Read Complete Plays, The Online
Authors: William Shakespeare
Complete Plays, The (35 page)
Fly further off, my lord, fly further off;
Mark Antony is in your tents, my lord
Fly, therefore, noble Cassius, fly far off.
Cassius
This hill is far enough. Look, look, Titinius;
Are those my tents where I perceive the fire?
Titinius
They are, my lord.
Cassius
Titinius, if thou lovest me,
Mount thou my horse, and hide thy spurs in him,
Till he have brought thee up to yonder troops,
And here again; that I may rest assured
Whether yond troops are friend or enemy.
Titinius
I will be here again, even with a thought.
Exit
Cassius
Go, Pindarus, get higher on that hill;
My sight was ever thick; regard Titinius,
And tell me what thou notest about the field.
Pindarus ascends the hill
This day I breathed first: time is come round,
And where I did begin, there shall I end;
My life is run his compass. Sirrah, what news?
Pindarus
[Above]
O my lord!
Cassius
What news?
Pindarus
[Above]
Titinius is enclosed round about
With horsemen, that make to him on the spur;
Yet he spurs on. Now they are almost on him.
Now, Titinius! Now some light. O, he lights too.
He’s ta’en.
Shout
And, hark! they shout for joy.
Cassius
Come down, behold no more.
O, coward that I am, to live so long,
To see my best friend ta’en before my face!
Pindarus descends
Come hither, sirrah:
In Parthia did I take thee prisoner;
And then I swore thee, saving of thy life,
That whatsoever I did bid thee do,
Thou shouldst attempt it. Come now, keep thine oath;
Now be a freeman: and with this good sword,
That ran through Caesar’s bowels, search this bosom.
Stand not to answer: here, take thou the hilts;
And, when my face is cover’d, as ’tis now,
Guide thou the sword.
Pindarus stabs him
Caesar, thou art revenged,
Even with the sword that kill’d thee.
Dies
Pindarus
So, I am free; yet would not so have been,
Durst I have done my will. O Cassius,
Far from this country Pindarus shall run,
Where never Roman shall take note of him.
Exit
Re-enter Titinius with Messala
Messala
It is but change, Titinius; for Octavius
Is overthrown by noble Brutus’ power,
As Cassius’ legions are by Antony.
Titinius
These tidings will well comfort Cassius.
Messala
Where did you leave him?
Titinius
All disconsolate,
With Pindarus his bondman, on this hill.
Messala
Is not that he t hat lies upon the ground?
Titinius
He lies not like the living. O my heart!
Messala
Is not that he?
Titinius
No, this was he, Messala,
But Cassius is no more. O 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.
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 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
Come, Cassius’ sword, and find Titinius’ heart.
Kills himself
Alarum. Re-enter Messala, with Brutus, 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
S
CENE
IV. A
NOTHER
PART
OF
THE
FIELD
.
Alarum. Enter fighting, Soldiers of both armies; then Brutus, 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 every thing is chanced.
Exeunt
S
CENE
V. A
NOTHER
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 lord, fly.
Brutus
Hence! I will follow.
Exeunt Clitus, Dardanius, and Volumnius
I prithee, Strato, stay thou by thy lord:
Thou art a fellow of a good respect;
Thy life hath had some smatch of honour in it:
Hold then my sword, and turn away thy face,
While I do run upon it. Wilt thou, Strato?
Strato
Give me your hand first. Fare you well, my lord.
Brutus
Farewell, good Strato.
Runs on his sword
Caesar, now be still:
I kill’d not thee with half so good a will.
Dies
Alarum. Retreat. Enter Octavius, Antony, Messala, Lucilius, and the army
Octavius
What man is that?
Messala
My master’s man. Strato, where is thy master?
Strato
Free from the bondage you are in, Messala:
The conquerors can but make a fire of him;
For Brutus only overcame himself,
And no man else hath honour by his death.
Lucilius
So Brutus should be found. I thank thee, Brutus,
That thou hast proved Lucilius’ saying true.
Octavius
All that served Brutus, I will entertain them.
Fellow, wilt thou bestow thy time with me?
Strato
Ay, if Messala will prefer me to you.
Octavius
Do so, good Messala.
Messala
How died my master, Strato?
Strato
I held the sword, and he did run on it.
Messala
Octavius, then take him to follow thee,
That did the latest service to my master.
Antony
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!’
Octavius
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
The Tragedy of
Hamlet, Prince of Denmark
T
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OF
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