Julius Caesar, Act 5, Scene 5

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

Come, you poor remnant of my friends, rest on this rock.

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

Statilius signalled with the torchlight, but, my lord, he never came back. He has either been captured or killed.

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

Sit down, Clitus. Killing is the word of the day; it's the fashionable thing to do. Listen to me, Clitus.

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

What, me, my lord? No, not for anything in the world.

Peace then, no words.

Be quiet then, say nothing.

I’ll rather kill myself.

I would rather kill myself.

Hark thee, Dardanius.

Listen to me, Dardanius.

Shall I do such a deed?

Am I to do such a thing?

O Dardanius!

Oh, Dardanius!

O Clitus!

Oh, Clitus!

What ill request did Brutus make to thee?

What terrible request did Brutus make of you?

To kill him, Clitus. Look, he meditates.

That I kill him, Clitus. Look, he's deep in thought.

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

That noble vessel is now so full of grief that it overflows through his eyes.

Come hither, good Volumnius; list a word.

Come over here, good Volumnius; listen to a word from me.

What says my lord?

What does my lord say?

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.

Why, this, Volumnius: Caesar's ghost has appeared to me on two separate occasions at night — once at Sardis, and last night here on the fields of Philippi. I know my time has come.

Not so, my lord.

It hasn't, my lord.

Nay I am sure it is, Volumnius. Thou seest the world, Volumnius, how it goes; Our enemies have beat us to the pit.

No, I'm certain it has, Volumnius. You can see how things stand in the world, Volumnius; our enemies have driven us to the edge of the pit.

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.

It's more honourable to leap in ourselves than to wait until they push us. Good Volumnius, you know that the two of us went to school together; for the sake of that old friendship, please hold the hilt of my sword while I run onto it.

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

That's no job for a friend, my lord.

Fly, fly, my lord! there is no tarrying here.

Run, run, my lord! There's no staying here.

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.

Goodbye to you; and you; and you, Volumnius. Strato, you have been asleep all this time; goodbye to you too, Strato. Countrymen, my heart is glad that in all my life I never found a single man who wasn't loyal to me. I will win more glory from this day of defeat than Octavius and Mark Antony will gain by this contemptible victory. So goodbye to you all at once, because Brutus' tongue has nearly finished the story of his life. Night is settling over my eyes; my bones long to rest, since they have worked for nothing but to reach this hour.

Fly, my lord, fly!

Run, my lord, run!

Hence! I will follow.

Go on! I'll follow.

I pr’ythee, 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?

Please, Strato, stay here beside your lord. You are a man who is well thought of; your life has had some taste of honour in it. So hold my sword and turn your face away while I run onto it. Will you, Strato?

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

Give me your hand first. Goodbye, my lord.

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

Goodbye, good Strato. Caesar, be at peace now: I did not kill you half as willingly as this.

What man is that?

Who is that man?

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

My master's servant. Strato, where is your master?

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.

Free from the slavery you are in, Messala. The conquerors can do no more than burn his body, because only Brutus defeated Brutus, and no other man gets any honour from his death.

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

This is how Brutus should be found. I thank you, Brutus, for proving what Lucilius said was true.

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

I will take into my service everyone who served Brutus. Fellow, will you spend your time with me?

Ay, if Messala will prefer me to you.

Yes, if Messala will recommend me to you.

Do so, good Messala.

Do that, good Messala.

How died my master, Strato?

How did my master die, Strato?

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

I held the sword, and he ran onto it.

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

Octavius, then take him into your service, since he performed the last service for my master.

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!”

This was the noblest Roman of them all. All the conspirators except him did what they did out of envy of great Caesar; he alone joined them out of an honest belief in the general welfare and the good of everyone. His life was noble, and the elements were so well blended in him that Nature could stand up and say to the whole world, "This was a man!"

According to his virtue let us use him With all respect and rites of burial. Within my tent his bones tonight 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.

Let us treat him as his virtue deserves, with all respect and the proper burial rites. Tonight his bones will lie in my tent, laid out honourably, as a soldier's should be. So order the army to rest, and let's go and share out the glories of this happy day.