Luc. Oh young and noble Cato, art thou down? Why, now thou dy'st as bravely as Titinius; And, may'ft be honour'd, being Cato's fon. Sold. Yield, or thou dieft.

6 Luc. Only I yield to die :

There is fo much, that thou wilt kill me ftraight;

[Offering money.

Kill Brutus, and be honour'd in his death.
Sold. We must 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 shame!
When you do find him, or alive, or dead,
He will be found like Brutus, like himself.

Ant. This is not Brutus, friend; but I affure you,
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

5-being Cato's fon.] i. e. worthy of him. Luc. Only I yield to die:

WARB.

There is fo much, that thou wilt kill me ftraight;] Dr. Warburton has been much inclined to find lacune, or paffages broken by omiffion, throughout this play. I think he has been always miftaken. The foldier here fays, Yield, or thou dieft. Lucilius replies, I yield only on this condition, that I may die; here is fo much gold as thou feeft in my hand, which I offer thee as a reward for fpeedy death. What now is there wanting?

I'll tell the news.] The old copy reads,
I'll tell thee news.

JOHNSON.

JOHNSON.

And

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

SCENE V.

Another part of the field.

[Exeunt.

Enter Brutus, Dardanius, Clitus, Strato, and
Volumnius.

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

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 myself.

Bru. Hark thee, Dardanius!
Dar. Shall 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 ghost of Cæfar hath appear'd 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.

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 ourfelves,

[Alarm.

Than tarry, 'till they pufh us. Good Volumnius,
Thou know'ft, that we two went to fchool together;
Even for that, our love of old, I pray thee,
Hold thou my fword's hilt, while I run on it.
Vol. That's not an office for a friend, my lord.
[Alarm ftill.
Cli. Fly, fly, my lord; there is no tarrying here.
Bru. Farewell to you, and you, and you, Vo-

lumnius.

Strato, thou haft been all this while asleep;
8 Farewell 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 conqueft fhall attain unto.

So, fare you well at once; for Brutus' tongue
Hath almost ended his life's history.

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

[Alarm. Cry within. Fly, fly, fly.

Cli. Fly, my lord, fly.

Bru. Hence; I will follow.

I pr'ythee, Strato, ftay thou by thy lord:
Thou art a fellow of a good refpect;

Thy life hath had fome imack of honour in it:
Hold then my fword, and turn away thy face,
While I do run upon it. Wilt thou, Strato?

Stra. Give me your hand firft fare you well, my

lord.

Farewell to thee too, Strato.] Thus the modern editions. I think, rightly. The old folio reads,

Farewell to thee, to Strato, countrymen.

JOHNSON.
Bru.

Bru. Farewell, good Strato.-Cæfar, now be ftill; I kill'd not thee with half fo good a will.

[He runs on his fword, and dies.

Alarm. Retreat. Enter Antony, Octavius, Meffala, Lucilius, and the army.

Oda. What man is that?

Mef. My master's man.-Strato, where is thy mafter?

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 one else hath honour by his death.

Luc. So Brutus fhould be found.-I thank thee,
Brutus,

That thou haft prov'd Lucilius' faying true.
Ota. All that ferv'd Brutus, I will entertain them.
Fellow, wilt thou bestow thy time with me?
Stra. Ay, if Meffala will prefer me to you.
Olta. Do fo, good Meffala.

Mef. How died my mafter, 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 mafter.

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

Did that they did in envy of great Cæfar;
He, only, in a general honeft thought,
And common good to all, made one of them.
His life was gentle; and the elements

So mix'd in him, that Nature might stand up,
And fay to all the world, This was a man!

Ota. According to his virtue, let us use him;
With all refpect, and rites of burial.
Within my tent his bones to-night fhall lie,
Moft like a foldier, order'd honourably.-

So,

So, call the field to reft: and let's away,
To part the glories of this happy day.

[Exeunt omnes.

Of this tragedy many particular paffages deferve regard, and the contention and reconcilement of Brutus and Caffius is univerfally celebrated; but I have never been ftrongly agitated in perufing it, and think it fomewhat cold and unaffecting, compared with fome other of Shakespeare's plays; his adherence to the real ftory, and to Roman manners, feems to have impeded the natural vigour of his genius.

JOHNSON.