 | The Tragedie of Cleopatra |  |
SCENA. II.
Cleopatra.Charmion. Eras Diomedes.
Cleopatra reading Dolabella's letter
What hath my face yet power to win a louer,
Can this torne remnant serue to grace me so
That it can Cæsars secret plots discouer
What he intends with me and mine to doe?
Why then poore beauty thou hast done thy last,
And best good seruice thou couldst euer doe me,
For now the time of death reueald thou hast,
Which in my life didst serue but to vndoe me.
Can this torne remnant serue to grace me so
That it can Cæsars secret plots discouer
What he intends with me and mine to doe?
Why then poore beauty thou hast done thy last,
And best good seruice thou couldst euer doe me,
For now the time of death reueald thou hast,
Which in my life didst serue but to vndoe me.
Here Dolabella far forsooth in loue,
Writes now that Cæsar meanes forthwith to send
Both me and mine, the aire of Rome to prooue,
There his triumphant Chariot to attend.
I thanke the man, both for his loue, and letter,
The one comes fit to warne me thus before,
But for the other, I must die his debtor,
For Cleopatra now can loue no more.
Writes now that Cæsar meanes forthwith to send
Both me and mine, the aire of Rome to prooue,
There his triumphant Chariot to attend.
I thanke the man, both for his loue, and letter,
The one comes fit to warne me thus before,
But for the other, I must die his debtor,
For Cleopatra now can loue no more.
Come Diomedes, thou who hast bin one,
In all my fortunes, and art still all one,
Whom the amazing ruine of my fall,
Neuer deterd to leaue calamitie,
As did those other smooth State-pleasures all,
Who followed but my fortune, and not me.
Tis thou must doe a seruice for thy Queene,
Wherein thy loyaltie must worke her best.
Thy honest care and dutie shall be seene,
Performing this, more then in all the rest.
Thou must seeke out with all thy industrie,
Two Aspicks, and conuey them close to me.
I haue a worke to doe with them in hand,
Enquire not what, for thou shalt soone see what,
If th'heauens doe not my designes withstand,
But doe the charge, and let me shift for that.
In all my fortunes, and art still all one,
Whom the amazing ruine of my fall,
Neuer deterd to leaue calamitie,
As did those other smooth State-pleasures all,
Who followed but my fortune, and not me.
Tis thou must doe a seruice for thy Queene,
Wherein thy loyaltie must worke her best.
Thy honest care and dutie shall be seene,
Performing this, more then in all the rest.
Two Aspicks, and conuey them close to me.
I haue a worke to doe with them in hand,
Enquire not what, for thou shalt soone see what,
If th'heauens doe not my designes withstand,
But doe the charge, and let me shift for that.
Diom.
I who am sworne of the societie
Of death, and haue indur'd the worst of ill,
Prepar'd for all euents, must not deny
What you command me, come there what there will.
And I shall vse the aptest skill I may
To cloake my worke and long I will not stay.
Exit.
Cleop.
But hauing leaue I must goe take my leaue
And last farewell of my dead Antony,
Whose dearely honord tombe must here receiue
This sacrifice, the last before I die.
Cleopatra at the tombe of Antonius.
And last farewell of my dead Antony,
Whose dearely honord tombe must here receiue
This sacrifice, the last before I die.
O sacred euer memorable stone,
Thou hast without my teares, within my flame,
Receiue th'oblation of the wofulst mone.
That euer yet from sad affliction came.
And you deare reliques of my Lord and loue,
Most precious parcels of the worthiest liuer,
O let no impious hand dare to remooue
You out from hence, but rest you here for euer.
Let Egypt now giue peace vnto you dead,
Who liuing, gaue you trouble and turmoyle,
Sleepe quiet in this euerlasting bed,
In forraine land preferd before your soyle.
And O if that the spirits of men remaine
After their bodies, and doe neuer die:
Then heare thy ghost, thy captiue spouse complaine,
And be attentive to her miserie.
But if that laboursome mortalitie,
Found this sweete error onely to confine
The curious search of idle vanitie,
That would the depth of darknes vndermine
Or else to giue a rest vnto the thought
Of wretched man, with th'aftercomming ioy
Of those conceiued fields, whereon we dote,
To pacifie the present worlds annoy
Then why doe I complaine me to the ayre?
But tis not so, my Antony doth heare:
His euer liuing Ghost attends my prayer,
And I doe know his houering spirit is neere.
And I will speake and pray, and mourne to thee,
O pure immortall soule, that deign'st to heare:
I feele thou answerst my credulitie.
With touch of comfort, finding none else where,
Thou knowst these hands intomb'd thee here of late,
Free and inforc'd, which now must seruile be,
Reseru'd for bands to grace proud Cæsars state,
Who seeke in me to triumph ouer thee.
O if in life we could not seuer'd be,
Shall death diuide our bodies now asunder?
Must thine in Egypt, mine in Italy,
Be made the monuments of fortunes wonder?
If any powers be there whereas thou art,
Since our owne countrey gods betraies our cause.
O worke they may their gracious help impart,
To saue thy wofull wife from such disgrace.
Doe not permit she would in triumph shew
The blush of her reproch, ioynd with thy shame,
But rather let that hatefull tyrant know,
That thou and I had power t'auoid the same.
But what doe I spend breath and idle winde,
In vaine inuoking, a conceiued aide,
Why doe I not my selfe occasion find,
To breake these bounds, wherein my selfe am staid?
Words are for them that can complaine and liue,
Whose melting hearts compos'd of baser frame,
Can to their sorrowes time and leisure giue,
But Cleopatra must not doe the same.
No Antony, thy loue requireth more,
A lingring death with thee deserues no merit
I must my selfe force open wide a dore
To let out life, and to vnhouse my spirit.
These hands must breake the prison of my soule,
To come to thee, there to inioy like state,
As doth the long pent solitary foule,
That hath escapt her cage, and found her mate.
This sacrifice, to sacrifice my life,
Is that true incense that my loue beseemes,
These rites may serue a life-desiring wife,
Who doing them, t'haue done sufficient deemes.
My heart-bloud should the purple flowers haue been
Which here vpon thy tombe to thee are offred,
No smoake but my last gaspe should here bin seene,
And this it had bin too, had I bin suffred.
But what haue I, saue onely these bare hands,
And these weake fingers are not yron-pointed,
They cannot pierce the flesh that them withstands,
And I of all meanes else am disappointed.
But yet I must away, and meanes seeke how
To come vnto thee, and to vnion vs,
O death art thou art so hard to come by now,
That we must pray, intreat, and seeke thee thus?
But I will find, where euer thou doest lie,
For who can stay a mind resolu'd to die.
Thou hast without my teares, within my flame,
Receiue th'oblation of the wofulst mone.
That euer yet from sad affliction came.
And you deare reliques of my Lord and loue,
Most precious parcels of the worthiest liuer,
O let no impious hand dare to remooue
You out from hence, but rest you here for euer.
Let Egypt now giue peace vnto you dead,
Who liuing, gaue you trouble and turmoyle,
Sleepe quiet in this euerlasting bed,
In forraine land preferd before your soyle.
And O if that the spirits of men remaine
After their bodies, and doe neuer die:
Then heare thy ghost, thy captiue spouse complaine,
And be attentive to her miserie.
But if that laboursome mortalitie,
The curious search of idle vanitie,
That would the depth of darknes vndermine
Or else to giue a rest vnto the thought
Of wretched man, with th'aftercomming ioy
Of those conceiued fields, whereon we dote,
To pacifie the present worlds annoy
Then why doe I complaine me to the ayre?
But tis not so, my Antony doth heare:
His euer liuing Ghost attends my prayer,
And I doe know his houering spirit is neere.
And I will speake and pray, and mourne to thee,
O pure immortall soule, that deign'st to heare:
I feele thou answerst my credulitie.
With touch of comfort, finding none else where,
Thou knowst these hands intomb'd thee here of late,
Free and inforc'd, which now must seruile be,
Reseru'd for bands to grace proud Cæsars state,
Who seeke in me to triumph ouer thee.
O if in life we could not seuer'd be,
Shall death diuide our bodies now asunder?
Must thine in Egypt, mine in Italy,
Be made the monuments of fortunes wonder?
If any powers be there whereas thou art,
Since our owne countrey gods betraies our cause.
O worke they may their gracious help impart,
To saue thy wofull wife from such disgrace.
Doe not permit she would in triumph shew
The blush of her reproch, ioynd with thy shame,
But rather let that hatefull tyrant know,
That thou and I had power t'auoid the same.
But what doe I spend breath and idle winde,
In vaine inuoking, a conceiued aide,
Why doe I not my selfe occasion find,
To breake these bounds, wherein my selfe am staid?
Whose melting hearts compos'd of baser frame,
Can to their sorrowes time and leisure giue,
But Cleopatra must not doe the same.
No Antony, thy loue requireth more,
A lingring death with thee deserues no merit
I must my selfe force open wide a dore
To let out life, and to vnhouse my spirit.
These hands must breake the prison of my soule,
To come to thee, there to inioy like state,
As doth the long pent solitary foule,
That hath escapt her cage, and found her mate.
This sacrifice, to sacrifice my life,
Is that true incense that my loue beseemes,
These rites may serue a life-desiring wife,
Who doing them, t'haue done sufficient deemes.
My heart-bloud should the purple flowers haue been
Which here vpon thy tombe to thee are offred,
No smoake but my last gaspe should here bin seene,
And this it had bin too, had I bin suffred.
But what haue I, saue onely these bare hands,
And these weake fingers are not yron-pointed,
They cannot pierce the flesh that them withstands,
And I of all meanes else am disappointed.
But yet I must away, and meanes seeke how
To come vnto thee, and to vnion vs,
O death art thou art so hard to come by now,
That we must pray, intreat, and seeke thee thus?
But I will find, where euer thou doest lie,
For who can stay a mind resolu'd to die.
And now I come to worke th'effect indeed,
I neuer will send more complaints to thee,
I bring my soule, my selfe, and that with speed,
My selfe will bring my soule to Antony.
Come, goe my maides, my fortunes sole attenders,
That minister to misery and sorrow,
Your mistresse you vnto your freedome renders,
And will discharge your charge, yet ere to morrow.
I neuer will send more complaints to thee,
I bring my soule, my selfe, and that with speed,
My selfe will bring my soule to Antony.
Come, goe my maides, my fortunes sole attenders,
Your mistresse you vnto your freedome renders,
And will discharge your charge, yet ere to morrow.
Eras.
Good madame if that worthy heart you beare
Doe hold it fit; it were a sinne in vs
To contradict your will: but yet we feare
The world will censure that your doing thus,
Did issue rather out of your despaire
Then resolution, and thereby you loose
Much of your glory, which would be more faire
In suffring, then escaping thus your foes.
For when Pandora brought the boxe from heauen
Of all the good and ill that men befall,
And them immixt vnto the world had giuen,
Hope in the bottome lay, quite vnder all.
To shew that we must still vnto the last
Attend our fortune, for no doubt there may
Euen at the bottome of afflictions past
Be found some happier turne if we but stay.
Cl.
Eras, that hope is honors enemie,
A traytor vnto worth, lies on the ground,
In the base bottome of seruilitie:
The beggars wealth a treasure neuer found,
The dreame of them that wake, a ghost of th'ayre,
That leads men out of knowledge to their graues,
A spirit of grosser substance then despaire,
And let them Eras hope, that can be slaues.
A traytor vnto worth, lies on the ground,
In the base bottome of seruilitie:
The beggars wealth a treasure neuer found,
The dreame of them that wake, a ghost of th'ayre,
That leads men out of knowledge to their graues,
A spirit of grosser substance then despaire,
And let them Eras hope, that can be slaues.
And now I am but onely to attend
My mans returne, that brings me my dispatch,
God grant his cunning sort to happy end,
And that his skill may well beguile my watch
So shall I shun disgrace, laeue to be sorry,
Flye to my loue, scape my foe, free my soule,
So shall I act the last of life with glory,
Die like a Queen, & rest without controule.
My mans returne, that brings me my dispatch,
God grant his cunning sort to happy end,
And that his skill may well beguile my watch
So shall I shun disgrace, laeue to be sorry,
Flye to my loue, scape my foe, free my soule,
So shall I act the last of life with glory,
Die like a Queen, & rest without controule.
Exeunt.
| The Tragedie of Cleopatra | |