Such men my friends than enemies. Go on, And bring us word unto Octavius' tent, How every thing hath chanc'd. [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. Bru. Why, this, Metellus; The ghost of Cæsar hath appear'd to me, Met. Not so, my lord. Bru. Nay, I am sure it is, Metellus. Thou seest the world, Metellus, how it goes; It is more worthy to leap in ourselves, [Alarum. Good Metellus, Then tarry till they push us. Hold thou my sword's hilt, while I run on it. Bru. Why, then, farewell; My heart hath joy, that yet in all my life, Now, one last look, and then, farewell to all; Thus Brutus always strikes for liberty. 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. Thee, noble Brutus, that thou hast Thank Ant. This was the noblest Roman of them all; Did that they did in envy of great Cæsar : So mix'd in him, that Nature might stand up, Within my tent his bones to-night shall lie, To part the glories of this happy day. [Exeunt Omnes. THE END. |