Bru. Titinius' face is upward.

Stra. He is flain.

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

Cato. Brave Titinius!

[Low Alarms.

Look, if he have not crowned dead Caffius!

Bru. Are yet two Romans living, fuch as these? Thou laft of all the Romans! fare thee well; It is impoffible that ever Rome

Should breed thy fellow. (33) 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, (34) and to Thaffos fend his body:
His funeral fhall not be in our camp,

Left it difcomfort us. Lucilius, come;
And come, young Cato; let us to the field.

To this dead man,] This paffage (but why, I know not) feems twice to have been fueered in Beaumont and Fletcher's Knight of the Burning Pestle. Luce crying over Jasper, her fweetheart, fuppofed dead, fays;

Good friends, depart a little, whilst I take

My leave of this dead man, that once I loved..
And Mafter Humphrey, before, fays to Luce;
I care not at what price; for, on my word, it
Shall be repaid again, although it cost me
More than I'll fpeak of now.

(34) nd to Tharfus send his body:] Thus all the editions hitherto very ignorantly. But the whole teaor of history warrants us to write, as I have reftored the text, Thaffos.-Tharfos was a town of Celicia, in Asia Minor; and is it probable Brutus could think of fending Caffius's body thither out of Thrace, where they were now incamped? Thaffos, on the contrary, was a little ifle lying close upon Thrace, and at but a small distance from Philippi, to which the body might very commodioufly be tranfported. Vid. Plutarch, Appian, Dion Caflius, &c.

#

Labio, 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, MESSALA, CATO, LUCILIUS, and FLAVIUS.

Bru. Yet, countrymen, oh yet, holdup your heads. Cato. What baftard doth not? who will go with me?

I will proclaim my name about the field.

I am the fon of Marcus Cato, ho!

A foe to tyrants, and my country's friend. 1 am the fon 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 diest as bravely as Titinius;
And may't be honoured, being Cato's fon.
Sold. Yield, or thou dieft.
Luc. Only I yield to die;

There is fo much, that thou wilt kill me ftraight;
Kill Brutas, and be honoured in his death.
Sold. We must not. A noble prisoner!

Enter ANTONY.

2 Sold. Room, ho! tell Antony, Brutus is ta'en 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 shame!
VOL. X.

R

When you do find him, or alive or dead,
He will be found like Brutus, like himfelf.

Ant. This is not Brutus, friend, but I affure
A prize no lefs 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 chanced.

you,

[Exeunt.

SCENE changes to another part of the Field. Enter BRUTUS, DARDANIUS, CLITUS, STRATO, and

VOLUMNIUS.

Bru. Come, poor remains of friends, rest on this rock.

Cli. Statilius fhewed 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 myself.

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 appeared to me

Two feveral 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 ourselves,

Than tarry till they pufh us.

[Alarum

Good Volumnius,

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

Hold thou my fword'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, Volum

nius.

Strato, thou hast been all this while afleep;
(35) 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 thall have glory by this lofing day,
More than Octavius, and Mark Antony,
By this vile conqueft fhall attain unto.
So, fare you well at once; for Brutus' tongue
Hath almost ended his life's hiftory...

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

[Alarum. Cry within, Fly, fly, fly.

(45) 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, nowithstanding, to make my acknowledgments to an anonymous gentleman, who unknowingly concurred with me, and advised the correction of the pointing, as it is now reformed, by letter.

Cli. Fly, my Lord, fly..

Bru. Hence; I will follow thee.

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

Thy life hath had fome fmatch 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--fare you well,.
my Lord.

Bru. Farewel, good Strato.-Cæfar, now be still; I killed not thee with half fo good a will.

[He runs on his Sword, and dies

Alarum. Retreat. Enter ANTONY, OCTAVIUS, MESSALA, LUCILIUS, and the Army.

Ofta. What man is that?

Mef. My Maiter's man.

Mafter?

Strato, where is thy

Stra. Free from the bondage you are in, Meffala; The conquerors can but make a fire of him: For Brutus only overcame himself,

And no man eife hath honour by his death.

Luc. So Brutus should be found. I thank thee, Brutus,

That thou haft proved Lucilius' faying true.

Qua. All that ferved Brutus, I will entertain them.

Fellow, wilt thou beftow thy time with me?
Stra. Ay, if Meffala will prefer me to you.
Octa. Do fo, good Meffala.

Mef. How died my Lord, Strato?

Stra. I held the fword, and he did run on it..
Mef. Octavius, then take him to follow thee,

That did the latest service to my Master.

Ant. This was the nobleft Roman of them all: All the Confpirators, fave only he,