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Title: The Tragedy Of Caesar's Revenge
Author: Boas, Frederick S. (Frederick Samuel), 1862-1957 [Editor]
Language: English
As this book started as an ASCII text book there are no pictures available.
*** Start of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The Tragedy Of Caesar's Revenge" ***
{Transcriber's note:
{SN Sidenotes are indicated like this.}
{ILL Illustrations are indicated like this.}
{TN Other notes are indicated like this.}
No intentional corrections or changes have been made to the text.}
PRINTED FOR THE MALONE SOCIETY BY
HORACE HART M.A., AT THE
OXFORD UNIVERSITY
PRESS
THE TRAGEDY
OF CAESAR'S REVENGE
THE MALONE SOCIETY
REPRINTS
1911
the assistance of the General Editor.
_Oct. 1911._ W. W. Greg.
Plays on the subject of Caius Julius are so numerous that some
difficulty arises in properly distinguishing the titles. In the case of
the piece here reprinted the first title, which is also the head title,
suggests a play of Chapman's, while the running title is the traditional
property of William Shakespeare. It seems, therefore, best that it
should become known by the name which appears second on the title-page.
And, indeed, there is reason to suppose that it was this title that the
piece originally bore, for the entry in the Registers of the Stationers'
Company runs as follows:
v^o Iunij [1606]
{SN John Wright and Nathanael ffossbrook}
Entred for their Copies vnder the handes of Master Doctor Couell and
the wardens A booke called Iulius Caesars reuenge. vj^d
[Arber's Transcript, III. 323.]
The edition that followed upon this entry was undated, but probably
appeared before the end of the year. It bore Wright's name and address
as stationer, and the initials and device of George Eld as printer. It
was a quarto printed in roman type of a body similar to modern pica (20
ll. = 83 mm.). Of this original issue copies survive in the Dyce Library
at South Kensington and in the collection of the Duke of Devonshire. In
other copies the original title-leaf has been cancelled and replaced by
a reprint. This, which is dated 1607, bears the names of both
stationers, and a different address, which is presumably Fosbrook's. The
printer's initials have been omitted, and, more important, his device
has made way for the note 'Priuately acted by the Studentes of Trinity
Colledge in Oxford'. The original type had already been distributed, and
not only the title, but also the list of personae on the verso of the
leaf, was reset. Why Fosbrook should have been originally forgotten, as
it would seem he was, and his portion of the stock provided with a
title-page which is evidently of the nature of an afterthought, there is
nothing to show. Copies of this second issue are in the Bodleian Library
at Oxford and the British Museum. All the copies mentioned are perfect,
and for the purpose of the present reprint those in the British Museum,
Bodleian and Dyce libraries have been collated throughout. The two
former are in substantial agreement: the Dyce copy has both formes of
sheet A in an uncorrected state: there is a curious progressive error at
l. 2481.
No record of performance survives to corroborate the information
supplied by the second title-page, but from internal evidence it may be
supposed to have taken place some years before publication, the style of
the play being modelled on those popular in the last decade of the
sixteenth century, especially _Tamburlaine_ and the _Spanish Tragedie_.
The complete absence of comic relief, and the exceptional number of
recondite classical allusions, are in favour of the academic origin of
the play, and this is perhaps further evidenced by the fact that the
source, upon which the anonymous author drew, appears to have been, not
Plutarch, but Appian's _Bellum Civile_. Appian alone (book II, chapters
113 and 117) names Bucolianus among Caesar's murderers, though Cicero
mentions him twice in his letters to Atticus as Bucilianus. There is
also one local reference to connect the play with Oxford, in the lines
put into Caesar's mouth.
And _Isis_ wept to see her daughter _Thames_,
Chainge her cleere cristall, to vermilian sad.
(ll. 1278-9.)
The text of the play presents a good many difficulties, and in some
places there is reason to suspect more or less serious lacunae. The
classical names too are often badly corrupted, and the punctuation is
the worst conceivable. There is a division into acts and scenes, but it
neither follows a consistent principle, nor exhibits a correct
numbering. A new division on the ordinarily accepted principles of the
English stage has therefore been introduced in the margin. This has
necessitated a somewhat minute consideration of exits and entrances, and
a special list of necessary stage directions has been added below after
the usual list of irregular readings.
A list of personae is given in the original on the verso of the
title-leaf. The only omission is that of a Lord who has a part in
several scenes.
The thanks of the editor are due to the Rev. H. E. D. Blakiston,
President of Trinity College, Oxford, for information to the effect that
no references to plays are traceable in the account books of the
College, unless a payment of 6s. 6d. for a 'spectaculum in festo
Trinitatis' in 1565 can be so interpreted. A similar debt is owing to
Mr. J. P. Maine, librarian to the Duke of Devonshire, for information as
to the readings of the copy of the original issue of the play preserved
at Chatsworth.
LIST OF IRREGULAR AND DOUBTFUL READINGS
The punctuation of the original is so erratic as to make it impossible
to record all irregularities. The following are particularly frequent:
comma or semi-colon for period, especially at the end of a speech,
period or other stop for query-mark, colon or, less frequently,
semi-colon where at most a comma is needed. As a rule only those cases
have been noticed which would be likely to cause difficulty to a reader
who had the above points in mind.
{TN Catchwords are not shown in this transcription.
Other possible errors, which have not been corrected, are:
718 how (How)
1181 _Phæbus_ (_Phoebus_)
1694 (unusual indentation)
1887 (not indented)
}
A 1^v _Casca._ (_Casea._ 1607)
_Augur._ (_Augur:_ 1607)
_Senators._ (_Seuators._ 1607)
_Octauian._ (_Actauian._ 1607)
_Camber._ (both)
11 which (what)
14 her (? his)
20 field
25 Heauens. O (Heauens, O)
31 sig. A2 (B2 _Dyce only_)
32 Vomit (vomit)
ills (? ills:)
34 BE
44 shild
46 greatnesse. (? greatnesse;)
55 praizd (_i.e._ valued)
59 swaye. (swaye,)
87 When as
98 liuing (liung _Dyce only_)
108 ouerthrowne, (ou erthrowne, _B.M._, _Devon._)
132 a sleepe
136 a waite
143 bisse. (blisse.)
148 beare. (beare,)
149 Wihch (Which)
163 starrs. (starrs,)
167 remououe
169 haue. (haue--)
171 this, (_i.e._ thus,)
175 a misse,
182 farwell, then (farwell then,)
182 c.w. Here (183 Heere)
192 woundring
203 T'was
215 babish
216 sound (sound.)
219 Io ioyfull, Io
227 boucher'd
237 stange
247 enternally
252 c.w. Whilst (253 Whil'st)
261 Thee (? Flee)
blood (blood.)
262 thirst. (thirst,)
263 goaring
277 _Romaine_, (_Romaine_)
288 when as
308 When as
324 Temple (_Tempe_)
325 waues, (waues.)
335 _Scythia_
344 freedon,
349 vnderringing
354 fall:
357 blast,
363 dol-full
410 they (thy)
411 Soule. (_point doubtful, read_ Soule,)
412 What (? That)
413 _Libians_
430 petition. (petition,)
432 permit,. {TN ? superfluous '.'?}
434 Some what
450 turnde, (turnde)
460 with out
468 shue (sue)
474 griefe. (griefe,)
c.w. VVhich (475 Which)
494 handmayde, forth (handmayde forth,)
498 hath
508 woundring
513 poastes. (poastes)
514 name, (name.)
515 bring: (bring)
519 pearles. (pearles)
527 beheld (behold)
535 althings
sees. (sees)
542 _But._ (? _Ant._)
544 _Cæsa_,
549 thee (the)
cut, (cut)
561 weaud (? weand _B.M. only_)
567 fized (fixed)
568 ouer (? euer)
576 _Neptnnus_
598 _Piramids_. (_Piramids_,)
602 _Gnidas_ (_Gnidus_)
609 _Antho._ (_Dis._)
617 Iollity. (Iollity,)
620 _Setorius_ (_Sertorius_)
621 ouerthrowe. (ouerthrowe,)
622 _Nepoune_
627 waight,
blisse. (blisse,)
628 haue. (haue,)
633 night. (night,)
634 plauges
642 SCENA 4.
646 they
selfe. (selfe)
652 like wise
_Ptolomeis_
gould. (gould,)
655 made. (made,)
670 wordly
699 a vaile
704 soueraignety. (soueraignety,)
708 Men. (Men,)
709 entertaynd, (entertaynd.)
713 Earth. (Earth,)
725 sway (sway.)
734 a non,
751-2 (_lacuna_ ?)
763 letter pattens
784 if, (if)
786 a like,
807 cease. (cease,)
818 graue. (graue,)
826 Alacke (Alike)
828 a like
829 causer which (? causer, mine)
835 perlexed
838 be hould
848 Queene, (Queene.)
851 framd. (framd,)
864 prefest.
874 instruments. (instruments,)
883 _Ncmean_
885 os (of)
891 Be sides
893 _Alcionus_:
899 rosall
head, (head.)
900 _Phoebus_
902 respendent
913 _Spicery_, (?)
914 _Nardus_
924 Queene, (Queene)
925 ofhirs:
936 speech (speech.)
947 _Camber_ (_Cimber_)
960 _Cæs._ (_Cas._)
969 tale, (tale,)
971 blood, (blood.)
989 _Cam._ (_Cim._)
991 _Cum._ (990 c.w. _Cam._)
996 _Cibills_
verse. (verse)
1003 sepulcher. (sepulcher,)
1012 praise
1014 bespent (? besprent)
1022 _Romaine_, (_Romaines_,)
1025 _Gic._
1027 borne
1050 learne; (learne,)
1051 althings
1053 blessiings
1059 Counrries
1075 nor (not)
1082 _Hilias_ (_Allias_)
sight: (? fight: _B.M. only_)
1103 slay (stay)
1108 Countries: (Countries)
1111 _Sene._
1118 it (it.)
vse, (vse)
1121 vertues (? vertue)
brunt's,
1137 me (me?)
1149 _Adastria_ (_Adrastia_)
Queene. (Queene,)
1159 sleepe. (sleepe,)
1161 die, (die.)
1162 paintcd
1182 backes. (backes,)
1196 _Lords_, (? _Lord_,)
1198 a fore,
1201 be-hind
past. (past,)
1203 triump (trump)
1205 witner (witnes)
1207 it bound it
1208 _Phægiean_ (_Phlegraean_)
1209 _Tropheus_ (Trophies)
1213 Pompeous
1218 crowne, (crowne.)
1221 onmy
1222 beare. (beare)
1229 _Africans_,
1234 starre. (starre)
1237 Gouernesse. (Gouernesse,)
1246 _Æmelius_,
1258 _Romulus_. (_Romulus_,)
1260 Ouer- (? Euer-)
1262 exquies
1263 _Ioue_. (_Ioue_,)
1264 fame. (fame,)
1265 _Hydasspis_,
1270 Whereby (Were by)
resistles, (resistles)
powers (? power)
1276 _Rohdans_
1278 _Thames_. (_Thames_)
1283 greefe (greefe.)
1318 Afrigted
1321 winde (? minde)
1322 on (_i.e._ one)
1329 my
1335 one (_i.e._ on)
1361 the (thee)
1364 receiue (? reuiue)
1389 persumption:
1423 by (ly)
1426 lotheth (? bodeth)
1429 ACT. 2.
1430 _Anthony_ (_Anthony_,)
_Lords_, (? _Lord_,)
1431 _Pharthia_
1432 _Cæsars_ (? _Crassus_)
1438 _Armenians_
_Medians_
1448 troopes. (troopes,)
1462 victorye. (victorye,)
1467 there by
1468 spur. (spur)
1472 selfe (? selfe's)
1474 will (? well)
1479 euerdaring (? ouerdaring)
1481-2 (_lacuna_?)
1486 or (are)
1491 fame. (fame)
1494 Pincely
1498 liberty. (liberty,)
1522 _Cumber_ (? _Cimber_,)
1539 mis boding
1577 quench-les
1582 a peerce
1604 T'was
1613 hap (hap.)
1619 Bec (?)
1623 fore-cast, (fore-cast)
1633-4 (? _lacuna_)
1637 steeps
1638 threeatning
1643 bale full
1649 bale-full
1650 consort. In (consort, in)
1657 Dre ame
which (with)
1662 _Pre._ (i.e. _Præcentor._)
1665 ilde
1666 Thout
a non
1670 anon, (anon.)
1673 nigh. (nigh,)
1674 house- (?) {TN appears as 'house.' in the text}
1676 sits, (sits ?)
1677 daunger (daunger,)
1693 (? _lacuna_)
1700 Aloud
1702 _Cum.... Cumber_
1704 (_not indented_)
1718 yout (your)
1719 plauge
1730 geeue
1731 liues. (liues)
1735 ambition, (ambition)
1742 see (see?)
1751 heard
1761 a mong
starrs. (starrs)
1763 _Cæsar_, (_Cæsar_)
1771 _Anthony_. (_Anthony_)
1774 a laromes,
1793 in great (? ingrate)
1804 more (more,)
songs. (songs,)
1809 _Hearse Calphurnia_ (_Hearse_, _Calphurnia_,)
1829 deathes,
1836 (_not indented_)
1846 they (thy)
1855 Commonwealth. (Commonwealth,)
1857 Vntucht. (Vntucht,)
1859 e ndles (e nd les _B.M. only_)
1864 yeares. (yeares)
1865 vnconquered; (vnconquered,)
1899 _Romains_ (? _Romes_)
1902 soundes,
1905 hasted
1906 sound,
1909 tombe: (e _doubtful_)
1924 pytiyng
1925 fore
1929 _Syre_,
1971 _Mirapont._
1972 ACT. 3. SCE. 1.
1979 life. (life)
1981 heauens: (?)
1992 _A lcides_
1999 _Spayne_ (_Spayne_,)
2004 auaylesthis
2005 hand. (hand)
2008 Crest. (Crest,)
2019 _on_ (_one_)
2025 _Iiberian_
2030 war-faire (warfare)
2038 warre-faire (warre faire)
2039 Stike
2046 for got
2055 Fathers
2063 hate. (hate)
2067 a rise
2068 vnquenced
2071 comsort (? consort)
2078 youth full
2090 vowd',
2093 Dieties
2100 _Gradinus_ (_Gradiuus_)
2101 ouerburning (euerburning)
2102 _Carpeian_ (_Tarpeian_)
2114 _Stremonia_, (? _Strymon_)
2122 -men (-man)
2136-7 (? _lacuna_)
2155 _Lyeas_ (_Lycus_)
2157 _Tursos_
2164 (And _Dolabella_ [And _Dolabella_ (]
spoyles. (spoyles)
2192 _Numantia_. (_Numantia_,)
2209 _Gradinus_ (_Gradiuus_)
2213 liues.) [?]
2221 Strenghen
2232 acts. (acts)
2252 eur
2272 slaine. (slaine)
2274 Behould (Beheld)
fiends. (fiends)
2276 vpbraues
2283 In (in)
2291 Comegreesly
2309 earth. (earth,)
c.w. wish (Wish)
2313 ire. (ire,)
2318 _Cæsars_ (_Brutus_)
2324 expiate. _Altheas_ come. (? expiate _Altheas_ crime.)
2337 power
2338 extols. (extols,)
2346 c.w. Where (_Cass._ Where)
2356-7 (? _reversed_)
2363 _Echalarian_
2366 Then yet (? _alternatives_)
2371 cruell (_turned_ n _for_ u)
2375 foyld:
2411 accurs'd (_space before_ d _but apostrophe doubtful_)
2422 breath? (? breathe,)
2470 come (come,)
friend (friend;)
2481 comfort rings. _B.M. and Bodl._: comfort gs .
_Devon._: comfort gs.
_Dyce_: _read_ comfort brings.
2498 bee. (bee,)
2500 life. (life;)
2517 a round
2522 cndlesse
vpon. (? vpon,)
2533 The (the)
2552 But (? Nor)
2559 _Elysium_
ADDITIONAL STAGE DIRECTIONS
37 Exit Discord.
331 Exeunt.
366 Exeunt.
481 Enter Anthony.
606 Exeunt.
641 Exit Discord.
765 Exeunt.
1520 Exeunt.
1684 Exit Caesar.
1692 Exit Cassius.
Enter the Senate.
1739 ? Exeunt.
1788 Exit Discord.
1810 Enter Lord.
1971 Exeunt.
2109 ? Exit Ghost.
2125 Exeunt.
2149 Exit Discord.
2269 Exeunt: manet Brutus.
2315 Exit Ghost.
2328 Exit Brutus.
2346 Cato dies.
Enter Cassius.
2382 Exit Cassius.
2433 Exit Titinnius.
2471 Cassius stabs himself.
2501 Titinnius stabs himself.
2525 ? Brutus stabs himself.
2570 Exeunt.
It is possible that Cassius should be marked as entering with the others
at l. 947 and that the speeches of II. iv marked _Cas._ belong to him
and not to Casca.
* * * * *
The thanks of the Society are due to His Grace the Duke of Devonshire
for kind permission to reproduce the title-page of the undated quarto in
his possession.
{ILL facsimile of title page, with caption: UNDATED TITLE-PAGE (DEVON.)}
{ILL facsimile of title page, with caption: TITLE-PAGE 1607 (B.M.)}
{ILL facsimile of first page of text, with caption: A2 RECTO (B.M.)}
THE TRAGEDIE OF Cæsar and Pompey
OR
CÆSARS Reuenge.
AT LONDON
Imprinted by G.E. for _Iohn Wright_, and are to bee
sould at his shop at Christ-church Gate.
The names of the Actors.
_Discora._
_Titinnius._
_Brutus._
_Pompey._
_Cæsar._
_Anthony._
_Dolobella._
_Cornelia._
_Cleopatra._
_Achillas._
_Sempronius._
_Cassius._
_Cato Sen._
_Casca._
_Roman 1._
_Roman 2._
_Bonus Genius._
_Calphurnia._
_Augur._
_Præcentor._
_Senators._
_Bucolian._
_Octauian._
_Cæsars Ghost._
_Cicero._
_Cato Iun._
_Camber._
The Tragedie of Cæsar and Pompey.
{SN _Chor. I_}
_Sound alarum then flames of fire._
_Enter Discord._
Hearke how the _Romaine_ drums sound bloud & death,
And _Mars_ high mounted on his Thracian Steede:
Runs madding through _Pharsalias_ purple fieldes.
The earth that's wont to be a Tombe for Men
It's now entomb'd with Carkases of Men.
The Heauen appal'd to see such hideous sights,
For feare puts out her euer burning lights.
The Gods amaz'd (as once in _Titans_ war,) 10
Do doubt and feare, which boades this deadly iar
The starrs do tremble, and forsake their course,
The _Beare_ doth hide her in forbidden Sea,
Feare makes _Bootes_ swiften her slowe pace,
Pale is _Orion_, _Atlas_ gins to quake,
And his vnwildy burthen to forsake.
_Cæsars_ keene _Falchion_, through the Aduerse rankes,
For his sterne Master hewes a passage out,
Through troupes & troonkes, & steele, & standing blood:
He whose proud Trophies whileom _Asia_ field, 20
And conquered _Pontus_, singe his lasting praise.
Great _Pompey_; Great, while Fortune did him raise,
Nowe vailes the glory of his vanting plumes
And to the ground casts of his high hang'd lookes.
You gentle Heauens. O execute your wrath
On vile mortality, that hath scornd your powers.
You night borne Sisters to whose haires are ty'd
In Adamantine Chaines both Gods and Men
Winde on your webbe of mischiefe and of plagues,
And if, O starres you haue an influence: 30
That may confounde this high erected heape
Downe powre it; Vomit out your worst of ills
Let _Rome_, growne proud, with her vnconquered strength,
Perish and conquered BE with her owne strength:
And win all powers to disioyne and breake,
Consume, confound, dissolue, and discipate
What Lawes, Armes and Pride hath raised vp.
{SN _Act I sc. i_}
_Enter Titinius_
_Tit._ The day is lost our hope and honours lost,
The glory of the _Romaine_ name is lost, 40
The liberty and commonweale is lost,
The Gods that whileom heard the _Romaine_ state,
And _Quirinus_, whose strong puissant arme,
Did shild the tops and turrets of proud _Rome_,
Do now conspire to wracke the gallant Ship,
Euen in the harbor of her wished greatnesse.
And her gay streamers, and faire wauering sayles,
With which the wanton wind was wont to play,
To drowne with Billows of orewhelming woes.
_Enter Brutus_ 50
_Bru._ The Foe preuayles, _Brutus_, thou striuest in vaine.
Many a soule to day is sent to Hell,
And many a galant haue I don to death,
In _Pharsalias_ bleeding Earth: the world can tell,
How litle _Brutus_ praizd this puffe of breath,
If losse of that my countries weale might gaine,
But Heauens and the immortall Gods decreed:
That _Rome_ in highest of her fortunes pich,
In top of souerainty and imperiall swaye.
By her owne height should worke her owne decay. 60
_Enter Pompey_
_Pom._ Where may I fly into some desert place,
Some vncouth, vnfrequented craggy rocke,
Where as my name and state was neuer heard.
I flie the Batle because here I see,
My friends lye bleeding in _Pharsalias_ earth.
Which do remember me what earst I was,
Who brought such troopes of soldiars to the fielde,
And of so many thousand had command:
My flight a heauy memory doth renew, 70
Which tels me I was wont to stay and winne.
But now a souldier of my scatred traine:
Offered me seruice and did call me Lord,
O then I thought whome rising Sunne saw high,
Descending he beheld my misery:
Flie to the holow roote of some steepe rocke,
And in that flinty habitation hide,
Thy wofull face: from face and view of men.
Yet that will tell me this, if naught beside:
_Pompey_ was neuer wont his head to hide 80
Flie where thou wilt, thou bearst about thee smart,
Shame at thy heeles and greefe lies at thy heart.
_Tit._ But see _Titinius_ where two warriers stand,
Casting their eyes downe to the cheareles earthe:
Alasse to soone I know them for to bee
_Pompey_ and _Brutus_, who like _Aiax_ stand,
When as forsooke of Fortune mong'st his foes,
Greife stopt his breath nor could he speake his woes,
_Pom._ Accursed _Pompey_, loe thou art descried.
But stay; they are thy friends that thou behouldest, 90
O rather had I now haue met my foes:
Whose daggers poynts might straight haue piercd my woes
Then thus to haue my friends behold my shame.
Reproch is death to him that liu'd in Fame,
_Bru._ _Brutus_ Cast vp thy discontented looke:
And see two Princes thy two noble friends,
Who though it greeues me that I thus them see,
Yet ioy I to bee seene they liuing be. _He speakes vnto them._
Let not the change of this succesles fight,
(O noble Lords,) dismay these daunteles mindes, 100
Which the faire vertue not blind chance doth rule,
_Cæsar_ not vs subdued hath, but _Rome_,
And in that fight twas best be ouerthrowne.
Thinke that the Conqueror hath won but smale,
Whose victory is but his Countries fal,
_Pom._ O Noble _Brutus_, can I liue and see,
My Souldiars dead, my friends lie slaine in field,
My hopes cast downe, mine Honors ouerthrowne,
My Country subiect to a Tirants rule,
My foe triumphing and my selfe forlorne. 110
Oh had I perished in that prosperous warre
Euen in mine Honors height, that happy day,
When _Mithridates_ fall did rayse my fame:
Then had I gonne with Honor to my graue.
But _Pompey_ was by envious heauens reseru'd,
Captiue to followe _Cæsars_ Chariot wheeles
Riding in triumph to the Capitol:
And _Rome_ oft grac'd with Trophies of my fame,
Shall now resound the blemish of my name.
_Bru._ Oh what disgrace can taunt this worthinesse, 120
Of which remaine such liuing monuments
Ingrauen in the eyes and hearts of men.
Although the oppression of distressed _Rome_
And our owne ouerthrow, might well drawe forth,
Distilling teares from faynting cowards eyes,
Yet should no weake effeminate passion sease
Vpon that man, the greatnesse of whose minde
And not his Fortune made him term'd the Great.
_Pom._ Oh I did neuer tast mine Honours sweete
Nor now can iudge of this my sharpest sowre. 130
Fifty eight yeares in Fortunes sweete soft lap
Haue I beene luld a sleepe with pleasant ioyes,
Me hath she dandled in her foulding Armes,
And fed my hopes with prosperous euentes:
Shee Crownd my Cradle with successe and Honour,
And shall disgrace a waite my haples Hearse?
Was I a youth with Palme and Lawrell girt,
And now an ould man shall I waite my fall?
Oh when I thinke but on my triumphs past,
The Consul-ships and Honours I haue borne; 140
The fame and feare where in great _Pompey_ liu'd,
Then doth my grieued Soule informe me this,
My fall augmented by my former bisse.
_Bru._ Why do we vse of vertues strength to vant,
If euery crosse a Noble mind can daunt,
Wee talke of courage, then, is courage knowne,
When with mishap our state is ouerthrowne:
Neuer let him a Souldiers Title beare.
Wihch in the cheefest brunt doth shrinke and feare,
Thy former haps did Men thy vertue shew, 150
But now that fayles them which thy vertue knew,
Nor thinke this conquest shalbe _Pompeys_ fall:
Or that _Pharsalia_ shall thine honour bury,
_Egipt_ shalbe vnpeopled for thine ayde.
And Cole-black _Libians_, shall manure the grounde
In thy defence with bleeding hearts of men.
_Pom._ O second hope of sad oppressed _Rome_,
In whome the ancient _Brutus_ vertue shines,
That purchast first the _Romaine_ liberty,
Let me imbrace thee: liue victorious youth, 160
When death and angry fates shall call me hence,
To free thy country from a Tyrants yoke.
My harder fortune, and more cruell starrs.
Enuied to me so great a happines.
Do not prolong my life with vaine false hopes,
To deepe dispaire and sorrow I am vow'd:
Do not remououe me from that setled thought,
With hope of friends or ayde of _Ptolomey_,
_Egipt_ and _Libia_ at choyse I haue.
But onely which of them Ile make my graue. 170
_Tit._ Tis but discomfort which misgreeues thee this,
Greefe by dispaire seemes greater then it is,
_Bru._ Tis womannish to wayle and mone our greefe,
By Industrie do wise men seeke releefe,
If that our casting do fall out a misse,
Our cunning play must then correct the dice.
_Pom._ Well if it needs must bee then let me goe,
Flying for ayde vnto my forrayne friends,
And sue and bow, where earst I did command.
He that goeth seeking of a Tirant aide, 180
Though free he went, a seruant then is made.
Take we our last farwell, then though with paine,
Heere three do part that ne're shall meet againe.
_Exit Pompey at on dore, Titinius at
another. Brutus alone_
ACTVS I. SCENA 2.
_Enter Cæsar_
_Cæs._ Follow your chase, and let your light-foote steedes
Flying as swift as did that winged horse
That with strong fethered _Pinions_ cloue the Ayre, 190
Or'take the coward flight of your base foe.
_Bru._ Do not with-drawe thy mortall woundring blade,
But sheath it _Cæsar_ in my wounded heart:
Let not that heart that did thy Country wound
Feare to lay _Brutus_ bleeding on the ground.
Thy fatall stroke of death shall more mee glad,
Then all thy proud and Pompous victories;
My funerall Cypresse, then thy Lawrell Crowne,
My mournefull Beere shall winne more Praise and Fame
Then thy triumphing Sun-bright Chariot. 200
Heere in these fatall fieldes let _Brutus_ die,
And beare so many Romaines company.
_Cæsa._ T'was not 'gainst thee this fatall blade was drawne
Which can no more pierce _Brutus_ tender sides
Then mine owne heart, or ought then heart more deere,
For all the wronges thou didst, or strokes thou gau'st
_Cæsar_ on thee will take no worse reuenge,
Then bid thee still commande him and his state:
True setled loue can neere bee turn'd to hate.
_Brut._ To what a pitch would this mans vertues sore, 210
Did not ambition clog his mounting fame,
_Cæsar_ thy sword hath all blisse from me taine
And giuest me life where best were to be slaine.
O thou hast robd me of my chiefest ioy,
And seek'st to please me with a babish toye. _Exit Brutus._
_Cæs._ _Cæsar Pharsalia_ doth thy conquest sound
_Ioues_ welcom messenger faire Victory,
Hath Crown'd thy temples with victorious bay,
And Io ioyfull, Io doth she sing
And through the world thy lasting prayses ring. 220
But yet amidst thy gratefull melody
I heare a hoarse, and heauy dolfull voyce,
Of my deare Country crying, that to day
My Glorious triumphs worke her owne decay.
In which how many fatall strokes I gaue,
So many woundes her tender brest receiu'd.
Heere lyeth one that's boucher'd by his Sire
And heere the Sonne was his old Fathers death,
Both slew vnknowing, both vnknowne are slaine,
O that ambition should such mischiefe worke 230
Or meane Men die for great mens proud desire.
ACTVS 1. SCENA 3.
_Enter Anthony, Dolobella, Lord and others._
_An._ From sad _Pharsalia_ blushing al with bloud,
From deaths pale triumphes, _Pompey_ ouerthrowne,
_Romains_ in forraine soyles, brething their last,
Reuenge, stange wars and dreadfull stratagems,
Wee come to set the Lawrell on thy head
And fill thy eares with triumphs and with ioyes.
_Dolo._ As when that _Hector_ from the _Grecian_ campe 240
With spoiles of slaughtered _Argians_ return'd,
The _Troyan_ youths with crownes of conquering palme:
The _Phrigian_ Virgins with faire flowry wrethes
Welcom'd the hope, and pride of _Ilium_,
So for thy victory and conquering actes
Wee bring faire wreths of Honor & renowne,
Which shall enternally thy head adorne.
_Lord._ Now hath thy sword made passage for thy selfe,
To wade in bloud of them that sought thy death,
The ambitious riuall of thine Honors high, 250
Whose mightinesse earst made him to be feard
Now flies and is enforc'd to giue thee place.
Whil'st thou remainst the conquering _Hercules_
Triumphing in thy spoyles and victories.
_Cæs._ When _Phoebus_ left faire _Thetis_ watery couch,
And peeping forth from out the goulden gate
Of his bright pallace, saw our battle rank'd:
Oft did hee seeke to turne his fiery steedes,
Oft hid his face, and shund such tragick sights
What stranger passest euer by this cost 260
Thee this accursed soyle distainde with blood
Not Christall riuers, are to quench thy thirst.
For goaring streames, their riuers cleerenesse staines:
Heere are no hils wherewith to feede thine eyes,
But heaped hils of mangled Carkases,
Heere are no birdes to please thee with their notes:
But rauenous Vultures, and night Rauens horse.
_Anto._ What meanes great _Cæsar_, droopes our generall,
Or melts in womanish compassion:
To see _Pharsalias_ fieldes to change their hewe 270
And siluer streames be turn'd to lakes of blood?
Why _Cæsar_ oft hath sacrific'd in _France_,
Millions of Soules, to _Plutoes_ grisly dames:
And made the changed coloured _Rhene_ to blush,
To beare his bloody burthen to the sea.
And when as thou in mayden _Albion_ shore
The _Romaine_, Ægle brauely didst aduance,
No hand payd greater tribute vnto death,
No heart with more couragious Noble fire
And hope, did burne with glorious great intent. 280
And now shall passion base that Noble minde,
And weake euents that courrage ouercome?
Let _Pompey_ proud, and _Pompeys_ Complices
Die on our swords, that did enuie our liues,
Let pale _Tysiphone_ be cloyd with bloud:
And snaky furies quench their longing thirst,
And _Cæsar_ liue to glory in their end.
_Cæs._ They say when as the younger _Affrican_,
Beheld the mighty Carthage wofull fall:
And sawe her stately Towers to smoke from farre, 290
He wept, and princely teares ran downe his cheekes,
Let pity then and true compassion,
Moue vs to rue no traterous _Carthage_ fall,
No barbarous periurd enemies decay,
But _Rome_ our natiue Country, haples _Rome_,
Whose bowels to vngently we haue peerc'd,
Faire pride of _Europe_, Mistresse of the world,
Cradle of vertues, nurse of true renowne,
Whome _Ioue_ hath plac'd in top of seauen hils:
That thou the lower worldes seauen climes mightst rule. 300
Thee the proud _Parthian_ and the cole-black _Moore_,
The sterne _Tartarian_, borne to manage armes,
Doth feare and tremble at thy Maiesty.
And yet I bred and fostered in thy lappe,
Durst striue to ouerthrowe thy Capitol:
And thy high Turrets lay as low as hell.
_Dolo._ O _Rome_, and haue the powers of Heauen decreed,
When as thy fame did reach vnto the Skie,
And the wide _Ocean_ was thy Empires boundes,
And thou enricht with spoyles of all the world, 310
Was waxen proud with peace and soueraine raigne:
That Ciuill warres should loose what Forraine won,
And peace his ioyes, be turn'd to luckles broyles.
_Lord._ O _Pompey_, cursed cause of ciuill warre,
Which of those hel-borne sterne _Eumenides_:
Inflam'd thy minde with such ambitious fire,
As nought could quench it but thy Countries bloud.
_Dolo._ But this no while thy valour doth destayne,
Which found'st vnsought for cause of ciuill broyles,
And fatall fuell which this fire enflamd. 320
_Anto._ Let then his death set period to this strife,
Which was begun by his ambitious life.
_Cæs._ The flying _Pompey_ to _Larissa_ hastes,
And by _Thessalian_ Temple shapes his course:
Where faire _Peneus_ tumbles vp his waues,
Him weele pursue as fast as he vs flies,
Nor he though garded with _Numidian_ horse,
Nor ayded with the vnresisted powre:
The _Meroe_, or seauen mouth'd Nile can yeeld:
No not all _Affrick_ arm'd in his defence 330
Shall serue to shrowd him from my fatall sworde. _Exit._
ACT. I. SC. 4. {SN _Act I sc. ii_}
_Enter Cato._
_Ca._ O where is banish'd liberty exil'd,
To _Affrick_ deserts or to _Scythia_ rockes,
Or whereas siluer streaming _Tanais_ is?
Happy is _India_ and _Arabia_ blest,
And all the bordering regions vpon _Nile_
That neuer knew the name of Liberty,
But we that boast of _Brutes_ and _Colatins_, 340
And glory we expeld proud _Tarquins_ name,
Do greeue to loose, that we so long haue held.
Why reckon we our yeares by Consuls names:
And so long ruld in freedon, now to serue?
They lie that say in Heauen there is a powre
That for to wracke the sinnes of guilty men,
Holds in his hand a fierce three-forked dart.
Why would he throw them downe on _Oéta_ mount
Or wound the vnderringing _Rhodope_,
And not rayne showers of his dead-doing dartes, 350
Furor in flame, and Sulphures smothering heate
Vpon the wicked and accurs'd armes
That cruell _Romains_ 'gainst their Country beare.
_Rome_ ware thy fall: those prodigies foretould,
When angry heauens did powre downe showers of blood
And fatall _Comets_ in the heauens did blase,
And all the Statues in the Temple blast,
Did weepe the losse of _Romaine_ liberty.
Then if the Gods haue destined thine end,
Yet as a Mother hauing lost her Sonne, 360
_Cato_ shall waite vpon thy tragick hearse,
And neuer leaue thy cold and bloodles corse.
Ile tune a sad and dol-full funerall song,
Still crying on lost liberties sweete name,
Thy sacred ashes will I wash with teares,
And thus lament my Countries obsequies.
ACT. I. SC. 5. {SN _Act I sc. iii_}
_Enter Pompey and Cornelia._
_Cor._ O cruel _Pompey_ whether wilt thou flye,
And leaue thy poore _Cornelia_ thus forlorne, 370
Is't our bad fortune or thy cruell will
That still it seuers in extremity.
O let me go with thee, and die with thee,
Nothing shall thy _Cornelia_ grieuous thinke
That shee endures for her sweete _Pompeys_ sake.
_Pom._ Tis for thy weale and safty of thy life,
Whose safty I preferre before the world,
Because I loue thee more then all the world,
That thou (sweete loue) should'st heere remaine behinde
Till proofe assureth _Ptolomyes_ doubted faith. 380
_Cor._ O deerest, what shall I my safty call,
That which is thrust in dangers harmefull mouth?
Lookes not the thing so bad with such a name,
Call it my death, my bale, my wo, my hell,
That which indangers my sweete _Pompeys_ life.
_Pom._ It is no danger (gentle loue) at all,
Tis but thy feare that doth it so miscall.
_Cor._ Ift bee no danger let me go with thee,
And of thy safty a partaker bee,
Alas why would'st thou leaue mee thus alone: 390
Thinkst thou I cannot follow thee by Land
That thus haue followed thee ouer raging Seas,
Or do I varie in inconstant hopes:
O but thinke you my pleasure luckles is
And I haue made thee more vnfortunate.
Tis I, tis I, haue caus'd this ouerthrow,
Tis my accursed starres that boade this ill,
And those mis-fortunes to my princely loue,
Reuenge thee _Pompey_, on this wicked brat,
And end my woes by ending of my life, 400
_Pom._ What meanes my loue to aggrauate my griefe,
And torture my enough tormented Soule,
With greater greuance then _Pharsalian_ losse?
Thy rented hayre doth rent my heart in twayne,
And these fayr Seas, that raine downe showers of tears,
Do melt my soule in liqued streames of sorrow.
If that in _Ægipt_ any daunger bee,
Then let my death procure thy sweet liues safety,
_Cor._ Can I bee safe and _Pompey_ in distresse,
Or may _Cornelia_ suruiue they death, 410
What daunger euer happens to my Soule.
What daunger eke shall happen to my life,
Nor _Libians_ quick-sands, nor the barking gulfe,
Or gaping _Scylla_ shall this Vnion part,
But still Ile chayne thee in my twining armes,
And if I cannot liue Ile die with thee.
_Pom._ O how thy loue doth ease my greeued minde,
Which beares a burthen heauier then the Heauens,
Vnder the which steele-shouldred Atlas grones
But now thy loue doth hurt thy selfe and me, 420
And thy to ardent strong affection,
Hinders my setled resolution.
Then by this loue, and by these christall eyes,
More bright then are the Lamps of _Ioues_ high house,
Let me in this (I feare) my last request.
Not to indanger thy beloued life,
But in this ship remayne, and here awaite,
How Fortune dealeth with our doubtfull State,
_Cor._ Not so perswaded as coniurd sweete loue,
By thy commanding meeke petition. 430
I cannot say I yeeld, yet am constraind,
This neuer meeting parting to permit,
Then go deere loue, yet stay a little while,
Some what I am shure, tis more I haue to say,
Nay nothing now but Heauens guide thy steps.
Yet let me speake, why should we part so soone,
Why is my talke tedious? may be tis the last.
Do women leaue their husbands in such hast,
_Pom._ More faithfull, then that fayre deflowred dame,
That sacrifizde her selfe to Chastety, 440
And far more louing then the _Charian_ Queene,
That dranke her Husbands neuer sundred heart.
If that I dye, yet will it glad my soule,
Which then shall feede on those _Elisian_ ioyes,
That in the sacred Temple of thy breast,
My liuing memory shall shrined bee.
But if that enuious fates should call thee hence,
And Death with pale and meager looke vsurpe,
Vpon those rosiate lips, and Currall cheekes,
Then Ayre be turnde, to poyson to infect me, 450
Earth gape and swallow him that Heauens hate,
Consume me Fire with thy deuouring flames,
Or Water drowne, who else would melt in teares.
But liue, liue happy still, in safety liue,
Who safety onely to my life can giue. _Exit._
_Cor._ O he is gon, go hie thee after him,
My vow forbids, yet still my care is with thee,
My cryes shall wake the siluer Moone by night,
And with my teares I will salute the Morne.
No day shall passe with out my dayly plaints, 460
No houre without my prayers for thy returne.
My minde misgiues mee _Pompey_ is betrayd.
O _Ægypt_ do not rob me of my loue.
Why beareth _Ptolomy_ so sterne a looke?
O do not staine thy childish yeares with blood:
Whil'st _Pompey_ florished in his Fortunes pride,
_Ægypt_ and _Ptolomy_ were faine to serue
And shue for grace to my distressed Lord:
But little bootes it, to record he was,
To be is onely that which Men respect, 470
Go poore _Cornelia_ wander by the shore
And see the waters raging Billowes swell,
And beate with fury gainst the craggy rockes,
To that compare thy strong tempestuous griefe.
Which fiercely rageth in thy feeble heart,
Sorrow shuts vp the passage of thy breath:
And dries the teares that pitty faine would shed,
This onely therefore, this will I still crie,
Let _Pompey_ liue although _Cornelia_ die. _Exit._
ACTVS I. SCENA. 6. {SN _Act I sc. iv_}
_Enter Cæsar, Cleopatra, Dolobella, Lord and others_
_Cæs._ Thy sad complaints fayre Lady cannot chuse, 482
But mooue a heart though made of _Adamant_,
And draw to yeeld vnto thy powerfull plaint,
I will replant thee in the _Ægiptian_ Throne
And all thy wrongs shall _Cæsar's_ vallor right,
Ile pull thy crowne from the vsurpers head,
And make the Conquered _Ptolomey_ to stoope,
And feare by force to wrong a mayden Queene.
_Cleo._ Looke as the Earth at her great loues approch, 490
When goulden tressed fayre _Hipperions_ Sonne
With those life-lending beames salutes his Spouse,
Doth then cast of her moorning widdowes weeds,
And calleth her handmayde, forth her flowery fayre,
To cloth her in the beauty of the spring,
And of fayre primroses, and sweet violets,
To make gay Garlonds for to crowne her head.
So hath your presence, welcome and fayre sight,
That glads the world, comforts poore _Ægipts_ Queene,
Who begs for succor of that conquering hand, 500
That as _Ioues_ Scepter this our world doth sway.
_Dolo._ Who would refuse to ayde so fayre a Queene.
_Lord._ Base bee the mind, that for so sweet a fayre,
Would not aduenture more then _Perseus_ did,
When as he freed the faire _Andromeda_.
_Cæsar._ O how those louely _Tyranizing_ eyes,
The Graces beautious habitation,
Where sweet desire, dartes woundring shafts of loue:
Consume my heart with inward burning heate.
Not onely _Ægipt_, but all _Africa_, 510
Will I subiect to _Cleopatras_ name.
Thy rule shall stretch from vnknowne _Zanziber_,
Vnto those Sandes where high erected poastes.
Of great _Alcides_, do vp hold his name,
The sunne burnt Indians, from the east shall bring:
Their pretious store of pure refined gould,
The laboring worme shall weaue the _Africke_ twiste,
And to exceed the pompe of _Persian_ Queene,
The Sea shall pay the tribute of his pearles.
For to adorne thy goulden yellow lockes, 520
Which in their curled knots, my thoughts do hold,
Thoughtes captiud to thy beauties conquering power.
_Anto._ I marueyle not at that which fables tell,
How rauisht _Hellen_ moued the angry _Greeks_,
To vndertake eleuen yeares tedious seege,
To re-obtayne a beauty so diuine,
When I beheld thy sweete composed face.
O onely worthy for whose matchles sake,
Another seege, and new warres should arise,
_Hector_ be dragde about the _Grecian_ campe, 530
And _Troy_ againe consumed with _Grecian_ fire.
_Cleo._ Great Prince, what thanks can _Cleopatra_ giue,
Nought haue poore Virgins to requite such good:
My simple selfe and seruice then vouchsafe,
And let the heauens, and he that althings sees.
With equall eyes such merits recompence,
I doe not seeke ambitiously to rule,
And in proud _Africa_ to monarchize.
I onely craue that what my father gaue,
Who in his last be-hest did dying, will, 540
That I should ioyntly with my brother raigne:
_But._ How sweet those words drop from those hunny lips
Which whilst she speakes they still each other kisse.
_Cæsa_, Raigne, I, stil raigne in _Cæsars_ conquered thoughts,
There build thy pallace, and thy sun-bright throne:
There sway thy Scepter, and with it beat downe,
Those traiterous thoughts (if any dare aryse:)
That will not yeeld to thy perfection,
To chase thee flying _Pompey_ haue I cut,
The great _Ionian_, and _Egean_ seas: 550
And dredeles past the toyling Hellespont,
Famous for amorous _Leanders_ death:
And now by gentle Fortunes so am blest,
As to behold what mazed thoughtes admire:
Heauens wonder, Natures and Earths Ornament,
And gaze vpon these firy sun-bright eyes:
The Heauenly spheares which Loue and Beauty mooue,
These Cheekes where Lillyes and red-roses striue,
For soueraignty, yet both do equall raigne:
The dangling tresses of thy curled haire, 560
Nets weaud to cach our frayle and wandring thoughts:
Thy beauty shining like proud _Phoebus_ face,
When _Ganges_ glittereth with his radiant beames
He on his goulden trapped _Palfreys_ rides,
That from their nostrels do the morning blow,
Through Heauens great path-way pau'd with shining starres
Thou art the fized pole of my Soules ioy,
Bout which my resteles thoughts are ouer turn'd:
My _Cynthia_, whose glory neuer waynes,
Guyding the Tide of mine affections: 570
That with the change of thy imperious lookes,
Dost make my doubtfull ioyes to eb and flowe.
_Cleo._ Might all the deedes thy hands had ere achiu'd,
That make thy farre extolled name to sound:
From sun-burnt East vnto the VVestern Iles,
VVhich great _Neptnnus_ fouldeth in his armes,
It shall not be the least to seat a Maide,
And inthronize her in her natiue right.
_Lord._ VVhat neede you stand disputing on your right,
Or prouing title to the _Ægiptian_ Crowne: 580
Borne to be Queene and Empresse of the world.
_An._ On thy perfection let me euer gaze,
And eyes now learne to treade a louers maze,
Heere may you surfet with delicious store,
The more you see, desire to looke the more:
Vpon her face a garden of delite,
Exceeding far _Adonis_ fayned Bowre,
Heere staind white Lyllies spread their branches faire,
Heere lips send forth sweete Gilly-flowers smell.
And Damasck-rose in her faire cheekes do bud, 590
VVhile beds of Violets still come betweene
VVith fresh varyety to please the eye,
Nor neede these flowers the heate of _Phoebus_ beames,
They cherisht are by vertue of her eyes.
O that I might but enter in this bowre,
Or once attaine the cropping of the flower.
_Cæs._ Now wend we Lords to _Alexandria_,
Famous for those wide wondred _Piramids_.
Whose towring tops do seeme to threat the skie,
And make it proud by presence of my loue: 600
Then _Paphian_ Temples and _Cytherian_ hils,
And sacred _Gnidas_ bonnet vaile to it,
A fayrer saint then _Venus_ there shall dwell.
_Antho._ Led with the lode-starre of her lookes, I go
As crazed Bark is toss'd in trobled Seas,
Vncertaine to ariue in wished port.
ACT. I. FINIS.
{SN _Chor. II_}
_Enter Discord Flashes of fire._
_Antho._ Now _Cæsar_ hath thy flattering Fortune heapt
Those golden gifts and promis'd victories, 610
By fatall signes at _Rubicon_ foretould:
Then triumph in thy glorious greatest pride,
And boast thou cast the lucky Die so well,
Now let the _Triton_ that did sound alarme,
In his shrill trump resound the victory,
That Heauen and Earth may Ecco of thy fame:
Yet thinke in this thy Fortunes Iollity.
Though _Cæsar_ be as great as great may be,
Yet _Pompey_ once was euen as great as he,
And how he rode clad in _Setorius_ spoyles: 620
And the _Sicilian_ Pirats ouerthrowe.
Ruling like _Nepoune_ in the mid-land Seas,
Who basely now by Land and Sea doth flie,
The heauenly _Rectors_ prosecuting wrath,
Yet Sea nor Land can shroud him from this iar,
O how it ioyes my discord thirsting thoughts,
To see them waight, that whilom flow'd in blisse.
To see like _Banners_, vnlike quarrels haue.
And _Roman_ weapons shethd in _Roman_ blood,
For this I left the deepe Infernall shades 630
And past the sad _Auernus_ vgly iawes,
And in the world came I, being Discord hight,
Discord the daughter of the greesly night.
To make the world a hell of plauges and woes,
Twas I that did the fatal Aple fling,
Betwixt the three _Idean_ goddesses,
That so much blood of _Greekes_ and _Troians_ spilt,
Twas I that caused the deadly _Thebans_ warre,
And made the brothers swell with endlesse hate.
And now O _Rome_, woe, woe, to thee I cry 640
Which to the world do bring al misery.
ACTVS 2. SCENA 4. {SN _Act II sc. i_}
_Enter Achillas, and Sempronius._
_Ach._ Here are we placed, by _Ptolomies_ command,
To murther _Pompey_ when he comes on shore,
Then braue _Sempronius_ prepare they selfe.
To execute the charge thou hast in hand,
_Sem._ I am a _Romaine_, and haue often serued,
Vnder his collours, when in former state,
_Pompey_ hath bin the Generall of the field, 650
But cause I see that now the world is changd:
And like wise feele some of King _Ptolomeis_ gould.
Ile kill him were he twenty Generalls,
And send him packing to his longest home.
I maruell of what mettell was the _French_ man made.
Who when he should haue stabbed _Marius_,
They say he was astonished with his lookes.
_Marius_, had I beene there, thou neere hadst liu'd,
To brag thee of thy seauen Consulships.
_Achil._ Brauely resolu'd, Noble _Sempronius_, 660
The damnedst villaine that ere I heard speake:
But great men still must haue such instruments,
To bring about their purpose, which once donne,
The deede they loue, but do the doer hate:
Thou shalt no lesse (stout _Romaine_) be renown'd,
For being _Pompeys_ Deaths-man, then was he,
That fir'd the faire _Ægiptian_ Goddesse Church.
_Sem._ Nay that's al one, report say what she list,
Tis for no shadowes I aduenture for:
Heere are the Crownes, heere are the wordly goods, 670
This betweene Princes doth contention bring:
Brothers this sets at ods, turnes loue to hate;
It makes the Sonne to wish his Father hang'd
That he thereby might reuell with his bagges:
And did I knowe that in my Mothers womb,
There lurk'd a hidden vaine of Sacred gould,
This hand, this sword, should rape and rip it out.
_Achil._ Compassion would that greedinesse restraine.
_Sem._ I that's my fault, I am to compassionate,
Why man, art thou a souldier and dost talke 680
Of womanish pity and compassion?
Mens eyes must mil-stones drop, when fooles shed teares,
But soft heeres _Pompey_, Ile about my worke.
_Enter Pompey._
_Pom._ Trusting vpon King _Ptolomeys_ promis'd fayth,
And hoping succor, I am come to shore:
In _Egipt_ heere a while to make aboade.
_Sem._ Fayth longer _Pompey_ then thou dost expect.
_Pom._ See now worlds Monarchs, whom your state makes proud
That thinke your Honors to be permanent, 690
Of Fortunes change see heere a president,
Who whilom did command, now must intreate
And sue for that which to accept of late,
Vnto the giuer was thought fortunate.
_Sem._ I pray thee _Pompey_ do not spend thy breath,
In reckning vp these rusty titles now,
Which thy ambition grac'd thee with before,
I must confesse thou wert my Generall,
But that cannot a vaile to saue thy life.
Talke of thy Fortune while thou list, 700
There is thy fortune _Pompey_ in my fist.
_Pom._ O you that know what hight of honor meanes,
What tis for men that lulled in fortunes lap,
Haue climd the heighest top of soueraignety.
From all that pomp to be cast hed-long downe,
You may conceaue what _Pompey_ doth sustayne,
I was not wont to walke thus all alone,
But to be met with troopes of Horse and Men.
With playes and pageants to be entertaynd,
A courtly trayne in royall rich aray, 710
With spangled plumes, that daunced in the ayre,
Mounted on steeds, with braue Caparisons deckt,
That in their gates did seeme to scorne the Earth.
Was wont my intertaynment beautiefie,
But now thy comming is in meaner sort,
They by thy fortune will thy welcom rate.
_Sem._ What dost thou for such entertaynement looke,
_Pompey_ how ere thy comming hether bee,
I haue prouided for thy going hence.
_Achi._ I will draw neere, and with fayre pleasing shew, 720
Wellcome great _Pompey_ as the _Siren_ doth
The wandering shipman with her charming song.
_Pom._ O how it greeues a noble hauty mind,
Framed vp in honors vncontrouled schoole,
To serue and sue, whoe erst did rule and sway
What shall I goe and stoope to _Ptolomey_,
Nought to a noble mind more greefe can bring
Then be a begger where thou wert a King,
_Ach._ Wellcome a shore most great and gratious prince
Welcome to _Ægipt_ and to _Ptolomey_. 730
The King my Maister is at hand my Lord,
To gratulate your safe ariuall heere.
_Sem._ This is the King, and here is the Gentleman,
Which must thy comming gratulate a non,
_Pom._ Thanks worthy Lord vnto your King and you,
It ioyes me much that in extremity,
I found so sure a friend as _Ptolomey_,
_Sem._ Now is the date of thy proud life expird,
To which my poniard must a full poynt put,
_Pompey_ from _Ptolomey_ I come to thee, 740
From whome a presant and a guift I bring,
This is the gift and this my message is _Stab him_
_Pom._ O Villaine thou hast slayne thy Generall,
And with thy base hand gor'd my royall heart.
Well I haue liued till to that height I came,
That all the world did tremble at my name,
My greatnesse then by fortune being enuied,
Stabd by a murtherous villaynes hand I died.
_Ach._ What is he dead, then straight cut of his head,
That whilom mounted with ambitions wings: 750
_Cæsar_ no doubt with praise and noble thanks,
Regarding well this well deserued deede,
Whome weele present with this most pleasing gift,
_Sem._ Loe you my maisters, hee that kills but one,
Is straight a Villaine and a murtherer cald,
But they that vse to kill men by the great,
And thousandes slay through their ambition,
They are braue champions, and stout warriors cald,
Tis like that he that steales a rotten sheepe
That in a dich would else haue cast his hide, 760
He for his labour hath the haltars hier.
But Kings and mighty Princes of the world,
By letter pattens rob both Sea and Land.
Do not then _Pompey_ of thy murther plaine,
Since thy ambition halfe the world hath slayne.
ACTVS 2. SCENA. 2. {SN _Act II sc. ii_}
_Enter Cornelia._
_Corne._ O traterous villaines, hold your murthering hands,
Or if that needes they must be washt in blood,
Imbrue them heere, heere in _Cornelias_ brest. 770
Ay mee as I stood looking from the Ship
(Accursed shippe that did not sinke and drowne:
And so haue sau'd me from so loath'd a sight)
Thee to behold what did betide my Lord,
My _Pompey_ deere (nor _Pompey_ now nor Lord)
I sawe those villaines that but now were heere:
Bucher my loue and then with violence,
To drawe his deare beloued Body hence;
What dost thou stand to play the Oratrix,
And tell a tale of thy deere husbands death? 780
Doth _Pompey_, doth thy loue moue thee no more?
Go cursed _Cornelia_ rent thy wretched haire,
Drowne blobred cheekes in seas of saltest teares.
And if, it be true that sorrowes feeling powre,
Could turne poore _Niobe_ into a weeping stone
O let mee weepe a like, and like stone be,
And you poore lights, that sawe this tragick sight,
Be blind and punnish'd with eternall night.
Vnhappy long to speake, bee neare so bould
Since that thou this so heauy tale hast tould. 790
These are but womanish exclamations
Light sorrowe makes such lamentations,
_Pompey_ no words my true griefe can declare,
This for thy loue shalbe my best welfare. _Stab her selfe._
ACT. 2. SCE. 3. {SN _Act II sc. iii_}
_Enter Cæsar, Cleopatra, Anthony,
Dolobella, a Lord,_
_Cæsar._ There sterne _Achillas_ and _Fortunius_ lie,
Traytorous _Sempronius_ and proud _Ptolomey_,
Go plead your cause fore the angry _Rhadamant_, 800
And tel him why you basely _Pompey_ slew.
And let your guilty blood appease his Ghost,
That now sits wandring by the Stygian bankes,
Vnworthy sacrifice to quite his worth,
For _Pompey_ though thou wert mine enemy,
And vayne ambition mou'd vs to this strife;
Yet now in death when strife and enuy cease.
Thy princely vertues and thy noble minde,
Moue me to rue thy vndeserued death,
That found a greater daunger then it fled; 810
Vnhapy man to scape so many wars,
And to protract thy glorious day so long,
Here for to perish in a barbarous soyle,
And end liues date stabd by a Bastards hand,
But yet with honour shalt thou be Intomb'd,
I will enbalme thy body with my teares,
And put thy ashes in an Vrne of gold,
And build with marble a deserued graue.
Whose worth indeede a Temple ought to haue.
_Dolo._ See how compassion drawes foorth Princely teares 820
And Vertue weepes her enemies funerall,
So sorrowed the mighty _Alexander_,
When _Bessus_ hand caus'd _Darius_ to die.
_Ant._ These greeued sorrowing Princes do with me,
Ioyntly agree in Contrariety,
Alacke we mourne, greeued is our mind alike,
Our gate is discontented, heauy our lookes,
Our sorrowes all a like, but dislike cause.
Their foe is their grifes causer which my friend,
It is the losse of one that makes them wayle, 830
But I, that one there is a cruell one,
Do wayle and greeue and vnregarded mone.
Fayre beames cast forth from these dismayfull eyes,
Chaine my poore heart, in loue and sorrowes giues,
_Cleo._ Forget sweete Prince these sad perlexed thoughts,
Withdraw thy mind in clowdy discontent,
And with _Ægiptian_ pleasures feed thine eyes,
Wilt thou be hould the Sepulchers of Kings,
And Monuments that speake the workemens prayse?
Ile bring thee to Great _Alexanders_ Tombe, 840
Where he, whome all the world could not suffice,
In bare six foote of Earth, intombed lies,
And shew thee all the cost and curious art,
Which either _Cleops_ or our _Memphis_ boast:
Would you command a banquit in the Court,
Ile bring you to a Royall goulden bowre,
Fayrer then that wherein great _Ioue_ doth sit,
And heaues vp boles of _Nectar_ to his Queene,
A stately Pallace, whose fayre doble gates:
Are wrought with garnish'd Carued Iuory, 850
And stately pillars of pure bullion framd.
With Orient Pearles and Indian stones imbost,
With golden Roofes that glister like the Sunne,
Shalbe prepard to entertaine my Loue:
Or wilt thou see our _Academick_ Schooles,
Or heare our Priests to reason of the starres,
Hence _Plato_ fecht his deepe Philosophy:
And heere in Heauenly knowledg they excell.
_Antho._ More then most faire, another Heauen to me,
The starres where on Ile gaze shalbe thy face, 860
Thy morall deedes my sweete Philosophy,
_Venus_ the muse whose ayde I must implore:
O let me profit in this study best,
For Beauties scholler I am now prefest.
_Lord._ See how this faire _Egiptian_ Sorceres,
Enchantes these Noble warriars man-like mindes,
And melts their hearts in loue and wantones.
_Cæs._ Most glorious Queene, whose cheerefull smiling words
Expell these cloudes that ouer cast my minde.
_Cæsar_ will ioy in _Cleopatras_ ioy, 870
And thinke his fame no whit disparaged,
To change his armes, and deadly sounding droms,
For loues sweete Laies, and Lydian harmony,
And now hang vp these Idle instruments.
My warlike speare and vncontrouled crest:
My mortall wounding sword and siluer shield,
And vnder thy sweete banners beare the brunt,
Of peacefull warres and amarous Alarmes:
Why _Mars_ himselfe his bloudy rage alayd,
Dallying in _Venus_ bed hath often playd, 880
And great _Alcides_, when he did returne:
From _Iunos_ taskes, and _Nemean_ victories,
From monsters fell, and _Ncmean_ toyles:
Reposed himselfe in _Deianiras_ armes.
Heere will I pitch the pillars os my fame,
Heere the _non vltra_ of my labors write,
And with these Cheekes of Roses, lockes of Gold,
End my liues date, and trauayles manifould.
_Dolo._ How many lets do hinder vertuous mindes,
From the pursuit of honours due reward, 890
Be sides _Caribdis_, and fell _Scyllas_ spight:
More dangerous _Circe_ and _Calipsoes_ cup,
Then pleasant gardens of _Alcionus_:
And thousand lets voluptiousnesse doth offer.
_Cæs._ I will regard no more these murtherous spoyles,
And bloudy triumphs that I lik'd of late:
But in loues pleasures spend my wanton dayes,
Ile make thee garlondes of sweete smelling flowers,
And with faire rosall Chaplets crowne thy head,
The purple _Hyacinth_ of _Phoebus_ Land: 900
Fresh _Amarinthus_ that doth neuer die,
And faire _Narcissus_ deere respendent shoars,
And Violets of Daffadilles so sweete,
Shall Beautify the Temples of my Loue,
Whil'st I will still gaze on thy beautious eyes,
And with Ambrosean kisses bath thy Cheekes.
_Cleo._ Come now faire Prince, and feast thee in our Courts
Where liberal _Cæres_, and _Liæus_ fat,
Shall powre their plenty forth and fruitfull store,
The sparkling liquor shall ore-flow his bankes: 910
And _Meroé_ learne to bring forth pleasant wine,
Fruitfull _Arabia_, and the furthest Ind,
Shall spend their treasuries of _Spicery_
VVith _Nardus_ Coranets weele guird our heads:
And al the while melodious warbling notes,
Passing the seauen-fould harmony of Heauen:
Shall seeme to rauish our enchanted thoughts,
Thus is the feare of vnkinde _Ptolomey_,
Changed by thee to feast in Iolity:
_Antho._ O how mine stares suck vp her heauenly words, 920
The whilst mine eyes do prey vpon her face:
_Cæs._ Winde we then _Anthony_ with this Royall Queene,
This day weele spend in mirth and banqueting.
_Antho._ Had I Queene, _Iunoes_ heard-mans hundred eies,
To gaze vpon these two bright Sunnes ofhirs:
Yet would they all be blinded instantly.
_Cæs._ VVhat hath some Melancholy discontent,
Ore-come thy minde with trobled passions.
_Ant._ Yet being blinded with the Sunny beames,
Her beauties pleasing colours would restore, 930
Decayed sight with fresh variety.
_Lord._ Lord _Anthony_ what meanes this trobled minde,
_Cæsar_ inuites thee to the royall feast,
That faire Queene _Cleopatra_ hath prepard.
_Antho._ Pardon me worthy _Cæsar_ and you Lords,
In not attending your most gratious speech
Thoughts of my Country, and returne to _Rome_,
Som-what distempered my busy head.
_Cæs._ Let no such thoughts distemper now thy minde,
This day to _Bacchus_ will wee consecrate, 940
And in deepe goblets of the purest wine,
Drinke healths vnto our seuerall friends at home.
_Antho._ If of my Country or of _Rome_ I thought,
Twas that I neuer ment for to come there,
But spend my life in this sweete paradise. _Exeunt._
ACT. 2. SCE. 4. {SN _Act II sc. iv_}
_Enter Cicero, Brutus, Casca, Camber, Trebonius._
_Cice._ Most prudent heads, that with your councels wise,
The pillars of the mighty _Rome_ sustaine,
You see how ciuill broyles haue torne our state: 950
And priuate strife hath wrought a publique wo,
_Thessalia_ boasts that she hath seene our fall,
And _Rome_ that whilom wont to Tiranize,
And in the necks of all the world hath rang'd,
Loosing her rule, to serue is now constraynd,
_Pompey_ the hope and stay of Common-weale,
VVhose vertues promis'd _Rome_ security
Now flies distrest, disconsolate, forlorne,
Reproch of Fortune, and the victors scorne.
_Cæs._ VVhat now is left for wretched _Rome_ to hope, 960
But in laments and bitter future woe,
To wey the downefall of her former pride:
Againe _Porsenna_ brings in _Tarquins_ names,
And _Rome_ againe doth smoke with furious flames.
In _Pompeys_ fall wee all are ouerthrowne,
And subiect made to conqueror Tirany.
_Bru._ Most Noble _Cicero_ and you _Romaine_ Peeres,
Pardon the author of vnhappy newes,
And then prepare to heare my tragick tale.
VVith that same looke, that great _Atrides_ stood, 970
At cruell alter staind with Daughters blood,
When _Pompey_ fled pursuing _Cæsars_ sword,
And thought to shun his following desteny.
And then began to thinke on many a friend,
And many a one recalled hee to minde:
Who in his Fortunes pride did leaue their liues,
And vowed seruice at his princely feete,
From out the rest, the yong _Egiptian_ King,
VVhose Father of an Exild banish'd man
Hee seated had in throne of Maiesty, 980
Him chose, to whome he did commit his life,
(But O, who doth remember good-turnes past)
The Rising Sunne, not Setting, doth men please,
To ill committed was so great a trust,
Vnto so base a Fortune fauoring minde.
For he the Conquerors fauor to obtaine,
By Treason caus'd great _Pompey_ to be slaine:
_Casca._ O damned deede.
_Cam._ O Trayterous _Ptolomey_.
_Tre._ O most vnworthy and vngratefull fact. 990
_Cum._ What plages may serue to expiate this act,
The rouling stone or euerturning wheele,
The quenchles flames of firy _Phlegeton_,
Or endles thirst of which the Poets talke,
Are all to gentle for so vilde a deede.
_Cas._ Well did the _Cibills_ vnrespected verse.
Bid thee beware of _Crocadilish Nile_,
_Ter._ And art thou in a barbarous soyle betrayd,
Defrawded _Pompey_ of thy funerall rites,
There none could weepe vpon thy funerall hearse, 1000
None could thy Consulshipes and triumphs tell,
And in thy death set fourth thy liuing praise,
None would erect to thee a sepulcher.
Or put thine ashes in a pretious vrne,
_Cice._ Peace Lords lament not noble _Pompeys_ death,
Nor thinke him wreched, cause he wants a Tombe,
Heauen couers him whome Earth denyes a graue:
Thinke you a heape of stones could him inclose,
Whoe in the _Oceans_ circuite buried is,
And euery place where _Roman_ names are heard, 1010
The world is his graue, where liuing fame doth blaze,
His funerall praise through his immortall trump,
And ore his tombe vertue and honor sits,
With rented heare and eyes bespent with teares,
And waile and weepe their deere sonne _Pompeys_ death,
_Bru._ But now my Lords for to augment this griefe,
_Cæsar_ the _Senates_ deadly enimie,
Aimes eke to vs, and meanes to tryumph heere,
Vpon poore conquered _Rome_ and common wealth,
_Cas._ This was the end at which he alwayes aymd, 1020
_Tre._ Then end all hope of _Romaines_ liberty,
Rise noble _Romaine_, rise from rotten Tombes,
And with your swordes recouer that againe:
With your braue prowes won, our basenes lost,
_Gic._ Renowned Lords content your trobled minds.
Do not ad Fuell to the conquerors fier.
Which once inflamed will borne both _Rome_ and vs.
_Cæsar_ although of high aspiring thoughtes,
And vncontrould ambitious Maiesty,
Yet is of nature faire and courteous, 1030
You see hee commeth conqueror of the East:
Clad in the spoyles of the _Pharsalian_ fieldes,
Then wee vnable to resist such powre:
By gentle peace and meeke submission,
Must seeke to pacify the victors wrath. _Exeunt._
ACT. 2. SCE. 5. {SN _Act II sc. v_}
_Enter Cato Senior, and Cato Iunior._
_Cat. Sen._ My Sonne thou seest howe all are ouerthrowne,
That fought their Countries free-dome to maintaine,
_Egipt_ forsakes vs, _Pompey_ found his graue, 1040
VVhere hee most succor did expect to haue:
_Scipio_ is ouerthrowne and with his haples fall,
_Affrick_ to vs doth former ayde denay,
O who will helpe men in aduersity:
Yet let vs shewe in our declining state,
That strength of minde, that vertues constancy,
That erst we did in our felicity,
Though Fortune fayles vs lets not fayle our selues,
Remember boy thou art a _Romaine_ borne,
And _Catoes_ Sonne, of me do vertue learne; 1050
Fortune of others, aboue althings see
Thou prize thy Countries loue and liberty,
All blessiings Fathers to their Sonnes can wish
Heauens powre on thee, and now my sonne with-drawe
Thy selfe a while and leaue me to my booke.
_Cat. Iun._ What meanes my Father by this solemne leaue?
First he remembred me of my Fortunes change,
And then more earnestly did me exhort
To Counrries loue, and constancy of minde,
Then he was wont: som-whats the cause, 1060
But what I knowe not, O I feare I feare,
His to couragious heart that cannot beare
The thrall of _Rome_ and triumph of his foe,
By his owne hand threats danger to his life,
How ere it be at hand I will abide,
VVayting the end of this that shal betide. _Exit._
_Cato Senior with a booke in his hand._
_Cato Sen._ _Plato_ that promised immortality,
Doth make my soule resolue it selfe to mount,
Vnto the bowre of those Celestiall ioyes, 1070
VVhere freed from lothed Prison of my soule,
In heauenly notes to _Phoebus_ which shall sing:
And _Pean Io, Pean_ loudely ring.
Then fayle not hand to execute this deede,
Nor faint nor heart for to command my hand,
VVauer not minde to counsell this resolue,
But with a courage and thy liues last act,
Now do I giue thee _Rome_ my last farewell.
Who cause thou fearest ill do therefore die,
O talke not now of _Cannas_ ouerthrowe, 1080
And raze out of thy lasting Kalenders,
Those bloudy songes of _Hilias_ dismall sight:
And note with black, that black and cursed day,
When _Cæsar_ conquered in _Pharsalia_,
Yet will not I his conquest glorifie:
My ouerthrow shall neere his triumph grace,
For by my death to the world Ile make that knowne,
No hand could conquer _Cato_ but his owne. _stabs himself._
_Enter Cato Iunior running to him._
_Ca. Iun._ O this it was my minde told me before, 1090
VVhat meanes my Father, why with naked blade,
Dost thou assault, that faithfull princely hand:
And mak'st the base Earth to drinke thy Noble bloud,
Bee not more sterne, and cruell 'gainst thy selfe,
Then thy most hateful enemies would be,
No _Parthian_, _Gaule_, _Moore_, no not _Cæsars_ selfe,
VVould with such cruelty thy worth repay,
O stay thy hand, giue me thy fatall blade:
VVhich turnes his edge and waxeth blunt to wound,
A brest so fraught with vertue excellent. 1100
_Ca. Seni._ Why dost thou let me of my firme resolue,
Vnkinde boy hinderer of thy Fathers ioy,
Why dost thou slay me, or wilt thou betray
Thy Fathers life vnto his foe-mens hands,
And yet I wrong thy faith, and loue too much,
In thy soules kindenesse, tis thou art vnkinde.
_Cat. Iun._ If for your selfe you do this life reiect,
Yet you your Sonnes and Countries: sake respect,
Rob not my yong yeares of so sweete a stay,
Nor take from _Rome_ the Pillor of her strength. 1110
_Cat. Sene._ Although I die, yet do I leaue behinde,
My vertues fauor to bee thy youths guide:
But for my Country, could my life it profit,
Ile not refuse to liue that died for it,
Now doth but one smal snuffe of breath remaine:
And that to keepe, should I mine Honor staine?
_Cat. Iuni._ Where you do striue to shew your vertue most,
There more you do disgrace it Cowards vse,
To shun the woes and trobles of this life:
Basely to flie to deaths safe sanctuary, 1120
When constant vertues doth the hottest brunt's,
Of griefes assaultes vnto the end endure.
_Ca. Seni._ Thy words preuaile, come lift me vp my Son,
And call some help to binde my bleeding wounds.
_Cat. Iuni._ Father I go with a more willing minde,
Then did _Æneas_ when from _Troyan_ fire,
He bare his Father, and did so restore:
The greatest gift hee had receiued before. _Exit._
_Cat. Seni._ Now haue I freed mee of that hurtfull Loue,
Which interrupted my resolued will, 1130
Which all the world can neuer stay nor change:
_Cæsar_ whose rule commands both Sea and Land,
Is not of powre to hinder this weake hand,
And time succeeding shall behold that I
Although not liue, yet died courragiously, _stab himselfe._
_Enter Cato Iunior._
_Ca. Iuni._ O hast thou thus to thine owne harme deceiu'd me
Well I perceiue thy Noble dauntles heart:
Because it would not beare the Conquerors insolence,
Vsed on it selfe this cruell violence, 1140
I know not whether I should more lament,
That by thine owne hand thou thus slaughtred art,
Or Ioy that thou so nobly didst depart. _Exit._
_FINIS._ ACTVS 2.
{SN _Chor. III_}
_Enter Discord._
_Dis._ Now _Cæsar_ rides triumphantly through _Rome_,
And deckes the Capitoll with _Pompeys_ spoyle:
Ambition now doth vertues seat vsurp,
Then thou Reuengfull great _Adastria_ Queene.
Awake with horror of thy dubbing Drumm, 1150
And call the snaky furies from below,
To dash the Ioy of their triumphing pride,
_Erinnis_ kindle now thy _Stigian_ brands,
In discontented _Brutus_ boyling brest,
Let _Cæsar_ die a bleeding sacrifice,
Vnto the Soule of thy dead Country _Rome_.
Why sleepest thou _Cassius_? wake thee from thy dreame:
And yet thou naught dost dreame but blood and death.
For dreadfull visions do afright thy sleepe.
And howling Ghosts with gastly horrors cry, 1160
By _Cassius_ hand must wicked _Cæsar_ die,
Now _Rome_ cast of thy gaudy paintcd robes
And cloth thy selfe in sable colored weedes,
Change thy vaine triumphs into funerall pomps,
And _Cæsar_ cast thy Laurell crowne apart,
And bind thy temples with sad _Cypres_ tree.
Of warrs thus peace insues, of peace more harmes,
Then erst was wrought by tragick wars alarmes, _Exit._
ACT. 3. SCE. I. {SN _Act III sc. i_}
_Enter Cassius._
_Cas._ Harke how _Cæsarians_ with resounding shoutes, 1171
Tell heauens of their pompes and victories,
_Cæsar_ that long in pleasures idle lap,
And daliance vayne of his Proud Curtezan,
Had luld his sterne and bloody thoughts a sleepe,
Now in _Rome_ streets ore _Romaines_ come to triumph,
And to the _Romains_ shews those _Tropheyes_ sad,
Which from the _Romaines_ he with blood did get:
The Tyrant mounted in his goulden chayre,
Rides drawne with milke white palferies in like pride, 1180
As _Phæbus_ from his Orientall gate,
Mounted vpon the firy _Phlegetons_ backes.
Comes prauncing forth, shaking his dewie locks:
_Cæsar_ thou art in gloryes cheefest pride,
Thy sonne is mounted in the highest poynt:
Thou placed art in top of fortunes wheele,
Her wheele must turne, thy glory must eclipse,
Thy Sunne descend and loose his radiant light,
And if none be, whose countryes ardent loue,
And losse of _Roman_ liberty can moue, 1190
Ile be the man that shall this taske performe.
_Cassius_ hath vowed it to dead _Pompeys_ soule,
_Cassius_ hath vowed it to afflicted _Rome_,
_Cassius_ hath vowed it, witnes Heauen and Earth, _Exit._
ACTVS 3. SCENA 2. {SN _Act III sc. ii_}
_Enter Cæsar, Antony, Dolobella, Lords, two Romaines, & others._
_Cæsar._ Now haue I shaked of these womanish linkes,
In which my captiud thoughts were chayned a fore,
By that fayre charming _Circes_ wounding look,
And now like that same ten yeares trauayler, 1200
Leauing be-hind me all my trobles past.
I come awayted with attending fame,
Who through her shrill triump doth my name resound,
And makes proud _Tiber_ and _Lygurian Poe_,
(Yet a sad witner of the Sunne-Gods losse,)
Beare my names glory to the _Ocean_ mayne,
Which to the worlds end shall it bound it againe,
As from _Phægiean_ fields the King of the Gods,
With conquering spoyles and _Tropheus_ proud returnd,
When great _Typheus_ fell, by thundering darts, 1210
And rod away with their Cælestiall troops,
In greatest pride through Heauens smooth paued way,
So shall the Pompeous glory of my traine,
Daring to match ould _Saturns_ kingly Sonne,
Call downe these goulden lampes from the bright skie,
And leaue Heauen blind, my greatnes to admire.
This laurell garland in fayre conquest made,
Shall stayne the pride of _Ariadnes_ crowne,
Clad in the beauty of my glorious lampes,
_Cassiopea_ leaue thy starry chayre, 1220
And onmy Sun-bright Chariot wheels attend,
Which in triumphing pompe doth _Cæsar_ beare.
To Earths astonishment, and amaze of Heauen:
Now looke proude _Rome_ from thy seuen-fould seate,
And see the world thy subiect, at thy feete,
And _Cæsar_ ruling ouer all the world.
_Dolo._ Now let vs cease to boast of _Romulus_,
First author of high _Rome_ and _Romaines_ name.
Nor talke of _Scaurus_, worthy _Africans_,
The scurge of _Libia_ and of _Carthage_ pride, 1230
Nor of vnconquered _Paulus_ dauntles minde,
Since _Cæsars_ glory them exceedes as farre
As shining _Phebe_ doth the dimmest starre.
_Ant._ Like as the Ship-man that hath lost the starre.
By which his doubtful ship he did direct,
Wanders in darkenes, and in Cloudy night,
So hauing lost my starr, my Gouernesse.
Which did direct me, with her Sonne-bright ray,
In greefe I wander and in sad dismay:
And though of triumphes and of victoryes, 1240
I do the out-ward signes and _Trophies_ beare,
Yet see mine inward mind vnder that face,
Whose collours to these Triumphes is disgrace,
_Lord._ As when from vanquished _Macedonia_,
Triumphing ore King _Persius_ ouerthrow,
Conquering _Æmelius_, in great glory came.
Shewing the worlds spoyles which he had bereft,
From the successors or great _Alexander_,
With such high pomp, yea greater victories,
_Cæsar_ triumphing coms into fayre _Rome_, 1250
_1. Rom._ In this one Champion all is comprehended,
Which ancient times in seuerall men commended,
_Alcides_ strength, _Achilles_ dauntles heart,
Great _Phillips_ Sonne by magnanimity.
Sterne _Pyrhus_ vallour, and great _Hectors_ might,
And all the prowes, that ether _Greece_ or _Troy_,
Brought forth in that same ten years _Troians_ warre.
_2. Rom._ Faire _Rome_ great monument of _Romulus_.
Thou mighty seate of consuls and of Kings:
Ouer-victorious now Earths Conquerer, 1260
Welcome thy valiant sonne that to thee brings,
Spoyles of the world, and exquies of Kings.
_Cæsar._ The conquering Issue of immortall _Ioue_.
Which in the _Persian_ spoyles first fetch his fame.
Then through _Hydasspis_, and the _Caspian_ waues,
Vnto the sea vnknowne his praise did propagate,
Must to my glory vayle his conquering crest:
The _Lybick_ Sands, and _Africk Sirts_ hee past.
_Bactrians_ and _Zogdians_, knowne but by their names,
Whereby his armes resistles, powers subdued, 1270
And _Ganges_ streames congeald with _Indian_ blood,
Could not transeport his burthen to the sea.
But these nere lerned at _Mars_ his games to play,
Nor tost these bloody bals, of dread and death:
_Arar_ and proud _Saramna_ speaks my praise,
_Rohdans_ shrill _Tritons_ through their brasen trumpes,
Ecco my fame against the _Gallian_ Towers,
And _Isis_ wept to see her daughter _Thames_.
Chainge her cleere cristall, to vermilian sad,
The big bond _German_ and _Heluetian_ stout, 1280
Which well haue learned to tosse a tusked speare,
And well can curbe a noble stomackt horse,
Can _Cæsars_ vallour witnes to their greefe
_Iuba_ the mighty _Affrick_ Potentate,
That with his cole-black _Negroes_ to the field,
Backt with _Numidian_ and _Getulian_ horse,
Hath felt the puissance of a _Roman_ sword.
I entred _Asia_ with my banners spred,
Displayed the Ægle on the Euxin sea:
By _Iason_ first, and ventrous _Argo_ cut, 1290
And in the rough _Cimerian Bosphorus_:
A heauy witnesse of _Pharnaces_ flight,
And now am come to triumph heere in _Rome_,
VVith greater glory then ere _Romaine_ did. _Exeunt._
{SN _Act III sc. iii_}
_Sound drums and Trumpets amaine._
_Enter Anthony._
_Antho._ Alas these triumphes mooue not me at all,
But only do renew remembrance sad,
Of her triumphing and imperious lookes,
VVhich is the Saint and Idoll of my thoughtes: 1300
First was I wounded by her percing eye:
Next prisoner tane by her captiuing speech,
And now shee triumphes ore my conquered heart,
In _Cupids_ Chariot ryding in her pride,
And leades me captiue bounde in Beauties bondes:
_Cæsars_ lip-loue, that neuer touched his heart,
By present triumph and the absent fire,
Is now waxt could; but mine that was more deepe,
Ingrauen in the marble of my brest,
Nor time nor Fortune ere can raze it out. 1310
_Enter Anthonies bonus genius._
_Gen._ _Anthony_, base femall _Anthony_,
Thou womans souldiar, fit for nights assaults,
Hast thou so soone forgot the discipline,
And wilsome taskes thy youth was trayned to,
Thy soft downe Pillow, was a helme of steele:
The could damp earth, a bed to ease thy toyle,
Afrigted slumbers were thy golden sleepes:
Hunger and thirst thy sweetest delicates,
Sterne horror, gastly woundes, pale greesly death: 1320
Thy winde depressing pleasures and delights,
And now so soone hath on enchanted face,
These manly labours luld in drowsy sleepe:
The Gods (whose messenger I heere do stand)
Will not then drowne thy fame in Idlenesse:
Yet must _Philippi_ see thy high exploytes,
And all the world ring of thy Victories.
_Antho._ Say what thou art, that in this dreadful sort
Forbidd'st me of my _Cleopatras_ loue.
_Gen._ I am thy _bonus Genius_, _Anthony_, 1330
VVhich to thy dul eares this do prophecy:
That fatall face which now doth so bewitch thee,
Like to that vaine vnconstant Greekish dame,
VVhich made the stately _Ilian_ towres to smoke,
Shall thousand bleeding _Romains_ lay one ground:
_Hymen_ in sable not in saferon robes,
Instead of roundes shall dolefull dirges singe.
For nuptiall tapers, shall the furies beare,
Blew-burning torches to increase your feare:
The bride-grooms scull shal make the bridal bondes: 1340
And hel-borne hags shall dance an Antick round,
VVhile _Hecate Hymen_ (heu, heu) _Hymen_ cries,
And now methinkes I see the seas blew face:
Hidden with shippes, and now the trumpets sound,
And weake _Canopus_ with the Ægle striues,
_Neptune_ amazed at this dreadfull sight:
Cals blew sea Gods for to behold the fight,
_Glaucus_ and _Panopea_, _Proteus_ ould,
VVho now for feare changeth his wonted shape,
Thus your vaine loue which with delight begunne: 1350
In Idle sport shall end with bloud and shame. _Exit._
_Antho._ VVhat wast my _Genius_ that mee threatned thus?
They say that from our birth he doth preserue:
And on mee will he powre these miseries?
VVhat burning torches, what alarums of warre,
VVhat shames did he to my loues prophesie?
O no hee comes as winged _Mercurie_,
From his great Father _Ioue_, t'_Anchises_ sonne
To warne him leaue the wanton dalliance,
And charming pleasures of the _Tyrian_ Court, 1360
Then wake the _Anthony_ from this idle dreame,
Cast of these base effeminate passions:
Which melt the courrage of thy manlike minde,
And with thy sword receiue thy sleeping praise. _Exit._
ACT. 3. SC. 3. {SN _Act III sc. iv_}
_Enter Brutus._
_Bru._ How long in base ignoble patience,
Shall I behold my Countries wofull fall,
O you braue _Romains_, and among'st the rest
Most Noble _Brutus_, faire befall your soules: 1370
Let Peace and Fame your Honored graues awaite,
Who through such perils, and such tedious warres,
Won your great labors prise sweete liberty,
But wee that with our life did freedoms take,
And did no sooner Men, then free-men, breath:
To loose it now continuing so long,
And with such lawes, such vowes, such othes confirm'd
Can nothing but disgrace and shame expect:
But soft what see I written on my seate,
_O vtinam Brute viueres_. 1380
What meaneth this, thy courage dead,
But stay, reade forward, _Brute mortuus es_.
I thou art dead indeed, thy courrage dead
Thy care and loue thy dearest Country dead,
Thy wonted spirit and Noble stomack dead.
_Enter Cassius._
_Cassi._ The times drawe neere by gratious heauens assignd
When _Philips_ Sonne must fall in _Babilon_,
In his triumphing proud persumption:
But see where melancholy _Brutus_ walkes, 1390
Whose minde is hammering on no meane conceit:
Then sound him _Cassius_, see how hee is inclined,
How fares young _Brutus_ in this tottering state.
_Bru._ Euen as an idle gazer, that beholdes,
His Countries wrackes and cannot succor bring.
_Cassi._ But wil _Brute_ alwaies in this dreame remaine,
And not bee mooued with his Countries mone.
_Bru._ O that I might in _Lethes_ endles sleepe,
And neere awaking pleasant rest of death
Close vp mine eyes, that I no more might see, 1400
Poore _Romes_ distresse and Countries misery.
_Casi._ No _Brutus_ liue, and wake thy sleepy minde,
Stirre vp those dying sparkes of honors fire,
VVhich in thy gentle breast weare wont to flame:
See how poore _Rome_ opprest with Countries wronges,
Implores thine ayde, that bred thee to that end,
Thy kins-mans soule from heauen commandes thine aide:
That lastly must by thee receiue his end,
Then purchas honor by a glorious death,
Or liue renown'd by ending _Cæsars_ life. 1410
_Bru._ I can no longer beare the Tirants pride,
I cannot heare my Country crie for ayde,
And not bee mooued with her pitious mone,
_Brutus_ thy soule shall neuer more complaine:
That from thy linage and most vertuous stock,
A bastard weake degenerat branch is borne,
For to distaine the honor of thy house.
No more shall now the _Romains_ call me dead,
Ile liue againe and rowze my sleepy thoughts:
And with the Tirants death begin this life. 1420
_Rome_ now I come to reare thy states decayed,
VVhen or this hand shall cure thy fatall wound,
Or else this heart by bleeding on the ground.
_Cas._ Now heauen I see applaudes this enterprise,
And _Rhadamanth_ into the fatall Vrne,
That lotheth death, hath thrust the Tirants name,
_Cæsar_ the life that thou in bloud hast led:
Shall heape a bloudy vengance on thine head. _Exeunt._
ACT. 2. SCE. 4. {SN _Act III sc. v_}
_Enter Cæsar, Anthony Dolobella, Lords, and others._
_Cæs._ Now servile _Pharthia_ proud in _Romaine_ spoile, 1431
Shall pay her ransome vnto _Cæsars_ Ghost:
Which vnreuenged roues by the Stygian strond,
Exclaming on our sluggish negligence.
Leaue to lament braue _Romans_, loe I come,
Like to the God of battell, mad with rage,
To die their riuers with vermilion red:
Ile fill _Armenians_ playnes and _Medians_ hils,
With carkases of bastard _Scithian_ broode,
And there proud Princes will I bring to _Rome_, 1440
Chained in fetters to my charriot wheeles:
Desire of fame and hope of sweete reueng,
Which in my brest hath kindled such a flame,
As nor _Euphrates_, nor sweet _Tybers_ streame,
Can quench or slack this feruent boyling heate:
These conquering souldiers that haue followed me,
From vanquisht _France_ to sun-burnt _Meroe_,
Matching the best of _Alexanders_ troopes.
Shall with their lookes put _Parthian_ foes to flight,
And make them twise turne their deceitfull lookes, 1450
_Ant._ The restlesse mind that harbors sorrowing thoughts,
And is with child of noble enterprise,
Doth neuer cease from honors toilesome taske,
Till it bringes forth Eternall gloryes broode.
So you fayre braunch of vertues great discent,
Now hauing finish'd Ciuill warres sad broyles,
Intend by _Parthian_ triumphes to enlarge,
Your contryes limits, and your owne renowne,
But cause in _Sibilles_ ciuill writs we finde,
None but a King that conquest can atchiue, 1460
Both for to crowne your deedes with due reward,
And as auspicious signes of victorye.
Wee here present you with this _Diadem_,
_Lord._ And euen as kings were banish'd _Romes_ high throne
Cause their base vice, her honour did destayne,
So to your rule doth shee submit her selfe,
That her renowne there by might brighter shine,
_Cæsar._ Why thinke you Lords that tis ambitions spur.
That pricketh _Cæsar_ to these high attempts,
Or hope of Crownes, or thought of _Diadems_, 1470
That made me wade through honours perilous deepe,
Vertue vnto it selfe a shure reward,
My labours all shall haue a pleasing doome,
If you but Iudge I will deserue of _Rome_:
Did those old _Romaines_ suffer so much ill?
Such tedious seeges, such enduring warrs?
_Tarquinius_ hates, and great _Porsennas_ threats,
To banish proude imperious tyrants rule?
And shall my euerdaring thoughts contend
To marre what they haue brought to happy end: 1480
Or thinke you cause my Fortune hath expeld,
My friends, come let vs march in iolity,
Ile triumph Monarke-like ore conquering _Rome_,
Or end my conquests with my countryes spoyles,
_Dolo._ O noble Princely resolution.
These or not victoryes that we so call,
That onely blood and murtherous spoyles can vaunt:
But this shalbe thy victory braue Prince,
That thou hast conquered thy owne climing thoughts,
And with thy vertue beat ambition downe, 1490
And this no lesse inblazon shall thy fame.
Then those great deeds and chiualrous attempts,
That made thee conqueror in _Thessalia_.
_Ant._ This noble mind and Pincely modesty,
Which in contempt of honours brightnes shines,
Makes vs to wish the more for such a Prince,
Whose vertue not ambition won that praise,
Nor shall we thinke it losse of liberty.
Or _Romaine_ liberty any way impeached,
For to subiect vs to his Princely rule, 1500
Whose thoughts fayre vertue and true honor guides:
Vouchsafe then to accept this goulden crowne,
A gift not equall to thy dignity.
_Cæs._ Content you Lordes for I wilbe no King,
An odious name vnto the _Romaine_ eare,
_Cæsar_ I am, and wilbe _Cæsar_ still,
No other title shall my Fortunes grace:
Which I will make a name of higher state
Then Monarch, King or worldes great Potentate.
Of _Ioue_ in Heauen, shall ruled bee the skie, 1510
The Earth of _Cæsar_, with like Maiesty.
This is the Scepter that my crowne shall beare,
And this the golden diadem Ile weare,
A farre more rich and royall ornament,
Then all the Crownes that the proud _Persian_ gaue:
Forward my Lordes let Trumpets sound our march,
And drums strike vp Reuenges sad alarms,
_Parthia_ we come with like incensed heate,
As great _Atrides_ with the angry Greekes,
Marching in fury to pale walls of Troy. 1520
ACT. 3. SC. 5. {SN _Act III sc. vi_}
_Enter Cassius, Brutus, Trebonius, Cumber Casca._
_Tre._ Braue Lords whose forward resolution,
Shewes you descended from true _Romaine_ line,
See how old _Rome_ in winter of her age,
Reioyseth in such Princely budding hopes,
No lesse then once she in _Decius_ vertue did,
Or great _Camillus_ bringing back of spoyles.
On then braue Lords of this attempt begun,
The sacred Senate doth commend the deede: 1530
Your Countries loue incites you to the deed,
Vertue her selfe makes warrant of the deed,
Then Noble _Romains_ as you haue begun:
Neuer desist vntill this deede be done.
_Casi._ To thee Reueng doth _Cassius_ kneele him downe.
Thou that brings quiet to perplexed soules,
And borne in Hel, yet harborest heauens ioyes,
Whose fauor slaughter is, and dandling death,
Bloud-thirsty pleasures and mis boding blisse:
Brought forth of Fury, nurse of cankered Hate, 1540
To drowne in woe the pleasures of the world.
Thou shalt no more in duskish _Erebus_:
And dark-some hell obscure thy Deity,
Insteede of _Ioue_ thou shalt my Godesse bee,
To thee faire Temples _Cassius_ will erect:
And on thine alter built of _Parian_ stone
Whole _Hecatombs_ will I offer vp.
Laugh gentle Godesse on my bould attempt,
Yet in thy laughter let pale meager death:
Bee wrapt in wrinkels of thy murthering spoyles. 1550
_Bru._ An other _Tarquin_ is to bee expeld,
An other _Brutus_ liues to act the deede:
Tis not one nation that this _Tarquin_ wronges,
All _Rome_ is stayn'd with his vnrul'd desires,
Shee whose imperiall scepter was invr'd:
To conquer Kings and to controul the world,
Cannot abate the glory of her state,
To yeeld or bowe to one mans proud desires:
Sweete Country _Rome_ here _Brutus_ vowes to thee,
To loose his life or else to set thee free. 1560
_Cas._ Shame bee his share that doth his life so prize,
That to _Romes_ weale it would not sacrifize,
My Poniardes point shall pearce his heart as deepe,
As earst his sworde _Romes_ bleeding side did goare:
And change his garments to the purple die,
With which our bloud had staynd sad _Thessaly_.
_Cam._ Hee doth refuse the title of a King,
But wee do see hee doth vsurp the thing.
_Tre._ Our ancient freedome hee empeacheth more,
Then euer King or Tyrant did before. 1570
_Cas._ The Senators by him are quite disgrac'd,
_Rome_, _Romans_, Citty, Freedome, all defac'd.
_Cassi._ We come not Lords, as vnresolued men,
For to shewe causes of the deed decreed,
This shall dispute for mee and tell him why,
This heart, hand, minde, hath mark'd him out to die:
If it be true that furies quench-les thirst,
Is pleas'd with quaffing of ambitious bloud,
Then all you deuills whet my Poniards point,
And I wil broach you a bloud-sucking heart: 1580
Which full of bloud, must bloud store to you yeeld,
Were it a peerce to flint or marble stone:
Why so it is for _Cæsars_ heart's a stone,
Els would bee mooued with my Countries mone.
They say you furies instigate mens mindes,
And push their armes to finnish bloudy deedes:
Prick then mine Elbo: goade my bloudy hand,
That it may goare _Cæsars_ ambitious heart. _Exeunt._
ACTVS 3. SCENA 6. {SN _Act III sc. vii_}
_Enter Cæsar, Calphurnia._
_Cæs._ Why thinkes my loue to fright me with her dreames? 1591
Shall bug-beares feare _Cæsars_ vndaunted heart,
Whome _Pompeys_ Fortune neuer could amaze,
Nor the _French_ horse, nor _Mauritanian_ boe,
And now shall vaine illusions mee affright:
Or shadowes daunt, whom substance could not quell?
_Calphur._ O dearest _Cæsar_, hast thou seene thy selfe,
(As troubled dreames to me did faine thee seene:)
Torne, Wounded, Maymed, Blod-slaughtered, Slaine,
O thou thy selfe, wouldst then haue dread thy selfe: 1600
And feard to thrust thy life to dangers mouth.
_Cæs._ There you bewray the folly of your dreame,
For I am well, aliue, vncaught, vntoucht.
_Calphur._ T'was in the Senate-house I sawe thee so,
And yet thou dreadles thither needes will go.
_Cæs._ The Senate is a place of peace, not death,
But these were but deluding visions.
_Calphur._ O do not set so little by the heauens,
Dreames ar diuine, men say they come from _Ioue_,
Beware betimes, and bee not wise to late: 1610
Mens good indeuours change the wills of Fate.
_Cæs._ Weepe not faire loue, let not thy wofull teares
Bode mee, I knowe what thou wouldest not haue to hap
It will distaine mine honor wonne in fight
To say a womans dreame could me affright.
_Cal._ O _Cæsar_ no dishonour canst thou get,
In seeking to preuent vnlucky chance:
Foole-hardy men do runne vpon their death,
Bec thou in this perswaded by thy wife:
No vallour bids thee cast away thy life. 1620
_Cæs._ Tis dastard cowardize and childish feare,
To dread those dangers that do not appeare:
_Cal._ Thou must sad chance by fore-cast, wise resist,
Or being done say boote-les had I wist.
_Cæs._ But for to feare wher's no suspition,
Will to my greatnesse be derision.
_Cal._ There lurkes an adder in the greenest grasse,
Daungers of purpose alwayes hide their face:
_Cæs._ Perswade no more _Cæsar's_ resolu'd to go.
_Cal._ The Heauens resolue that hee may safe returne, 1630
For if ought happen to my loue but well:
His danger shalbe doubled with my death. _Exit._
_Enter Augur._
_Augur._ I, come they are, but yet they are not gon.
_Cæs._ What hast thou sacrifiz'd, as custome is,
Before wee enter in the Senat-house.
_Augur._ O stay those steeps that leade thee to thy death,
The angry heauens with threeatning dire aspect,
Boding mischance, and balfull massacers,
Menace the ouerthrowe of _Cæsars_ powre: 1640
_Saturne_ sits frowning on the God of Warre,
VVho in their sad coniunction do conspire,
Vniting both their bale full influences,
To heape mischance, and danger to thy life:
The Sacrificing beast is heart-les found:
Sad ghastly sightes, and raysed Ghostes appeare,
Which fill the silent woods, with groning cries:
The hoarse Night-rauen tunes the chearles voyce,
And calls the bale-full Owle, and howling Doge,
To make a consort. In whose sad song is this, 1650
Neere is the ouerthrow of _Cæsars_ blisse. _Exit._
_Cæsar._ The world is set to fray mee from my wits,
Heers harteles Sacrifice and visions,
Howlinge and cryes, and gastly grones of Ghosts,
Soft _Cæsar_ do not make a mockery,
Of these Prodigious signes sent from the Heauens,
_Calphurnias_ Dre ame Iumping which _Augurs_ words,
Shew (if thou markest it _Cæsar_) cause to feare:
This day the Senate there shalbe dissolued,
And Ile returne to my _Calphurnia_ home, _One giues him a paper._ 1660
What hast thou heare that thou presents vs with,
_Pre._ A thing my Lord that doth concerne your life.
Which loue to you and hate of such a deed,
Makes me reueale vnto your excellence. _Cæsar laughs._
Smilest thou, or think'st thou it some ilde toy,
Thout frowne a non to read so many names.
That haue conspird and sworne thy bloody death, _Exit._
_Enter Cassius._
_Cassius._ Now must I come, and with close subtile girdes,
Deceaue the prey that Ile deuoure anon, 1670
My Lord the Sacred Senate doth expect,
Your royall presence in _Pompeius_ court:
_Cæsar._ _Cassius_ they tell me that some daungers nigh.
And death pretended in the Senate house.
_Cassi._ What danger or what wrong can be,
Where harmeles grauitie and vertue sits,
Tis past all daunger present death it is,
Nor is it wrong to render due desert.
To feare the Senators without a cause,
Will bee a cause why theile be to be feared, 1680
_Cæsa._ The Senate stayes for me in _Pompeys_ court.
And _Cæsars_ heere, and dares not goe to them,
Packe hence all dread of danger and of death,
What must be must be; _Cæsars_ prest for all,
_Cassi._ Now haue I sent him headlong to his ende,
Vengance and death awayting at his heeles,
_Cæsar_ thy life now hangeth on a twine,
Which by my Poniard must bee cut in twaine,
Thy chaire of state now turn'd is to thy Beere,
Thy Princely robes to make thy winding sheete: 1690
The Senators the Mourners ore the Hearse,
And _Pompeys_ Court, thy dreadfull graue shalbe.
{SN _Act III sc. viii_}
_Senators crie all at once._
_Omnes._ Hold downe the Tyrant stab him to the death:
_Casi._ Now doth the musick play and this the song
That _Cassius_ heart hath thirsted for so long:
And now my Poniard in this mazing sound,
Must strike that touch that must his life confound.
Stab on, stab on, thus should your Poniards play,
Aloud deepe note vpon this trembling Kay. _stab him._ 1700
_Buco._ _Bucolian_ sends thee this. _stab him._
_Cum._ And _Cumber_ this. _stab him._
_Cas._ Take this frõ _Casca_ for to quite _Romes_ wronges.
_Cæs._ Why murtherous villaines know you whõ you strike,
Tis _Cæsar_, _Cæsar_, whom your Poniards pierce:
_Cæsar_ whose name might well afright such slaues:
O Heauens that see and hate this haynous guilt,
And thou Immortall _Ioue_ that Idle holdest
Deluding Thunder in thy faynting hand,
Why stay'st thy dreadfull doome, and dost with-hold, 1710
Thy three-fork'd engine to reuenge my death:
But if my plaintes the Heauens cannot mooue,
Then blackest hell and _Pluto_ bee thou iudge:
You greesly daughters of the cheereles night,
Whose hearts, nor praier nor pitty, ere could lend,
Leaue the black dungeon of your _Chaos_ deepe:
Come and with flaming brandes into the world,
Reuenge, and death, bringe seated in yout eyes:
And plauge these villaynes for their trecheries.
_Enter Brutus._ 1720
_Bru._ I haue held _Anthony_ with a vaine discourse,
The whilst the deed's in execution,
But liues hee still, yet doth the Tyrant breath?
Chalinging Heauens with his blasphemies,
Heere _Brutus_ maketh a passage for thy Soule,
To plead thy cause for them whose ayde thou crauest,
_Cæs._ What _Brutus_ to? nay nay, then let me die,
Nothing wounds deeper then ingratitude,
_Bru._ I bloody _Cæsar_, _Cæsar_, _Brutus_ too,
Doth geeue thee this, and this to quite _Romes_ wrongs, 1730
_Cassius._ O had the Tyrant had as many liues.
As that fell _Hydra_ borne in _Lerna lake_,
That heare I still might stab and stabing kill,
Till that more liues might bee extinquished,
Then his ambition, _Romanes_ Slaughtered.
_Tre._ How heauens haue iustly on the authors head,
Returnd the guiltles blood which he hath shed,
And _Pompey_ he who caused thy Tragedy,
Here breathles lies before thy Noble Statue,
_Enter Anthony._ 1740
_Anth._ What cryes of death resound within my eares,
Whome I doe see great _Cæsar_ buchered thus?
What said I great? I Cæsar thou wast great,
But O that greatnes was that brought thy death:
O vniust Heauens, (if Heauens at all there be,)
Since vertues wronges makes question of your powers,
How could your starry eyes this shame behold,
How could the sunne see this and not eclipze?
Fayre bud of fame ill cropt before thy time:
What _Hyrcan_ tygar, or wild sauage bore, 1750
(For he more heard then Bore or Tyger was,)
Durst do so vile and execrate a deede,
Could not those eyes so full of maiesty,
Nor priesthood (o not thus to bee prophand)
Nor yet the reuerence to this sacred place,
Nor flowing eloquence of thy goulden tounge,
Nor name made famous through immortall merit,
Deter those murtherors from so vild a deed?
Sweete friend accept these obsequies of mine,
Which heare with teares I doe vnto thy hearse, 1760
And thou being placed a mong the shining starrs.
Shalt downe from Heauen behold what deepe reueng,
I will inflict vpon the murtherers, _Exit with Cæsar, in his armes._
_FINIS._ Act. 3.
{SN _Chor. IV_}
_Enter Discord._
_Dis._ _Brutus_ thou hast what long desire hath sought,
_Cæsar_ Lyes weltring in his purple Goare,
Thou art the author of _Romes_ liberty,
Proud in thy murthering hand and bloody knife. 1770
Yet thinke _Octauian_ and sterne _Anthony_.
Cannot let passe this murther vnreuenged,
_Thessalia_ once againe must see your blood,
And _Romane_ drommes must strike vp new a laromes,
Harke how _Bellona_ shakes her angry lance:
And enuie clothed in her crimson weed,
Me thinkes I see the fiery shields to clash,
Eagle gainst Eagle, _Rome_ gainst _Rome_ to fight,
_Phillipi_, _Cæsar_ quittance must thy wronges,
Whereas that hand shall stab that trayterous heart. 1780
That durst encourage it to worke thy death,
Thus from thine ashes _Cæsar_ doth arise
As from _Medeas_ haples scatered teeth:
New flames of wars, and new outraigous broyles,
Now smile _Æmathia_ that euen in thy top,
_Romes_ victory and pride shalbe entombd,
And those great conquerors of the vanquished earth,
Shall with their swords come there to dig their graues.
ACTVS. 4. SCENA. 1. {SN _Act IV sc. i_}
_Enter Octauian._
_Octa._ Mourne gentle Heauens for you haue lost your ioy. 1791
Mourne greeued earth thy ornament is gon,
Mourne _Rome_ in great thy Father is deceased:
Mourne thou _Octauian_, thou it is must mourne,
Mourne for thy Vncle who is dead and gon.
Mourne for thy Father to vngently slaine,
Mourne for thy Friend whome thy mishap hath lost,
For Father, Vnkell, Friend, go make thy mone,
Who all did liue, who all did die in one.
But heere I vow these blacke and sable weeds, 1800
The outward signes of inward heauines,
Shall changed be ere long to crimsen hew,
And this soft raiment to a coate of steele,
_Cæsar_, no more I heare the mornefull songs.
The tragick pomp of his sad exequies,
And deadly burning torches are at hand,
I must accompany the mornefull troope:
And sacryfice my teares to the Gods below. _Exit._
{SN _Act IV sc. ii_}
_Enter Cæsars Hearse Calphurnia Octauian, Anthony,
Cicero, Dolobella, two Romaynes, mourners._
_Calp._ Set downe the hearse and let _Calphurnia_ weepe,
Weepe for her Lord and bath his Wounds in teares: 1812
Feare of the world, and onely hope of _Rome_,
Thou whilest thou liuedst was _Calphurnias_ ioye,
And being dead my ioyes are dead with thee:
Here doth my care and comfort resting lie:
Let them accompany thy mournefull hearse.
_Cice._ This is the hearse of vertue and renowne,
Here stroe red roses and sweete violets:
And lawrell garlands for to crowne his fame, 1820
The Princely weede of mighty conquerors:
These worthles obsequies poore _Rome_ bestowes,
Vpon thy sacred ashes and deare hearse.
_1. Rom._ And as a token of thy liuing praise,
And fame immortall take this laurell wreath,
Which witnesseth thy name shall neuer die:
And with this take the Loue and teares of _Rome_,
For on thy tombe shall still engrauen be,
Thy losse, her griefe, thy deathes, her pittying thee,
_Dolo._ Vnwilling do I come to pay this debt, 1830
Though not vnwilling for to crowne desert,
O how much rather had I this bestowed,
On thee returning from foes ouerthrow,
When liuing vertue did require such meede,
Then for to crowne thy vertue being dead,
_Lord._ Those wreaths that in thy life our conquests crowned
And our fayre triumphes beauty glorified,
Now in thy death do serue thy hearse to adorne,
For _Cæsars_ liuing vertues to bee crowned,
Not to be wept as buried vnder grownd, 1840
_2. Ro._ Thou whilest thou liuedst wast faire vertues flowre
Crowned with eternall honor and renowne,
To thee being dead, _Flora_ both crownes and flowers,
(The cheefest vertues of our mother earth,)
Doth giue to gratulate thy noble hearse.
Let then they soule diuine vouchsafe to take,
These worthles obsequies our loue doth make.
_Calp._ All that I am is but despaire and greefe,
This all I giue to Celebrate thy death,
What funerall pomp of riches and of pelfe, 1850
Do you expect? _Calphurnia_ giues her selfe.
_Ant._ You that to _Cæsar_ iustly did decree
Honors diuine and sacred reuerence:
And oft him grac'd with titles well deserued,
Of Countries Father, stay of Commonwealth.
And that which neuer any bare before,
Inviolate, Holy, Consecrate, Vntucht.
Doe see this friend of _Rome_, this Contryes Father,
This Sonne of lasting fame and e ndles praise,
And in a mortall trunke, immortall vertue 1860
Slaughtered, profan'd, and bucherd like a beast,
By trayterous handes, and damned Paracides:
Recounte those deedes and see what he hath don,
Subdued those nations which three hundred yeares.
Remaynd vnconquered; still afflicting _Rome_,
And recompensed the firy Capitoll,
With many Citties vnto ashes burnt:
And this reward, these thankes you render him:
Here lyes he dead to whome you owe your liues:
By you this slaughtered body bleedes againe, 1870
Which oft for you hath bled in fearefull fight.
Sweete woundes in which I see distressed _Rome_,
From her pearc'd sides to powre forth streames of bloud,
Bee you a witnesse of my sad Soules griefe:
And of my teares which wounded heart doth bleede,
Not such as vse from womanish eyes proceede.
_Octa._ And were the deede most worthy and vnblamed,
Yet you vnworthely did do the same:
Who being partakers with his enemies,
By _Cæsar_ all were saued from death and harme, 1880
And for the punnishment you should haue had,
You were prefer'd to Princely dignities:
Rulers and Lordes of Prouinces were you made,
Thus thanke-les men hee did preferre of nought,
That by their hands his murther might be wrought.
_All at once except Anthony and Octauian._
_Omnes._ Reuenge, Reuenge vpon the murtherers.
_Antho._ Braue Lords this worthy resolution shewes,
Your deerest loue, and great affection
VVhich to this slaughtered Prince you alwaies bare, 1890
And may like bloudy chance befall my life:
If I be slack for to reuenge his death.
_Octa._ Now on my Lords, this body lets inter:
Amongest the monuments of _Roman_ Kinges,
And build a Temple to his memory:
Honoring therein his sacred Deity. _Exeunt omnes._
ACT. 4. SC. 2. {SN _Act IV sc. iii_}
_Enter Cassius, and Brutus with an army._
_Cassi._ Now _Romains_ proud foe, worlds common enemy,
In his greatest hight and chiefest Iollitie, 1900
In the Sacred Senate-house is done to death:
Euen as the Consecrated Oxe which soundes,
At horny alters, in his dying pride:
VVith flowry leaues and gar-lands all bedight,
Stands proudly wayting for the hasted stroke:
Till hee amazed with the dismall sound,
Falls to the Earth and staines the holy ground,
The spoyles and riches of the conquered world,
Are now but idle Trophies of his tombe:
His laurell gar-landes do but Crowne his chaire, 1910
His sling, his shilde, and fatall bloudy speare,
VVhich hee in battell oft 'gainst _Rome_ did beare,
Now serue for nought but rusty monuments.
_Bru._ So _Romulus_ when proud ambition,
His former vertue and renowne had stayned:
Did by the Senators receiue his end,
But soft what boades _Titinnius_ hasting speede.
_Enter Titinnius._
_Titin._ The frantike people and impatient,
By _Anthonyes_ exhorting to reuenge: 1920
Runne madding throw the bloudy streetes of _Rome_,
Crying Reuenge, and murthering they goe,
All those that caused _Cæsars_ ouerthrowe.
_Cassi._ The wauering people pytiyng _Cæsars_ death,
Do rage at vs, who fore to winne their weale:
Spare not the danger of our dearest liues,
But since no safety _Rome_ for vs affordes:
_Brutus_ weell hast vs to our Prouinces,
I into _Syre_, thou into _Maccedon_,
Where wee will muster vp such martiall bandes, 1930
As shall afright our following enemies.
_Bru._ In _Thessaly_ weele meete the Enemy,
And in that ground distaynd with _Pompeys_ bloud,
And fruitefull made with _Romane_ massaker,
VVeele either sacrifice our guilty foe,
To appease the furies of these howling Ghostes,
That wander restles through the sliemy ground
Or else that _Thessaly_ bee a common Tombe:
To bury those that fight to infranchize _Rome_.
_Titin._ Brauely resolu'd, I see yong _Brutus_ minde, 1940
Strengthned with force of vertues sacred rule:
Contemneth death, and holdes proud chance in scorne.
_Bru._ I that before fear'd not to do the deede,
Shalt neuer now repent it being done,
No more I Fortun'd, like the _Roman_ Lord,
Whose faith brought death yet with immortall fame,
I kisse thee hand for doing such a deede:
And thanke my heart for this so Noble thought,
And blesse the Heauens for fauoring my attempts:
For Noble _Rome_, and if thou beest not free, 1950
Yet I haue done what euer lay in mee:
And worthy friend as both our thoughts conspired,
And ioyned in vnion to performe this deede,
This acceptable deede to Heauens and _Rome_,
So lets continue in our high resolue:
And as wee haue with honor thus begunne,
So lets persist, vntill our liues bee done.
_Cassi._ Then let vs go and with our warlike troopes,
Collected from our seuerall Prouinces,
Make _Asia_ subiect to our Conquering armes. 1960
_Brutus_ thou hast commanded the Illirian bandes:
The feared _Celts_ and _Lusitanian_ horse,
_Parthenians_ proud, and _Thrasians_ borne in warre:
And _Macedon_ yet proud with our old actes,
With all the flowre of Louely _Thessaly_,
Vnder my warlike collours there shall march:
New come from _Syria_ and from _Babilon_,
The warlike _Mede_, and the _Arabian_ Boe,
The _Parthian_ fighting when hee seemes to flie:
Those conquering _Gauls_ that built their seates in Greece, 1970
And all the Costers on the _Mirapont_.
ACT. 3. SCE. I. {SN _Act IV sc. iv_}
_Enter Cæsars Ghost._
_Gho._ Out of the horror of those shady vaultes,
Where Centaurs, Harpies, paynes and furies fell:
And Gods and Ghosts and vgly Gorgons dwell,
My restles soule comes heere to tell his wronges.
Hayle to thy walles, thou pride of all the world,
Thou art the place where whilome in my life.
My seat of mounting honour was erected, 1980
And my proud throane that seem'd to check the heauens:
But now my pompe and I are layd more lowe,
With these asosiates of my ouerthrow,
Here ancient _Assur_ and proud _Belus_ lyes,
_Ninus_ the first that sought a Monarches name.
_Atrides_ fierce with the _Æacides_,
The _Greeke Heros_, and the _Troian_ flower,
Blood-thirsting _Cyrus_ and the conquering youth:
That sought to fetch his pedegree from Heauen,
Sterne _Romulus_ and proud _Tarquinius_, 1990
The mighty _Sirians_ and the _Ponticke_ Kings,
_A lcides_ and the stout, _Carthagian_ Lord,
The fatall enemie to the _Roman_ name.
Ambitious _Sylla_ and fierce _Marius_,
And both the _Pompeyes_ by me don to death,
I am the last not least of the same crue,
Looke on my deeds and say what _Cæsar_ was,
_Thessalia_, _Ægipt_, _Pontus_, _Africa_,
_Spayne_ _Brittaine_, _Almany_ and _France_,
So many a bloody tryall of my worth. 2000
But why doe I my glory thus restraine,
When all the world was but a Charyot,
Wherein I rode Triumphing in my pride?
But what auaylesthis tale of what I was?
Since in my chefest hight _Brutus_ base hand.
With three and twenty wounds my heart did goare,
Giue me my sword and shild Ile be Reueng'd,
My mortall wounding speare and goulden Crest.
I will dishorse my foemen in the field,
Alasse poore _Cæsar_ thou a shadow art, 2010
An ayery substance wanting force and might,
Then will I goe and crie vpon the world,
Exclame on _Anthony_ and _Octauian_,
Which seeke through discord and discentions broyles,
T'imbrue their weapons in each others blood,
And leaue to execute my iust reuenge,
I heare the drummes and bloody Trumpets sound,
O how this sight my greeued soule doth wound,
_Enter Anthony, at on dore, Octauian at
another with Souldiers._ 2020
_Anth._ Now martiall friends competitors in armes,
You that will follow _Anthony_ to fight,
Whome stately _Rome_ hath oft her Consull seene,
Grac'd with eternall trophes of renowne,
With _Libian_ triumphes and _Iiberian_ spoyles,
Who scorns to haue his honour now distaind,
Or credit blemisht by a Boyes disgrace,
Prepare your dauntles stomakes to the fight,
Where without striking you shall ouer come.
_Octa._ Fellowes in war-faire which haue often serued, 2030
Vnder great _Cæsar_ my disceased sier,
And haue return'd the conquerors of the world,
Clad in the Spoyles of all the Orient:
That will not brooke that any _Roman_ Lord,
Should iniure mighty _Iulius Cæsars_ sonne,
Recall your wonted vallour and these hearts,
That neuer entertaynd Ignoble thoughts
And make my first warre-faire and fortunate:
_Ant._ Stike vp drums, and let your banners flie,
Thus will we set vpon the enemy. 2040
_Gho._ Cease Drums to strike, and fould your banners vp,
Wake not _Bellona_ with your trumpets Clange,
Nor call vnwilling _Mars_ vnto the field:
See _Romaines_, see my wounds not yet clos'd vp,
The bleeding monuments of _Cæsars_ wronges.
Haue you so soone for got my life and death?
My life wherein I reard your fortunes vp.
My death wherein my reared fortune fell,
My life admir'd and wondred at of men?
My death which seem'd vnworthy to the Gods, 2050
My life which heap'd on you rewards and gifts,
My death now begges one gift; a iust reueng.
_Ant._ A Chilly cowld possesseth all my Ioyntes,
And pale wan feare doth cease my fainting heart,
_Octa._ O see how terrible my Fathers lookes?
My haire stands stiffe to see his greisly hue:
Alasse I deare not looke him in the face,
And words do cleaue to my benummed Iawes.
_Gho._ For shame weake _Anthony_ throw thy weapons downe
Sonne sheath thy sword, not now for to be drawne, 2060
_Brutus_ must feele the heauy stroke thereof:
But if that needes you will into the field,
And that warrs enuie pricks your forward hate.
To slacke your fury with each others blood,
Then forward on to your prepared deaths
Let sad _Alecto_ sound her fearefull trump,
_Reueng_ a rise in lothsome sable weedes,
Light-shining Treasons and vnquenced Hates,
Horror and vgly Murther (nights blacke child,)
Let sterne _Mægera_ on her thundering drumme, 2070
Play gastly musicke to comsort your deathes.
Banner to banner, foote gainst foote opos'd,
Sword against sword, shild gainst shild, and life to life,
Let death goe raginge through your armed rankes,
And load himselfe with heapes of murthered men,
And let Heauens iustice send you all to Hell,
_Anth._ Shamst thou not _Anthony_ to draw thy sword,
On _Cæsars_ Sonne, for rude rash youth full brawles,
And dost let passe their treason vnrevenged,
That _Cæsars_ life and glory both did end, 2080
_Octa._ Shame of my selfe, and this intended fight,
Doth make me feare t' approach his dreadfull sight:
Forgiue my slacknes to reuenge thy wronges,
Pardon my youth that rashly was mislead,
Through vaine ambition for to doe this deed,
_Gho._ Then ioyne your hands and heare let battle cease,
Chang feare to Ioy, and warre to smooth-fac't Peace.
_Oct._ Then Father heere in sight of Heauen and thee,
I giue my hand and heart to _Anthony_,
_Ant._ Take likewise mine, the hand that once was vowd', 2090
To bee imbrued in thy luke-warme bloud,
VVhich now shall strike in yong _Octauians_ rights.
_Gho._ Now sweare by all the Dieties of Heauen,
All Gods and powers you do adore and serue:
For to returne my murther on their cruell head,
Whose trayterous hands my guiltles bloud haue shed.
_Anth._ Then by the Gods that through the raging waues,
Brought thee braue _Troian_ to old _Latium_,
And great _Quirinus_ placed now in Heauen:
By the _Gradinus_ that with shield of Brasse, 2100
Defendest _Rome_, by the ouerburning flames
Of _Vesta_ and _Carpeian_ Towers of _Ioue_.
Vowes _Anthony_ to quite thy worthy death,
Or in performance loose his vitall breath.
_Octa._ The like _Octauian_ vowes to Heauen and thee.
_Gho._ Then go braue warriors with succesfull hap,
Fortune shall waite vpon your rightfull armes,
And courage sparkell, from your Princely eyes,
Dartes of reuenge to daunt your enemies.
_Antho._ Now with our armies both conioyned in one, 2110
Weele meete the enemy in _Macedon_:
_Æmathian_ fieldes shall change her flowry greene,
And die proud _Flora_ in a sadder hew:
Siluer _Stremonia_, whose faire Christall waues,
Once founded great _Alcides_ echoing fame:
When as he slew that fruitefull headed snake,
Which _Lerna_ long-time fostered in her wombe:
Shall in more tragick accentes and sad tunes,
Eccho the terror of thy dismall sight,
_Hemus_ shall fat his barren fieldes with bloud: 2120
And yellow _Ceres_ spring from woundes of men,
The toyling husband-men in time to come,
Shall with his harrow strike on rusty helmes,
And finde, and wonder, at our swordes and speares,
And with his plowe dig vp braue _Romans_ graues:
ACT. 5. SCE 1. {SN _Chor. V_}
_Enter Discord._
_Dis._ The balefull haruest of my ioy, thy woe
Gins ripen _Brutus_, Heauens commande it so. 2130
Pale sad _Auernus_ opes his yawning Iawes,
Seeking to swallow vp thy murtherous soule,
The furies haue proclaym'd a festiuall:
And meane to day to banquet with thy bloud,
Now Heauens array you in your clowdy weedes:
Wrap vp the beauty of your glorious lamp,
And dreadfull _Chaos_, of sad drery night,
Thou Sunne that climest vp to the easterne hill:
And in thy Chariot rides with swift steedes drawne,
In thy proud Iollity and radiant glory: 2140
Go back againe and hide thee in the sea,
Darkenesse to day shall couer all the world:
Let no light shine, but what your swords can strike,
From out their steely helmes, and fiery shildes:
Furies, and Ghosts, with your blue-burning lampes,
In mazing terror ride through _Roman_ rankes:
With dread affrighting those stout Champions hearts,
All stygian fiendes now leaue whereas you dwell:
And come into the world and make it hell.
{SN _Act. V sc. i_}
_Enter Cassius, Brutus, Titinnius, Cato Iunior,
with an army marching_
_Casi._ Thus far wee march with vnresisted armes, 2152
Subduing all that did our powres with-stand:
_Laodicia_ whose high reared walles,
Faire _Lyeas_ washeth with her siluer waue:
And that braue monument of _Perseus_ fame,
With _Tursos_ vaild to vs her vanting pride,
Faire _Rhodes_, I weepe to thinke vpon thy fall;
Thou wert to stubberne, else thou still hadst stood,
Inviolate of _Cassius_ hurtles hand, 2160
That was my nurse, where in my youth I drew
The flowing milke of Greekish eloquence:
Proud _Capadocia_ sawe her King captiu'd,
(And _Dolabella_ vanting in the spoyles.
Of slayne _Trebonius_) fall as springing tree,
Seated in louely _Tempes_ pleasant shades:
Whom beuteous spring with blossoms braue hath deckt,
And sweete _Fauonia_ manteled all in greene,
By winters rage doth loose his flowry pride,
And hath each twigg bar'd by northerne winds. 2170
Thus from the conquest of proud _Palestine_,
Hether in triumph haue we march'd along,
Making our force-commaunding rule to stretch,
From faire _Euphrates_ christall flowing waues
Vnto the Sea which yet weepes _Io's_ death,
Slayne by great _Hercules_ repenting hand,
_Bru._ Of all the places by my sword subdued,
Pitty of thee poore _Zanthus_ moues me most;
Thrise hast thou ben beseeged by thy foe,
And thrise to saue thy liberty hast felt 2180
The fatall flames of thine owne cruell hand.
First being beseeg'd by _Harpalus_ the _Mede_,
The sterne performer of proud _Cyrus_ wrath:
Next when the _Macedonian Phillips_ sonne,
Did rayse his engines gainst thy battered walls,
Proud _Zanthus_ that did scorne to beare the yoake,
That all the world was forced to sustaine,
Last when that I my selfe did guirt thy walls,
With troopes of high resolued _Roman_ hearts,
Rather then thou wouldest yeeld to _Brutus_ sword, 2190
Or stayne the mayden honour of thy Towne,
Did'st sadly fall as proud _Numantia_.
Scorning to yeeld to conquering _Scipios_ power.
_Cas._ And now to thee _Phillipi_, are wee come,
Whose fields must twise feele _Roman_ cruelty,
And flowing blood like to _Dærcean_ playnes,
When proud _Eteocles_ on his foaming steede,
Rides in his fury through the _Argean_ troopes,
Now making great _Ærastus_ giue him way,
Now beating back _Tidæus_ puissant might: 2200
The ground not dry'd from sad _Pharsalian_ blood,
Will now bee turned to a purple lake:
And bleeding heapes and mangled bodyes slayne,
Shall make such hills as shall surpasse in height
The Snowy Alpes and aery _Appenines_,
_Titi._ A Scout brought word but now that he descryd,
Warlike _Anthonius_ and young _Cæsars_ troopes,
Marching in fury ouer _Thessalian_ playnes.
As great _Gradinus_ when in angry moode,
He driues his chariot downe from heauens top, 2210
And in his wheels whirleth reueng and death:
Heere by _Phillippi_ they will pich their tents,
And in these fieldes (fatall to _Roman_ liues.)
Hazard the fortune of the doubtfull fight,
_Cat._ O welcome thou this long expected day,
On which dependeth _Romane_ liberty,
Now _Rome_ thy freedom hangeth in suspence,
And this the day that must assure thy hopes.
_Cassi._ Great _Ioue_, and thou _Trytonyan_ warlike Queene:
Arm'd with thy amazing deadly _Gorgons_ head. 2220
Strenghen our armes that fight for _Roman_ welth:
And thou sterne _Mars_, and _Romulus_ thy Sonne,
Defend that Citty which your selfe begun.
All heauenly powers assist our rightfull armes,
And send downe siluer winged victory,
To crowne with Lawrells our triumphant Crests.
_Bru._ My minde thats trobled in my vexed soule,
(Opprest with sorrow and with sad dismay,)
Misgiues me this wilbe a heauy day.
_Cassi._ Why faynt not now in these our last extremes, 2230
This time craues courage not dispayring feare,
_Titin._ Fie, twill distayne thy former valiant acts.
To say thou faintest now in this last act,
_Bru._ My mind is heauy, and I know not why,
But cruell fate doth sommon me to die,
_Cato._ Sweet _Brute_, let not thy words be ominous signes,
Of so mis-fortunnate and sad euent,
Heauen and our Vallour shall vs conquerours make.
_Cassi._ What Bastard feare hath taunted our dead hearts,
Or what vnglorious vnwounted thought, 2240
Hath changed the vallour of our daunted mindes.
What are our armes growne weaker then they were?
Cannot this hand that was proud _Cæsars_ death,
Send all _Cæsarians_ headlong that same path?
Looke how our troups in Sun-bright armes do shine,
With vaunting plumes and dreadfull brauery.
The wrathful steedes do check their iron bits,
And with a well grac'd terror strike the ground,
And keeping times in warres sad harmony.
And then hath _Brutus_ any cause to feare, 2250
My selfe like valiant _Peleus_ worthy Sonne,
The Noblest wight that eur _Troy_ beheld,
Shall of the aduerse troopes such hauock make,
As sad _Phillipi_ shall in blood bewayle,
The cruell massacre of _Cassius_ sword,
And then hath _Brutus_ any cause to feare?
_Bru._ No outward shewes of puissance or of strength,
Can helpe a minde dismayed inwardly,
Leaue me sweete Lordes a while vnto my selfe.
_Cassi._ In the meane time take order for the fight, 2260
Drums let your fearefull mazing thunder playe.
And with their sound peirce Heauens brazen Towers,
And all the earth fill with like fearefull noyse,
As when that _Boreas_ from his Iron caue.
With boysterous furyes Striuing in the waues,
Comes swelling forth to meet his blustering foe,
They both doe runne with feerce tempestuous rage,
And heaues vp mountaynes of the watry waues.
The God _Oceanus_ trembles at the stroke,
_Bru._ What hatefull furyes vex my tortured mind? 2270
What hideous sightes appalle my greeued soule,
As when _Orestes_ after mother slaine.
Not being yet at _Scithians_ Alters purged,
Behould the greesly visages of fiends.
And gastly furies which did haunt his steps,
_Cæsar_ vpbraues my sad ingratitude,
He saued my life in sad _Pharsalian_ fieldes,
That I in _Senate_ house might worke his death.
O this remembrance now doth wound my soule,
More then my poniard did his bleeding heart, 2280
_Enter Ghost._
_Gho._ _Brutus_, ingratefull _Brutus_ seest thou mee:
Anon In field againe thou shalt me see,
_Bru._ Stay what so ere thou art, or fiend below,
Rays'd from the deepe by inchanters bloody call,
Or fury sent from _Phlegitonticke_ flames,
Or from _Cocytus_ for to end my life,
Be then _Megera_ or _Tysiphone_,
Or of _Eumenides_ ill boading crue.
Fly me not now, but end my wretched life, 2290
Comegreesly messenger of sad mishap,
Trample in blood of him that hates to liue,
And end my life and sorrow all at once.
_Gho._ Accursed traytor damned _Homicide_,
Knowest thou not me, to whome for forty honors:
Thou three and twenty Gastly wounds didst giue?
Now dare no more for to behould the Heauens,
For they to Day haue destyned thine end:
Nor lift thy eyes vnto the rising sunne,
That nere shall liue for to behould it set, 2300
Nor looke not downe vnto the Hellish shades,
There stand the furyes thursting for thy blood,
Flie to the field but if thou thither go'st,
There _Anthonyes_ sword will peirce thy trayterous heart.
_Brutus_ to daie my blood shalbe reuenged,
And for my wrong and vndeserued death,
Thy life to thee a torture shall become,
And thou shalt oft amongest the dying grones,
Of slaughtered men that bite the bleeding earth.
Wish that like balefull cheere might thee befall, 2310
And seeke for death that flies so wretched wight,
Vntill to shunne the honour of the fight,
And dreadfull vengeance of supernall ire.
Thine owne right hand shall worke my wish'd reueng,
And so Fare ill, hated of Heauen and Men.
_Bru._ Stay _Cæsar_ stay, protract my greife no longer,
Rip vp my bowells glut thy thirsting throte,
With pleasing blood of _Cæsars_ guilty heart:
But see hee's gon, and yonder Murther stands:
See how he poynts his knife vnto my hart. 2320
_Althea_ raueth for her murthered Sonne,
And weepes the deed that she her-selfe hath done:
And _Meleager_ would thou liuedst againe,
But death must expiate. _Altheas_ come.
I, death the guerdon that my deeds deserue:
The drums do thunder forth dismay and feare,
And dismall triumphes found my fatall knell,
Furyes I come to meete you all in Hell,
{SN _Act V sc. ii_}
_Enter Cato wounded._
_Cato._ Bloodles and faynt; _Cato_ yeelde vp thy breath;
While strength and vigour in these armes remaynd, 2331
And made me able for to wield my sword,
So long I fought; and sweet _Rome_ for thy sake
Fear'd not effusion of my blood to make.
But now my strength and life doth fayle at once,
My vigor leaues my could and feeble Ioynts,
And I my sad soule, must power forth in blood.
O vertue whome _Phylosophy_ extols.
Thou art no essence but a naked name,
Bond-slaue to Fortune, weake, and of no power, 2340
To succor them which alwaies honourd thee:
Witnesse my Fathers and mine owne sad death,
Who for our country spent our latest breath:
But oh the chaines of death do hold my toung,
Mine eyes wax dim I faynt, I faynt, I die.
O Heauens help _Rome_ in this extremity.
{SN _Act V sc. iii_}
_Cass._ Where shall I goe to tell the saddest tale,
That ere the _Romane_ toung was forc'd to speake,
_Rome_ is ouerthrowne, and all that for her fought:
This Sunne that now hath seen so many deaths, 2350
When from the Sea he heaued his cloudy head,
Then both the armes full of hope and feare,
Did waite the dreadfull trumpets fatall sound,
And straight Reuenge from _Stygian_ bands let loose,
Possessed had all hearts and banished thence,
Feare of their children, wife and little home.
Countryes remembrance, and had quite expeld,
With last departed care of life it selfe:
Anger did sparkell from our beautious eyes,
Our trembling feare did make our helmes to shake, 2360
The horse had now put on the riders wrath,
And with his hoofes did strike the trembling earth,
When _Echalarian_ soundes then both gin meete:
Both like enraged, and now the dust gins rise,
And Earth doth emulate the Heauens cloudes,
Then yet beutyous was the face of cruell war:
And goodly terror it might seeme to be,
Faire shieldes, gay swords, and goulden crests did shine.
Their spangled plumes did dance for Iolity,
As nothing priuy to their Masters feare, 2370
But quickly rage and cruell _Mars_ had staynd,
This shining glory with a sadder hew,
A cloud of dartes that darkened Heauens light,
Horror insteed of beauty did suceede.
And her bright armes with dust and blood were foyld:
Now _Lucius_ fals, heare _Drusus_ takes his end,
Here lies _Hortensius_, weltring in his goare.
Here, there, and euery where men fall and die,
Yet _Cassius_ shew not that thy heart doth faynt:
But to the last gasp for _Romains_ freedom fight, 2380
And when sad death shall be thy labors end,
Yet boast thy life thou didst for Country spend.
{SN _Act V sc. iv_}
_Enter Anthony._
_Ant._ Queene of Reuenge imperious _Nemesis_,
That in the wrinkels of thine angry browes,
Wrapst dreadfull vengance and pale fright-full death:
Raine downe the bloudy showers of thy reuenge,
And make our swordes the fatall instruments,
To execute thy furious bale-full Ire,
Let grim death seate her on my Lances point, 2390
Which percing the weake armour of my foes,
Shall lodge her there within there coward brestes,
Dread, horror, vengance, death, and bloudy hate:
In this sad fight my murthering sworde awaite. _Exit_
{SN _Act V sc. v_}
_Enter Titinnius._
_Titin._ Where may I flie from this accursed soyle,
Or shunne the horror of this dismall day:
The Heauens are colour'd in mourning sable weedes,
The Sunne doth hide his face, and feares to see,
This bloudy conflict; sad _Catastrophe_, 2400
Nothing but grones of dying men are heard:
Nothing but bloud and slaughter may bee seene
And death, the same in sundry shapes araied.
_Enter Cassius._
_Casi._ In vaine, in vaine, O _Cassius_ all in vaine,
Tis Heauen and destiny thou striuest against.
_Titin._ VVhat better hope or more accepted tydinges,
Ist Noble _Cassius_ from the Battell bringes?
_Cassi._ This haples hope that fates decreed haue,
_Philippi_ field must bee our haples graue. 2410
_Titin._ And then must this accurs'd and fatall day,
End both our liues and _Romane_ liberty:
Must now the name of freedome bee forgot,
And all _Romes_ glory in _Thessalia_ end?
_Casi._ As those that lost in boysterous troublous seas,
Beaten with rage of Billowes stormy strife:
And without starres do sayle 'gainst starres and winde.
In drery darkenesse and in chereles night,
Without or hope or comfort endles are:
So are my thoughts deiected with dismay, 2420
Which can nought looke for but poore _Romes_ decay.
But yet did _Brutus_ liue, did hee but breath?
Or lay not slumbering in eternall night,
His welfare might infuse some hope, or life:
Or at the least bring death with more content:
Weried I am through labour of the fight:
Then sweete _Titinnius_, range thou through the fielde,
And either glad me with my friends successe,
Or quickly tell mee what my care doth feare:
How breathles hee vpon the ground doth lie, 2430
That at thy words, I may fall downe and die.
_Titin._ _Cassius_, I goe to seeke thy Noble friend,
Heauen grant my goings haue a prosperous end.
_Cassi._ O go _Titinnius_, and till thy returne,
Heere will I sit disconsolate alone,
_Romes_ sad mishap, and mine owne woes to moone:
O ten times treble fortunate were you,
VVhich in _Pharsalias_ bloudy conflict dyed,
VVith those braue Lords, now layed in bed of fame:
VVhich neere protected their most blessed dayes, 2440
To see the horror of this dismall fight,
VVhy died I not in those _Æmathian_ playnes,
VVhere great _Domitius_ fell by _Cæsars_ hand?
And swift _Eurypus_ downe his bloudy streame
Bare shieldes and helmes and traines of slaughter'd men,
But Heauens reserud mee to this luckles day,
To see my Countries fall and friends decay.
But why doth not _Titinnius_ yet returne?
My trembling heart misgiues me what's befalne,
_Brutus_ is dead: I: herke how willingly 2450
The Ecco itterates those deadly words,
The whisling windes with their mourning sound
Do fill mine eares with noyse of _Brutus_ death,
The birdes now chanting a more cheerles lay,
In dolefull notes recorde my friends decay.
And _Philomela_ now forgets old wronges,
And onely _Brutus_ wayleth in her songes.
I heare some noyse, O tis _Titinnius_,
No tis not hee, for hee doth feare to wound,
My greeued eares with that hearts-thrilling sound. 2460
Why dost thou feed my thoughts with lingering hope?
Why dost thou then prolong my life in vayne?
Tell me my sentence and so end my payne:
He comes not yet, nor yet, nor will at all,
Linger not _Cassius_ for to heare reply,
What if he come and tels me hee is slayne?
That only will increase my dying paine,
_Brutus_ I come to company thy soule,
Which by _Cocytus_ wandreth all alone.
_Brutus_ I come prepare to meete thy friend 2470
Thy Brothers fall procures this balefull end.
_Enter Titinius._
_Titi._ _Brutus_ doth liue and like a second _Mars_,
Rageth in heate of fury mongest his foes,
Then cheere thee _Cassius_, loe I bring releefe.
And news of power to ease thy stormy greefe,
But see where _Cassius_ weltreth in his blood,
Doth beate the Earth, and yet not fully dead.
O _Cassius_ speake, O speake to me sweet friend,
_Brutus_ doth liue; open thy dying eyes, 2480
And looke on him that hope and comfort rings.
O noe, hee will not looke on mee but cryes,
That by my long delayes he haples dies:
Accursed villaine murtherer of thy friend,
Why hath thy lingering thus wrought _Cassius_ end,
How cold thy care was to preuent this deed,
How slow thy loue that made no greater speed,
Care winged is, and burning loue can flye,
My care was feareles, loue but flattery,
But sithence in my life my loue was neuer shewne, 2490
Now in my death Ile make it to be knowne.
Accursed weapon that such blood could spil,
Nay cursed then the author of this deed,
Yet both offended, both shall punished be,
Ile take reueng of the knife, the knife of me,
It shall make a passage for my life to passe,
Cause through my life his master murthered was.
And I on it againe will venged bee.
Cause it did worke my _Cassius_ tragedy.
Then this reueng shalbe to end my life. 2500
Mine to distayne with baser blood the knife.
_Enter Brutus the Ghost following him._
_Bru._ What doest thou still persue me vgly fend,
Is this it that thou thirsted for so much?
Come with thy tearing clawes and rend it out,
Would thy appeaseles rage be slacked with blood,
This sword to day hath crimsen channels made,
But heare's the blood that thou woulds drinke so fayne,
Then take this percer, broch this trayterous heart.
Or if thou thinkest death to small a payne, 2510
Drag downe this body to proud _Erebus_,
Through black _Cocytus_ and infernall _Styx_,
_Lethean_ waues, and fiers of _Phlegeton_,
Boyle me or burne, teare my hatefull flesh,
Deuoure, consume, pull, pinch, plague, paine this hart,
Hell craues her right, and heere the furyes stand,
And all the hell-hounds compasse me a round
Each seeking for a parte of this same prey,
Alasse this body is leane, thin, pale and wan,
Nor can it all your hungery mouthes suffice, 2520
O tis the soule that they stand gaping for,
And cndlesse matter for to prey vpon.
Renewed still as _Titius_ pricked heart.
Then clap your hands, let Hell with Ioy resound?
Here it comes flying through this aery round.
_Gho._ Hell take their hearts, that this ill deed haue done
And vengeance follow till they be ouercome:
Nor liue t'applaud the iustice of this deed.
Murther by her owne guilty hand doth bleed.
_Enter Discord._
_Dis._ I, now my longing hopes haue their desire, 2531
The world is nothing but a massie heape:
Of bodys slayne, The Sea a lake of blood,
The Furies that for slaughter only thirst,
Are with these Massakers and slaughters cloyde,
_Tysiphones_ pale, and _Megeras_ thin face,
Is now puft vp, and swolne with quaffing blood,
_Caron_ that vsed but an old rotten boate
Must nowe a nauie rigg for to transport,
The howling soules, vnto the _Stigian_ stronde. 2540
Hell and _Elisium_ must be digd in one,
And both will be to litle to contayne,
Numberles numbers of afflicted ghostes,
That I my selfe haue tumbling thither sent.
_Gho._ Now nights pale daughter since thy bloody ioyes,
And my reuengfull thirst fulfilled are,
Doe thou applaud what iustly heauens haue wrought,
While murther on the murtherers head is brought.
_Dis._ _Cæsar_ I pitied not thy Tragick end:
Nor tyrants daggers sticking in thy heart, 2550
Nor doe I that thy deaths with like repayd,
But that thy death so many deaths hath made:
Now cloyde with blood, Ile hye me downe below,
And laugh to thinke I caused such endlesse woe.
_Gho._ Sith my reueng is full accomplished,
And my deaths causers by them selues are slaine,
I will descend to mine eternall home,
Where euerlastingly my quiet soule,
The sweete _Elysium_ pleasure shall inioy,
And walke those fragrant flowry fields at rest: 2560
To which nor fayre _Adonis_ bower so rare,
Nor old _Alcinous_ gardens may compare.
There that same gentle father of the spring,
Mild _Zephirus_ doth _Odours_ breath diuine:
Clothing the earth in painted brauery,
The which nor winters rage, nor Scorching heate,
Or Summers sunne can make it fall or fade,
There with the mighty champions of old time,
And great _Heroes_ of the Goulden age,
My dateles houres Ile spend in lasting ioy.
FINIS.
*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The Tragedy Of Caesar's Revenge" ***
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