  Cly. Fly, flye my Lord, there is no tarrying heere

   Bru. Farewell to you, and you, and Volumnius.
Strato, thou hast bin all this while asleepe:
Farewell to thee, to Strato, Countrymen:
My heart doth ioy, that yet in all my life,
I found no man, but he was true to me.
I shall haue glory by this loosing day
More then Octauius, and Marke Antony,
By this vile Conquest shall attaine vnto.
So fare you well at once, for Brutus tongue
Hath almost ended his liues History:
Night hangs vpon mine eyes, my Bones would rest,
That haue but labour'd, to attaine this houre.

Alarum. Cry within, Flye, flye, flye.

  Cly. Fly my Lord, flye

   Bru. Hence: I will follow:
I prythee Strato, stay thou by thy Lord,
Thou art a Fellow of a good respect:
Thy life hath had some smatch of Honor in it,
Hold then my Sword, and turne away thy face,
While I do run vpon it. Wilt thou Strato?
  Stra. Giue me your hand first. Fare you wel my Lord

   Bru. Farewell good Strato. - Caesar, now be still,
I kill'd not thee with halfe so good a will.
Dyes.

Alarum. Retreat. Enter Antony, Octauius, Messala, Lucillius, and
the
Army.

  Octa. What man is that?
  Messa. My Masters man. Strato, where is thy Master?
  Stra. Free from the Bondage you are in Messala,
The Conquerors can but make a fire of him:
For Brutus onely ouercame himselfe,
And no man else hath Honor by his death

   Lucil. So Brutus should be found. I thank thee Brutus
That thou hast prou'd Lucillius saying true,
  Octa. All that seru'd Brutus, I will entertaine them.
Fellow, wilt thou bestow thy time with me?
  Stra. I, if Messala will preferre me to you

   Octa. Do so, good Messala

   Messa. How dyed my Master Strato?
  Stra. I held the Sword, and he did run on it

   Messa. Octauius, then take him to follow thee,
That did the latest seruice to my Master

   Ant. This was the Noblest Roman of them all:
All the Conspirators saue onely hee,
Did that they did, in enuy of great Caesar:
He, onely in a generall honest thought,
And common good to all, made one of them.
His life was gentle, and the Elements
So mixt in him, that Nature might stand vp,
And say to all the world; This was a man

   Octa. According to his Vertue, let vs vse him
Withall Respect, and Rites of Buriall.
Within my Tent his bones to night shall ly,
Most like a Souldier ordered Honourably:
So call the Field to rest, and let's away,
To part the glories of this happy day.

Exeunt. omnes.


FINIS. THE TRAGEDIE OF IVLIVS CaeSAR.


