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[Offering money.

Lucil. O young and noble Cato! art thou down?
Why, now thou diest as bravely as Titinius;
And mayst be honored, being Cato's son.

1 Sold. Yield, or thou diest.
Lucil. Only I yield to die :
There is so much, that thou wilt kill me straight;
Kill Brutus, and be honored in his death.

1 Sold. We must not. A noble prisoner !
2 Sold. Room, ho! Tell Antony, Brutus is ta’en.
1 Sold. I'll tell the news. Here comes the general !

Brutus is ta’en, Brutus is ta’en, my lord !

Ant. Where is he?

Lucil. Safe, Antony: Brutus is safe enough.
I dare assure thee that no enemy
Shall ever take alive the noble Brutus:
The gods defend him from so great a shame!
When you do find him, or alive or dead,
He will be found like Brutus, like himself.

Ant. This is not Brutus, friend, but, I assure you,
A prize no less in worth. Keep this man safe ;
Give him all kindness: I had rather have
Such men my friends than enemies. Go on,
And see whe'r Brutus be alive or dead;
And bring us word unto Octavius' tent
How every thing is chanced.


SCENE V.- Another Part of the Field.
Bru. Come, poor remains of friends, rest on this rock.

Cli. Statilius showed the torchlight; but, my lord,
He came not back: he is or ta'en or slain.

Bru. Sit thee down, Clitus. Slaying is the word : It is a deed in fashion. Hark thee, Clitus!

[Whispering. Cli. What! I my lord ? No, not for all the world i Bru. Peace, then! no words. Cli. I'll rather kill myself. Bru. Hark thee, Dardanius !

[Whispers him. Dar. Shall I do such a deed ? Cli Dardanius! Dar. O Clitus! Cli. What ill request did Brutus make to thee ? Dar. To kill him, Clitus. Look! he meditates.

Cli. Now is that noble vessel full of grief, That it runs over even at his eyes.

Bru. Come hither, good Volumnius: list a word.

Vol. What says my lord ?
Bru. Why, this, Volumnius :
The ghost of Cæsar hath appeared to me
Two several times by night: at Sardis, once;


so, my lord.

And this last night, here in Philippi fields.
I know my hour is come.

Vol. Not
Bru. 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 prithee,
Hold thou my sword-hilts whilst I run on it.

Vol. That's not an office for a friend, my lord. [Alarum still.
Cli. Fly, fly, my lord ! there is no tarryiny here.

Bru. 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 labored to attain this hour.

[Alarum. Cry within, “ Fly, fly, fly!” Cli. Fly, my lord ! fly! Bru. Hence! I will follow thee.

[Exeunt Clitus, DARDANIUS, and VOLUMNIUS.
I prithee, 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 turn away thy face
While I do run upon it. Wilt thou, Strato?

Stra. Give me your hand first : fare you well, my lord !
Bru. Farewell, good Strato! — Cæsar, now be still:
I killed not thee with half so good a will.

[He runs on his sword, and dies. Alarum. Retreat. Enter OCTAVIUS, Antony, MESSALA, LUCILIUS, and their

Oct. What man is that?
Mes. My master's 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 only overcame himself;
And no man else hath honor by his death.

Lucil. So Brutus should be found. – I thank thee, Brutus,
That thou hast proved Lucilius' saying true.

Oct. All that served Brutus, I will entertain them. Fellow, wilt thou bestow thy time with me?

Stra. Ay, if Messala will prefer me to you.

Oct. Do so, good Messala.
Mes. How died my master, Strato ?
Stra. I held the sword, and he did run on it.

Mes. Octavius, then take him to follow thee,
That did the latest service to my master.

Ant. This was the noblest Roman of them all.
All the conspirators, save only he,
Did that they did in envy of great Cæsar :
He only, in a general honest thought,
And common good to all, made one of them.
His life was gentle; and the elements
So mixed in him, that Nature might stand up,
And say to all the world, “ This was a man!"

Oct. According to his virtue let us use him,
With all respect and rites of burial.
Within my tent his bones to-night shall lie,
Most like a soldier, ordered honorably.
So call the field to rest; and let's away
To part the glories of this happy day.




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“Shepheard's Calender;"

"" Colin Clonts come Home Again: “Epithalinion;" “ View of the State of Ireland;" and his greatest work, — “ The Faerie Queene." “ The Faerie Queene,” written in what is called the Spenserian stanza, was intenderl to“ fashion a gentleinan or noble person in virtuous and gentle discipline." of the twelve books planned originally," Foashioning XII. Morall Virtues," there were only six written. Hazlitt says, “Spenser excels in the two qualities in which Chaucer is most deficient, — invention and fancy. The invention shown in his allegorical personages is endless, as the fancy shown in his description of them is gorgeous and delightful. He is the poet of romance. He describes things as in a splendid and voluptuous dream."



A GENTLE Knight was pricking on the plaine,
Ycladd in mightie armes and silver shielde,
Wherein old dints of deepe woundes did remaine,
The cruel markes of many a bloody fielde;
Yet armes till that time did he never wield :
His angry steede did chide his foming bitt,
As much disdayning to the curbe to yield.

Full iolly knight he seemed, and faire did sitt,
As one for knightly giusts' and fierce encounters fitt.

1 Tournaments.



And on his brest a bloodie crosse he bore,
The deare remembrance of his dying Lord,
For whose sweete sake that glorious badge he wore,
And dead, as living ever, him ador'd :
Upon his shield the like was also scor’d,
For soveraine hope, which in his helpe he had.
Right, faithfull, true he was in deede and word;

But of his cheere did seeme too solemne sad;
Yet nothing did he dread, but ever was ydrad.


Upon a great adventure he was bond,
That greatest Gloriana to him gave,
(That greatest glorious queene of Faerie lond,)
To winne him worshippe, and her grace to have;
Which of all earthly thinges he most did crave:
And ever, as he rode, his hart did earne ?
To prove his puissance in battell brave

Upon his foe, and his new force to learne,
Upon his foe, a Dragon horrible and stearne.

A lovely Ladie rode him faire beside,
Upon a lowly asse more white then snow;
Yet she much whiter; but the same did hide
Under a vele, that whimpled was full low;
And over all a blacke stole shee did throw.
As one that inly mournd, so was she sad,
And heavie sate upon her palfrey slow;

Seemed in heart some hidden care she had ;
And by her in a line a milke-white lamb she lad.


v. So pure and innocent as that same lambe She was in life and every vertuous lore; And by descent from royall lynage came Of ancient kinges and queenes that had of yore Their scepters stretcht from east to westerne shore, And all the world in their subjection held, Till that infernal Feend with foule uprore

Forwasted* all their land, and them expeld; Whom to avenge, she had this Knight from far compeld.


Behind her farre away a Dwarfe did lag,
That lasie seemd, in being ever last,
Or wearied with bearing of her bag
Of needments at his backe. Thus as they past,

1 Dreaded.

? Yearn.

3 Gathered, or plaited.

* Much wasted.

The day with cloudes was suddeine overcast,
And angry love an hideous storme of raine
Did poure into his lemans lap so fast,

That everie wight to shrowd it did constrain;
And this faire couple eke to shroud themselves were fain.


Enforst to seeke some covert nigh at hand,
A shadie grove not farr away they spide,
That promist ayde the tempest to withstand;
Whose loftie trees, yclad with sommers pride,
Did spred so broad, that heavens light did hide,
Not perceable with power of any starr ;
And all within were pathes and alleies wide,

With footing worne, and leading inward farr :
Faire harbour that them seems; so in they entred ar.


And foorth they passe, with pleasure forward led,
loying to heare the birdes sweete harmony,
Which, therein shrouded from the tempest dred,
Seemd in their song to scorne the cruell sky.
Much can they praise the trees so straight and hy, —
The sayling pine; the cedar, proud and tall;
The vine-propp elme; the poplar, never dry;
The builder oake, sole king of forrests all;
The aspine, good for staves; the cypresse funerall;


The laurell, meed of mightie conquerours
And poets sage; the firre, that weepeth still ;
The willow, worne of forlorne paramours;
The eugh,' obedient to the benders will ;
The birch, for shaftes; the sallow, for the mill;
The mirrhe, sweete-bleeding in the bitter wound;
The warlike beech; the ash, for nothing ill;
The fruitfull olive; and the platane round;
The carver holme; the maple, seeldom inward sound.

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Led with delight, they thus beguile the way
Untill the blustering storme is overblowne;
When, weening to returne whence they did stray,
They can not finde that path which first was showne,
But wander to and fro in waies unknowne,
Furthest from end then, when they neerest weene,
That makes them doubt their wits be not their owne:
So many pathes, so many turnings seene,
That, which of them to take, in diverse doubt they been.

Faerie Queene, Book I., Canta I. 1 Yew.

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