Pompey the Great, his faire Corneliaes tragedie effected by her father and husbandes downe-cast, death, and fortune. Written in French, by that excellent poet Ro: Garnier; and translated into English by Thomas Kid. Cornélie. English Garnier, Robert, 1544-1590. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A01501 of text S105700 in the English Short Title Catalog (STC 11622A). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 127 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 48 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2018 A01501 STC 11622A ESTC S105700 99841426 99841426 6007 2240872253

This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. Searching, reading, printing, or downloading EEBO-TCP texts is reserved for the authorized users of these project partner institutions. Permission must be granted for subsequent distribution, in print or electronically, of this EEBO-TCP Phase II text, in whole or in part.

 Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 2, no. A01501) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 6007) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 544:9) Pompey the Great, his faire Corneliaes tragedie effected by her father and husbandes downe-cast, death, and fortune. Written in French, by that excellent poet Ro: Garnier; and translated into English by Thomas Kid. Cornélie. English Garnier, Robert, 1544-1590. Kyd, Thomas, 1558-1594. [96] p. Printed [by James Roberts] for Nicholas Ling, At London : 1595. A translation of: Cornélie. A reissue of "Cornelia", 1594, with cancel a1.4. The first issue had James Roberts's name in the imprint. Signatures: a⁴ A-L⁴. The last leaf is blank. Reproduction of the original in the Henry E. Huntington Library and Art Gallery. eng eebo Pompey the Great, his faire Corneliaes tragedie: effected by her father and husbandes downe-cast, death, and fortune. Written in French, by that excel Garnier, Robert, 1595 96 19671 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 A This text has no known defects that were recorded as gap elements at the time of transcription. 2009-08 Assigned for keying and markup 2009-08 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2009-12 Sampled and proofread 2009-12 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2010-04 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion

Pompey the Great , his faire Corneliaes Tragedie : Effected by her Father and Husbandes downe-cast , death , and fortune .

Written in French , by that excellent Poet Ro: Garnier ; and translated into English by Thomas Kid.

AT LONDON Printed for Nicholas Ling. 1595.

To the vertuously Noble , and rightly honoured Lady , the Countesse of Sussex .

HAuing no leysure ( most noble Lady ) but such as euermore is traueld with th' afflictions of the minde , then which the world affoords no greater misery , it may bee wondred at by some , how I durst vndertake a matter of this moment : which both requireth cunning , rest and oportunity ; but chiefely , that I would attempt the dedication of so rough vnpollished a worke , to the suruey of your so worthy selfe .

But beeing well instructed in your noble and heroick dispositions , and perfectly assur'd of your honourable fauours past , ( though neyther making needles glozes of the one , nor spoyling paper with the others Pharisaical embroderie , ) I haue presum'd vpon your true conceit and entertainement of these small endeuours , that thus I purposed to make known , my memory of you and them to be immortall .

A fitter present for a Patronesse so well accomplished , I could not finde , then this faire president of honour , magnanimitie , and loue . Wherein , what grace that excellent GARNIER hath lost by my defaulte , I shall beseech your Honour to repaire , with the regarde of those so bitter times , and priuie broken passions that I endured in the writing it .

And so vouchsafing but the possing of a Winters weeke with desolate Cornelia , I will assure your Ladiship my next Sommers better trauell , with the Tragedy of Portia . And euer spend one howre of the day in some kind seruice to your Honour , and another of the night in wishing you all happines . Perpetually thus deuoting my poore selfe

Your Honors in all humblenes . T. K.
The Argument .

CORNELIA the Daughter of Metellus Scipio , a young Romaine Lady , ( as much accomplisht with the graces of the bodie , & the vertues of the minde as euer any was , ) was first married to young Crassus , who died with his Father , in the disconfiture of the Romains against the Parthians ; Afterward she tooke to second husbande Pompey the great , who ( three yeeres after ) vpon the first fiers of the ciuill warres betwixt him & Caesar , sent her fro thence to Mitilen , there to attende the incertaine successe of those affaires . And when he sawe that hee was vanquisht at Pharsalia , returnd to find her out , & carrie her with him into Egipt , where his purpose was to haue re-enforc'd a newe Armie , and giue a second assault to Caesar .

In this voyage , hee was murdred by Achillas and Septimius the Romaine before her eyes , and in the presence of his young Sonne Sextus , and some other Senators his friends . After which , shee retyred herselfe to Rome . But Scipio her Father , ( beeing made Generall of those that suruiued after the battaile ) assembled new forces , and occupied the greater part of Afrique , allying himselfe to Iuba King of Numidia . Against all whom , Caesar ( after he had ordied the affayres of Egipt and the state of Rome ) in the end of Winter marched . And there ( after many light encounters ) was a fierce and furious battaile giuen amongst them , neere the walls of Tapsus . Where Scipio seeing himselfe subdued , and his Armie scattered , he betooke himselfe with some small troope , to certaine shippes which he had caused to stay for him .

Thence he sailed towarde Spayne , where Pompeys Faction commaunded , and where a suddaine tempest tooke him on the Sea , that draue him backe to Hippon a Towne in Affrique at the deuotion of Caesar , where ( lying at anchor ) he was assailed , beaten & assaulted by the aduerse Fleete ; And for hee woulde not fall aliue into the hands of his so mightie Enemie , hee stabd himselfe , and suddainly leapt ouer boorde into the Sea , and there dyed .

Caesar ( hauing finished these warres , and quietly reduc'd the Townes and places there-about to his obedience ) return'd to Rome in tryumph for his victories ; Where this most faire and miserable Ladie , hauing ouer-mourn'd the death of her deere husband , and vnderstanding of these crosse euents and haplesse newes of Affrique , together with the pitteous manner of her Fathers end , she tooke ( as she had cause ) occasion to redouble both her teares and lamentations : wherewith shee closeth the Catastrophe of this their Tragedic .

❧ INTERLOCVTORES . M. Cicero . Phillip . Deci. Brutus . M. Anthony . Cornelia . C. Cassius . Iulius Caesar . The messenger CHORVS .
CORNELIA .
ACTVS . PRIMVS . CICERO . VOuchsafe Immortals , and ( aboue the rest ) Great Iupiter , our Cittie s sole Protector , That if ( prouok'd against vs by our euils , ) You needs wil plague vs with your ceasles wroth , At least to chuse those forth that are in fault , And saue the rest in these tempestious broiles : Els let the mischiefe that should them befall , Be pour'd on me , that one may die for all . Oft hath such sacrafice appeas'd your ires , And oft yee haue your heauie hands with-held From this poore people , when ( with one mans losse , ) Your pittie hath preseru'd the rest vntucht : But we disloiall to our owne defence , Faint-harted do those liberties enthrall , Which ( to preserue vnto our after good ) Our fathers hazarded their derest blood . Yet Brutus Manlius , hardie Sceuola , And stout Camillus , are returned fro Stix , Desiring Armes to ayde our Capitoll . Yea , come they are , and fiery as before , Vnder a Tyrant see our bastard harts Lye idely sighing , while our shamefull soules Endure a million of base controls . Poysoned Ambition ( rooted in high mindes ) T' is thou that train'st vs into all these errors : Thy mortall couetize peruerts our lawes , And teares our freedom from our franchiz'd harts . Our Fathers found thee at their former walls ; And humbled to theyr of-spring left thee dying . Yet thou reuiuing , foyl'dst our Infant Towne , With guiltles blood by brothers hands out-lanched . And hongst ( O Hell ) vpon a Forte halfe finisht , Thy monstrous murder for a thing to marke . " But faith continues not where men command . " Equals are euer bandying for the best : " A state deuided cannot firmely stand . " Two Kings within one realme could neuer rest . Thys day we see , the Father and the sonne , Haue fought like foes Pharsalias miserie ; And with their blood made marsh the parched plaines , While th' earth that gron'd to beare theyr carkasses , Bewail'd th' insatiat humors of them both ; That as much blood in wilfull follie spent , As were to tame the world sufficient . Now Parthia feare no more , for Crassus death That we will come thy borders to besiege : Nor feare the darts of our couragious troopes . For those braue souldiers that were ( sometime ) wont To terrifie thee with their names , are dead . And ciuill furie , fiercer then thine hosts , Hath in a manner this great Towne ore-turn'd ; That whilom was the terror of the world . Of whom so many Nations stood in feare , To whom so many Nations prostrate stoopt , Ore whom ( saue heauen ) nought could signorize , And whom ( saue heauen ) nothing could afright . Impregnable , immortall , and whose power , Could neuer haue beene curb'd , but by it selfe . For neither could the flaxen-haird high Dutch , ( A martiall people madding after Armes , ) Nor yet the fierce and fiery humor'd French , The More that trauels to the Lybian sands , The Greek , Th' Arabian , Macedons or Medes , Once dare t' assault it , or attempt to lift Theyr humbled heads , in presence of proud Rome . But by our Lawes from libertie restraynd , Like Captiues lyu'd eternally enchaynd . But Rome ( alas ) what helps it that thou ty'dst The former World to thee in vassalage ? What helps thee now t' haue tam'd both land and Sea ? What helps it thee that vnder thy controll , The Morne and Mid-day both by East and West , And that the golden Sunne where ere he driue His glittring Chariot , findes our Ensignes spred ? Sith it contents not thy posteritie ; But as a bayte for pride ( which spoiles vs all , ) Embarques vs in so perilous a way , As menaceth our death , and thy decay . For Rome thou now resemblest a Ship , At random wandring in a boistrous Sea , When foming billowes feele the Northern blasts : Thou toyl'st in perrill , and the windie storme , Doth topside-turuey tosse thee as thou flotest . Thy Mast is shyuer'd , and thy maine-saile torne , Thy sides sore beaten , and thy hatches broke . Thou want'st thy tackling , and a Ship vnrig'd Can make no shift to combat with the Sea . See how the Rocks do heaue their heads at thee , Which if thou sholdst but touch , thou straight becomst A spoyle to Neptune , and a sportfull praie To th' Glauc's and Trytons , pleasd with thy decay . Thou vaunt'st not of thine Auncestors in vaine , But vainely count'st thine owne victorious deeds . What helpeth vs the things that they did then , Now we are hated both of Gods and men ? " Hatred accompanies prosperitie , " For one man grieueth at anothers good , " And so much more we thinke our miserie , " The more that Fortune hath with others stood : " So that we sild are seene as wisedom would , " To brydle time with reason as we should . " For we are proude when Fortune fauours vs , " As if inconstant Chaunce were alwaies one , " Or standing now , she would continue thus . " O fooles looke back and see the roling stone , " Whereon she blindly lighting sets her foote , " And slightly sowes that sildom taketh roote . Heauen heretofore ( enclinde to do vs good , ) Did fauour vs , with conquering our foes , When iealous Italie ( exasperate , With our vp-rising ) sought our Citties fall . But we , soone tickled with such flattring hopes , Wag'd further warre with an insatiate hart , And tyerd our neighbour Countries so with charge , As with their losse , we did our bounds enlarge . Carthage and Sicily we haue subdude , And almost yoked all the world beside : And soly through desire of publique rule , Rome and the earth are waxen all as one : Yet now we liue despoild and robd by one , Of th' ancient freedom wherein we were borne . And euen that yoke that wont to tame all others , Is heauily return'd vpon our selues . " A note of Chaunce that may the proude controle , " And shew Gods wrath against a cruell soule . " For heauen delights not in vs , when we doe " That to another , which our selues dysdaine : " Iudge others as thou wouldst be iudg'd againe . " And do but as thou wouldst be done vnto . " For sooth to say ( in reason ) we deserue , " To haue the selfe-same measure that we serue . What right had our ambitious auncestors , ( Ignobly issued from the Carte and Plough , ) To enter Asia ? What , were they the heires To Persia or the Medes , first Monarchies ? What interest had they to Afferique ? To Gaule or Spaine ? Or what did Neptune owe vs Within the bounds of further Brittanie ? Are we not thieues and robbers of those Realmes That ought vs nothing but reuenge for wrongs ? What toucheth vs the treasure or the hopes , The lyues or lyberties of all those Nations , Whom we by force haue held in seruitude ? Whose mournfull cryes and shreekes to heauen ascend , Importuning both vengeance and defence Against this Citty , ritch of violence . " T' is not enough ( alas ) our power t' extend , " Or ouer-runne the world from East to West , " Or that our hands the Earth can comprehend , " Or that we proudly doe what lyke vs best . " He lyues more quietly whose rest is made , " And can with reason chasten his desire , " Then he that blindly toyleth for a shade , " And is with others Empyre set on fire . " Our blysse consists not in possessions , " But in commaunding our affections " In vertues choyse , and vices needfull chace " Farre from our harts , for stayning of our face . CHORVS . VPpon thy backe ( where miserie doth sit ) O Rome , the heauens with their wrathful hand , Reuenge the crymes thy fathers did commit . But if ( their further furie to withstand , Which ore thy walls thy wrack sets menacing ) Thou dost not seeke to calme heauens ireful king , A further plague will pester all the land . " The wrath of heauen ( though vrg'd , ) we see is slow " In punishing the euils we haue done : " For what the Father hath deseru'd , we know " Is spar'd him , and punisht in the sonne . " But to forgiue the apter that they be , " They are the more displeased when they see , " That we continue our offence begunne . " Then from her lothsome Caue doth Plague repaire , " That breaths her beauie poisons downe to hell : " Which with their noisome fall corrupt the ayre , " Or maigre famin , which the weake foretell , " Or bloody warre , ( of other woes the worst , ) " Which where it lights doth show the Land accurst , " And nere did good where euer it befell . Warre that hath sought Th' Ausonian fame to reare , In warlike Emonye , ( now growne so great With Souldiers bodies that were buried there , ) Which yet to sack vs toyles in bloody sweat : T' enlarge the bounds of conquering Thessalie , Through murder , discord , wrath , and enmitie , Euen to the peacefull Indians pearled seate . Whose entrails fyerd with rancor , wrath and rage , The former petty combats did displace , And Campe to Campe did endlesse baticites mage : Which on the Mountaine tops of worlike Thrace , Made thundring Mars ( Dissentions common friend , ) Amongst the forward Souldiers first discend , Arm'd with his blood-besmeard keene Coutelace . Who first attempted to excite to Armes , The troopes enraged with the Trumpets sound , Head-long to runne and reck no after harmes , Where in the flowred Meades dead men were found ; Falling as thick ( through warlike crueltie , ) As eares of Corne for want of husbandry ; That ( wastfull ) shed their graine vppon the ground . Owarre , if thou wert subiect but to death , And by desert mighst fall to Phlegiton , The torment that Ixion suffereth , Or his whose soule the Vulter seazeth on , Were all too little to reward thy wrath : Nor all the plagues , that fierie Pluto hath The most outragious sinners layd vpon . Accursed Catiues , wretches that wee are , Perceiue we not that for the fatall dombe , The Fates make bast enough : but we ( by warre ) Must seeke in Hell to haue a haples roome . Or fast enough doe foolish men not die , But they ( by murther of themselues ) must hie , Hopeles to hide them in a haples tombe ? All sad and desolate our Citty lyes , And ( for faire Corne-ground are our fields surcloid ) With worthles Gorse , that yerely fruitles dyes ; And choakes the good which els we had enioy'd . Death dwels within vs , and if gentle Peace Discend not soone , our sorrowes to surcease , Latium ( alreadie quaild ) will be destroyd .
ACTVS SECVNDVS . Cornelia . Cicero . AND wil ye needs bedew my dead-grown ioyes , And nourish sorrow with eternall teares ? O eyes , and will yee ( cause I cannot dry Your ceaselesse springs ) not suffer me to die ? Then make the blood fro forth my branch-like vaines , Lyke weeping Riuers trickle by your vaults ; And spunge my bodies heate of moisture so , As my displeased soule may shunne my hart . Heauens let me dye , and let the Destinies , Admit me passage to th' infernall Lake ; That my poore ghost , may rest where powerfull fate , In Deaths sad kingdom hath my husband lodg'd . Fayne would I die , but darksome vgly Death , With-holds his darte , and in disdaine doth flye me , Malitiously knowing that hels horror , Is mylder then mine endles discontent . And that if Death vpon my life should seaze , The payne supposed would procure mine ease . But yee sad Powers that rule the silent deepes , Of dead-sad Night , where sinnes doe maske vnseene : You that amongst the darksome mansions Of pyning ghosts , twixt sighes , and sobs and teares , Do exercise your mirthlesse Empory . Yee gods ( at whose arbitrament all stand , ) Dislodge my soule , and keepe it with your selues , For I am more then halfe your prysoner . My noble husbands ( more then noble soules , ) Already wander vnder your commaunds . O then shall wretched I , that am but one , ( Yet once both theyrs , ) suruiue now they are gone ? Alas thou shouldst , thou shouldst Cornelia , Haue broke the sacred thred that tyde thee heere , When as thy husband Crassus ( in his flowre ) Did first beare Armes , and bare away my loue . And not ( as thou hast done ) goe break the bands , By calling Hymen once more back againe . Lesse haples , and more worthily thou might'st , Haue made thine auncesters and thee renound : If ( like a royall Dame ) with faith fast kept , Thou with thy former husbands death hadst slept . But partiall Fortune , and the powerful Fates , That at their pleasures wield our purposes , Bewitcht my life , and did beguile my loue . Pompey , the fame that ranne of thy frayle honors , Made me thy wife , thy loue , and ( like a thiefe ) From my first husband stole my faithles griefe . But if ( as some belieue ) in heauen or hell , Be heauenly powers , or infernall spirits , That care to be aueng'd of Louers othes ; ( Oathes made in marriage , and after broke . ) Those powers , those spirits ( mou'd with my light faith , ) Are now displeas'd with Pompey and my selfe . And doe with ciuill discord ( furthering it ) Vntye the bands , that sacred Hymen knyt . Els onely I , am cause of both theyr wraths , And of the sinne that ceeleth vp thine eyes ; Thyne eyes ( O deplorable Pompey ) I am shee , I am that plague , that sacks thy house and thee . For t' is not heauen , nor Crassus ( cause hee sees That I am thine ) in iealosie pursues vs . No , t' is a secrete crosse , an vnknowne thing , That I receiu'd , from heauen at my birth , That I should heape misfortunes on theyr head , Whom once I had receiu'd in marriage bed . Then yee the noble Romulists that rest , Hence-forth forbeare to seeke my murdring loue , And let theyr double losse that held me deere , Byd you beware for feare you be beguild . Ye may be ritch and great in Fortunes grace , And all your hopes with hap may be effected , But if yee once be wedded to my loue : Clowdes of aduersitie will couer you . So ( pestilently ) fraught with change of plagues , Is mine infected bosome from my youth . Like poyson that ( once lighting in the body ) No sooner tutcheth then it taints the blood ; One while the hart , another while the liuer , ( According to th' encountring passages ) Nor spareth it what purely feeds the hart , More then the most infected filthiest part . Pompey what holpe it thee , ( say deerest life , ) Tell mee what holpe thy warlike valiant minde T' encounter with the least of my mishaps ? What holpe it thee that vnder thy commaund Thou saw'st the trembling earth with horror mazed ? Or ( where the sunne forsakes th' Ocean sea , ) Or ( watereth his Coursers in the West ) t haue made thy name by farre more fam'd and feard , Then Summers thunder to the silly Heard ? What holpe it , that thou saw'st when thou wert young , Thy Helmet deckt with coronets of Bayes ? So many enemies in battaile rang'd Beate backe like flyes before a stome of hayle ? T' haue lookt a-skance and see so many Kings To lay their Crownes and Scepters at thy feete ? T' embrace thy knees , and humbled by theyr fate , T' attend thy mercy in this morneful state ? Alas and here-withall , what holpe it thee , That euen in all the corners of the earth , Thy wandring glory , was so greatly knowne ? And that Rome saw thee while thou tryumph'dst thrice O're three parts of the world that thou hadst yok'd ? That Neptune weltring on the windie playnes , Escapt not free fro thy victorious hands ? Since thy hard hap , since thy fierce destinie , ( Enuious of all thine honors ) gaue thee mee . By whom the former course of thy faire deeds , Might ( with a byting brydle ) bee restraind ; By whom the glorie of thy conquests got , Might die disgrac'd with mine vnhappines . O haples wife , thus ominous to all , Worse then Megera , worse then any plague . What foule infernall , or what stranger hell , Hence-forth wilt thou inhabite , where thy hap , None others hopes , with mischiefe may entrap . Cicero . What end ( O race of Scipio , ) will the Eates Afford your teares ? Will that day neuer come That your desastrous griefes shall turne to ioy , And we haue time to burie our annoy ? Cornelia . Ne're shall I see that day , for Heauen and Time , Haue faild in power to calme my passion . Nor can they ( should they pittie my complaints ) Once ease my life , but with the pangs of death . Cicero . " The wide worlds accidents are apt to change . " And tickle Fortune staies not in a place . " But ( like the Clowdes ) continuallie doth range , " Or like the Sunne that hath the Night in chace . " Then as the Heauens ( by whom our hopes are guided ) " Doe coast the Earth with an eternall course , " We must not thinke a miserie betided , " Will neuer cease , but still grow worse and worse . " When Isie Winter 's past , then comes the spring , " Whom Sommers pride ( with sultrie heate ) pursues ; " To whom mylde Autumne doth earths treasure bring , " The sweetest season that the wise can chuse . " Heauens influence was nere so constant yet , " In good or bad as to continue it . When I was young , I saw against poore Sylla , Proud Cynna , Marius , and Carbo flesh'd , So long , till they gan tiranize the Towne , And spilt such store of blood in euery street , As there were none but dead-men to be seene . Within a while , I saw how Fortune plaid , And wound those Tyrants vnderneath her wheele , Who lost theyr liues , and power at once by one , That ( to reuenge himselfe ) did ( with his blade ) Commit more murther then Rome euer made . Yet Sylla , shaking tyrannie aside , Return'd due honors to our Common-wealth , Which peaceably retain'd her auncient state , Growne great without the strife of Cittizens . Till thys ambitious Tyrants time , that toyld To stoope the world , and Rome to his desires . But flattring Chaunce that trayn'd his first designes , May change her lookes , and giue the Tyrant ouer , Leauing our Cittie , where so long agoe , Heauens did theyr fauors lauishly bestow . Cornelia . T' is true , the Heauens ( at least-wise if they please ) May giue poore Rome her former libertie . But ( though they would , ) I know they cannot giue A second life to Pompey , that is slaine . Cicero . Mourne not for Pompey , Pompey could not die A better death , then for his Countries weale . For oft he search't amongst the fierce allarms , But ( wishing ) could not find so faire an end ; Till fraught with yeeres , and honor both at once , Hee gaue his bodie ( as a Barricade ) For Romes defence , by Tyrants ouer-laide . Brauely he died , and ( haplie ) takes it ill , That ( enuious ) we repine at heauens will . Cornelia . Alas , my sorrow would be so much lesse , If he had died ( his fauchin in his fist . ) Had hee amidst huge troopes of Armed men Beene wounded , by another any waie , It would haue calmed many of my sighes . For why , t' haue seene his noble Roman blood Mixt with his enemies , had done him good . But hee is dead , ( O heauens ) not dead in fight , With pike in hand vpon a Forte besieg'd Defending of a breach , but basely slaine : Slaine trayterouslie , without assault in warre . Yea , slaine he is , and bitter chaunce decreed To haue me there , to see this bloody deed . I saw him , I was there , and in mine armes He almost felt the poygnard when he fell . Whereat , my blood stopt in my stragling vaines , Mine haire grew bristled , like a thornie groue : My voyce lay hid , halfe dead within my throate . My frightfull hart ( stund in my stone-cold breast ) Faintlie redoubled eu'ry feeble stroke . My spirite ( chained with impatient rage , ) Did rauing striue to breake the prison ope , ( Enlarg'd , ) to drowne the payne it did abide , In solitary Lethes sleepie tyde . Thrice ( to absent me from thys hatefull light , ) I would haue plund'd my body in the Sea . And thrice detaind , with dolefull shreeks and cryes , ( With armes to heauen vprea'd ) I gan exclaime And bellow forth against the Gods themselues , A bedroll of outragious blasphemies . Till ( griefe to heare , and hell for me to speake , ) My woes waxt stronger , and my selfe grew weake . Thus day and night I toyle in discontent , And sleeping wake , when sleepe it selfe that rydes Vpon the mysts , scarce moysteneth mine eyes . Sorrow consumes mee , and in steed of rest , With folded armes I sadly sitte and weepe . And if I winck , it is for feare to see , The fearefull dreames effects that trouble mee . O heauens , what shall I doe ? alas must I , Must I my selfe , be murderer of my selfe ? Must I my selfe be forc'd to ope the way , Whereat my soule in wounds may sally forth ? Cicero . Madam , you must not thus transpose your selfe . We see your sorrow , but who sorrowes not ? The griefe is common . And I muse , besides The seruitude that causeth all our cares , Besides the basenes wherein we are yoked , Besides the losse of good men dead and gone , What one he is that in this broile hath bin And mourneth not for some man of his kin ? Cornelia . If all the world were in the like distresse , My sorrow yet would neuer seeme the lesse . Cicero . " O , but men beare mis-fortunes with more ease , " The more indifferently that they fall , " And nothing more ( in vprores ) men can please , " Then when they see their woes not worst of all . Cornelia . " Our friendes mis-fortune dooth increase our owne . Cicero . " But ours of others will not be acknowne . Cornelia . " Yet one mans sorrow will another tutch . Cicero . " I when himselfe will entertaine none such . Cornelia . " Anothers teares , draw teares fro forth our eyes . Cicero . " And choyce of streames the greatest Riuer dryes . Cornelia . When sand within a Whirle-poole lyes vnwet , My teares shall dry , and I my griefe forget . Cicero . What boote your teares , or what auailes your forrow Against th' ineuitable dart of Death ? Thinke you to moue with lamentable plaints Persiphone , or Plutos gastlie spirits , To make him liue that 's locked in his tombe , And wandreth in the Center of the earth ? " No , no , Cornelia , Caron takes not paine , " To ferry those that must be fetcht againe . Cornelia . Proserpina indeed neglects my plaints , And hell it selfe is deafe to my laments ; Vnprofitably should I waste my teares , If ouer Pompey I should weepe to death ; With hope to haue him be reuiu'd by them . Weeping auailes not , therefore doe I weepe . Great losses , greatly are to be depror'd , The losse is great that cannot be restor'd . Cicero . " Nought is immortall vnderneath the Sunne , " All things are subiect to Deaths tiranny : " Both Clownes & Kings one selfesame course must run , " And what-soeuer liues , is sure to die . Then wherefore mourne you for your husbands death , Sith being a man , he was ordain'd to die ? Sith Ioues ownes sonnes , retaining humane shape , No more then wretched we their death could scape . Braue Scipio , your famous auncestor , That Romes high worth to Affrique did extend ; And those two Scipios ( that in person fought , Before the fearefull Carthagenian walls , ) Both brothers , and both warrs fierce lightning fiers ; Are they not dead ? Yes , and their death ( our dearth ) Hath hid them both embowel'd in the earth . And those great Citties , whose foundations reacht From deepest hell , and with their tops tucht heauen : Whose loftie Towers , ( like thorny-pointed speares ) Whose Temples , Pallaces , and walls embost , In power and force , and fiercenes , seem'd to threat The tyred world , that trembled with their waight ; In one daies space ( to our etornall mones ) Haue we not seene them turn'd to heapes of stones ? Carthage can witnes , and thou heauens hand-work Faire Ilium , razed by the conquering Greekes ; Whose auncient beautie , worth and weapons , seem'd Sufficient t' haue tam'd the Mermidons . " But whatso'ere hath been begun , must end . " Death ( haply that our willingnes doth see ) " With brandisht dart , doth make the passage free ; " And timeles doth our soules to Pluto send . Cornelia . Would Death had steept his date in Lerna-s blood , That I were drown'd in the Tartarean deepes . I am an offring fit for Acheron . A match more equall neuer could be made , Then I , and Pompey , in th' Elisian shade . Cicero . " Death 's alwaies ready , and our time is knowne " To be at heauens dispose , and not our owne . Cornelia . Can wee be ouer-hastie to good hap ? Cicero . What good expect wee in a fiery gap ? Cornelia . To scape the feares that followes Fortunes glaunces . Cicero . " A noble minde doth neuer feare mischaunces . Cornelia . " A noble minde disdaineth seruitude . Cicero . Can bondage true nobility exclude ? Cornelia . How if I doe , or suffer that I would not ? Cicero . " True noblesse neuer doth the thing it should not . Cornelia . Then must I dye . Cicero . Yet dying thinke this stil ; " No feare of death should force vs to doe ill . Cornelia . If death be such , why is your feare so rife ? Cicero . My works will shew I neuer feard my life . Cornelia . And yet you will not that ( in our distresse , ) We aske Deaths ayde to end lifes wretchednes . Cicero . " We neither ought to vrge nor aske a thing , " Wherein we see so much assuraunce lyes . " But if perhaps some fierce offended King , " ( To fright vs ) sette pale death before our eyes , " To force vs doe that goes against our hart ; " T' were more then base in vs to dread his dart . " But when for feare of an ensuing ill , " We seeke to shorten our appointed race , " Then t' is ( for feare ) that we our felues doe kill , " So fond we are to feare the worlds disgrace . Cornelia . T' is not for frailtie or faint cowardize , That men ( to shunne mischaunces ) seeke for death . But rather he that seeks it , showes himselfe , Of certaine courage , gainst incertaine chaunce . " He that retyres not at the threats of death , " Is not as are the vulgar , slightly faied . " For heauen it selfe , nor hels infectious breath , " The resolute at any time haue stayed . " And ( sooth to say ) why feare we when we see , " The thing we feare , lesse then the feare to be . Then let me die my libertie to saue , For t' is a death to lyue a Tyrants slaue . Cicero . Daughter , beware how you prouoke the heauens , Which in our bodies ( as a tower of strength ) Haue plac'd our soules , and fortefide the same ; As discreet Princes sette theyr Garrisons , In strongest places of theyr Prouinces . " Now , as it is not lawfull for a man , " At such a Kings departure or decease , " To leaue the place , and falsefie his faith , " So in this case , we ought not to surrender " That deerer part , till heauen it selfe commaund it . " For as they lent vs life to doe vs pleasure , " So looke they for returne of such a treasure . CHORVS . " WHat e're the massie Earth hath fraight , " Or on her nurse-like backe sustaines , " Vpon the will of Heauen doth waite , " And doth no more then it ordaynes . " All fortunes , all felicities , " Vpon their motion doe depend . " And from the starres doth still arise , " Both their beginning and their end . " The Monarchies that couer all " This earthly round with Maiestie , " Haue both theyr rising and theyr fall , " From heauen and heauens varietie . " Fraile men , or mans more fraile defence , " Had neuer power , to practise stayes " Of this celestiall influence , " That gouerneth and guides our dayes . " No clowde but will be ouer-cast . " And what now florisheth , must fade . " And that that fades , reuiue at last , " To florish as it first was made . " The formes of things doe neuer die , " because the matter that remaines , " Reformes another thing thereby , " That still the former shape retaines . " The roundnes of two boules cross-cast , " ( so they with equall pace be aim'd , ) " Showes their beginning by their last , " which by old nature is new-fram'd , " So peopled citties that of yore " were desert fields where none would byde , " Become forsaken as before , " yet after are re-edified . " Perceiue we not a petty vaine , " cut from a spring by chaunce or arte , Engendreth fountaines , whence againe , those fountaines doe to floods conuart ? Those floods to waues , those waues to seas , that oft exceede their wonted bounds : And yet those seas ( as heauens please ) returne to springs by vnder-grounds . Euen so our cittie ( in her prime ) prescribing Princes euery thing , Is now subdu'de by conquering Time : and liueth subiect to a King . And yet perhaps the sun-bright crowne , that now the Tyrans bead doth deck , May turne to Rome with true renoune , If fortune chaunce but once to check . The stately walls that once were rear'd , and by a shephards hands erect , ( With haples brothers blood besmear'd ) shall show by whom they were infect . And once more vniust Tarquins frowne , ( with arrogance and rage enflam'd ) Shall keepe the Romaine valure downe ; and Rome it selfe a while be tam'd . And chastest Lucrece once againe , ( because her name dishonored stood ) Shall by herselfe be carelesse slaine , and make a riuer of her blood ; Scorning her soule a seate should builde within a body , basely seene . By shameles rape to be defilde , that earst was cleere as heauens Queene . But heauens as tyrannie shall yoke our bosterd harts , with seruile thrall ; So grant your plagues ( which they prouoke , ) may light vpon them once for all . And let another Brutus rise , brauely to fight in Romes defence , To free our Towne from tyrannie , and tyrannous proud insolence .
ACTVS TERTIVS . Cornelia . Chorus . THE cheerefull Cock ( the sad nights comforter , ) Wayting vpon the rysing of the Sunne , Doth sing to see how Cynthia shrinks her horne , While Clitie takes her progresse to the East . Where wringing wet with drops of siluer dew , Her wonted teares of loue she doth renew . The wandring Swallow with her broken song , The Country-wench vnto her worke awakes ; While Citherea sighing walks to seeke Her murdred loue , trans-form'd into a Rose . Whom ( though she see ) to crop she kindly feares ; But ( kissing ) sighes , and dewes hym with her teares . Sweet teares of loue , remembrancers to tyme . Tyme past with me that am to teares conuerted , Whose mournfull passions , dull the mornings ioyes . Whose sweeter sleepes , are turnd to fearefull dreames . And whose first fortunes , ( fild with all distresse , ) Afford no hope of future happinesse . But what disastrous or hard accident , Hath bath'd your blubbred eyes in bitter teares ? That thus consort me in my myserie . Why doe you beate your brests ? why mourne you so ? Say gentle sisters , tell me , and belieue It grieues me that I know not why you grieue . Chorus . O poore Cornelia , haue not we good cause , For former wrongs to furnish vs with teares ? Cornelia . O but I feare that Fortune seekes new flawes , And stil ( vnsatisfide ) more hatred beares . Chorus . Wherein can Fortune further iniure vs , Now we haue lost our conquered libertie , Our Common-wealth , our Empyre , and our honors , Vnder thys cruell Tarquins tyrannie ? Vnder his outrage now are all our goods , Where scattered they runne by Land and Sea ( Lyke exil'd vs ) from fertill Italy , To proudest Spayne , or poorest Getulie . Cornelia . And will the heauens that haue so oft defended Our Romaine walls , from fury of fierce kings , Not ( once againe ) returne our Senators , That from the Lybique playnes , and Spanish fields , With feareles harts do guard our Romaine hopes ? Will they not once againe encoumge them , To fill our fields with blood of enemies . And bring from Affrique to our Capitoll , Vpon theyr helmes the Empyre that is stole . Then home-borne houshold gods , and ye good spirits , To whom in doubtfull things we seeke accesse , By whom our family , hath beene adorn'd , And graced with the name of Affrican . Doe ye vouchsafe that thys victorious title , Be not expired in Cornelias blood ; And that my Father now ( in th' Affrique wars ) The selfe-same style by conquest may continue . But wretched that I am , alas I feare . Chorus . What feare you Madam ? Cornelia . That the frowning heauens , Oppose themselues against vs in theyr wrath . Chorus . Our losse ( I hope ) hath satis-fide theyr ire . Cornelia . O no , our losse lysts Caesars fortunes hyer . Chorus . Fortune is fickle . Cornelia . But hath fayld him neuer . Chorus . The more vnlike she should continue euer . Cornelia . My fearefull dreames doe my despairs redouble . Chorus . Why suffer you vayne dreames your heade to trouble ? Cornelia . Who is not troubled with strange visions ? Chorus . That of our spyrit are but illusions . Cornelia . God graunt these dreames , to good effect bee brought . Chorus . We dreame by night what we by day haue thought . Cornelia . The silent Night that long had soiurned , Now gan to cast her sable mantle off , And now the sleepie Waine-man softly droue , His slow-pac'd Teeme , that long had traueled . When ( like a slumber , if you tearme it so ) A dulnes , that disposeth vs to rest , Gan close the windowes of my watchfull eyes , Already tyerd and loaden with my teares . And loe ( me thought ) came glyding by my bed , The ghost of Pompey , with a ghastly looke ; All pale and brawne-falne , not in tryumph borne , Amongst the conquering Romans as we vs'de , When he ( enthroniz'd , ) at his feete beheld Great Emperors , fast bound in chaynes of brasse . But all amaz'd , with fearefull hollow eyes , Hys hayre and beard , deform'd with blood and sweat , Casting a thyn course lynsel ore hys shoulders , That ( torne in peeces ) trayl'd vpon the ground . And ( gnashing of his teeth ) vnlockt his iawes , Which ( slyghtly couer'd with a scarce-seene skyn , ) Thys solemne tale , he sadly did begin . Sleep'st thou Cornelia ? sleepst thou gentle wife , And seest thy Fathers misery and mine ? Wake deerest sweete , and ( ore our Sepulchers ) In pitty show thy latest loue to vs . Such hap ( as ours ) attendeth on my sonnes , The selfe-same foe and fortune following them . Send Sextus ouer to some forraine Nation , Farre from the common hazard of the warrs ; That ( being yet sau'd ) he may attempt no more , To venge the valure that is tryde before . He sayd . And suddainly a trembling horror , A chyl-cold shyuering ( setled in my vaines ) Brake vp my slumber ; When I opte my lyps Three times to cry , but could nor cry , nor speake . I mou'd mine head , and flonge abroade mine armes To entertaine him , but his airie spirit , Beguiled mine embrasements , and ( vnkind ) Left me embracing nothing but the wind . O valiant soule , when shall this soule of mine , Come visite thee in the Elisian shades ? O deerest life ; or when shall sweetest death , Dissolue the fatall trouble of my daies , And blesse me with my Pompeys company ? But may my father ( O extreame mishap ) And such a number of braue regiments , Made of so many expert Souldiours , That lou'd our liberty and follow'd him , Be so discomfited ? O would it were but an illusion . Cho. Madam neuer feare . Nor let a senceles Idol of the nyght , Encrease a more then needfull feare in you . Cor. My feare proceeds not of an idle dreame , For t' is a trueth that hath astonisht me . I saw great Pompey , and I heard hym speake ; And thinking to embrace him , opte mine armes , When drousy sleep that wak'd mee at vnwares , Dyd with hys flight vnclose my feareful eyes So suddainly , that yet mee thinks I see him . Howbe-it I cannot tuch him , for he slides More swiftly from mee then the Ocean glydes . Chorus . " These are vaine thoughts , or melancholie showes , " That wont to haunt and trace by cloistred tombes : " Which eath's appeare in sadde and strange disguises . " To pensiue mindes deceiued , ( wyth theyr shadowes ) " They counterfet the dead in voyce and figure ; " Deuining of our future miseries . " For when our soule the body hath disgaged , " It seeks the common passage of the dead , " Downe by the fearefull gates of Acheron . " Where when it is by Aeacus adiudg'd , " It eyther turneth to the Stygian Lake , " Or staies for euer in th' Elisian fields ; " And ne're returneth to the Corse interd ; " To walke by night , or make the wise afeard . " None but ineuitable conquering Death , " Descends to hell , with hope to rise againe ; " For ghosts of men are lockt in fiery gates , " Fast-guarded by a fell remorceles Monster . " And therefore thinke not it was Pompeys spryte , " But some false Daemon that beguild your sight . Cicero . Then O worlds Queene , O towne that didst extend Thy conquering armes beyond the Ocean , And throngdst thy conquests from the Lybian shores Downe to the Scithian swift-foote feareles Porters , Thou art embas'd ; and at this instant yeeld'st Thy proud necke to a miserable yoke . Rome thou art tam'd , & th' earth dewd with thy bloode , Doth laugh to see how thou art signiorizd . The force of heauen exceeds thy former strength . For thou that wont'st to tame and conquer all , Art conquer'd now with an eternall fall . Now shalt thou march ( thy hands fast bound behind thee ) Thy head hung downe , thy cheeks with teares besprent , Before the victor ; Whyle thy rebell sonne , With crowned front tryumphing followes thee . Thy brauest Captaines , whose coragious harts ( Ioyn'd with the right ) did re-enforce our hopes , Now murdred lye for Foule to feede vpon . Petreus , Cato , - and Scipio are slaine , And Iuba that amongst the Mores did raigne . Nowe you whom both the gods and Fortunes grace , Hath sau'd from danger in these furious broyles , Forbeare to tempt the enemy againe , For feare you feele a third calamitie . Caesar is like a brightlie flaming blaze That fiercely burnes a house already fired ; And ceaseles lanching out on euerie side , Consumes the more , the more you seeke to quench it , Still darting sparcles , till it finde a trayne To seaze vpon , and then it flames amaine . The men , the Ships , wher-with poore Rome affronts him , All powreles , giue proud Caesars wrath free passage . Nought can resist him , all the powre we raise , Turnes but to our misfortune , and his prayse . T' is thou ( O Rome ) that nurc'd his insolence . T' is thou ( O Rome ) that gau'st him first the sword Which murdrer-like against thy selfe he drawes : And violates both God and Natures lawes . Lyke morrall Esops mysled Country swaine , That fownd a Serpent pyning in the snowe , And full of foolish pitty tooke it vp , And kindly layd it by his houshold fire , Till ( waxen warme ) it nimbly gan to styr , And stung to death the foole that fostred her . O gods that once had care of these our walls , And feareles kept vs from th' assault of foes . Great Iupiter , to whom our Capitol So many Oxen yeerely sacrafiz'd . Minerua , Stator , and stoute Thracian Mars , Father to good Quirinus our first founder . To what intent haue ye preseru'd our Towne ? This statelie Towne so often hazarded , Against the Samnites , Sabins , and fierce Latins ? Why from once footing in our Fortresses , Haue yee repeld the lustie warlike Gaules ? Why from Molossus and false Hanibal , Haue yee reseru'd the noble Romulists ? Or why from Catlins lewde conspiracies , Preseru'd yee Rome by my preuention ? To cast so soone a state so long defended , Into the bondage where ( enthrald ) we pine ? To serue ( no stranger , but amongst vs ) one That with blind frenzie buildeth vp his throne ? But if in vs be any vigor resting , If yet our harts retaine one drop of blood , Caesar thou shalt not vaunt thy conquest long , Nor longer hold vs in this seruitude . Nor shalt thou bathe thee longer in our blood . For I diuine that thou must vomit it , Like to a Curre that Carrion hath deuour'd , And cannot rest vntill his mawe be scour'd . Think'st thou to signiorize , or be the King Of such a number , nobler then thy selfe ? Or think'st thou Romains beare such bastard harts , To let thy tyrannie be vnreueng'd ? No , for mee thinks I see the shame , the griefe , The rage , the hatred that they haue conceiu'd : And many a Romaine sword already drawne , T' enlarge the libertie that thou vsurpst . And thy dismembred body ( stab'd and torne , ) Dragd through the streets , disdained to bee borne . Phillip . Cornelia . Amongst the rest of mine extreame mishaps , I finde my fortune not the least in this , That I haue kept my Maister company , Both in his life and at hys latest houre . Pompey the great , whom I haue honored , With true deuotion both aliue and dead . one selfesame shyp containd vs when I saw The murdring Egiptians bereaue his lyfe ; And when the man that had afright the earth , Did homage to it with his deerest blood . O're whom I shed full many a bitter teare , And did performe hys obsequies with sighes : And on the strond vpon the Riuer side , ( Where to my sighes the waters seem'd to turne ) I woaue a Coffyn for his corse of Seggs , That with the winde dyd waue like bannerets . And layd his body to be burn'd thereon . Which when it was consum'd I kindly tooke , And sadly cloz'd within an earthen Vrne The asshie reliques of his haples bones . Which hauing scapt the rage of wind and Sea , I bring to faire Cornelia to interr Within his Elders Tombe that honoured her . Cornelia . Ayh-me , what see I ? Phil. Pompeys tender bones , which ( in extreames ) an earthen Vrne containeth . Corn. O sweet , deere , deplorable cynders , O myserable woman , lyuing dying . O poore Cornelia , borne to be distrest , Why liu'st thou toyl'd , that ( dead ) mightst lye at rest ? O faithles hands that vnder cloake of loue , Did entertaine him , to torment him so . O barbarous , inhumaine , hatefull traytors , Thys your disloyall dealing hath defam'd Your King , and his inhospitable seate , Of the extreamest and most odious cryme , That gainst the heauens might bee imagined . For yee haue basely broke the Law of Armes , And out-rag'd ouer an afflicted soule ; Murdred a man that did submit himselfe , And iniur'd him that euer vs'd you kindly . For which misdeed , be Egipt pestered , With battaile , famine , and perpetuall plagues . Let Aspies , Serpents , Snakes , and Lybian Beares , Tygers , and Lyons , breed with you for euer . And let fayre Nylus ( wont to nurse your Corne ) Couer your Land with Toades and Crocadils , That may infect , deuoure and murder you . Els earth make way , and hell receiue them quicke . A hatefull race , mongst whom there dooth abide All treason , luxurie , and homicide . Phillip . Cease these laments . Corn. I doe but what I ought to mourne his death : Phil. Alas that profits nought . Cor. Will heauen let treason be vnpunished ? Phil. Heauens will performe what they haue promised . Cor. I feare the heauens will not heare our prayer . Phil. The plaints of men opprest , doe pierce the ayre . Cor. Yet Caesar liueth still . Phil. " Due punishment " Succeedes not alwaies after an offence . " For oftentimes t' is for our chastisement " That heauen doth with wicked men dispence . " That when they list , they may with vsurie , " For all misdeeds pay home the penaltie . Cor. This is the hope that feeds my haples daies , Els had my life beene long agoe expired . I trust the gods that see our hourely wrongs , Will fire his shamefull bodie with their flames . Except some man ( resolued ) shall conclude , With Caesars death to end our seruitude . Els ( god to fore ) my selfe may liue to see , His tired corse lye toyling in his blood : Gor'd with a thousand stabs , and round about , The wronged people leape for inward ioy . And then come Murder , then come vglie Death , Then Lethe open thine infernall Lake , I le downe with ioy : because before I died , Mine eyes haue seene what I in hart desir'd . Pompey may not reuiue , ( and Pompey dead ) Let me but see the murdrer murdered . Phil. Caesar bewail'd his death . Corn. His death hee mournd , whom while hee lyu'd , to lyue lyke him hee scorne . Phil. Hee punished his murdrers . Corn. Who murdred hym but hee that followd Pompey with the sword ? He murdred Pompey that pursu'd his death , And cast the plot to catch him in the trap . He that of his departure tooke the spoyle , Whose fell ambition ( founded first in blood ) By nought but Pompeys lyfe could be with-stood . Phil. Photis and false Achillas he beheadded . Corn. That was , because that Pompey being theyr freend , they had determin'd once of Caesars end . Phil. What got he by his death ? Cor. Supremacie . Phil. Yet Caesar speakes of Pompey honourablie . Corn. Words are but winde , nor meant he what he spoke . Phil. He will not let his statues be broke . Cor. By which disguise ( what ere he doth pretend ) His owne from beeing broke he doth defend . And by the traynes where-with he vs allures , His owne estate more firmely he assures . Phil. He tooke no pleasure in his death you see . Corn. Because hymselfe of life did not bereaue him . Phil. Nay , he was mou'd with former amitie . Corn. He neuer trusted him but to deceiue him . But , had he lou'd him with a loue vnfained , Yet had it beene a vaine and trustlesse league ; " For there is nothing in the soule of man " So firmely grounded , as can qualifie , " Th' inextinguible thyrst of signiorie . " Not heauens feare , nor Countries sacred loue , " Not auncient lawes , nor nuptiall chast desire , " Respect of blood , or ( that which most should moue , ) " The inward zeale that Nature doth require : " All these , nor any thing we can deuise , " Can stoope the hart resolu'd to tyrannize . Phil. I feare your griefes increase with thys discourse . Corn. My griefes are such , as hardly can be worse . Phil. " Tyme calmeth all things . Corn. No tyme quallifies my dolefull spyrits endles myseries . My griefe is lyke a Rock , whence ( ceaseles ) strayne Fresh springs of water at my weeping eyes : Still fed by thoughts , lyke floods with winters rayne . For when to ease th' oppression of my hart , I breathe an Autumne forth of fiery sighes , Yet herewithall my passion neither dyes , Nor dryes the heate the moysture of mine eyes . Phil. Can nothing then recure these endlesse teares ? Corn. Yes , newes of Caesars death that medcyn beares . Phil. Madam , beware , for should hee heare of thys , his wrath against you t' will exasperate . Corn. I neither stand in feare of him nor his . Phil. T' is pollicie to feare a powrefull hate . Corn. What can he doe ? Phil. Madam what cannot men that haue the powre to doe what pleaseth them ? Corn. He can doe mee no mischiefe that I dread . Phil. Yes , cause your death . Corn. Thrise happy were I dead . Phil. With rigorous torments . Corn. Let him torture mee . Pull me in peeces , famish , fire mee vp , Fling mee aliue into a Lyons denn : There is no death so hard torments mee so , As his extreame tryumphing in our woe . But if he will torment me , let him then Depriue me wholy of the hope of death ; For I had died before the fall of Rome , And slept with Pompey in the peacefull deepes , Saue that I lyue in hope to see ere long , That Caesars death shall satisfie his wrong . CHORVS . " FOrtune in powre imperious , " Vs'd ore the world and worldings thus " to tirannize , " When shee hath heap't her gifts on vs , " away shee flies . " Her feete more swift then is the winde , " Are more inconstant in their kinde " then Autumne blasts , " A womans shape , a womans minde , " that sildom lasts . " One while shee bends her angry browe , " And of no labour will allow . " Another while , " She fleres againe , I know not how , " still to beguile . " Fickle in our aduersities , " And fickle when our fortunes rise , " shee scoffs at vs : " That ( blynd herselfe ) can bleare our eyes , " to trust her thus . " The Sunne that lends the earth his light , " Behelde her neuer ouer night " lye calmely downe , " But in the morrow following , might " perceiue her frowne . " Shee hath not onely power and will , " T' abuse the vulgar wanting skill , " but when shee list , " To Kings and Clownes doth equall ill . " without resist . " Mischaunce that euery man abhors , " And cares for crowned Emperors " shee doth reserue , " As for the poorest labourers " that worke or starue . " The Merchant that for priuate gaine , " Doth send his Ships to passe the maine , " vpon the shore , " In hope he shall his wish obtaine , " doth thee adore . " Vpon the sea , or on the Land , " Where health or wealth , or vines doe stand , " thou canst doe much , " And often helpst the helples hande , " thy power is such . " And many times ( dispos'd to iest ) " Gainst one whose power and cause is best , " ( thy power to try , ) " To him that n'ere put speare in rest " giu'st victory . " For so the Lybian Monarchy , " That with Ausonian blood did die " our warlike field , " To one that n'ere got victorie , " was vrg'd to yeelde . " So noble Marius , Arpins friend , " That dyd the Latin state defend " from Cymbrian rage , " Did proue thy furie in the end " which nought could swage . " And Pompey whose dayes haply led , " So long thou seem'dst t' haue fauoured , " in vaine t' is sayd " When the Pharsalian field be led " implor'd thine ayde . " Now Caesar swolne with honors heate , " Sits signiorizing in her seate , " and will not see , " That Fortune can her hopes defeate " what e're they be . " From chaunce is nothing franchized . " And till the time that they are dead , " is no man blest . " He onely that no death doth dread , " doth liue at rest .
ACTVS QVARTVS . Cassius . Decim Brutus . ACcursed Rome , that arm'st against thy selfe A Tyrants rage , and mak'st a wretch thy King . For one mans pleasure ( O iniurious Rome , ) Thy chyldren gainst thy children thou hast arm'd ; And thinkst not of the riuers of theyr bloode , That earst was shed to saue thy libertie , Because thou euer hatedst Monarchie . Now o're our bodies ( tumbled vp on heapes , Lyke cocks of Hay when Iuly sheares the field ) Thou buildst thy kingdom , and thou seat'st thy King . And to be seruile , ( which torments me most , ) Employest our liues , and lauishest our blood . O Rome , ( accursed Rome ) thou murdrest vs , And massacrest thy selfe in yeelding thus . Yet are there Gods , yet is there heauen and earth , That seeme to feare a certaine Thunderer , No , no , there are no Gods , or if there be , They leaue to see into the worlds affaires ; They care not for vs , nor account of men , For what we see is done , is done by chaunce . T' is Fortune rules , for equitie and right , Haue neither helpe nor grace in heauens sight . Scipio hath wrencht a sword into hys brest , And launc'd hys bleeding wound into the sea . Vndaunted Cato , tore hys entrails out . Affranius and Faustus murdred dyed . Iuba-and Petreus fiercely combatting , Haue each done other equall violence . Our Army 's broken , and the Lybian Beares Deuoure the bodies of our Cittizens . The conquering Tyrant , high in Fortunes grace , Doth ryde tryumphing o're our Common-wealth . And mournfull we behold him brauely mounted ( With stearne lookes ) in his Chariot , where he leades The conquered honor of the people yok't . So Rome to Caesar yeelds both powre and pelfe , And o're Rome Caesar raignes in Rome it selfe . But Brutus shall wee dissolutelie sitte , And see the tyrant liue to tyranize ? Or shall theyr ghosts that dide to doe vs good , Plaine in their Tombes of our base cowardise ? Shall lamed Souldiours , and graue gray-haird men , Poynt at vs in theyr bitter teares , and say , See where they goe that haue theyr race forgot . And rather chuse ( vnarm'd ) to serue with shame , Then ( arm'd ) to saue their freedom and their fame . Brutus . I sweare by heauen , th' Immortals highest throne , Their Temples , Altars , and theyr Images , To see ( for one , ) that Brutus suffer not His ancient liberty to be represt . I freely marcht with Caesar in hys warrs , Not to be subiect , but to ayde his right . But if ( enuenom'd with ambitious thoughts ) He lyft his hand imperiously o're vs , If he determyn but to raigne in Rome , Or follow'd Pompey but to thys effect : Or if ( these ciuill discords now dissolu'd ) He render not the Empyre back to Rome , Then shall he see , that Brutus thys day beares , The selfe-same Armes to be aueng'd on hym . And that thys hand ( though Caesar blood abhor , ) Shall toyle in his , which I am sorry for . I loue , I loue him deerely . " But the loue " That men theyr Country and theyr birth-right beare , " Exceeds all loues , and deerer is by farre " Our Countries loue , then friends or chyldren are . Cassius . If this braue care be nourisht in your blood , Or if so franck a will your soule possesse , Why hast we not euen while these words are vttred , To sheathe our new-ground swords in Caesars throate ? Why spend we day-light , and why dies he not , That by his death we wretches may reuiue ? We stay too-long , I burne till I be there To see this massacre , and send his ghost To theyrs , whom ( subtilly ) he for Monarchie , Made fight to death with show of liberty . Bru. Yet haply he ( as Sylla whylom dyd , ) When he hath rooted ciuill warre from Rome , Will there-withall discharge the powre he hath . Cass . Caesar and Sylla , Brutus be not like . Sylla ( assaulted by the enemie ) Did arme himselfe ( but in his owne defence ) Against both Cynnas host and Marius . Whom when he had discomfited and chas'd , And of his safety throughly was assur'd , He layd apart the powre that he had got , And gaue vp rule , for he desier'd it not . Where Caesar that in silence might haue slept , Nor vrg'd by ought but his ambition , Did breake into the hart of Italie . And lyke rude Brennus brought his men to field , Trauers'd the seas : And shortly after ( backt With wintered souldiers vs'd to conquering , ) He aym'd at vs , bent to exterminate , Who euer sought to intercept his state . Now , hauing got what he hath gaped for , ( Deere Brutus ) thinke you Caesar such a chyld , Slightly to part with so great signiorie . Belieue it not , he bought it deere you know , And traueled too farre to leaue it so . Brut. But Casius , Caesar is not yet a King . Cas. No , but Dictator , in effect as much . He doth what pleaseth hym , ( a princely thing , ) And wherein differ they whose powre is such ? Brutus . Hee is not bloody . Cassius . But by bloody iarres he hath vnpeopled most part of the earth . Both Gaule and Affrique perrisht by his warres . Egypt , Emathia , Italy and Spayne , Are full of dead mens bones by Caesar slayne . Th' infectious plague , and Famins bitternes , Or th' Ocean ( whom no pitty can asswage , ) Though they containe dead bodies numberles , Are yet inferior to Caesars rage . Who ( monster-like ) wyth his ambition , Hath left more Tombes then ground to lay them on . Brut. Souldiers with such reproch should not be blam'd . Cass . He with his souldiers hath himselfe defam'd . Bru. Why then you thinke there is no praise in war . Cass . Yes , where the causes reasonable are . Bru. He hath enricht the Empire with newe states . Cass . Which with ambition now he ruinates . Bru. He hath reueng'd the Gaules old iniurie , And made them subiect to our Romaine Lawes . Cassius . The restfull Almaynes with his crueltie , He rashly styrd against vs without cause . And hazarded our Cittie and our selues Against a harmeles Nation , kindly giuen , To whom we should do well ( for some amends , ) To render him , and reconcile old frends . These Nations did he purposely prouoke , To make an Armie for his after-ayde , Against the Romains , whom in pollicie He train'd in warre to steale theyr signiorie . " Like them that ( stryuing at th' Olympian sports , " To grace themselues with honor of the game ) " Annoynt theyr sinewes fit for wrestling , " And ( ere they enter ) vse some exercise . The Gaules were but a fore-game fecht about For ciuill discord , wrought by Caesars sleights , Whom ( to be King himselfe ) he so one remou'd . Teaching a people hating seruitude , To fight for that that did theyr deaths conclude . Bru. The warrs once ended , we shall quickly know , Whether he will restore the state or no. Cas. No Brutus , neuer looke to see that day , For Caesar holdeth signiorie too deere . But know , while Cassius hath one drop of blood , To feede this worthles body that you see , What reck I death to doe so many good , In spite of Caesar , Cassius will be free . Bru. A generous or true enobled spirit , Detests to learne what tasts of seruitude . Cass . Brutus I cannot serue nor see Rome yok'd , No , let me rather dye a thousand deaths . " The stiftneckt horses champe not on the bit , " Nor meekely beare the rider but by force : " The sturdie Oxen toyle not at the Plough , " Nor yeeld vnto the yoke but by constraint . Shall we then that are men , and Romains borne , Submit vs to vnvrged slauerie ? Shall Rome that hath so many ouer-throwne , Now make herselfe a subiect to her owne ? O base indignitie . A beardles youth , Whom King Nicomedes could ouer-reach , Commaunds the world , and brideleth all the earth , And like a Prince controls the Romulists . Braue Romaine Souldiers , sterne-borne sons of Mars , And none , not one , that dares to vndertake The intercepting of his tyrannie . O Brutus speake , O say Seruilius , Why cry you ayme , and see vs vsed thus ? But Brutus liues , and sees , and knowes , and feeles , That there is one that curbs their Countries weale . Yet ( as he were the semblance , not the sonne , Of noble Brutus , hys great Grandfather , ) As if he wanted hands , sence , sight , or hart , He doth , deuiseth , sees nor dareth ought , That may exstirpe or raze these tyrannies . Nor ought doth Brutus that to Brute belongs , But still increaseth by his negligence , His owne disgrace , and Caesars violence . The wrong is great , and ouer-long endur'd ; We should haue practized , conspierd , coniur'd , A thousand waies , and weapons to represse , Or kill out-right this cause of our distresse . Chorus . " WHo prodigally spends his blood , " Brauely to doe his country good , " And liueth to no other end , " But resolutely to attempt " What may the innocent defend , " And bloody Tyrants rage preuent ; " And he that in his soule assur'd , " Hath waters force , and fire endur'd , " And past the pikes of thousand hostes , " To free the truth from tyrannie , " And feareles scowres in danger coasts , " T' enlarge his countries liberty , " Were all the world his foes before , " Now shall they loue him euer-more . " His glory spred abroade by Fame , " On wings of his posteritie , " From obscure death shall free his name , " To liue in endles memorie . " All after ages shall adore , " And honor him with bymnes therefore . " Yeerely the youth for ioy shall bring , " The fairest flowers that grow in Rome . " And yeerely in the Sommer sing , " O're his heroique kingly Tombe . " For so the two Athenians , " That from their fellow cittizens , " Did freely chase vile seruitude , " Shall liue for valiant prowesse blest . " No Sepulcher shall ere exclude , " Their glorie equall with the best . " But when the vulgar , mad and rude , " Repay good with ingratitude , " Hardly then they them reward : " That to free them fro the hands " Of a Tyrant , nere regard " In what plight their person stands . " For high Ioue that guideth all , " When he lets his iust wrath fall , " To reuenge proud Diadems , " With huge cares doth crosse Kings liues , " Raysing treasons in their Realmes , " By their chyldren , friends or wiues . " Therefore he whom all men feare , " Feareth all men euery where . " Feare that doth engender hate , " ( Hate enforcing them thereto ) " Maketh many vnder-take , " Many things they would not doe . " O how many mighty Kings " Liue in feare of petty things . " For when Kings haue sought by warrs , " Stranger Townes to haue o'rethrowne , " They haue caught deserued skarrs , " Seeking that was not theyr owne . " For no Tyrant commonly , " Lyuing ill , can kindly die . " But eyther trayterously surprizd " Doth coward poison quaile their breath , " Or their people haue deuis'd , " Or their guarde to seeke their death . " He onely liues most bappilie , " That free and farre from maiestie , " Can liue content , although vnknowne : " He fearing none , none fearing him . " Medling with nothing but his owne , " While gazing eyes at crownes grow dim . Caesar . Mar. Anthonie . Caesar . O Rome that with thy pryde dost ouer-peare , The worthiest Citties of the conquered world . Whose honor got by famous victories , Hath fild heauens fierie vaults with frightfull horror . O lofty towres , O stately battlements , O glorious temples , O proude Pallaces , And you braue walls , bright heauens masonrie , Grac'd with a thousand kingly diadems . Are yee not styrred with a strange delight , To see your Caesars matchles victories ? And how your Empire and your praise begins Through fame , which hee of stranger Nations wins ? O beautious Tyber , with thine easie streames , That glide as smothly as a Parthian shaft ; Turne not thy crispie tydes like siluer curle , Backe to thy grass-greene bancks to welcom vs ? And with a gentle murmure hast to tell The foming Seas the honour of our fight ? Trudge not thy streames to Trytons Mariners To bruite the prayses of our conquests past ? And make theyr vaunts to old Oceanus , That hence-forth Tyber shall salute the seas , More fam'd then Tyger or fayre Euphrates ? Now all the world ( wel-nye ) doth stoope to Rome . The sea , the earth , and all is almost ours . Be' it where the bright Sun with his neyghbor beames , Doth early light the Pearled Indians . Or where his Chariot staies to stop the day , Tyll heauen vnlock the darknes of the night . Be' it where the Sea is wrapt in Christall Ise , Or where the Sommer doth but warme the earth . Or heere , or there , where is not Rome renownd ? There lyues no King , ( how great so e're he be , ) But trembleth if he once but heare of mee . Caesar is now earths fame , and Fortunes terror , And Caesars worth hath staynd old souldiers prayses . Rome , speake no more of eyther Scipio , Nor of the Fabij , or Fabritians , Heere let the Decij and theyr glory die . Caesar hath tam'd more Nations , tane more Townes , And fought more battailes then the best of them . Caesar doth tryumph ouer all the world , And all they scarcely conquered a nooke . The Gaules that came to Tiber to carouse , Dyd liue to see my souldiers drinke at Loyre ; And those braue Germains , true borne Martialists , Beheld the swift Rheyn vnder-run mine Ensignes ; The Brittaines ( lockt within a watry Realme , And wald by Neptune , ) stoopt to mee at last . The faithles Moore , the fierce Numidian , Th' earth that the Euxine sea makes somtymes marsh , The stony-harted people that inhabite Where seau'nfold Nilus doth disgorge it selfe , Haue all been vrg'd to yeeld to my commaund . Yea , euen this Cittie that hath almost made An vniuersall conquest of the world . And that braue warrier my brother in law , That ( ill aduis'd ) repined at my glory . Pompey that second Mars , whose haught renowne And noble deeds , were greater then his fortunes . Proou'd to his losse but euen in one assault My hand , my hap , my hart exceeded his ; When the Thessalian fields were purpled ore With eyther Armies murdred souldiers goe . When hee ( to conquering accustomed , ) Did ( conquered ) flie , his troopes discomforted . Now Scipio , that long'd to shew himselfe Discent of Affrican , ( so fam'd for Armes ) He duist affront me and my warlike bands , Vpon the Coastes of Lybia , till he lost His scattred Armie : and to shun the scorne Of being taken captiue , kild himselfe . Now therefore let vs tryumph Anthony . And rendring thanks to heauen as we goe For brideling those that dyd maligne our glory , Let s to the Capitoll . Anth. Come on braue Caesar , And crowne thy head , and mount thy Chariot . Th' impatient people runne along the streets , And in a route against thy gates they rushe , To see theyr Caesar after dangers past , Made Conqueror and Emperor at last . Caesar . I call to witnes heauens great Thunderer , That gainst my will I haue maintained this warre , Nor thirsted I for conquests bought with blood . Iioy not in the death of Cittizens . But through my selfe-wild enemies despight , And Romains wrong , was I constraind to fight . Anth. They sought t' eclipse thy fame , but destinie Reuers'd th' effect of theyr ambition . And Caesars prayse increasd by theyr disgrace That reckt not of his vertuous deeds : But thus We see it fareth with the enuious . Caesar . I neuer had the thought to iniure them . Howbeit I neuer meant my greatnes should , By any others greatnes be o're-ruld . For as I am inferior to none , So can I suffer no Superiors . Anth. Well Caesar , now they are discomfited , And Crowes are feasted with theyr carcases . And yet I feare you haue too kindly sau'd Those , that your kindnes hardly will requite . Caes . Why Anthony , what would you wish mee doe ? Now shall you see that they will pack to Spaine , And ( ioyned with the Exiles there encampt , ) Vntill th' ill spyrit that doth them defend , Doe bring their treasons to a bloody end . Anth. I feare not those that to theyr weapons flye , And keepe theyr state in Spaine , in Spaine to die . Caes . Whom fear'st thou then Mark Anthony ? Anth. The hatefull crue , That wanting powre in fielde to conquer you , Haue in theyr coward soules deuised snares To murder thee , and take thee at vnwares . Caesar . Will those conspire my death that liue by mee ? Anth. In conquered foes what credite can there be ? Caesar . Besides theyr liues , I did theyr goods restore . Anth. O but theyr Countries good concerns them more . Caesar . What , thinke they mee to be their Countries foe ? Anth. No , but that thou vsurp'st the right they owe . Caesar . To Rome haue I submitted mighty things . Anth. Yet Rome endures not the commaund of Kings . Caes . Who dares to contradict our Emporie ? Anth. Those whom thy rule hath rob'd of liberty . Caes . I feare them not whose death is but deferd . Anth. I feare my foe vntill he be interd . Caes . A man may make his foe his friend you know . Anth. A man may easier make his friend his foe . Caes . Good deeds the cruelst hart to kindnes bring , Anth. But resolution is a deadly thing . Caes . If Cittizens my kindnes haue forgot , whom shall I then not feare ? Anth. Those that are not . Caes . What , shall I slay them all that I suspect ? Anth. Els cannot Caesars Emporie endure . Caes . Rather I will my lyfe and all neglect . Nor labour I my vaine life to assure . But so to die , as dying I may liue , And leauing off this earthly Tombe of myne , Ascend to heauen vpon my winged deeds . And shall I not haue liued long enough That in so short a time am so much fam'd ? Can I too-soone goe taste Cocytus flood ? No Anthony , Death cannot iniure vs , " For he liues long that dyes victorious . Anthony . Thy prayses show thy life is long enough , But for thy friends and Country all too-short . Should Caesar lyue as long as Nestor dyd , Yet Rome may wish his life eternized . Caesar . Heauen sets our time , with heauen may nought dispence . Anth. But we may shorten time with negligence . Caes . But Fortune and the heauens haue care of vs . Anth. Fortune is fickle , Heauen imperious . Caes . What shall I then doe ? Anth. As befits your state , Maintaine a watchfull guard about your gate . Caes . What more assurance may our state defend Then loue of those that doe on vs attend ? Anth. There is no hatred more if it be mou'd , Then theirs whom we offend , and once belou'd . Caes . Better it is to die then be suspitious . Anth. T' is wisdom yet not to be credulous . Caesar . The quiet life that carelesly is ledd , Is not alonely happy in this world , But Death it selfe doth sometime pleasure vs . That death that comes vnsent for or vnseene , And suddainly doth take vs at vnware , Mee thinks is sweetest ; And if heauen were pleas'd , I could desire that I might die so well . The feare of euill doth afflict vs more , Then th' euill it selfe , though it be nere so sore . A Chorus of Caesars friends . O Faire Sunne that gentlie smiles , From the Orient-pearled Iles , Guilding these our gladsome daies , With the beautie of thy rayes : Free fro rage of ciuill strife , Long preserue our Caesars life . That from sable Affrique brings , Conquests whereof Europe rings . And faire Venus thou of whom The Eneades are come , Henceforth vary not thy grace , From Iulus happy race . Rather cause thy deerest sonne , By his tryumphs new begun , To expell fro forth the Land , Firce warrs quenchles fire-brand . That of care acquitting vs , ( Who at last adore him thus ) He a peacefull starre appeare , From our walls all woes to cleere . And so let his warlike browes , Still be deckt with Lawrel boughes , And his statues new set With many a fresh-flowrd Coronet . So , in euery place let be , Feasts , and Masks , and mirthfull glee , Strewing Roses in the streete , When their Emperor they meete . He his foes hath conquered , Neuer leauing till they fled , And ( abhorring blood , ) at last Pardon'd all offences past . " For high Ioue the heauens among , " ( Their support that suffer wrong , ) " Doth oppose himselfe agen " Bloody minded cruell men . " For he shortneth their dayes , " Or prolongs them with dispraise : " Or ( his greater wrath to show , ) " Giues them ouer to their foe . Caesar , a Cittizen so wrong'd Of the honor him belong'd , To defend himselfe from harmes , Was enforc'd to take vp Armes . For he saw that Enuies dart , ( Pricking still their poysoned hart , For his suddaine glory got , ) Made his enuious foe so hote . Wicked Enuie feeding still , Foolish those that doe thy will . For thy poysons in them poure Sundry passions euery houre . And to choller doth conuart , Purest blood about the hart . Which ( ore-flowing of their brest ) Suffreth nothing to digest . " Other mens prosperitie , " Is their infelicitie . " And their choller then is rais'd " When they heare another prais'd . " Neither Phoebus fairest eye , " Feasts , nor friendly company , " Mirth , or what so-e're it be , " With their humor can agree . " Day or night they neuer rest , " Spightfull hate so pecks their brest . " Pinching their perplexed lunges , " With her fiery poysoned tongues . " Fire-brands in their brests they beare , " As if Tesiphon were there . " And their soules are pierc'd as sore " As Prometheus ghost , and more . " Wretches , they are wee-begone , " For their wound is alwaies one . " Nor hath Chyron powre or skill , " To recure them of their ill .
ACTVS QVINTVS . The Messenger . Cornelia . Chorus . Messenger . VNhappy man , amongst so many wracks As I haue suffred both by Land and Sea , That scorneful destinie denyes my death . Oft haue I seene the ends of mightier men , Whose coates of steele base Death hath stolne into . And in thys direful warre before mine eyes , Beheld theyr corses scattred on the plaines , And endles numbers falling by my side , Nor those ignoble , but the noblest Lords . Mongst whom aboue the rest that moues me most , Scipio ( my deerest Maister ) is deceas'd . And Death that sees the Nobles blood so rife , Full-gorged triumphes , and disdaines my lyfe . Corn. We are vndone . Chor. Scipio hath lost the day . But hope the best , and harken to his newes . Corn. O cruell fortune . Mess. These mis-fortues yet must I report to sad Cornelia . Whose ceaseles griefe ( which I am sorry for ) Will agrauate my former misery . Corn. Wretch that I am , why leaue I not the world ? Or wherefore am I not already dead ? O world , O wretch . Chor. Is this th' vndaunted hart that is required in extremities ? Be more confirmd . And Madam , let not griefe abuse your wisdom lyke a vulgar wit . Haply the newes is better then the noyse , Let 's heare him speake . Corn. O no , for all is lost . Farwell deere Father . Chor. Hee is sau'd perhaps . Mess. Me thinks I heare my Maisters daughter speake . What sighes , what sobs , what plaints , what passions haue we endurde Cornelia for your sake ? Corn. Where is thine Emperor ? Mess. Where our Captaines are . Where are our Legions ? Where our men at Armes ? Or where so many of our Romaine soules ? The earth , the sea , the vultures and the Crowes , Lyons and Beares are theyr best Sepulchers . Corn. O miserable . Chor. Now I see the heauens , are heapt with rage and horror gainst this house . Corn. O earth , why op'st thou not ? Chor. Why waile you so ? Assure your selfe that Scipio brauely dyed , And such a death excels a seruile life . Say Messenger , The manner of his end will haply comfort this your discontent . Corn. Discourse the manner of his hard mishap , And what disastrous accident did breake , So many people bent so much to fight . Messenger . Caesar , that wisely knewe his souldiers harts , And their desire to be approou'd in Armes , Sought nothing more then to encounter vs . And therefore ( faintly skyrmishing ) in craft , Lamely they fought , to draw vs further on . Oft ( to prouoke our warie wel-taught troopes ) He would attempt the entrance on our barrs . Nay , euen our Trenches , to our great disgrace , And call our souldiers cowards to theyr face . But when he saw his wiles nor bitter words , Could draw our Captaines to endanger vs , Coasting along and following by the foote , He thought to tyre and wearie vs fro thence . And got hys willing hosts to march by night , With heauy Armor on theyr hardned backs , Downe to the Sea-side ; Where before faire Tapsus , He made his Pyoners ( poore weary soules ) The selfe-same day , to dig and cast new Trenches , And plant strong Barricades . Where he ( encampt ) Resolu'd by force to hold vs hard at work . Scipio , no sooner heard of his designes , But being afeard to loose so fit a place , Marcht on the suddaine to the selfe-same Cittie . Where few men might doe much , which made him see Of what importance such a Towne would be . The fields are spred , and as a houshold Campe Of creeping Emmets , in a Countrey Farme , That come to forrage when the cold begins : Leauing theyr crannyes to goe search about , Couer the earth so thicke , as scarce we tread But we shall see a thousand of them dead . Euen so our battails scattred on the sands , Dyd scoure the plaines in pursuite of the foe . One while at Tapsus we begin t' entrench , To ease our Army if it should retyre . Another while we softly sally foorth . And wakefull Caesar that doth watch our being , ( When he perceiues vs marching o're the plaine , ) Doth leape for gladnes . And ( to murder vow'd ) Runnes to the Tent for feare we should be gone , And quickly claps his rustie Armour on . For true it is , that Caesar brought at first , An hoste of men to Affrique , meanely Arm'd , But such as had braue spirits , and ( combatting ) Had powre and wit to make a wretch a King . Well , forth to field they marched all at once , Except some fewe that stayd to guard the Trench . Them Caesar soone and subt'ly sets in ranke . And euery Regiment ( warn'd with a worde Brauely to fight for honor of the day . ) He showes that auncient souldiers need not feare , Them that they had so oft disordered . Them that already dream'd of death or flight . That tyer'd , would nere hold out , if once they see That they o're-layd them in the first assault . Meane-while our Emperor ( at all poynts arm'd ) Whose siluer hayres and honorable front , Were ( warlike ) lockt within a plumed caske , In one hand held his Targe of steele embost , And in the other graspt his Coutelas : And with a cheerefull looke surueigh'd the Campe . Exhorting them to charge , and fight like men , And to endure what ere betyded them . For now ( quoth he ) is come that happie day , Wherein our Countrey shall approue our loue . Braue Romains know , this is the day and houre , That we must all liue free , or friendly die . For my part ( being an auncient Senator , ) An Emperor and Consul , I disdaine The world should see me to become a slaue . I 'le eyther conquer , or this sword you see , ( Which brightly shone ) shall make an end of me . We fight not we like thieues , for others wealth . We fight not we t' enlarge our skant confines . To purchase fame to our posterities , By stuffing of our tropheies in their houses . But t' is for publique freedom that we fight , For Rome we fight , and those that fled for feare . Nay more , we fight for safetie of our lyues , Our goods , our honors , and our auncient lawes . As for the Empire , and the Romaine state ( Due to the victor ) thereon ruminate . Thinke how this day the honorable Dames , With blubbred eyes , and handes to heauen vprear'd , Sit inuocating for vs to the Gods , That they will blesse our holy purposes . Me thinks I see poore Rome in horror clad , And aged Senators in sad discourse , Mourne for our sorrowes and theyr seruitude . Me thinks I see them ( while lamenting thus ) Theyr harts and eyes lye houering ouer vs . On then braue men , my fellowes and Romes friends , To shew vs worthy of our auncestors : And let vs fight with courage and conceite , That we may rest the Maisters of the field : That this braue Tyrant valiantly beset , May perrish in the presse before our faces . And that his troopes ( as tucht wyth lightning flames ) May by our horse , in heapes be ouer-throwne , And he ( blood-thirsting ) wallow in his owne . Thys sayd ; His Army crying all at once , With ioyfull tokens did applaude his speeches . Whose swift shrill noyse did pierce into the clowdes , Lyke Northern windes that beate the horned Alpes . The clattring Armour buskling as they paced , Ronge through the Forrests with a frightfull noyse , And euery Eccho tooke the Trompets clange . When ( like a tempest rais'd with whire-winds rage , ) They ranne at euer-each other hand and foote . Where-with the dust , as with a darksome clowde , Arose , and ouer-shadowed horse and man . The Darts and Arrowes on theyr Armour glaunced , And with theyr fall the trembling earth was shaken . The ayre ( that thickned with theyr thundring cryes , ) With pale wanne clowdes discoloured the Sunne . The fire in sparks fro forth theyr Armour flew , And with a duskish yellow , chokt the heauens . The battel s lockt , ( with bristle-poynted speares ) Doe at the halfe pyke freely charge each other , And dash together like two lustie Bulls , That ( iealous of some Heyfar in the Heard , ) Runne head to head , and ( sullen ) wil not yeeld , Till dead or fled , the one forsake the field . The shyuered Launces ( ratling in the ayre , ) Fly forth as thicke as moates about the Sunne : When with theyr swords ( flesht with the former fight , ) They hewe their Armour , and they cleaue their casks , Till streames of blood , like Riuers fill the Downes . That being infected with the stench thereof Surcloyes the ground , and of a Champant Land , Makes it a Quagmire , where ( kneedeepe ) they stand . Blood-thirstie Discord , with her snakie hayre , A fearfull Hagge , with fier-darting eyes , Runnes crosse the Squadrons with a smokie brand : And with her murdring whip encourageth The ouer-forward hands , to bloode and death . Bellona fiered with a quenchles rage , Runnes vp and downe , and in the thickest throng , Cuts , casts the ground , and madding makes a poole , Which in her rage , free passage doth afford , That with our blood she may annoynt her sword . Now we of our side , vrge them to retreate , And nowe before them , we retyre as fast . As on the Alpes the sharpe Nor-North-east wind , Shaking a Pynetree with theyr greatest powre , One while the top doth almost touch the earth , And then it riseth with a counterbuffe . So did the Armies presse and charge each other , With selfe-same courage , worth and weapons to ; And prodigall of life for libertie , With burning hate let each at other flie . Thryce did the Cornets of the souldiers ( cleerd , ) Turne to the Standerd to be newe supplyde ; And thrice the best of both was faine to breathe . And thrice recomforted they brauely ranne , And fought as freshly as they first beganne . Like two fierce Lyons fighting in a Desart , To winne the loue of some faire Lyonesse , When they haue vomited theyr long-growne rage , And proou'd each others force sufficient , Passant regardant softly they retyre . Theyr iawbones dy'd with foming froth and blood . Their lungs like spunges , ramm'd within their sides , Theyr tongues discouerd , and theyr tailes long trailing . Till iealous rage ( engendered with rest , ) Returnes them sharper set then at the first ; And makes them couple when they see theyr prize , With bristled backs , and fire-sparkling eyes , Tyll tyer'd or conquer'd , one submits or flyes . Caesar , whose kinglike lookes like day-bright starrs , Both comfort and encourage his to fight , Marcht through the battaile ( laying still about him . ) And subt'ly markt whose hand was happiest . Who nicely did but dyp his speare in blood , And who more roughly smear'd it to his fiste . Who ( staggering ) fell with euery feeble wound , And who ( more strongly ) pac'd it through the thickest , Him he enflam'd , and spur'd , and fild with horror . As when Alecto in the lowest hell , Doth breathe new heate within Orestes brest , Till out-ward rage with inward griefe begins , A fresh remembrance of our former sins . For then ( as if prouokt with pricking goades , ) Theyr warlike Armies , ( fast lockt foote to foote , ) Stooping their heads low bent to tosse theyr staues , They fiercely open both Battalions . Cleaue , breake , and raging tempest-like o're-turne , What e're makes head to meet them in this humor . Our men at Armes ( in briefe ) begin to flye . And neither prayers , intreatie , nor example Of any of theyr leaders left aliue , Had powre to stay them in this strange carrier . Stragling , as in the faire Calabrian fields , When Wolues for hunger ranging fro the wood , Make forth amongst the flock , that scattered flyes Before the Shepheard , that resistles lyes . Corn. O cruell fortune . Mess. None resisting now , the field was fild with all confusion , of murder , death , and direfull massacres . The feeble bands that yet were left entyre , Had more desire to sleepe then seeke for spoyle . No place was free from sorrow , euery where Lay Armed men , ore-troden with theyr horses . Dismembred bodies drowning in theyr blood , And wretched heapes lie mourning of theyr maimes . Whose blood , as from a spunge , or bunche of Grapes Crusht in a Wine-presse , gusheth out so fast , As with the sight doth make the sound agast . Some should you see that had theyr heads halfe clouen , And on the earth theyr braines lye trembling . Here one new wounded , helps another dying . Here lay an arme , and there a leg lay shiuer'd . Here horse and man ( o're-turnd ) for mercy cryde , With hands exstended to the merciles . That stopt theyr eares , and would not heare a word , But put them all ( remorceles ) to the sword . He that had hap to scape , doth helpe a fresh , To re-enforce the side wheron he seru'd . But seeing that there the murdring Enemie , Pesle-mesle , pursued them like a storme of hayle , They gan retyre where Iuba was encampt ; But there had Caesar eftsoones tyranniz'd . So that dispayring to defend themselues , They layd aside theyr Armour , and at last , Offred to yeeld vnto the enemy . Whose stony hart , that nere dyd Romaine good , Would melt with nothing but theyr deerest blood . And Scipio my Father , when he beheld His people so discomfited and scorn'd . When he perceiu'd the labour profitles , To seeke by new encouraging his men , To come vpon them with a fresh alarme . And when he saw the enemies pursuite , To beate them downe as fierce as thundring flints , And lay them leuell with the charged earth , Lyke eares of Corne with rage of windie showres , Their battailes scattred , and their Ensignes taken . And ( to conclude ) his men dismayd to see , The passage choakt with bodies of the dead ; ( Incessantly lamenting th' extreame losse , And souspirable death of so braue souldiers . ) He spurrs his horse , and ( breaking through the presse ) Trots to the Hauen , where his ships he finds , And hopeles trusteth to the trustles windes . Now had he thought to haue ariu'd in Spayne , To raise newe forces , and returne to field . But as one mischiefe drawes another on , A suddaine tempest takes him by the way , And casts him vp neere to the Coasts of Hyppon . Where th' aduerse Nauie sent to scoure the seas , Did hourely keepe their ordinary course ; Where seeing himselfe at anchor slightly shipt , Besieg'd , betraide by winde , by land , by sea , ( All raging mad to rig his better Vessels , The little while this naual conflict lasted , ) Behold his owne was fiercely set vpon . Which being sore beaten , till it brake agen , Ended the liues of his best fighting men , There did the remnant of our Romaine nobles , Before the foe , and in theyr Captaines presence Dye brauely , with their fauchins in their fists . Then Scipio , ( that saw his ships through-galled , And by the foe fulfild with fire and blood , His people put to sword , Sea , Earth and Hell , And Heauen it selfe coniur'd to iniure him , ) Stepts to the Poope , and with a princely visage Looking vpon his weapon dide with blood , Sighing he sets it to his brest , and said : Since all our hopes are by the Gods beguil'd , What refuge now remaines for my distresse , But thee my deerest nere-deceiuing sword ? Yea , thee my latest fortunes firmest hope . By whom I am assurde this hap to haue , That being free borne , I shall not die a slaue . Scarce had he said , but cruelly resolu'd , He wrencht it to the pommel through his sides , That fro the wound the smoky blood ran bubling , Where-with he staggred ; And I stept to him To haue embrac'd him . But he ( beeing afraid T' attend the mercy of his murdring foe , That stil pursued him and opprest his ships , ) Crawld to the Deck , and lyfe with death to ease , Headlong he threw himselfe into the seas . CORNELIA . O cruell Gods , O heauen , O direfull Fates , O radiant Sunne that slightly guildst our dayes , O night starrs , full of infelicities , O triple titled Heccat Queene and Goddesse , Bereaue my lyfe , or lyuing strangle me . Confound me quick , or let me sinck to hell . Thrust me fro forth the world , that mongst the spirits Th' infernall Lakes may ring with my laments . O miserable , desolate , distresful wretch , Worne with mishaps , yet in mishaps abounding . What shall I doe , or whether shall I flye To venge this out-rage , or reuenge my wrongs ? Come wrathfull Furies with your Ebon locks , And feede your selues with mine enflamed blood . Ixions torment , Sysiph's roling stone , And th' Eagle tyering on Prometheus , Be my eternall tasks ; That th' extreame fire , Within my hart , may from my hart retyre . I suffer more , more sorrowes I endure , Then all the Captiues in th' infernall Court. O troubled Fate , O fatall misery , That vnprouoked , deal'st so partiallie . Say freatfull heauens , what fault haue I committed , Or wherein could mine innocence offend you , When ( being but young ) I lost my first loue Crossus ? Or wherein did I merrite so much wrong , To see my second husband Pompey slayne ? But mongst the rest , what horrible offence , What hatefull thing ( vnthought of ) haue I done , That in the midst of this my mournfull state , Nought but my Fathers death could expiate ? Thy death deere Scipio , Romes eternall losse , Whose hopefull life preseru'd our happines . Whose siluer haires encouraged the weake . Whose resolutions did confirme the rest . Whose ende , sith it hath ended all my ioyes , O heauens at least permit , of all these plagues , That I may finish the Catastrophe . Sith in this widdow-hood , of all my hopes I cannot looke for further happines . For both my husbands and my Father gone , What haue I els to wreak your wrath vpon . Now as for happy thee , to whom sweet Death , Hath giuen blessed rest for lifes bereauing , O enuious Iulia , in thy iealous hart Venge not thy wrong vpon Cornelia . But sacred ghost , appease thine ire , and see My hard mishap in marrying after thee . O see mine anguish ; Haplie seeing it , T' will moue compassion in thee of my paines : And vrge thee ( if thy hart be not of flynt , Or drunck with rigor , ) to repent thy selfe ; That thou enflam'dst so cruell a reuenge In Caesars hart , vpon so slight a cause . And mad'st him raise so many mournfull Tombes , Because thy husband did reuiue the lights Of thy forsaken bed ; ( Vnworthely ) Opposing of thy freatfull ielosie , Gainst his mishap , as it my helpe had bin , Or as if second marriage were a sin . Was neuer Citty where calamitie , Hath soiour'd with such sorrow as in this . Was neuer state wherein the people stood So careles of their conquered libertie , And careful of anothers tiranny . O Gods , that earst of Carthage tooke some care , Which by our Fathers ( pittiles ) was spoyl'd . When thwarting Destinie , at Affrique walls Did topside turuey turne their Common-wealth . When forcefull weapons fiercely tooke away , Their souldiers ( sent to nourish vp those warrs . ) When ( fierd ) their golden Pallaces fell downe . When through the slaughter th' Afrique seas were dide , And sacred Temples quenchlesly enflam'd . Now is our haples time of hopes expired . Then satis-fie your selues with this reuenge , Content to count the ghosts of those great Captains , Which ( conquered ) perisht by the Romaine swords . The Hannons , the Amilcars , Asdrubals , Especially , that proudest Hanniball , That made the fayre Thrasymene so dezart . For euen those fields that mour'd to beare their bodies , Now ( loaden ) groane to feele the Romaine corses . Theyr earth we purple ore , and on theyr Tombes We heape our bodies , equalling theyr ruine . And as a Scipio did reuerse theyr powre , They haue a Scipio to reuenge them on . Weepe therefore Roman Dames , and from henceforth , Valing your Cristall eyes to your faire bosoms , Raine showres of greefe vpon your Rose-like cheeks , And dewe your selues with springtides of your teares . Weepe Ladies weepe , and with your reeking sighes , Thicken the passage of the purest clowdes , And presse the ayre with your continuall plaints . Beate at your Iuorie breasts , and let your robes ( Defac'd and rent ) be witnes of your sorrowes . And let your haire that wont be wreath'd in tresses , Now hang neglectly , dangling downe your sholders , Careles of Arte , or rich accoustrements . That with the gold and pearle we vs'd before , Our mournfull habits may be deckt no more . Alas what shall I doe ? O deere companions , Shall I , O shall I liue in these laments ? Widdowed of all my hopes , my haps , my husbands , And last , not least , bereft of my best Father ; And of the ioyes mine auncestors enioy'd , When they enioy'd their liues and libertie . And must I liue to see great Pompeys house , ( A house of honour and antiquitie ) Vsurpt in wrong by lawlesse Anthony ? Shall I behold the sumptuous ornaments , ( Which both the world and Fortune heapt on him , ) Adorne and grace his graceles Enemy ? Or see the wealth that Pompey gain'd in warre , Sold at a pike , and borne away by strangers ? Dye , rather die Cornelia ; And ( to spare Thy worthles life that yet must one day perrish , ) Let not those Captains vainlie lie inter'd , Or Caesar triumph in thine infamie , That wert the wife to th' one , and th' others daughter . But if I die before I haue entomb'd , My drowned Father in some Sepulcher , Who will performe that care in kindnes for me ? Shall his poore wandring lymbs lie stil tormented , Tost with the salte waues of the wasteful Seas ? No louely Father , and my deerest husband , Cornelia must liue , ( though life she hateth ) To make your Tombes , & mourne vpon your hearses . Where ( languishing , ) my famous faithful teares May trickling bathe your generous sweet cynders . And afterward ( both wanting strength and moysture , Fulfilling with my latest sighes and gasps , The happie vessels that enclose your bones , ) I will surrender my surcharged life . And ( when my soule Earths pryson shall forgoe , ) Encrease the number of the ghosts be-low . Non prosunt Domino quae prosunt omnibus ; Artes . Tho: Kyd.