 | The Tragedie of Cleopatra |  |
SCENA II.
Cæsar.Cleopatra. Seleucus, Dolabella.
What
Cleopatra, dost thou doubt so much
Of Cæsars mercie, that thou hid'st thy face?
Or thinke you, your offences can be such,
As they surmount the measure of our grace?
Of Cæsars mercie, that thou hid'st thy face?
Or thinke you, your offences can be such,
As they surmount the measure of our grace?
Bleo.
O Cæsar, not for that I flie thy sight
My soule this sad retire of sorrow chose:
But that my grieued soule abhorring light
Likes best in darkenes my disgrace t'inclose:
And here in those close limits of dispaire,
This solitarie horror where I bide.
I thought not euer Roman should repaire
More, after him, who here distressed di'd.
Yet now here at thy conquering feete I lie,
A captiue soule that neuer thought to bow,
Whose happie foote of rule and maiestie,
Stood late on that same ground thou standest now.
Cæs.
Rise madame, rise, your selfe was cause of all,
And yet would all were but your owne alone,
That others ruine, had not with your fall,
Brought Rome her sorrowes, to my triumphs mone,
Which makes my winning ioy, a gaine vnpleasing,
Who cannot now looke out into our good,
But through the horror of our owne blood shedding.
And all we must attribute vnto you.
Cleop.
To me? what, Cæsar, should a woman doe,
Opprest with greatnesse what was it for me
T'contradict my Lord, being bent thereto?
I was by loue, by feare, by weakenesse, made
An instrument to euery enterprize.
For when the Lord of all the orient bade,
Who but obeyd, who then his helpe denies?
And how could I withdraw my succouring hand,
From him that had my heart, and what was mine?
The interest of my faith in straitest band
My loue to his, most firmely did combine.
Cæs.
Loue? no, alas, it was th'innated hatred,
That you and yours haue euer borne our people.
That made you seeke all means to haue vs skattered,
To disvnite our strength and make vs feeble.
And therefore did that brest nurce our dissention,
With hope t'exalt your selfe, t'augment your state,
To prey vpon the wracke of our contention,
And with the rest our foes to ioy thereat.
Cle.
How easie Cæsar is it to accuse,
Whom fortune hath made faultie by their fall,
They who are vanquished may not refuse
The titles of reproch th'are charg'd withall.
The conquering cause hath right, wherein thou art,
The ouerthrowne must be the worser part.
Which part is mine, because I lost my part,
No lesser then the portion of a crowne,
Ynough for me. Ah what neede I vse art
To gaine by others but to keepe mine owne?
But weaker powers may here see what it is,
To neighbour great competitors so neere,
If we take either part we perish thus.
If newtrall stand, both parties we must feare,
Alas what shall the forc'd partakers doe,
When they must aid, and yet must perish too?
Whom fortune hath made faultie by their fall,
They who are vanquished may not refuse
The titles of reproch th'are charg'd withall.
The conquering cause hath right, wherein thou art,
The ouerthrowne must be the worser part.
Which part is mine, because I lost my part,
No lesser then the portion of a crowne,
Ynough for me. Ah what neede I vse art
To gaine by others but to keepe mine owne?
But weaker powers may here see what it is,
If we take either part we perish thus.
If newtrall stand, both parties we must feare,
Alas what shall the forc'd partakers doe,
When they must aid, and yet must perish too?
But Cæsar since thy right, or cause is such,
Weigh not so heauie on calamitie,
Depresse not the afflicted ouermuch;
Thy chiefest glorie is thy lenitie.
Th'inheritance of mercie from him take,
Of whom thou hast thy fortune, and thy name.
Creat Cæsar me a queene at first did make,
And let not Cæsar now confound the same.
Read heare these lines which still I keepe with me,
The witnes of his loue and fauours euer,
And God forbid it should be said of thee,
That Cæsar wrong'd the fauoured of Cæsar:
For looke what I haue beene to Antony,
Thinke thou the same I might haue beene to thee.
Weigh not so heauie on calamitie,
Depresse not the afflicted ouermuch;
Thy chiefest glorie is thy lenitie.
Th'inheritance of mercie from him take,
Of whom thou hast thy fortune, and thy name.
Creat Cæsar me a queene at first did make,
And let not Cæsar now confound the same.
Read heare these lines which still I keepe with me,
The witnes of his loue and fauours euer,
And God forbid it should be said of thee,
That Cæsar wrong'd the fauoured of Cæsar:
For looke what I haue beene to Antony,
Thinke thou the same I might haue beene to thee.
And here I doe present you with the note
Of all my treasure, all the iewels rare,
Which Egypt hath in many ages gote
And looke what Cleopatra hath is there.
Of all my treasure, all the iewels rare,
Which Egypt hath in many ages gote
And looke what Cleopatra hath is there.
Sel,
Nay ther's not all set downe within that rowle,
I know some thing, she hath reseru'd apart.
Cle.
What? vile and gratefull wretch durst thou controwle
Thy queene, and soueraigne, caytiffe as thou art?
Ces.
Hold, hold, a poore reuenge, can worke so feeble hands
Cle.
Ah Cæsar what a great indignitie,
Is this, that here my vassall subiect stands,
T'accuse me to my Lord of treacherie?
If I reseru'd some certaine womens toyes
Alas, it was not for my selfe, God knowes,
Poore miserable soule that little ioyes
In trifling ornaments, in outward showes.
Vnto thy Liuia and Octauius grace,
That thereby in compassion moued, they
Might mediate thy fauour in my case.
Ces.
Well Cleopatra, feare not, you shall finde
What fauour you desire or can expect,
For Cæsar neuer yet was found but kinde,
To such as yeeld and can themselues subiect.
And therefore comfort now your drooping minde
Relieue your heart thus ouercharg'd with care,
How well I will intreat ye you shall finde,
So soone as some affaires dispatched are.
Til when farewell.
Cle.
Thanks thrice renowned Cesar,
Poore Cleopatra rests thine owne for euer,
Dola.
No meruaile Cæsar, though our greatest spirits,
Haue to the power of such a charming beautie,
Bin brought to yeeld the honor of their merits,
Forgetting all respect of other dutie.
Then whil'st the glory of her youth remain'd
The wondring obiect to each wanton eie
Before her full of sweet, with sorrow waind,
Came to the period of this miserie.
If still, euen in the midst of griefe and horror
Such beautie shines th'row clouds of age and sorrow,
If euen those sweet decaies seeme to plead for her,
Which from affliction mouing graces borrow:
If in calamitie she could thus moue,
What could shee do adorn'd with youth and loue?
What could she do then when as spreading wide,
The pompe of beauty in her glory dight,
When arm'd with wonder shee could vse beside
The ingines of her loue, Hope, and Delight.
Haue to the power of such a charming beautie,
Bin brought to yeeld the honor of their merits,
Forgetting all respect of other dutie.
Then whil'st the glory of her youth remain'd
The wondring obiect to each wanton eie
Before her full of sweet, with sorrow waind,
Came to the period of this miserie.
If still, euen in the midst of griefe and horror
Such beautie shines th'row clouds of age and sorrow,
If euen those sweet decaies seeme to plead for her,
Which from affliction mouing graces borrow:
If in calamitie she could thus moue,
What could shee do adorn'd with youth and loue?
What could she do then when as spreading wide,
The pompe of beauty in her glory dight,
When arm'd with wonder shee could vse beside
The ingines of her loue, Hope, and Delight.
Daughter of meruaile, Beautie, how dost thou
Vnto disgracing sorrowes giue such grace?
What power showes't thou in a distressed brow
To make affliction faire, and teares to grace?
What can vndressed lockes, dispoyled haire,
A weeping eie, a wailing face be faire?
I see then artlesse feature may content,
And that true bewtie needs no ornament.
Vnto disgracing sorrowes giue such grace?
What power showes't thou in a distressed brow
What can vndressed lockes, dispoyled haire,
A weeping eie, a wailing face be faire?
I see then artlesse feature may content,
And that true bewtie needs no ornament.
Cæs.
What in passion Dolabella. What? take heed.
Let others fresh examples charme this heate,
You see what mischiefes these vaine humors breed,
When once they come our iudgements to defeate.
Indeed I saw shee labour'd to impart,
Her sweetest graces in her saddest cheere,
Presuming on that face that knew the art
To moue, with what respect so euer t'were.
But all in vaine, shee takes her aime amisse,
The ground and marke her leuell much deceiues,
Time now hath altered all, for neither is
Shee as shee was, nor we as shee conceiues,
And therefore now tis fit shee were more sage,
Folly, in youth is sinne, madnes in age.
Let others fresh examples charme this heate,
You see what mischiefes these vaine humors breed,
When once they come our iudgements to defeate.
Indeed I saw shee labour'd to impart,
Her sweetest graces in her saddest cheere,
Presuming on that face that knew the art
To moue, with what respect so euer t'were.
But all in vaine, shee takes her aime amisse,
The ground and marke her leuell much deceiues,
Time now hath altered all, for neither is
Shee as shee was, nor we as shee conceiues,
And therefore now tis fit shee were more sage,
Folly, in youth is sinne, madnes in age.
And for my part, I seeke but t'entertaine
In her, some feeding hope to draw her forth,
The greatest trophy that my toyle shall gaine,
Is to bring home a prizall of such worth.
And now since shee doth seeme so well content,
To be dispos'd by vs: without more stay,
Shee with her children shall to Rome be sent,
Whil'st I by Syria, after take my way.
In her, some feeding hope to draw her forth,
The greatest trophy that my toyle shall gaine,
Is to bring home a prizall of such worth.
And now since shee doth seeme so well content,
To be dispos'd by vs: without more stay,
Shee with her children shall to Rome be sent,
Whil'st I by Syria, after take my way.
Exeunt.
Opinion
, how doest thou molest
Th'affected minde of restlesse man?
Who following thee neuer can,
Nor euer shall attaine to rest,
For, getting what thou saist is best,
Yet loe, that best he findes farre wide
Of what thou promisedst before:
For in the same he lookt for more,
Which proues but small when once tis tride,
Then something else thou findst beside,
To draw him still from thought to thought,
When in the end all proues but nought.
Farther from rest he findes him then,
Then at the first when he began.
Th'affected minde of restlesse man?
Who following thee neuer can,
Nor euer shall attaine to rest,
For, getting what thou saist is best,
Yet loe, that best he findes farre wide
Of what thou promisedst before:
For in the same he lookt for more,
Which proues but small when once tis tride,
Then something else thou findst beside,
To draw him still from thought to thought,
When in the end all proues but nought.
Farther from rest he findes him then,
Then at the first when he began.
O malecontent seducing guest,
Contriuer of our greatest woes:
Which borne of winde, and fed with showes,
Doost nurce thy selfe in thine vnrest.
Iudging vngotten things the best,
Or what thou in conceit designst,
And all things in the world dost deeme,
Not as they are, but as they seeme:
Which shewes, thou ill defin'st,
And liu'st to come in present pin'st.
For what thus hast, thou still dost lacke:
O mindes tormentor, bodies wracke,
Vaine promiser of that sweete rest,
Which neuer any yet possest.
Contriuer of our greatest woes:
Which borne of winde, and fed with showes,
Doost nurce thy selfe in thine vnrest.
Iudging vngotten things the best,
Or what thou in conceit designst,
And all things in the world dost deeme,
Not as they are, but as they seeme:
Which shewes, thou ill defin'st,
And liu'st to come in present pin'st.
For what thus hast, thou still dost lacke:
O mindes tormentor, bodies wracke,
Vaine promiser of that sweete rest,
Which neuer any yet possest.
If we vnto ambition tend,
Then doest thou draw our weakenesse on,
With vaine imagination
Of that which neuer hath an end.
Or if that lust we apprehend.
How doth that pleasant plague infest?
O what strange formes of luxurie,
Thou straight dost cast t'intice vs by?
And tel'st vs that is euer best,
Which we haue neuer yet possest.
And that more pleasure rests beside,
In something that we haue not tri'd.
And when the same likewise is had,
Then all is one, and all is bad.
Then doest thou draw our weakenesse on,
With vaine imagination
Of that which neuer hath an end.
Or if that lust we apprehend.
How doth that pleasant plague infest?
O what strange formes of luxurie,
Thou straight dost cast t'intice vs by?
And tel'st vs that is euer best,
Which we haue neuer yet possest.
And that more pleasure rests beside,
In something that we haue not tri'd.
And when the same likewise is had,
Then all is one, and all is bad.
This Antony can say is true,
And Cleopatra knowes tis so,
By th'experience of their woe.
Shee can say, shee neuer knew
But that lust found pleasures new,
And was neuer satisfi'd:
He can say by proofe of toyle,
Ambition is a Uulture vile,
That feedes vpon the heart of pride:
And finds no rest when all is tri'd.
For worlds cannot confine the one,
Th'other lists and bounds hath none.
And both subuert the mind, the state,
Procure destruction, enuie, hate.
And Cleopatra knowes tis so,
By th'experience of their woe.
Shee can say, shee neuer knew
But that lust found pleasures new,
And was neuer satisfi'd:
He can say by proofe of toyle,
Ambition is a Uulture vile,
That feedes vpon the heart of pride:
And finds no rest when all is tri'd.
For worlds cannot confine the one,
Th'other lists and bounds hath none.
And both subuert the mind, the state,
Procure destruction, enuie, hate.
And now when all this is prou'd vaine,
Yet Opinion leaues not here,
But sticks to Cleopatra neere,
Perswading now, how shee shall gaine,
Honour by death, and fame attaine.
And what a shame it were to liue,
Her kingdome lost, her louer dead:
And so with this perswasion led,
Despaire doth such a corrage giue,
That nought else can her mind relieue,
Nor yet diuert her from that thought:
To this conclusion all is brought,
This is that rest this vaine world lends,
To end in death, that all things ends.
Yet Opinion leaues not here,
But sticks to Cleopatra neere,
Perswading now, how shee shall gaine,
Honour by death, and fame attaine.
Her kingdome lost, her louer dead:
And so with this perswasion led,
Despaire doth such a corrage giue,
That nought else can her mind relieue,
Nor yet diuert her from that thought:
To this conclusion all is brought,
This is that rest this vaine world lends,
To end in death, that all things ends.
| The Tragedie of Cleopatra | |