O Cassius,
Far from this country Pindarus shall run,
Where never Roman shall take note of him.

Exit

Re-enter Titinius with Messala

Messala

It is but change, Titinius; for Octavius
Is overthrown by noble Brutus’ power,
As Cassius’ legions are by Antony.

Titinius

These tidings will well comfort Cassius.

Messala

Where did you leave him?

Titinius

All disconsolate,
With Pindarus his bondman, on this hill.

Messala

Is not that he t hat lies upon the ground?

Titinius

He lies not like the living. O my heart!

Messala

Is not that he?

Titinius

  No, this was he, Messala,
But Cassius is no more. O setting sun,
As in thy red rays thou dost sink to-night,
So in his red blood Cassius’ day is set;
The sun of Rome is set! Our day is gone;
Clouds, dews, and dangers come; our deeds are done!
Mistrust of my success hath done this deed.

Messala

Mistrust of good success hath done this deed.
O hateful error, melancholy’s child,
Why dost thou show to the apt thoughts of men
The things that are not? O error, soon conceived,
Thou never comest unto a happy birth,
But kill’st the mother that engender’d thee!

Titinius

What, Pindarus! where art thou, Pindarus?

Messala

Seek him, Titinius, whilst I go to meet
The noble Brutus, thrusting this report
Into his ears; I may say, thrusting it;
For piercing steel and darts envenomed
Shall be as welcome to the ears of Brutus
As tidings of this sight.

Titinius

Hie you, Messala,
And I will seek for Pindarus the while.

Exit Messala

Why didst thou send me forth, brave Cassius?
Did I not meet thy friends? and did not they
Put on my brows this wreath of victory,
And bid me give it thee? Didst thou not hear their shouts?
Alas, thou hast misconstrued every thing!
But, hold thee, take this garland on thy brow;
Thy Brutus bid me give it thee, and I
Will do his bidding. Brutus, come apace,
And see how I regarded Caius Cassius.
By your leave, gods:— this is a Roman’s part
Come, Cassius’ sword, and find Titinius’ heart.

Kills himself

Alarum. Re-enter Messala, with Brutus, Cato, Strato, Volumnius, and Lucilius

Brutus

Where, where, Messala, doth his body lie?

Messala

Lo, yonder, and Titinius mourning it.

Brutus

Titinius’ face is upward.

Cato

He is slain.

Brutus

O Julius Caesar, thou art mighty yet!
Thy spirit walks abroad and turns our swords
In our own proper entrails.

Low alarums

Cato

Brave Titinius!
Look, whether he have not crown’d dead Cassius!

Brutus

Are yet two Romans living such as these?
The last of all the Romans, fare thee well!
It is impossible that ever Rome
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:
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:
’Tis three o’clock; and, Romans, yet ere night
We shall try fortune in a second fight.

Exeunt

SCENE IV. ANOTHER PART OF THE FIELD.

Alarum. Enter fighting, Soldiers of both armies; then Brutus, Cato, Lucilius, and others

Brutus

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!
A foe to tyrants, and my country’s friend;
I am the son of Marcus Cato, ho!

Brutus

And I am Brutus, Marcus Brutus, I;
Brutus, my country’s friend; know me for Brutus!

Exit

Lucilius

O young and noble Cato, art thou down?
Why, now thou diest as bravely as Titinius;
And mayst be honour’d, being Cato’s son.

First Soldier

Yield, or thou diest.

Lucilius

Only I yield to die:
There is so much that thou wilt kill me straight;

Offering money

Kill Brutus, and be honour’d in his death.

First Soldier

We must not. A noble prisoner!

Second Soldier

Room, ho! Tell Antony, Brutus is ta’en.

First Soldier

I’ll tell the news. Here comes the general.

Enter Antony

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

Antony

Where is he?

Lucilius

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.

Antony

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 whether Brutus be alive or dead;
And bring us word unto Octavius’ tent
How every thing is chanced.

Exeunt

SCENE V. ANOTHER PART OF THE FIELD.

Enter Brutus, Dardanius, Clitus, Strato, and Volumnius

Brutus

Come, poor remains of friends, rest on this rock.

Clitus

Statilius show’d the torch-light, but, my lord,
He came not back: he is or ta’en or slain.

Brutus

Sit thee down, Clitus: slaying is the word;
It is a deed in fashion. Hark thee, Clitus.

Whispers

Clitus

What, I, my lord? No, not for all the world.

Brutus

Peace then! no words.

Clitus

I’ll rather kill myself.

Brutus

Hark thee, Dardanius.

Whispers

Dardanius

Shall I do such a deed?

Clitus

O Dardanius!

Dardanius

O Clitus!

Clitus

What ill request did Brutus make to thee?

Dardanius

To kill him, Clitus. Look, he meditates.

Clitus

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

Brutus

Come hither, good Volumnius; list a word.

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 prithee,
Hold thou my sword-hilts, whilst I run on it.

Volumnius

That’s not an office for a friend, my lord.

Alarum 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.

Alarum. Cry within, ‘Fly, fly, fly!’

Clitus

Fly, my lord, fly.

Brutus

  Hence! I will follow.

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 honour in it:
Hold then my sword, and turn away thy face,
While I do run upon it. Wilt thou, Strato?

Strato

Give me your hand first. Fare you well, my lord.

Brutus

Farewell, good Strato.

Runs on his sword

Caesar, now be still:
I kill’d not thee with half so good a will.

Dies

Alarum. Retreat. Enter Octavius, Antony, Messala, Lucilius, and the army

Octavius

What man is that?

Messala

My master’s man. Strato, where is thy master?

Strato

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 honour by his death.

Lucilius

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

Octavius

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

Strato

Ay, if Messala will prefer me to you.

Octavius

Do so, good Messala.

Messala

How died my master, Strato?

Strato

I held the sword, and he did run on it.

Messala

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

Antony

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

Octavius

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, order’d honourably.
So call the field to rest; and let’s away,
To part the glories of this happy day.

Exeunt

The Tragedy of

Hamlet, Prince of Denmark

TABLE OF CONTENTS

 

CHARACTERS OF THE PLAY

ACT I

SCENE I. ELSINORE. A PLATFORM BEFORE THE CASTLE.

SCENE II. A ROOM OF STATE IN THE CASTLE.

SCENE III. A ROOM IN POLONIUS’ HOUSE.

SCENE IV. THE PLATFORM.

SCENE V. ANOTHER PART OF THE PLATFORM.

ACT II

SCENE I.