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Julius Caesar (Folio 1, 1623)

Author: William Shakespeare
Editor: John D. Cox
Peer Reviewed
The Tragedie of Julius Cæsar
129
So in his red blood Cassius day is set.
The Sunne of Rome is set. Our day is gone,
Clowds, Dewes, and Dangers come; our deeds are done:
2550Mistrust of my successe hath done this deed.
Messa. Mistrust of good successe hath done this deed.
O hatefull Error, Melancholies Childe:
Why do'st thou shew to the apt thoughts of men
The things that are not? O Error soone conceyu'd,
2555Thou neuer com'st vnto a happy byrth,
But kil'st the Mother that engendred thee.
Tit. What Pindarus? Where art thou Pindarus?
Messa. Seeke him Titinius, whilst I go to meet
The Noble Brutus, thrusting this report
2560Into his eares; I may say thrusting it:
For piercing Steele, and Darts inuenomed,
Shall be as welcome to the eares of Brutus,
As tydings of this sight.
Tit. Hye you Messala,
2565And I will seeke for Pindarus the while:
Why did'st thou send me forth braue Cassius?
Did I not meet thy Friends, and did not they
Put on my Browes this wreath of Victorie,
And bid me giue it thee? Did'st thou not heare their
2570Alas, thou hast misconstrued euery thing.
But hold thee, take this Garland on thy Brow,
Thy Brutus bid me giue it thee, and I
Will do his bidding. Brutus, come apace,
And see how I regarded Caius Cassius:
2575By your leaue Gods: This is a Romans part,
Come Cassius Sword, and finde Titinius hart.
Dies

Alarum. Enter Brutus, Messala, yong Cato,
Strato, Volumnius, and Lucillius.
Bru. Where, where Messala, doth his body lye?
2580Messa. Loe yonder, and Titinius mourning it.
Bru. Titinius face is vpward.
Cato. He is slaine.
Bru. O Iulius Cæsar, thou art mighty yet,
Thy Spirit walkes abroad, and turnes our Swords
2585In our owne proper Entrailes.
Low Alarums.
Cato. Braue Titinius,
Looke where he haue not crown'd dead Cassius.
Bru. Are yet two Romans liuing such as these?
The last of all the Romans, far thee well:
2590It is impossible, that euer Rome
Should breed thy fellow. Friends I owe mo teares
To this dead man, then you shall see me pay.
I shall finde time, Cassius: I shall finde time.
Come therefore, and to Tharsus send his body,
2595His Funerals shall not be in our Campe,
Least it discomfort vs. Lucillius come,
And come yong Cato, let vs to the Field,
Labio and Flauio set our Battailes on:
'Tis three a clocke, and Romans yet ere night,
2600We shall try Fortune in a second fight.
Exeunt.

Alarum. Enter Brutus, Messala, Cato, Lucillius,
and Flauius.
Bru. Yet Country-men: O yet, hold vp your heads.
Cato. What Bastard doth not? Who will go with me?
2605I will proclaime my name about the Field.
I am the Sonne of Marcus Cato, hoe.
A Foe to Tyrants, and my Countries Friend.
I am the Sonne of Marcus Cato, hoe.
Enter Souldiers, and fight.
2610And I am Brutus, Marcus Brutus, I,
Brutus my Countries Friend: Know me for Brutus.
Luc. O yong and Noble Cato, art thou downe?
Why now thou dyest, as brauely as Titinius,
And may'st be honour'd, being Cato's Sonne.
2615Sold. Yeeld, or thou dyest.
Luc. Onely I yeeld to dye:
There is so much, that thou wilt kill me straight:
Kill Brutus, and be honour'd in his death.
Sold. We must not: a Noble Prisoner.

2620
Enter Antony.
2. Sold. Roome hoe: tell Antony, Brutus is tane.
1. Sold. Ile tell thee newes. Heere comes the Generall,
Brutus is tane, Brutus is tane my Lord.
Ant. Where is hee?
2625Luc. Safe Antony, Brutus is safe enough:
I dare assure thee, that no Enemy
Shall euer take aliue the Noble Brutus:
The Gods defend him from so great a shame,
When you do finde him, or aliue, or dead,
2630He will be found like Brutus, like himselfe.
Ant. This is not Brutus friend, but I assure you,
A prize no lesse in worth; keepe this man safe,
Giue him all kindnesse. I had rather haue
Such men my Friends, then Enemies. Go on,
2635And see where Brutus be aliue or dead,
And bring vs word, vnto Octauius Tent:
How euery thing is chanc'd.
Exeunt.

Enter Brutus, Dardanius, Clitus, Strato,
and Volumnius.
2640Brut. Come poore remaines of friends, rest on this
Rocke.
Clit. Statillius shew'd the Torch-light, but my Lord
He came not backe: he is or tane, or slaine.
Brut. Sit thee downe, Clitus: slaying is the word,
2645It is a deed in fashion. Hearke thee, Clitus.
Clit. What I, my Lord? No, not for all the World.
Brut. Peace then, no words.
Clit. Ile rather kill my selfe.
Brut. Hearke thee, Dardanius.
2650Dard. Shall I doe such a deed?
Clit. O Dardanius.
Dard. O Clitus.
Clit. What ill request did Brutus make to thee?
Dard. To kill him, Clitus: looke he meditates.
2655Clit. Now is that Noble Vessell full of griefe,
That it runnes ouer euen at his eyes.
Brut. Come hither, good Volumnius, list a word.
Volum. What sayes my Lord?
Brut. Why this, Volumnius:
2660The Ghost of Cæsar hath appear'd to me
Two seuerall times by Night: at Sardis, once;
And this last Night, here in Philippi fields:
I know my houre is come.
Volum. Not so, my Lord.
2665Brut. Nay, I am sure it is, Volumnius.
Thou seest the World, Volumnius, how it goes,
Our Enemies haue beat vs to the Pit:
Low Alarums.
It is more worthy, to leape in our selues,
Then tarry till they push vs. Good Volumnius,
2670Thou know'st, that we two went to Schoole together:
Euen for that our loue of old, I prethee
Hold thou my Sword Hilts, whilest I runne on it.
Vol. That's not an Office for a friend, my Lord.
Alarum still.
Clit. Fly,