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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 chanc’d.
(Exeunt.)
Scene Five. 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.
(Whispering.)
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 him.)
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.)