The Plains of Philippi. |
| |
Enter OCTAVIUS, ANTONY, and their Army. |
| Oct. Now, Antony, our hopes are answered: |
| You said the enemy would not come down, |
| But keep the hills and upper regions; |
| It proves not so; their battles are at hand; |
| They mean to warn us at Philippi here, |
| Answering before we do demand of them. |
| Ant. Tut! I am in their bosoms, and I know |
| Wherefore they do it: they could be content |
| To visit other places; and come down |
| With fearful bravery, thinking by this face |
| To fasten in our thoughts that they have courage; |
| But 'tis not so. |
| |
Enter a Messenger. |
| Mess. Prepare you, generals: |
| The enemy comes on in gallant show; |
| Their bloody sign of battle is hung out, |
| And something to be done immediately. |
| Ant. Octavius, lead your battle softly on, |
| Upon the left hand of the even field. |
| Oct. Upon the right hand I; keep thou the left. |
| Ant. Why do you cross me in this exigent? |
| Oct. I do not cross you; but I will do so. [March. |
| |
Drum. Enter BRUTUS, CASSIUS, and their Army; LUCILIUS, TITINIUS, MESSALA, and Others. |
| Bru. They stand, and would have parley. |
| Cas. Stand fast, Titinius: we must out and talk. |
| Oct. Mark Antony, shall we give sign of battle? |
| Ant. No, Cæsar, we will answer on their charge. |
| Make forth; the generals would have some words. |
| Oct. Stir not until the signal. |
| Bru. Words before blows: is it so, countrymen? |
| Oct. Not that we love words better, as you do. |
| Bru. Good words are better than bad strokes, Octavius. |
| Ant. In your bad strokes, Brutus, you give good words: |
| Witness the hole you made in Cæsar's heart, |
| Crying, 'Long live! hail, Cæsar!' |
| Cas. Antony, |
| The posture of your blows are yet unknown; |
| But for your words, they rob the Hybla bees, |
| And leave them honeyless. |
| Ant. Not stingless too. |
| Bru. O! yes, and soundless too; |
| For you have stol'n their buzzing, Antony, |
| And very wisely threat before you sting. |
| Ant. Villains! you did not so when your vile daggers |
| Hack'd one another in the sides of Cæsar: |
| You show'd your teeth like apes, and fawn'd like hounds, |
| And bow'd like bondmen, kissing Cæsar's feet; |
| Whilst damned Casca, like a cur, behind |
| Struck Cæsar on the neck. O you flatterers! |
| Cas. Flatterers! Now, Brutus, thank yourself: |
| This tongue had not offended so to-day, |
| If Cassius might have rul'd. |
| Oct. Come, come, the cause: if arguing make us sweat, |
| The proof of it will turn to redder drops. |
| Look; |
| I draw a sword against conspirators; |
| When think you that the sword goes up again? |
| Never, till Cæsar's three-and-thirty wounds |
| Be well aveng'd; or till another Cæsar |
| Have added slaughter to the sword of traitors. |
| Bru. Cæsar, thou canst not die by traitors' hands, |
| Unless thou bring'st them with thee. |
| Oct. So I hope; |
| I was not born to die on Brutus' sword. |
| Bru. O! if thou wert the noblest of thy strain, |
| Young man, thou couldst not die more honourable. |
| Cas. A peevish schoolboy, worthless of such honour, |
| Join'd with a masquer and a reveller. |
| Ant. Old Cassius still! |
| Oct. Come, Antony; away! |
| Defiance, traitors, hurl we in your teeth. |
| If you dare fight to-day, come to the field; |
| If not, when you have stomachs. [Exeunt OCTAVIUS, ANTONY, and their Army. |
| Cas. Why now, blow wind, swell billow, and swim bark! |
| The storm is up, and all is on the hazard. |
| Bru. Ho! |
| Lucilius! hark, a word with you. |
| Lucil. My lord? [BRUTUS and LUCILIUS talk apart. |
| Cas. Messala! |
| Mes. What says my general? |
| Cas. Messala, |
| This is my birth-day; as this very day |
| Was Cassius born. Give me thy hand, Messala: |
| Be thou my witness that against my will, |
| As Pompey was, am I compell'd to set |
| Upon one battle all our liberties. |
| You know that I held Epicurus strong, |
| And his opinion; now I change my mind, |
| And partly credit things that do presage. |
| Coming from Sardis, on our former ensign |
| Two mighty eagles fell, and there they perch'd, |
| Gorging and feeding from our soldiers' hands; |
| Who to Philippi here consorted us: |
| This morning are they fled away and gone, |
| And in their stead do ravens, crows, and kites |
| Fly o'er our heads, and downward look on us, |
| As we were sickly prey: their shadows seem |
| A canopy most fatal, under which |
| Our army lies, ready to give up the ghost. |
| Mes. Believe not so. |
| Cas. I but believe it partly, |
| For I am fresh of spirit and resolv'd |
| To meet all perils very constantly. |
| Bru. Even so, Lucilius. |
| Cas. Now, most noble Brutus, |
| The gods to-day stand friendly, that we may, |
| Lovers in peace, lead on our days to age! |
| But since the affairs of men rest still incertain, |
| Let's reason with the worst that may befall. |
| If we do lose this battle, then is this |
| The very last time we shall speak together: |
| What are you then, determined to do? |
| Bru. Even by the rule of that philosophy |
| By which I did blame Cato for the death |
| Which he did give himself; I know not how, |
| But I do find it cowardly and vile, |
| For fear of what might fall, so to prevent |
| The time of life: arming myself with patience, |
| 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 Roman, |
| That ever Brutus will go bound to Rome; |
| He bears too great a mind: but this same day |
| Must end that work the ides of March begun; |
| And whether we shall meet again I know not. |
| Therefore our everlasting farewell take: |
| For ever, and for ever, farewell, Cassius! |
| If we do meet again, why, we shall smile; |
| If not, why then, this parting was well made. |
| Cas. For ever, and for ever, farewell, Brutus! |
| If we do meet again, we'll smile indeed; |
| If not, 'tis true this parting was well made. |
| Bru. Why, then, lead on. O! that a man might know |
| The end of this day's business, ere it come; |
| But it sufficeth that the day will end, |
| And then the end is known. Come, ho! away! [Exeunt. |
Design © 1995-2007 ZeFLIP.com All rights reserved.