SCENE V. Another part of the field. The Life and Death of Julius Caesar  Shakespeare homepage  |  Julius Caesar  | Act 5, Scene 5 

 Previous scene  SCENE V. 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. 



 Whispers  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  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  It is more worthy to leap in ourselves, 

 Than tarry till they push us. Good Volumnius, 

 Thou know'st that we two went to school together: 

 Even for that our love of old, I prithee, 

 Hold thou my sword-hilts, whilst I run on it. 

 VOLUMNIUS  That's not an office for a friend, my lord. 



 Alarum still  CLITUS  Fly, fly, my lord; there is no tarrying here. 

 BRUTUS  Farewell to you; and you; and you, Volumnius. 

 Strato, thou hast been all this while asleep; 

 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 shall have glory by this losing day 

 More than Octavius and Mark Antony 

 By this vile conquest shall 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. 



 Alarum. Cry within, 'Fly, fly, fly!'  CLITUS  Fly, my lord, fly. 

 BRUTUS  Hence! I will follow. 



 Exeunt CLITUS, DARDANIUS, and VOLUMNIUS  I prithee, Strato, stay thou by thy lord: 

 Thou art a fellow of a good respect; 

 Thy life hath had some smatch of honour in it: 

 Hold then my sword, and turn away thy face, 

 While I do run upon it. Wilt thou, Strato? 

 STRATO  Give me your hand first. Fare you well, my lord. 

 BRUTUS  Farewell, good Strato. 



 Runs on his sword  Caesar, now be still: 

 I kill'd not thee with half so good a will. 



 Dies 

 Alarum. Retreat. Enter OCTAVIUS, ANTONY, MESSALA, LUCILIUS, and the army  OCTAVIUS  What man is that? 

 MESSALA  My master's man. Strato, where is thy master? 

 STRATO  Free from the bondage you are in, Messala: 

 The conquerors can but make a fire of him; 

 For Brutus only overcame himself, 

 And no man else hath honour by his death. 

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

 That thou hast proved Lucilius' saying true. 

 OCTAVIUS  All that served Brutus, I will entertain them. 

 Fellow, wilt thou bestow thy time with me? 

 STRATO  Ay, if Messala will prefer me to you. 

 OCTAVIUS  Do so, good Messala. 

 MESSALA  How died my master, Strato? 

 STRATO  I held the sword, and he did run on it. 

 MESSALA  Octavius, then take him to follow thee, 

 That did the latest service to my master. 

 ANTONY  This was the noblest Roman of them all: 

 All the conspirators save only he 

 Did that they did in envy of great Caesar; 

 He only, in a general honest 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 say to all the world 'This was a man!' 

 OCTAVIUS  According to his virtue let us use him, 

 With all respect and rites of burial. 

 Within my tent his bones to-night shall lie, 

 Most like a soldier, order'd honourably. 

 So call the field to rest; and let's away, 

 To part the glories of this happy day. 



 Exeunt 