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 pr’ythee
Hold thou my sword-hilts, whilst I run on it.
VOLUMNIUS.
That’s not an office for a friend, my lord.
[Alarums 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.