By which I did blame Cato for the death For fear of what might fall, so to prevent The time of life:-arming myself with patience,2 To stay the providence of some high powers, That govern us below. Cas. Then, if we lose this battle, You are contented to be led in triumph Thorough the streets of Rome? Bru. No, Cassius, no: think not, thou noble That ever Brutus will go bound to Rome; The end of this day's business, ere it come! [Exeunt. he acknowledges that to be a trial which he could not endure. Nothing is more natural than this. We lay down a system of conduct for ourselves, but occurrences may happen that will force us to depart from it. 2 arming myself with patience, &c.] Dr. Warburton thinks, that in this speech something is lost; but there needed only a parenthesis to clear it. The construction is this: I am determined to act according to that philosophy which directed me to blame the suicide of Cato; arming myself with patience, &c. JOHNSON. The same. Alarum. SCENE II. The Field of Battle. Enter BRUTUS and MESSALA. Bru. Ride, ride, Messala, ride, and give these bills Unto the legions on the other side: [Loud Alarum. Let them set on at once; for I perceive But cold demeanour in Octavius' wing, And sudden push gives them the overthrow. Ride, ride, Messala: let them all come down. [Exeunt. SCENE III. The same. Alarum. Another Part of the Field. Enter CASSIUS and TITINIUS. Cas. O, look, Titinius, look, the villains fly! Tit. O Cassius, Brutus gave the word too early: Enter PINDArus. Pin. Fly further off, my lord, fly further off; Mark Antony is in your tents, my lord! Fly therefore, noble Cassius, fly far off. Cas. This hill is far enough. Look, look, Titi nius; Are those my tents, where I perceive the fire? Cas. Cas. What news? Pin. Titinius is Enclosed round about with horsemen, that Make to him on the spur;-yet he spurs on.Now they are almost on him; now, Titinius!Now some 'light:-O, he 'lights too:-he's ta'en;— and, hark! [Shout. They shout for joy. Cas. Come down, behold no more.— O, coward that I am, to live so long, To see my best friend ta'en before my face! Enter PINDARUS. Come hither, sirrah: In Parthia did I take thee prisoner; And then I swore thee, saving of thy life, That whatsoever I did bid thee do, Thou should'st attempt it. Come now, keep thine oath! Now be a freeman; and, with this good sword, [Dies. Where never Roman shall take note of him. [Exit. Re-enter TITINIUS, with MESSALA. Mes. It is but change, Titinius; for Octavius Is overthrown by noble Brutus' power, As Cassius' legions are by Antony. Tit. These tidings will well comfort Cassius. Tit. All disconsolate, With Pindarus his bondman, on this hill. Mes. Is not that he, that lies upon the ground? Tit. He lies not like the living. O my heart! Mes. Is not that he? Tit. No, this was he, Messala, But Cassius is no more.-O setting sun! As in thy red rays thou dost sink to night, So in his red blood Cassius' day is set; The sun of Rome is set! Our day is gone; Clouds, dews, and dangers come; our deeds are done! Mistrust of my success hath done this deed. Mes. Mistrust of good success hath done this deed. O hateful error, melancholy's child! Why dost thou show to the apt thoughts of men Tit. What, Pindarus! Where art thou, Pindarus? Mes. Seek him, Titinius: whilst I go to meet The noble Brutus, thrusting this report Into his ears: I may say, thrusting it; For piercing steel, and darts envenomed, Shall be as welcome to the ears of Brutus, As tidings of this sight. Tit. Hie you, Messala, And I will seek for Pindarus the while. [Exit MESSALA. Why didst thou send me forth, brave Cassius? Did I not meet thy friends? and did not they Put on my brows this wreath of victory, And bid me give 't thee? Didst thou not hear their shouts? Alas, thou hast misconstrued every thing. But hold thee, take this garland on thy brow; Thy Brutus bid me give it thee, and I [Dies. Alarum. Re-enter MESSALA, with BRUTUS, young Bru. Where, where, Messala, doth his body lie? Cato. He is slain. Bru. O Julius Cæsar, thou art mighty yet! Thy spirit walks abroad, and turns our swords In our own proper entrails. Cato. [Low Alarums. Brave Titinius! Look, whe'r he have not crown'd dead Cassius! Bru. Are yet two Romans living such as these? |