that thou wilt kill me straight; Offering money. Kill Brutus, and be honour’d in his death.
First Soldier	We must not. A noble prisoner!
Second Soldier	Room, ho! Tell Antony, Brutus is ta’en.
First Soldier	I’ll tell the news. Here comes the general.
	Enter Antony.
	Brutus is ta’en, Brutus is ta’en, my lord.
Antony	Where is he?
Lucilius	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.
Antony	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 whether Brutus be alive or dead; And bring us word unto Octavius’ tent How everything is chanced. Exeunt.

Scene V

Another part of the field.

	Enter Brutus, Dardanius, Clitus, Strato, and Volumnius.
Brutus	Come, poor remains of friends, rest on this rock.
Clitus	Statilius show’d the torch-light, but, my lord, He came not back: he is or ta’en or slain.
Brutus	Sit thee down, Clitus: slaying is the word; It is a deed in fashion. Hark thee, Clitus. Whispers.
Clitus	What, I, my lord? No, not for all the world.
Brutus	Peace then! no words.
Clitus	I’ll rather kill myself.
Brutus	Hark thee, Dardanius. Whispers.
Dardanius	Shall I do such a deed?
Clitus	O Dardanius!
Dardanius	O Clitus!
Clitus	What ill request did Brutus make to thee?
Dardanius	To kill him, Clitus. Look, he meditates.
Clitus	Now is that noble vessel full of grief, That it runs over even at his eyes.
Brutus	Come hither, good Volumnius; list a word.
Volumnius	What says my lord?
Brutus	Why, this, Volumnius: 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.
Volumnius	Not so, my lord.
Brutus	Nay, I am sure it is, Volumnius. Thou seest the world, Volumnius, how it goes; Our enemies have beat us to the pit: Low alarums. It is more worthy to leap in ourselves, Than tarry till they push us. Good Volumnius, Thou know’st that we two went to school together: Even for that our love of old, I prithee, Hold thou my sword-hilts, whilst I run on it.
Volumnius	That’s not an office for a friend, my lord. Alarum still.
Clitus	Fly, fly, my lord; there is no tarrying here.
Brutus	Farewell to you; and you; and you, Volumnius. 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!”
Clitus	Fly, my