Thy spirit walks abroad, and turns our swords
In our own proper entrails.Low alarums.
Cato. Brave Titinius!96
Look whether he have not crown'd dead Cassius!
Bru. Are yet two Romans living such as these?
The last of all the Romans, fare thee well!
It is impossible that ever Rome100
Should breed thy fellow. Friends, I owe more tears
To this dead man than you shall see me pay.—
I shall find time, Cassius, I shall find time.—
Come therefore, and to Thasos send his body:104
His funerals shall not be in our camp,
Lest it discomfort us. Lucilius, come;
And come, young Cato;—let us to the field.
Labeo and Flavius, set our battles on:108
'Tis three o'clock; and, Romans, yet ere night
We shall try fortune in a second fight.Exeunt.
Scene Four
[Another part of the Field]
Alarum. Enter Brutus, Messala, Cato, Lucilius, and Flavius.
Bru. Yet, countrymen, O yet hold up your heads!
Cato. What bastard doth not? Who will go with me?
I will proclaim my name about the field:
I am the son of Marcus Cato, ho!4
A foe to tyrants, and my country's friend;
I am the son of Marcus Cato, ho!
96 proper: individual
101 fellow: equal
104 Thasos: isle near Thrace
106 discomfort: dishearten
109, 110 three o'clock . . . second fight; cf. n.
2 What . . . not: Who is so base-born as not to do so?
