Page:Julius Caesar (1919) Yale.djvu/105

Julius Cæsar, V. iv  Thy spirit walks abroad, and turns our swords In our own proper entrails.

Cato. Brave Titinius! 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 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.

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! 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? 