Titinius, farewell!
Come Brutus and those that are left.
Brutus: Where, where, Messala, doth his body lie?
Messala: Lo, yonder, and Titinius mourning it.
Brutus: Titinius' face is upward.
Cato: He is slain.
Grim mates in a grim day in a grim hour. Then the cry of Brutus:
O Julius Caesar, thou art mighty yet!
But if he were, perhaps he only gathered old Cassius and Titinius to
be sure of their company with him and Brutus amongst the gods a
little later.
Brutus: Friends, I owe more tears
To this dead man than you shall see me pay.
I shall find time, Cassius, I shall find time.
And, after making arrangements for the removal of Cassius's body, they
go to try their fortunes in a second fight. Young Cato is killed and
good Lucilius taken. Comes Brutus beaten, with Dardanius his last
friend, and his three servants, Clitus, Strato, and Volumnius.
Brutus: Come, poor remains of friends, rest on this rock.
Strato, exhausted, goes to sleep, as man can sleep during a battle;
and Brutus whispers the others, one after another, to kill him; but
they are shocked and refuse: "I'll rather kill myself," "I do such
a deed?" etc. He begs Volumnius, his old schoolmate, to hold his
sword-hilt while he runs on it, for their love of old.
Volumnius: That's not the office for a friend, my lord.
There are alarums, and they urge him to fly, for it's no use stopping
there.
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