Tit. All difconfolate,

With Pindarus his bondman, on this hill.

Mef. Is not that he, that lies upon the ground?
Tit. He lies not like the living. Oh my heart!
Mef. Is not that he?

Tit. No, this was he, Meffala;

But Caffius is no more! Oh, fetting Sun!
As in thy red rays thou doft fink to night,
So in his red blood Caffius' day is fet;

The Sun of Rome is fet! our day is gone;

Clouds, dews, and dangers come; our deeds are done; Miftruft of my fuccefs hath done this deed.

Mef. Miftruft of good fuccefs hath done this deed.

Oh hateful Error, Melancholy's child!

Why doft thou fhew to the apt thoughts of men
The things that are not? Error, foon conceiv'd,
Thou never com'ft unto a happy birth,

But kill'ft the mother that engender'd thee.

Tit. What, Pindarus? where art thou, Pindarus? Mef Seek him, Titinius; whilft I go to meet The noble Brutus, thrufting this report Into his ears; I may fay, thrufting it; For piercing fteel, and darts invenomed, Shall be as welcome to the ears of Brutus, As tidings of this fight.

Tit. Hye you, Meffala,

[Exit Meff.

And I will feek for Pindarus the while.
Why didft thou fend me forth, brave Caffius!
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

fhouts?

Alas, thou haft mifconftru'd ev'ry 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 fee how I regarded Caius Caffius.

By your leave, Gods-This is a Roman's part.

[Stabs himself.

Alarum.

Come, Caffius' fword, and find Titinius' heart. [Dies.

D 3

Alarum. Enter Brutus, Meffala, young Cato, Strato,
Volumnius, and Lucilius.

Bru. Where, where, Meffala, doth his body lye?
Mef. Lo, yonder, and Titinius mourning it.
Bru. Titinius' face is upward.

Cato. He is flain.

Bru. Oh Julius Cæfar, thou art mighty yet! Thy Spirit walks abroad, and turns our swords In our own proper entrails.

Cato. Brave Titinius!

[Low alarums.

Look, if he have not crown'd dead Caffius !-
Bru. Are yet two Romans living, such as these
Thou laft of all the Romans! fare thee well;
It is impoffible, that ever Rome

Should breed thy fellow. Friends, I owe more tears
To this dead man, than you fhall fee me pay.

I fhall find time, Caffius, I fhall find time-
Come, therefore, (18) and to Thalos fend his body:
His funeral fhall not be in our Camp,

Left it discomfort us. Lucilius, come;
And come, young Cato; let us to the field.
Labeo, and Flavius, fet our battles on.

'Tis three o'clock; and, Romans, yet ere night

We fhall try fortune in a fecond fight.

[Exeunt. Alarum. Enter Brutus, Meffala, Cato, Lucilius, and

Flavius.

Bru. Yet, Countrymen, oh yet, hold up your heads. Cato. What baftard doth not? who will go with me? (18) and to Tha fus fend his Body,] Thus all the Editions hitherto, very ignorantly. But the whole Tenor of Hiftory warrants us to write, as I have reftored the Text, Thaf Sos.- -Tharfos was a Town of Cilicia, in Afia Minor: and is it probable, Brutus could think of sending Caffius's Body thither out of Thrace, where they were now incamp'd? Thaffos, on the contrary, was a little Ifle lying close upon Thrace, and at but a finall Diftance from Philippi, to which the body might very commodiously be transported. Vid. Plutarch, Appian, Dion Caf fius, &c.

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!

Enter Soldiers and fight.

Bru. And I am Brutus, Marcus Brutus, I; Brutus, my Country's friend; know me for Brutus. [Exit. Luc. Oh young and noble Cato, art thou down? Why, now thou dieft as bravely as Titinius; And, may'st be honour'd, being Cato's Son. Sold. Yield, or thou diest.

Luc. Only I yield to die;

There is so much, that thou wilt kill me ftraight;
Kill Brutus, and be honour'd in his death.
Sold. We muft not. A noble Prisoner!

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!
When do find him or alive, or dead,

you

He will be found like Brutus, like himself.

Ant. This is not Brutus, friend, but, I affure you,
A prize no less in worth; keep this man fafe,
Give him all kindness. I had rather have
Such men my friends, than enemies. Go on,
And fee if Brutus be alive or dead;

And bring us word unto Octavius' Tent,
How every thing is chanc'd.

D4

[Exeunt.

SCENE

SCENE changes to another part of the Field.

Bru.

Enter Brutus, Dardanius, Clitus, Strato, and

Volumnius.

OME, poor Remains of friends, rest on this rock.

COM

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 my felf.

Bru. Hark thee, Dardanius!

Dar. I do fuch a deed?
Cli. Oh, Dardanius!

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 Ghoft of Cæfar 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.

Vol. Not fo, my Lord.

Bru. Nay, I am fure it is, Volumnius.

Thou feeft the world, Volumnius, how it goes;
Our enemies have beat us to the pit:

It is more worthy to leap in our selves,

Than tarry, 'till they pufh us.

Alarum.

Good Volumnius,

Thou know'ft, that we two went to school together;
Even for that, our love of old, I pr'ythee,

Hold thou my fword's
's hilt, while I run on it.

Vol. That's not an office for a Friend, my Lord.

Alarum ftill.

Cli. Fly, fly, my Lord; there is no tarrying here. Bru. Farewel to you, and you, and you, Volumnius. Strato, thou haft been all this while asleep;

(19) Farewel 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 fhall have Glory by this lofing day,
More than Octavius, and Mark Antony,
By this vile Conquest shall attain unto.
So, fare you well at once; for Brutus' tongue
Hath almoft ended his life's History.

Night hangs upon mine eyes, my bones would reft,
That have but labour'd to attain this hour.

(Alarum. Cry within, Fly, fly, fly.

Cli. Fly, my Lord, fly.

Bru. Hence; I will follow thee.

I pr'ythee, Strate, ftay thou by thy Lord;
Thou art a Fellow of a good respect ;

Thy life hath had some smatch of honour in't.
Hold then my fword, and turn away thy face,
While I do run upon it. Wilt thou, Strato?
Stra. Give me your hand first-

my Lord.

-fare you well,

Bru. Farewel, good Strato; Cafar, now be still; I kill'd not thee with half fo good a will.

[He runs on his word, and dies: Alarum. Retreat. Enter Antony, Octavius, Meffala, Lucilius, and the army.

Oda. What Man is that?

Mef. My Master's Man. Strato, where is thy Maf

ter?

(19) Farewel to thee, to Strato, Countrymen ;] Thus has this Paffage all along been abfurdly pointed, to the Praise of our intelligent Editors. I had corrected it long ago; but am, notwithstanding, to make my Acknowledgments to an anonymous Gentleman, who, unknowingly concurr'd with me; and advis'd the Correction of the Pointing, as it is now reformed, by Letter,

D 5

Stra.