5. SCENE V. Another part of the field.
That's not an office for a friend, my lord.
Fly, fly, my lord! there is no tarrying here.
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.
[Alarums. Cry within, "Fly, fly, fly!"]
Fly, my lord, fly!
Hence! I will follow.--
[Exeunt Clitus, Dardanius, and Volumnius.]
I pr'ythee, Strato, stay thou by thy lord:
Thou art a fellow of a good respect;
Thy life hath had some smack of honor in it:
Hold, then, my sword, and turn away thy face,
While I do run upon it. Wilt thou, Strato?
Give me your hand first: fare you well, my lord.
Farewell, good Strato.--Caesar, now be still:
I kill'd not thee with half so good a will.
[He runs on his sword, and dies.]
[Alarum. Retreat. Enter Octavius, Antony, Messala, Lucilius, and
What man is that?
My master's man.--Strato, where is thy master?
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.
So Brutus should be found.--I thank thee, Brutus,
That thou hast proved Lucilius' saying true.