A Discourse of Life and Death :: :: University of Virginia Library

A Discourse of Life and Death

Written in French by Ph. Mornay. Antonius, A Tragoedie written also in French by Ro. Garnier. Both done in English by the Countesse of Pembroke [i.e. Mary Herbert]

Pembroke, Mary Sidney Herbert (1561-1621)

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[Since cruell Heau'ns against me obstinate]

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[Since cruell Heau'ns against me obstinate]

The Argument.

After the ouerthrowe of Brutus and Cassius, the libertie of Rome being now vtterly oppressed, and the Empire setled in the hands of Octauius Cæsar and Marcus Antonius, (who for knitting a straiter bonde of amitie betweene them, had taken to wife Octauia the sister of Cæsar) Antonius vndertooke a iourney against the Parthians, with intent to regaine on them the honor wonne by them from the Romains, at the discomfiture and slaughter of Crassus. But comming in his iourney into Siria, the places renewed in his remembrance the long intermitted loue of Cleopatra Queene of Aegipt: who before time had both in Cilicia and at Alexandria, entertained him with all the exquisite delightes and sumptuous pleasures, which a great Prince and voluptuous Louer could to the vttermost desire. Whereupon omitting his enterprice, he made his returne to Alexandria, againe falling to his former loues, without any regard of his vertuous wife Octauia, by whom neuertheles he had excellent Children. This occasion Octauius tooke of taking armes against him: and preparing a mighty fleet, encountred him at Actium, who also had assembled to that place a great number of Gallies of his own, besides 60. which Cleopatra brought with her from Aegipt. But at the very beginning of the battell Cleopatra with all her Gallies betooke her to flight, which Antony seeing could not but follow; by his departure leauing to Octauius the greatest victorye

which in any Sea Battell hath beene heard off. Which he not negligent to pursue, followes them the next spring, and besiedgeth them within Alexandria, where Antony finding all that he trusted to faile him, beginneth to growe iealouse and to suspect Cleopatra. She thereupon enclosed her selfe with two of her women in a monument she had before caused to be built, thence sends him woord she was dead: which he beleeuing for truth, gaue himselfe with his Swoord a deadly wound: but died not vntill a messenger came from Cleopatra to haue him brought to her to the tombe. Which she not daring to open least she should be made a prisoner to the Romaines, and carried in Cæsars triumph, cast downe a corde from an high window, by the which (her women helping her) she trussed vp Antonius halfe dead, and so got him into the monument. The Stage supposed Alexandria: the Chorus, first Egiptians, and after Romane Souldiors. The Historie to be read at large in Plutarch in the life of Antonius.

The Actors.

Antonius.
Cleopatra.
Eras. Cleopatras woman.
Charmion. Cleopatras woman.
Philostratus a Philosopher.
Lucilius.
Diomede Secretary to Cleopatra.
Octauius Cæsar.
Agrippa.
Euphron, teacher of Cleopatras children.
Children of Cleopatra.
Dircetus the Messenger.

[Act 1.]

Antonius.

Since cruell Heau'ns against me obstinate,
Since all mishappes of the round engin doo
Conspire my harme: since men, since powers diuine,
Aire, earth, and Sea are all iniurious:
And that my Queene her self, in whome I liu'd,
The Idoll of my hart, doth me pursue;
It's meete I dye. For her haue I forgone
My Country, Cæsar vnto warre prouok'd
(For iust reuenge of Sisters wrong my wife,
Who mou'de my Queene (ay me!) to iealousie)
For loue of her, in her allurements caught
Abandon'd life, I honor haue despisde,
Disdain'd my freends, and of the statelye Rome
Despoilde the Empire of her best attire,
Contemn'd that power that made me so much fear'd,
A slaue become vnto her feeble face.

O cruell, traitres, woman most vnkinde,
Thou dost, forsworne, my loue and life betraie:
And giu'st me vp to ragefull enemie,
Which soone (ô foole!) will plague thy periurye.

Yelded Pelusuim on this Countries shore,
Yelded thou hast my Shippes and men of warre,
That nought remaines (so destitute am I)
But these same armes which on my back I weare.
Thou should'st haue had them too, and me vnarm'de
Yeelded to Cæsar naked of defence.
Which while I beare let Cæsar neuer thinke
Triumph of me shall his proud chariot grace
Not think with me his glory to adorne,
On me aliue to vse his victorie.

Thou only Cleopatra triumph hast,
Thou only hast my freedome seruile made,
Thou only hast me vanquisht: not by force
(For forste I cannot be) but by sweete baites
Of thy eyes graces, which did gaine so fast
vpon my libertie, that nought remain'd.
None els hencefoorth, but thou my dearest Queene,
Shall glorie in commaunding Antonie.

Haue Cæsar fortune and the Gods his freends,
To him haue Ioue and fatall sisters giuen
The Scepter of the earth: he neuer shall
Subiect my life to his obedience.
But when that Death, my glad refuge, shall haue
Bounded the course of my vnstedfast life,
And frosen corps vnder a marble colde
Within tombes bosome widdowe of my soule:
Then at his will let him it subiect make:
Then what he will let Cæsar doo with me:
Make me limme after limme be rent: make me
My buriall take in sides of Thracian wolfe.

Poore Antonie! alas what was the day,

The daies of losse that gained thee thy loue!
Wretch Antony! since then Mægæ pale
With Snakie haires enchain'd thy miserie.
The fire thee burnt was neuer Cupids fire
(For Cupid beares not such a mortall brand)
It was some furies torch, Orestes torche,
which sometimes burnt his mother-murdering soule
(When wandring madde, rage boiling in his bloud,
He fled his fault which folow'd as he fled)
kindled within his bones by shadow pale
Of mother slaine return'd from Stygian lake.

Antony, poore Antony! since that daie
Thy olde good hap did farre from thee retire.
Thy vertue dead: thy glory made aliue
So ofte by martiall deeds is gone in smoke:
Since then the Baies so well thy forehead knewe
To Venus mirtles yeelded haue their place:
Trumpets to pipes: field tents to courtly bowers:
Launces and Pikes to daunces and to feastes.
Since then, ô wretch! in stead of bloudy warres
Thou shouldst haue made vpon the Parthian Kings
For Romain honor filde by Crassus foile,
Thou threw'st thy Curiace off, and fearfull healme,
With coward courage vnto Ægipts Queene
In haste to runne, about her necke to hang
Languishing in her armes thy Idoll made:
In summe giuen vp to Cleopatras eies.
Thou breakest at length from thence, as one encharm'd
Breakes from th' enchaunter that him strongly helde.
For thy first reason (spoyling of their force
the poisned cuppes of thy faire Sorceres)

Recur'd thy sprite: and then on euery side
Thou mad'st againe the earth with Souldiours swarme.
All Asia hidde: Euphrates bankes do tremble
To see at once so many Komanes there
Breath horror, rage, and with a threatning eye
In mighty squadrons crosse his swelling streames.
Nought seene but horse, and fier sparkling armes:
Nought heard but hideous noise of muttring troupes.
The Parth, the Mede, abandoning their goods
Hide them for feare in hilles of Hircanie,
Redoubting thee. Then willing to besiege
The great Phraate head of Media,
Thou campedst at her walles with vaine assault,
Thy engins fit (mishap!) not thither brought.

So long thou stai'st, so long thou doost thee rest,
So long thy loue with such things nourished
Reframes, reformes it selfe and stealingly
Retakes his force and rebecomes more great.
For of thy Queene the lookes, the grace, the woords,
Sweetenes, alurements, amorous delights,
Entred againe thy soule, and day and night,
In watch, in sleepe, her Image follow'd thee:
Not dreaming but of her, repenting still
That thou for warre hadst such a Goddes left.

Thou car'st no more for Parth, nor Parthian bow,
Sallies, assaults, encounters, shocks, alarmes,
For diches, rampiers, wards, entrenched grounds:
Thy only care is sight of Nilus streames,
Sight of that face whose guilefull semblant doth
(Wandring in thee) infect thy tainted hart.
Her absence thee besottes: each hower, each hower

Of staie, to thee impatient seemes an age.
Enough of conquest, praise thou deem'st enough,
If soone enough the bristled fieldes thou see
Of fruitfull Ægipt, and the stranger floud
Thy Queenes faire eyes (another Pharos) lights.

Returned loe, dishonoured, despisde,
In wanton loue a woman thee misleades
Sunke in foule sinke: meane while respecting nought
Thy wife Octauia and her tender babes,
Of whom the long contempt against thee whets
The sword of Cæsar now thy Lord become.

Lost thy great Empire, all those goodly townes
Reuerenc'd thy name as rebells now thee leaue:
Rise against thee, and to the ensignes flocke
Of conqu'ring Cæsar, who enwalles thee round
Cag'd in thy holde, scarse maister of thy selfe,
Late maister of so many nations.

Yet, yet, which is of grief extreamest grief,
Which is yet of mischiefe highest mischiefe,
It's Cleopatra alas! alas, it's she,
It's she augments the torment of thy paine,
Betraies thy loue, thy life alas!) betraies,
Cæsar to please, whose grace she seekes to gaine:
With thought her Crowne to saue, and fortune make
Onely thy foe which common ought haue beene.

If her I alwaies lou'd, and the first flame
Of her heart-killing loue shall burne me last:
Iustly complaine I she disloyall is,
Nor constant is, euen as I constant am,
To comfort my mishap, despising me
No more, then when the heauens fauour'd me.

But ah! by nature women wau'ring are,
Each moment changing and rechanging mindes.
Vnwise, who blinde in them, thinkes loyaltie
Euer to finde in beauties company.

Chorus.

The boyling tempest still
Makes not Sea waters fome:
Nor still the Northern blast
Disquiets quiet streames:
Nor who his chest to fill
Sayles to the morning beames,
On waues winde tosseth fast
Still kepes his Ship from home.

Nor Ioue still downe doth cast
Inflam'd with bloudie ire
On man, on tree, on hill,
His darts of thundring fire:
Nor still the heat doth last
On face of parched plaine:
Nor wrinkled colde doth still
On frozen furrowes raigne.

But still as long as we
In this low world remaine,
Mishapps our dayly mates
Our liues do entertaine:
And woes which beare no dates
Still pearch vpon our heads,
None go, but streight will be
Some greater in their Steads.

Nature made vs not free
When first she made vs liue:
When we began to be,
To be began our woe:
Which growing euermore
As dying life dooth growe,
Do more and more vs greeue,
And tire vs more and more.

No stay in fading states,
For more to height they retch,
Their fellow miseries
The more to height do stretch.
They clinge euen to the crowne,
And threatning furious wise
From tirannizing pates
Do often pull it downe.

In vaine on waues vntride
to shunne them go we should
To Scythes and Massagetes
Who neare the Pole reside:
In vaine to boiling sandes
Which Phæbus battry beates,
For with vs still they would
Cut seas and compasse landes.

The darknes no more sure
To ioyne with heauy night:
The light which guildes the dayes
To follow Titan pure:
No more the shadow light
The body to ensue:
Then wretchednes alwaies

Vs wretches to pursue.

O blest who neuer breath'd,
Or whome with pittie mou'de,
Death from his cradle reau'de,
And swadled in his graue:
And blessed also he
(As curse may blessing haue)
Who low and liuing free
No princes charge hath prou'de.

By stealing sacred fire
Prometheus then vnwise,
Prouoking Gods to ire,
The heape of ills did sturre,
And sicknes pale and colde
Our ende which onward spurre,
To plague our hands too bolde
To filch the wealth of Skies.

In heauens hate since then
Of ill with ill enchain'd
We race of mortall men
full fraught our breasts haue borne:
And thousand thousand woes
Our heau'nly soules now thorne,
Which free before from those
No! earthly passion pain'd.

Warre and warres bitter cheare
Now long time with vs staie,
And feare of hated foe
Still still encreaseth sore:
Our harmes worse dayly growe,
Lesse yesterdaye they were

Then now, and will be more
To morowe then to daye.

Act. 2.

Philostratus.

What horrible furie, what cruell rage,
O Ægipt so extremely thee torments?
Hast thou the Gods so angred by thy fault?
Hast thou against them some such crime conceiu'd,
That their engrained hand lift vp in threats
They should desire in thy hart bloud to bathe?
And that their burning wrath which nought can quench
Should pittiles on vs still lighten downe?

We are not hew'n out of the monst'rous masse
Of Giantes those, which heauens wrack conspir'd:
Ixions race, false prater of his loues:
Nor yet of him who fained lightnings found:
Nor cruell Tantalus, nor bloudie Atreus,
Whose cursed banquet for Thyestes plague
Made the beholding Sunne for horrour turne
His backe, and backward from his course returne:
And hastning his wing-footed horses race
Plunge him in sea for shame to hide his face:
While sulleine night vpon the wondring world
For mid-daies light her starrie mantle cast,

But what we be, what euer wickednes
By vs is done, Alas! with what more plagues,
More eager torments could the Gods declare
To heauen and earth that vs they hatefull holde?

With Souldiors, strangers, horrible in armes
Our land is hidde, our people drown'd in teares.
But terror here and horror, nought is seene:
And present death prizing our life each hower.
Hard at our ports and at our porches waites
Our conquering foe: harts faile vs, hopes are dead:
Our Queene laments: and this great Emperour
Sometime (would now they did) whom worlds did feare,
Abandoned, betraid, now mindes no more
But from his euils by hast'ned death to passe.

Come you poore people tir'de with ceasles plaints
With teares and sighes make mournfull sacrifice
On Isis altars: not our selues to saue,
But soften Cæsar and him piteous make
To vs, his pray: that so his lenitie
May change our death into captiuitie.

Strange are the euils the fates on vs haue brought,
O but alas! how farre more strange the cause!
Loue, loue (alas, who euer would haue thought?)
Hath lost this Realme inflamed with his fire.
Loue, playing loue, which men say kindles not
But in soft harts, hath ashes made our townes.
And his sweet shafts, with whose shot none are kill'd,
Which vlcer not, with deaths our lands haue fill'd,

Such was the bloudie, murdring, hellish loue
Possest thy hart faire false guest Priams Sonne,
Fi'ring a brand which after made to burne
The Troian towers by Græcians ruinate.
By this loue, Priam, Hector, Troilus,
Memnon, Deiphobus, Glaucus, thousands mo,
Whome redd Scamanders armor clogged streames

Roll'd into Seas, before their dates are dead.
So plaguie he, so many tempests raiseth,
So murdring he, so many Cities raiseth,
When insolent, blinde, lawles, orderles,
With madd delights our sence he entertaines.

All knowing Gods our wracks did vs foretell
By signes in earth, by signes in starry Sphæres:
Which should haue mou'd vs, had not destinie
With too strong hand warped our miserie.
The Comets flaming through the scat'red clouds
With fiery beames, most like vnbroaded haires:
The fearefull dragon whistling at the bankes,
And holie Apis ceaseles bellowing
(As neuer erst) and shedding endles teares:
Bloud raining downe from heau'n in vnknow'n showers:
Our Gods darke faces ouercast with woe,
And dead mens Ghosts appearing in the night.
Yea euen this night while all the Cittie stoode
Opprest with terror, horror, seruile feare,
Deepe silence ouer all: the sounds were heard
Of diuerse songs, and diuers instruments,
Within the voide of aire: and howling noise,
Such as madde Bacchus priests in Bacchus feasts
On Nisa make: and (seem'd) the company,
Our Cittie lost, went to the enemie.

So we forsaken both of Gods and men,
So are we in the mercy of our foes:
And we hencefoorth obedient must become
To lawes of them who haue vs ouercome.

Chorus.

Lament we our mishaps,
Drowne we with teares our woe:
For Lamentable happes
Lamented easie growe:
And much lesse torment bring
Then when they first did spring.

We want that wofull song,
Wherwith wood-musiques Queene
Doth ease her woes, among,
fresh springtimes bushes greene,
On pleasant branche alone
Renewing auntient mone.

We want that monefull sounde,
That pratling Progne makes
On fieldes of Thracian ground,
Or streames of Thracian lakes:
To empt her brest of paine
For Itys by her slaine.

Though Halcyons doo still,
Bewailing Ceyx lot,
The Seas with plainings fill
Which his dead limmes haue got,
Not euer other graue
Then tombe of waues to haue:

And though the birde in death
That most Meander loues
So swetely sighes his breath
When death his fury proues,

As almost softs his heart,
And almost blunts his dart:

Yet all the plaints of those,
Nor all their tearfull larmes,
Cannot content our woes,
Nor serue to waile the harmes,
In soule which we, poore we,
To feele enforced be.

Nor they of Phæbus bredd
In teares can doo so well,
They for their brother shedd,
Who into Padus fell,
Rash guide of chariot cleare
Surueiour of the yeare.

Nor she whom heau'nly powers
To weping rocke did turne,
Whose teares distill in showers,
And shew she yet doth mourne,
Where with his toppe to Skies
Mount Sipylus doth rise.

Nor weping drops which flowe
From barke of wounded tree,
That Myrrhas shame do showe
With ours compar'd may be,
To quench her louing fire
Who durst embrace her sire.

Nor all the howlings made
On Cybels sacred hill
By Eunukes of her trade,
Who Atys, Atys still
With doubled cries resound,

Which Echo makes rebound.

Our plaints no limits stay,
Nor more then doo our woes:
Both infinitely straie
And neither measure knowes.
In measure let them plaine:
Who measur'd griefes sustaine.

[Act 3.]

Cleopatra. Eras. Charmion. Diomede.
Cleopatra.

That I haue thee betraid, deare Antonie,
My life, my soule, my Sunne? I had such thought?
That I haue thee betraide my Lord, my King?
That I would breake my vowed faith to thee?
Leaue thee? deceiue thee? yeelde thee to the rage
Of mightie foe? I euer had that hart?
Rather sharpe lightning lighten on my head:
Rather may I to deepest mischiefe fall:
Rather the opened earth deuower me:
Rather fierce Tigers feed them on my flesh:
Rather, ô rather let our Nilus send,
To swallow me quicke, some weeping Crocodile.

And didst thou then suppose my royall hart
Had hatcht, thee to ensnare, a faithles loue?
And changing minde, as Fortune changed cheare,
I would weake thee, to winne the stronger, loose?
O wretch! ô caitiue! ô too cruell happe!
And did not I sufficient losse sustaine
Loosing my Realme, loosing my liberty,

My tender of-spring, and the ioyfull light
Of beamy Sunne, and yet, yet loosing more
Thee Antony my care, if I loose not
What yet remain'd? thy loue alas! thy loue,
More deare then Scepter, children, freedome, light.

So ready I to row in Charons barge,
Shall leese the ioy of dying in thy loue:
So the sole comfort of my miserie
To haue one tombe with thee is me bereft.
So I in shady plaines shall plaine alone,
Not (as I hop'd) companion of thy mone,
O height of griefe! Eras why with continuall cries
Your griefull harmes doo you exasperate?
Torment your selfe with murthering complaints?
Straine your weake breast so oft, so vehemently?
Water with teares this faire alablaster?
With sorrowes sting so many beauties wound?
Come of so many Kings want you the hart
Brauely, stoutly, this tempest to resist?

Cl.
My eu'lls are wholy vnsupportable,
No humain force can them withstand, but death.

Eras.
To him that striues nought is impossible.

Cl.
In striuing lyes no hope of my mishapps.

Eras.
All things do yeelde to force of louely face.

Cl.
My face too louely caus'd my wretched case.
My face hath so entrap'd, so cast vs downe,
That for his conquest Cæsar may it thanke,
Causing that Antony one army lost
The other wholy did to Cæsar yeld.
For not induring (so his amorouse sprite
Was with my beautie fir'de) my shamefull flight,

Soone as he saw from ranke wherin he stoode
In hottest fight, my Gallies making saile:
Forgetfull of his charge (as if his soule
Vnto his Ladies soule had bene enchain'd)
He left his men, who so couragiouslie
Did leaue their liues to gaine him victorie.
And carelesse both of fame and armies losse
My oared Gallies follow'd with his Ships
Companion of my flight, by this base parte
Blasting his former flourishing renowne.

Eras.
Are you therefore cause of his ouerthrowe?

Cl.
I am sole cause: I did it, only I.

Er,
Feare of a woman troubled so his sprite?

Cl.
Fire of his loue was by my feare enflam'd.

Er.
And should he then to warre haue ledd a Queene?

Cl.

Alas! this was not his offence, but mine.
Antony (ay me! who else so braue a chiefe!)
Would not I should haue taken Seas with him:
But would haue left me fearfull woman farre
From common hazard of the doubtfull warre.

O that I had beleu'd! now, now of Rome
All the great Empire at our beck should bende.
All should obey, the vagabonding Scythes,
The feared Germains, back-shooting Parthians,
Wandring Numidians, Brittons farre remoou'd,
And tawny nations scorched with the Sunne.
But I car'd not: so was my soule possest,
(To my great harme) with burning iealousie:
Fearing least in my absence Antony
Should leauing me retake Octauia.

Char.
Such was the rigour of your destinie.

Cl.
Such was my errour and obstinacie.

Ch.
But since Gods would not, could you doe withall?

Cl.
Alwaies from Gods good happs, not harms, do fall.

Ch.
And haue they not all power on mens affaires?

Cl.
They neuer bow so lowe, as worldly cares.
But leaue to mortall men to be dispos'd
Freelie on earth what euer mortall is.
If we therin sometimes some faultes commit,
We may them not to their high maiesties,
But to our selues impute; whose passions
Plunge vs each day in all afflictions.
Wherwith when we our soules do thorned feele,
Flatt'ring our selues we say they dest'nies are:
That Gods would haue it so, and that our care
Could not empeach but that it must be so.

Char.

Things here belowe are in the heau'ns begot,
Before they be in this our wordle borne:
And neuer can our weaknes turne awry
The stailes course of powerfull destenie.
Nought here force, reason, humaine prouidence,
Holie deuotion, noble bloud preuailes:
And Ioue himselfe whose hand doth heauens rule,
Who both to Gods and men as King commaunds,
Who earth (our firme support) with plenty stores,
Moues aire and sea with twinckling of his eie,
Who all can doe, yet neuer can vndoe
What once hath been by their hard lawes decreed.

When Troian walles, great Neptunes workmanship,
Enuiron'd were with Greekes, and Fortunes whele
Doubtfull ten yeares now to the campe did turne,
And now againe towards the towne return'd:

How many times did force and fury swell
In Hectors veines egging him to the spoile
Of conquer'd foes, which at his blowes did flie,
As fearfull shepe at feared wolues approche:
To saue (in vaine: for why? it would not be)
Pore walles of Troie from aduersaries rage,
Who died them in bloud, and cast to ground
Heap'd them with bloudie burning carcases.

No, Madame, thinke, that if the ancient crowne
Of your progenitors that Nilus rul'd,
Force take from you; the Gods haue will'd it so,
To whome oft times Princes are odiouse.
They haue to euery thing an end ordain'd;
All worldly greatnes by them bounded is;
Some sooner, later some, as they think best:
None their decree is able to infringe.
But, which is more, to vs disastred men
Which subiect are in all things to their will,
Their will is hidd: nor while we liue, we know
How, or how long we must in life remaine.
Yet must we not for that feede on dispaire,
And make vs wretched ere we wretched bee:
But alwaies hope the best, euen to the last,
That from our selues the mischief may not growe.

Then, Madame, helpe your selfe, leaue of in time
Antonies wracke, lest it your wracke procure:
Retire you from him, saue frrom wrathfull rage
Of angry Cæsar both your Realme and you.
You see him lost, so as your amitie
Vnto his euills can yelde no more reliefe.
You see him ruin'd, so as your support

No more hencefourth can him with comfort raise.
With-draw you from the storme: persist not still
To loose your selfe: this royall diademe
Regaine of Cæsar.

Cl.
Soner shining light
Shall leaue the daie, and darknes leaue the night:
Sooner moist currents of tempestuous seas
Shall waue in heauen, and the nightlie troopes
Of starres shall shine within the foming waues,
Then I thee, Antonie, Leaue in depe distres.
I am with thee, be it thy worthy soule
Lodge in thy brest, or from that lodging parte
Crossing the ioyles lake to take hir place
In place prepared for men Demy-gods.

Liue, if thee please, if life be lothsome die:
Dead and aliue, Antonie, thou shalt see
Thy princesse follow thee, folow, and lament,
Thy wrack, no lesse her owne then was thy weale.

Char.
What helps his wrack this euer-lasting loue?

Cl.
Help, or help not, such must, such ought I proue.

Char.
Ill done to loose your selfe, and to no ende.

Cl.
How ill thinke you to follow such a frende?

Char.
But this your loue nought mitigates his paine.

Cl.
Without this loue I should be inhumaine.

Char.
Inhumaine he, who his owne death pursues.

Cl.
Not inhumaine who miseries eschues.

Ch.
Liue for your sonnes.

Cl.
Nay for their father die.

Cha.
Hardhearted mother!

Cl.
Wife kindhearted I.

Ch.
Then will you them depriue of royall right?

Cl.
Do I depriue them? no, it's dest'nies might.

Ch.
Do you not them not depriue of heritage,
That giue them vp to aduersaries handes,

A man for saken fearing to forsake,
Whome such huge numbers hold enuironned?
T'abandon one gainst whome the frowning world
Banded with Cæsar makes conspiring warre.

Cl.
The lesse ought I to leaue him lest of all.
A frend in most distresse should most assist.
If that when Antonie great and glorious
His legions led to drinke Euphrates streames,
So many Kings in traine redoubting him;
In triumph rais'd as high as highest heaun;
Lord-like disposing as him pleased best,
The wealth of Greece, the wealth of Asia:
In that faire fortune had I him exchaung'd
For Cæsar, then, men would haue counted me
Faithles, vnconstant, light: but now the storme,
And blustring tempest driuing on his face,
Readie to drowne, Alas! what would they saie?
What would himselfe in Plutos mansion saie?
If I, whome alwaies more then life he lou'de,
If I, who am his heart, who was his hope,
Leaue him, forsake him (and perhaps in vaine)
Weakly to please who him hath ouerthrowne?
Not light, vnconstant, faithlesse should I be,
But vile, forsworne, of treachrous crueltie.

Ch.
Crueltie to shunne, you selfe-cruell are.

Cl.
Selfe-cruell him from crueltie to spare.

Ch,
Our first affection to our self is due.

Cl.
He is my selfe.

Ch.
Next it extendes vnto
Our children, frends, and to our countrie soile.
And you for some respect of wiuelie loue,
(Albee scarce wiuelie) loose your natiue land,

Your children, frends, and (which is more) your life,
With so strong charmes doth loue bewitch our witts:
So fast in vs this fire once kindled flames.
Yet if his harme by yours redresse might haue,

Cl.
With mine it may be clos'de in darksome graue.

Ch.

And that, as Alcest to hir selfe vnkinde,
You might exempt him from the lawes of death.
But he is sure to die: and now his sworde
Alreadie moisted is in his warme bloude,
Helples for any succour you can bring
Against deaths stinge, which he must shortlie feele.

Then let your loue be like the loue of olde
Which Carian Queene did nourish in hir heart
Of hir Mausolus: builde for him a tombe
Whose statelinesse a wonder new may make.
Let him, let him haue sumtuouse funeralles:
Let graue thereon the horror of his fights:
Let earth be buri'd with vnburied heaps.
Frame ther Pharsaly, and discoulour'd stream's
Of depe Enipeus: frame the grassie plaine,
Which lodg'd his campe at siege of Mutina.
Make all his combats, and couragiouse acts:
And yearly plaies to his praise institute:
Honor his memorie: with doubled care
Breed and bring vp the children of you both
In Cæsars grace: who as a noble Prince
Will leaue them Lords of this most gloriouse realme.

Cl.
What shame were that? ah Gods! what infamie?
With Antonie in his good happs to share,
And ouerliue him dead: deeming enough
To shed some teares vpon a widdowe tombe?

The after liuers iustly might report
That I him onlie for his empire lou'd,
And high state: and that in hard estate
I for another did him lewdlie leaue?
Like to those birds wafted with wandring wings
From foraine lands in spring-time here arriue:
And liue with vs so long as Somers heate,
And their foode lasts, then seke another soile.
And as we see with ceaslesse fluttering
Flocking of seelly flies a brownish cloud
To vintag'd wine yet working in the tonne,
Not parting thence while they swete liquor taste:
Aster, as smoke, all vanish in the aire,
And of the swarme not one so much appeare.

Eras.
By this sharp death what profit can you winne?

Cl.
I neither gaine, nor profit seke therin.

Er.
What praise shall you of after-ages gett?

Cl.
Nor praise, nor glory in my cares are sett.

Er.
What other end ought you respect, then this?

Cl.
My only ende my onely dutie is.

Er.
your dutie must vpon some good be founded.

Cl.
On vertue it, the onlie good, is grounded.

Er.
What is that vertue?

Cl.
That which vs beseemes.

Er.
Outrage our selues? who that beseeming deemes?

Cl.
Finish I will my sorowes dieng thus.

Er.
Minish you will your glories doing thus—

Cl.

Good frends I praie you seeke not to reuoke
My fix'd intent of folowing Antonie.
I will die. I will die: must not his life,
His life and death by mine be folowed?

Meane while, deare sisters, liue: and while you liue,

Doe often honor to our loued Tombes.
Straw them with flowrs: and sometimes happelie
The tender thought of Antonie your Lorde
And me poore soule to teares shall you inuite,
And our true loues your dolefull voice commend.

Ch.
And thinke you Madame, we from you will part?
Thinke you alone to feele deaths ougly darte?
Thinke you to leaue vs? and that the same sunne
Shall see at once you dead, and vs aliue?
Weele die with you: and Clotho pittilesse
Shall vs with you in hellish boate imbarque.

Cl.

Ah liue, I praie you: this disastred woe
Which racks my heart, alone to me belonges:
My lott longs not to you: seruants to be
No shame, no harme to you, as is to me.

Liue sisters, liue, and seing his suspect
Hath causlesse me in sea of sorowes drown'd,
And that I can not liue, if so I would,
Nor yet would leaue this life, if so I could,
Without, his loue: procure me, Diomed,
That gainst poore me he be no more incensd.
Wrest out of his conceit that harmfull doubt,
That since his wracke he hath of me conceiu'd
Though wrong conceiu'd: witnesse you reuerent Gods,
Barking Anubis, Apis bellowing.
Tell him, my soule burning, impatient,
Forlorne with loue of him, for certaine seale
Of her true loialtie my corpse hath left,
T'encrease of dead the number numberlesse.

Go then, and if as yet he me bewaile,
If yet for me his heart one sigh fourth breathe

Blest shall I be: and farre with more content
Depart this world, where so I me torment.
Meane season vs let this sadd tombe enclose,
Attending here till death conclude our woes.

Diom.
I will obey your will.

Cl.
So the desert
The Gods repay of thy true faithfull heart.

Diomed.

And is't not pittie, Gods, ah Gods of heau'n!
To see from loue such hatefull frutes to spring?
And is't not pittie that this firebrand so
Laies waste the trophes of Philippi fieldes?
Where are those swete allurements, those swete lookes,
Which Gods themselues right hart-sicke would haue made?
What doth that beautie, rarest guift of heau'n,
Wonder of earth? Alas! what doe those eies?
And that swete voice all Asia vnderstoode,
And sunburnt Afrike wide in deserts spred?
Is their force dead? haue they no further power?
Can not by them Octauius be supriz'd?
Alas! if Ioue in middst of all his ire,
With thunderbolt in hand some land to plague,
Had cast his eies on my Queene, out of hande
His plaguing bolte had falne out of his hande:
Fire of his wrathe into vaine smoke should turne,
And other fire within his brest should burne.

Nought liues so faire. Nature by such a worke
Her selfe, should seme, in workmanship hath past.
She is all heau'nlie: neuer any man
But seing hir was rauish'd with her sight.

The Allablaster couering of hir face,
The corall coullor hir two lipps engraines,
Her beamie eies, two Sunnes of this our world,
Of hir faire haire the fine and flaming golde,
Her braue streight stature, and hir winning partes
Are nothing else but fiers, fetters, dartes.

Yet this is nothing th' e'nchaunting skilles
Of her cælestiall Sp'rite, hir training speache,
Her grace, hir Maiestie, and forcing voice,
Whither she it with fingers speach consorte,
Or hearing sceptred kings embassadors
Answer to eache in his owne language make.

Yet now at nede she aides hir not at all
With all these beauties, so hir sorowe stings.
Darkned with woe hir only studie is
To wepe, to sigh, to seke for lonelines.
Careles of all, hir haire disordred hangs:
Hir charming eies whence murthring looks did flie,
Now riuers grown', whose well spring anguish is,
Do trickling wash the marble of hir face.
Hir faire discouer'd brest with sobbing swolne
Selfe cruell she still martireth with blowes,

Alas! It's our ill happ, for if hir teares
She would conuert into hir louing charmes,
To make a conquest of the conqueror,
(As well shee might, would she hir force imploie)
She should vs saftie from these ills procure,
Hir crowne to hir, and to hir race assure.
Vnhappy he, in whome selfe-succour lies,
Yet self-forsaken wanting succour dies.

Chorus.

O swete fertile land, wherin
Phæbus did with breath inspire
Man who men did first begin,
Formed first of Nilus mire.
Whence of Artes the eldest kindes,
Earthes most heauenly ornament,
Were as from their fountaine sent,
To enlight our mistie mindes.
Whose grosse sprite from endles time,
As in darkned prison pente,
Neuer did to knowledg clime.

Wher the Nile, our father good,
Father-like doth neuer misse
Yearely vs to bring such food,
As to life required is:
Visiting each yeare this plaine,
And with fatt slime cou'ring it,
Which his seauen mouthes do spitt,
As the season comes againe.
Making therby greatest growe
Busie reapers ioyfull paine,
When his flouds do highest flowe.

Wandring Prince of riuers thou,
Honor of the Æthiops lande,
Of a Lord and master now
Thou a slaue in awe must stand.
Now of Tiber which is spred
Lesse in force, and lesse in fame

Reuerence thou must the name,
Whome all other riuers dread,
For his children swolne in pride,
Who by conquest seeke to treade
Round this earth on euery side.

Now thou must begin to sende
Tribute of thy watrie store,
As Sea pathes thy stepps shall bende,
Yearely presents more and more.
Thy fatt skumme, our frutefull corne,
Pill'd from hence with theeuish hands
All vncloth'd shall leaue our lands
Into foraine Countrie borne.
Which puft vp with such a pray
Shall therby the praise adorne
Of that scepter Rome doth sway.

Nought thee helps thy hornes to hide
Farre from hence in vnknowne grounds,
That thy waters wander wide,
Yearely breaking bankes, and bounds.
And that thy Skie-coullor'd brookes
Through a hundred peoples passe,
Drawing plots for trees and grasse
With a thousand turn's and crookes.
Whome all weary of their way
Thy throats which in widenesse passe
Powre into their Mother Sea.

Nought so happie haplesse life
“In this worlde as freedome findes:
“Nought wherin more sparkes are rife
“To inflame couragious mindes.

“But if force must vs enforce
“Nedes a yoke to vndergoe,
“Vnder foraine yoke to goe
“Still it proues a bondage worse.
“And doubled subiection
“See we shall, and feele, and knowe
“Subiect to a stranger growne.

From hence forward for a King,
Whose first being from this place
Should his brest by nature bring
Care of Countrie to embrace,
We at surly face must quake
Of some Romaine madly bent:
Who, our terrour to augment,
His Proconsuls axe will shake.
Driuing with our Kings from hence
Our establish'd gouerment,
Iustice sworde, and Lawes defence.

Nothing worldly of such might
But more mightie Destinie,
By swift Times vnbridled flight,
Makes in ende his ende to see.
Euerything Time ouerthrowes,
Nought to ende doth stedfast staie:
His great sithe mowes all away
As the stalke of tender rose.
Onlie Immortalitie
Of the Heau'ns doth it oppose
Gainst his powerfull Deitie.

One daie there will come a daie
Which shall quaile thy fortunes flower,

And thee ruinde low shall laie
In some barbarous Princes power.
When the pittie-wanting fire
Shall, O Rome, thy beauties burne,
And to humble ashes turne
Thy proud wealth, and rich attire,
Those guilt roofes which turretwise,
Iustly making Enuie mourne,
Threaten now to pearce Skies.

As thy forces fill each land
Haruests making here and there,
Reaping all with rauening hand
They finde growing any where:
From each land so to thy fall
Multitudes repaire shall make,
From the common spoile to take
What to each mans share maie fall.
Fingred all thou shalt beholde:
No iote left for tokens sake
That thou wert so great of olde.

Like vnto the auncient Troie
Whence deriu'de thy founders be,
Conqu'ring foe shall thee enioie,
And a burning praie in thee.
For within this turning ball
This we see, and see each daie:
All things fixed ends do staie,
Ends to first beginnings fall.
And that nought, how strong or strange,
Chaungles doth endure alwaie,
But endureth fatall change.

M. Antonius. Lucilius.
M. Ant.
Lucil, sole comfort of my bitter case,
The only trust, the only hope I haue,
In last despaire: Ah! is not this the daie
That death should me of life and loue bereaue?
What waite I for that haue no refuge left,
But am sole remnant of my fortune left?
All leaue me, flie me: none, no not of them
Wbich of my greatnes greatest good receiu'd,
Stands with my fall: they seeme as now asham'de
That heretofore they did me ought regarde:
They draw them back, shewing they folow'd me,
Not to partake my harm's, but coozen me.

Lu.
In this our world nothing is stedfast found,
In vaine he hopes, who here his hopes doth groūd.

Ant.
Yet nought afflicts me, nothing killes me so,
As that I so my Cleopatra see
Practize with Cæsar, and to him transport
My flame, her loue, more deare then life to me.

Lu.
Beleeue it not: Too high a heart she beares,
Too Princelie thoughts.

Ant.
Too wise a head she weare
Too much enflam'd with greatnes, euermore
Gaping for our great Empires gouerment.

Li.
So long time you her constant loue haue tri'de.

Ant.
But still with me good fortune did abide.

Lu.
Her changed loue what token makes you know?

An.

Pelusium lost, and Actian ouerthrow,

Both by her fraud: my well appointed fleet,

And trustie Souldiors in my quarell arm'd,
Whom she, false she, instede of my defence,
Came to persuade, to yelde them to my foe:
Such honor Thyre done, such welcome giuen,
Their long close talkes I neither knew, nor would,
And treacherouse wrong Alexas hath me done,
Witnes too well her periur'd loue to me.
But you O Gods (if any faith regarde)
With sharpe reuenge her faithles change reward.

Lu.
The dole she made vpon our ouerthrow,
Her Realme giuen vp for refuge to our men,
Her poore attire when she deuoutly kept
The solemne day of her natiuitie,
Againe the cost, and prodigall expence
Shew'd when she did your birth day celebrate,
Do plaine enough her heart vnfained proue,
Equally toucht, you louing, as you loue.

Ant.

Well; be her loue to me or false, or true,
Once in my soule a cureles wound I feele.
I loue, nay burne in fire of her loue:
Each day, each night her Image haunts my minde,
Her selfe my dreames: and still I tired am,
And still I am with burning pincers nipt.
Extreame my harme: yet sweeter to my sence
Then boiling Torch of iealouse torments fire:
This grief, nay rage, in me such sturre doth kepe,
And thornes me still, both when I wake and slepe.

Take Cæsar conquest, take my goods, take he
Th' onor to be Lord of the earth alone,
My Sonnes, my life bent headlong to mishapps:
No force, so not my Cleopatra take.

So foolish I, I can not her forget,
Though better were I banisht her my thought.
Like to the sicke, whose throte the feauers fire
Hath vehemently with thirstie drouth enflam'd,
Drinkes still, albee the drinke he still desires
Be nothing else but fewell to his flame:
He can not rule himselfe: his health's respect
Yeldeth to his distempred stomackes heate.

Lu.
Leaue of this loue, that thus renewes your woe.

Ant.
I do my best, but ah! can not do so.

Lu.
Thinke how you haue so braue a captaine bene,
And now are by this vaine affection falne.

Ant.

The ceasles thought of my felicitie
Plunges me more in this aduersitie.
For nothing so a man in ill torments,
As who to him his good state represents.
This makes my rack, my anguish, and my woe
Equall vnto the hellish passions growe,
When I to minde my happie puisance call
Which erst I had by warlike conquest wonne,
And that good fortune which me neuer left,
Which hard disastre now hath me bereft.

With terror tremble all the world I made
At my sole worde, as Rushes in the streames
At waters will: I conquer'd Italie,
I conquer'd Rome, that Nations so redoubt.
I bare (meane while besieging Mutina)
Two Consuls armies for my ruine brought,
Bath'd in their bloud, by their deaths witnessing
My force and skill in matters Martiall.

To wreake thy vnkle, vnkinde Cæsar, I
With bloud of enemies the bankes embru'd

Of stain'd Enipeus, hindering his course
Stopped with heapes of piled carcases:
When Cassius and Brutus ill betide
Marcht against vs, by vs twise put to flight,
But by my sole conduct: for all the time
Cæsar heart-sicke with feare and feauer laie.
Who knowes it not? and how by euery one
Fame of the fact was giu'n to me alone.

There sprang the loue, the neuer changing loue,
Wherin my hart hath since to yours bene bound:
There was it, my Lucil, you Brutus sau'de,
And for your Brutus Antonie you found.
Better my happ in gaining such a frende,
Then in subduing such an enemie.
Now former vertue dead doth me forsake,
Fortune engulfes me in extreame distresse:
She turnes from me her smiling countenance,
Casting on me mishapp vpon mishapp,
Left and betraide of thousand thousand frends,
Once of my sute, but you Lucil are left,
Remaining to me stedfast as a tower
In holy loue, in spite of fortunes blastes.
But if of any God my voice be heard,
And be not vainely scatt'red in the heau'ns,
Such goodnes shall not glorilesse be loste,
But comming ages still therof shall boste.

Lu.
Men in their frendship euer should be one,
And neuer ought with fickle Fortune shake,
Which still remoues, nor will, nor knowes the way,
Her rowling bowle in one sure state to staie.
Wherfore we ought as borrow'd things receiue
The goods light she lends vs to pay againe:

Not holde them sure, nor on them builde our hopes
As one such goods as cannot faile, and fall:
But thinke againe, nothing is dureable,
Vertue except, our neuer failing hoste:
So bearing saile when fauouring windes do blowe,
As frowning Tempests may vs least dismaie
When they on vs do fall: not ouer-glad
With good estate, nor ouer-grieu'd with bad.
Resist mishap.

Ant.
Alas! it is too stronge.
Mishappes oft times are by some comfort borne:
But these, ay me! whose weights oppresse my hart,
Too heauie lie, no hope can them relieue.
There rests no more, but that with cruell blade
For lingring death a hastie waie be made.

Lu.
Cæsar, as heire vnto his Fathers state:
So will his Fathers goodnes imitate,
To you warde: whome he know's allied in bloud,
Allied in mariage, ruling equallie
Th' Empire with him, and with him making warre
Haue purg'd the earth of Cæsars murtherers.
You into portions parted haue the world
Euen like coheir's their heritages parte:
And now with one accord so many yeares
In quiet peace both haue your charges rul'd.

Ant.
Bloud and alliance nothing do preuaile
To coole the thirst of hote ambitious breasts:
The sonne his Father hardly can endure,
Brother his brother, in one common Realme.
So feruent this desier to commaund:
Such iealousie it kindleth in our hearts.
Sooner will men permit another should
Loue her they loue, then weare the Crowne they weare.

All lawes it breakes, turns all things vpside downe:
Amitie, kindred, nought so holie is
But it defiles. A monarchie to gaine
None cares which way, so he maie it obtaine.

Lu.
Suppose he Monarch be and that this world
No more acknowledg sundrie Emperours.
That Rome him onelie feare, and that he ioyne
The East with west, and both at once do rule:
Why should he not permitt you peaceablie
Discharg'd of charge and Empires dignitie,
Priuate to liue reading Philosophie,
In learned Greece, Spaine, Asia, anie lande?

Ant.
Neuer will he his Empire thinke assur'de
While in this world Marke Antonie shall liue.
Sleeples Suspicion, Pale distrust, colde feare
Alwaies to princes companie do beare
Bred of Reports: reports which night and day
Perpetuall guests from Court go not away.

Lu.
He hath not slaine your brother Lucius,
Nor shortned hath the age of Lepidus,
Albeit both into his hands were falne,
And he with wrath against them both enflam'd.
Yet one, as Lord in quiet rest doth beare
The greatest sway in great Iberia:
The other with his gentle Prince retaines
Of highest Priest the sacred dignitie.

Ant.
He feares not them, their feeble force he knowes.

Lu.
He feares no vanquisht ouerfill'd with woes.

Ant.
Fortune may chaunge againe,

L.
A down-cast foe
Can hardlie rise, which once is brought so lowe.

Ant.
All that I can, is done: for last assay
(When all means fail'd) I to entreatie fell,

(Ah coward creature!) whence againe repulst
Of combate I vnto him proffer made:
Though he in prime, and I by feeble age
Mightily weakned both in force and skill.
Yet could not he his coward heart aduaunce
Baselie affraid to trie so praisefull chaunce.
This makes me plaine, makes me my selfe accuse,
Fortune in this hir spitefull force doth vse
'Gainst my gray hayres: in this vnhappie I
Repine at heau'ns in my happes pittiles.
A man, a woman both in might and minde,
In Marses schole who neuer lesson learn'd,
Should me repulse, chase, ouerthrow, destroie,
Me of such fame, bring to so lowe an ebbe?
Alcides bloud, who from my infancie
With happie prowesse crowned haue my praise.
Witnesse thou Gaule vnus'd to seruile yoke,
Thou valiant Spaine, you fields of Thessalie
With millions of mourning cries bewail'd,
Twise watred now with bloude of Italie.

Lu.
witnesse may Afrique, and of conquer'd world
All fower quarters witnesses may be.
For in what part of earth inhabited,
Hungrie of praise haue you not ensignes spredd?

An.

Thou know'st rich Ægypt (Ægypt of my deeds
Faire and foule subiect) Ægypt ah! thou know'st
How I behau'd me fighting for thy kinge,
When I regainde him his rebellious Realme:
Against his foes in battaile shewing force,
And after fight in victorie remorse.

Yet if to bring my glorie to the ground,
Fortune had made me ouerthrowne by one

Of greater force, of better skill then I;
One of those Captaines feared so of olde,
Camill, Marcellus, worthy Scipio,
This late great Cæsar, honor of our state,
Or that great Pompei aged growne in armes;
That after haruest of a world of men
Made in a hundred battailes, fights, assaults,
My bodie thorow pearst with push of pike
Had vomited my bloud, in bloud my life,
In midd'st of millions felowes in my fall:
The lesse hir wrong, the lesse should my woe:
Nor she should paine, nor I complaine me so.

No, no, wheras I should haue died in armes,
And vanquisht oft new armies should haue arm'd,
New battailes giuen, and rather lost with me
All this whole world submitted vnto me:
A man who neuer saw enlaced pikes
With bristled pointes against his stomake bent,
Who feares the field, and hides him cowardly
Dead at the verie noise the souldiors make.

His vertue, fraude, deceit, malicious guile,
His armes the arts that false Vlisses vs'de,
Knowne at Modena, wher the Consuls both
Death-wounded were, and wounded by his men
To gett their armie, warre with it to make
Against his faith, against his countrie soile.
Of Lepidus, which to his succours came,
To honor whome he was by dutie bounde,
The Empire he vsurpt: corrupting first
With baites and bribes the most part of his men,
Yet me hath ouercome, and made his pray,
And state of Rome, with me hath ouercome.

Strange! one disordred act at Actium
The earth subdu'de, my glorie hath obscur'd.
For since, as one whome heauens wrath attaints,
With furie caught, and more then furious
Vex'd with my euills, I neuer more had care
My armies lost, or lost name to repaire:
I did no more resist.

Lu.
All warres affaires,
But battailes most, daily haue their successe
Now good, now ill: and though that fortune haue
Great force and power in euery wordlie thing,
Rule all, do all, haue all things fast enchaind
Vnto the circle of hir turning wheele:
Yet seemes it more then any practise else
She doth frequent Ballonas bloudie trade:
And that hir fauour, wauering as the wind,
Hir greatest power therin doth oftnest shewe.
Whence growes, we dailie see, who in their youth
Gatt honor ther, do loose it in their age,
Vanquisht by some lesse warlike then themselues:
Whome yet a meaner man shall ouerthrowe.
Hir vse is not to lende vs still her hande,
But sometimes headlong back a gaine to throwe,
When by hir fauor she hath vs extolld
Vnto the topp of highest happines.

Ant.
well ought I curse within my grieued soule,
Lamenting daie and night, this sencelesse loue,
Whereby my faire entising foe entrap'd
My hedelesse Reason, could no more escape.
It was not fortunes euer chaunging face,
It was not Dest'nies chaungles violence
Forg'd my mishap. Alas! who doth not know
They make, nor marre, nor anything can doe.

Fortune, which men so feare, adore, detest,
Is but a chaunce whose cause vnknow'n doth rest.
Although oft times the cause is well perceiu'd,
But not th' effect the same that was conceiu'd.
Pleasure, nought else, the plague of this our life,
Our life which still a thousand plagues pursue,
Alone hath me this strange disastre spunne,
Falne from a souldior to a Chamberer,
Careles of vertue, careles of all praise.
Nay, as the fatted swine in filthy mire
With glutted heart I wallow'd in delights,
All thoughts of honor troden vnder foote.
So I me lost: for finding this swete cupp
Pleasing my tast, vnwise I drunke my fill,
And through the swetenes of that poisons power
By stepps I draue my former witts astraie.
I made my frends, offended me forsake,
I holpe my foes against my selfe to rise.
I robd my subiects, and for followers
I saw my selfe besett with flatterers.
Mine idle armes faire wrought with spiders worke,
My scattred men without their ensignes strai'd:
Cæsar meane while who neuer would haue dar'de
To cope with me, me sodainlie despis'de,
Tooke hart to fight, and hop'de for victorie
On one so gone, who glorie had forgone.

Lu.
Enchaunting pleasure, Venus swete delights
Weaken our bodies, ouer-cloud our sprights,
Trouble our reason, from our harts out chase
All holie vertues lodging in their place.
Like as the cunning fisher takes the fishe
By traitor baite wherby the hooke is hidde:

So Pleasure serues to vice in steede of foode
To baite our soules theron too licourishe.
This poison deadlie is alike to all,
But on great kings doth greatest outrage worke,
Taking the Roiall scepters from their hands,
Thence forward to be by some straunger borne:
While that their people charg'd with heauy loades
Their flatt'rers pill, and suck their mary drie,
Not ru'lde but left to great men as a pray,
While this fonde Prince himselfe in pleasur's drowns:
Who heares nought, sees nought, doth nought of a king,
Seming himselfe against himselfe conspirde.
Then equall Iustice wandreth banished,
And in hir seat sitts greedie Tyrannie.
Confus'd disorder troubleth all estates,
Crimes without feare and outrages are done.
Then mutinous Rebellion shewes hir face,
Now hid with this, and now with that pretence,
Prouoking enimies, which on each side
Enter at ease, and make them Lords of all.
The hurtfull workes of pleasure here behold.

An.
The wolfe is not so hurtfull to the folde,
Frost to the grapes, to ripened fruits the raine:
As pleasure is to Princes full of paine.

Lu.
Ther nedes no proofe, but by th' Assirian kinge,
On whome that Monster woefull wrack did bring.

An.
Ther nedes no proofe, but by vnhappie I,
Who lost my empire, honor, life therby.

Lu.

Yet hath this ill so much the greater force,
As scarcelie anie do against it stand:
No, not the Demy-gods the olde world knew,
Who all subdu'de, could Pleasures power subdue.

Great Hercules, Hercules once that was
Wonder of earth and heau'n, matchles in might,
Who Anteus, Lycus, Geryon ouer came,
Who drew from hell the triple-headed dogg,
Who Hydra kill'd, vanquishd Achelous,
Who heauens weight on his strong shoulders bare:
Did he not vnder Pleasures burthen bow?
Did he not Captiue to this passion yelde,
When by his Captiue, so he was enflam'de,
As now your selfe in Cleopatra burne?
Slept in hir lapp, hir bosome kist and kiste,
With base vnsemelie seruice bought her loue,
Spinning at distaffe, and with sinewy hand
Winding on spindles threde, in maides attire?
His conqu'ring clubbe at rest on wal did hang:
His bow vnstringd he bent not as he vs'de:
Vpon his shafts the weauing spiders spunne:
And his hard cloake the freating mothes did pierce.
The monsters free and fearles all the time
Throughout the world the people did torment,
And more and more encreasing daie by day
Scorn'd his weake heart become a mistresse plaie.

An.

In onelie this like Hercules am I,
In this I proue me of his lignage right:
In this himselfe, his deedes I shew in this,
In this, nought else, my ancestor he is.

But goe we: die I must, and with braue ende
Conclusion make of all foregoing harmes:
Die, die I must: I must a noble death,
A glorious death vnto my succor call:
I must deface the shame of time abus'd,
I must adorne the wanton loues I vs'de

With some couragiouse act: that my last daie
By mine owne hand my spotts may wash away.

Come deare Lucill: alas! why wepe you thus!
This mortall lot is common to vs all.
We must all die, each doth in homage owe
Vnto that God that shar'd the Realmes belowe.
Ah sigh no more: alas: appeace your woes,
For by your griefe my griefe more eager growes.

Chorus.
Alas, with what tormenting fire.
Vs martireth this blinde desire
To staie our life from flieng!
How ceasleslie our minds doth rack,
How heauie lies vpon our back
This dastard feare of dieng!
Death rather healthfull succor giues,
Death rather all mishapps relieues
That life vpon vs throweth:
And euer to vs doth vnclose
The doore, wherby from curelesse woes
Our wearie soule out goeth.
What Goddesse else more milde then shee
To burie all our paine can be,
What remedie more pleasing?
Our pained hearts when dolor stings,
And nothing rest, or respite brings,
What help haue we more easing?
Hope which to vs doth comfort giue,
And doth or fainting hearts reuiue,
Hath not such force in anguish:

For promising a vaine reliefe
She oft vs failes in midst of griefe,
And helples letts vs languish.
But Death who call on her at nede
Doth neuer with vaine semblant feed,
But when them sorow paineth,
So riddes their soules of all distresse
Whose heauie weight did them oppresse,
That not one griefe remaineth.
Who feareles and with courage bolde
Can Acherons black face beholde,
Which muddie water beareth:
And crossing ouer, in the way
Is not amaz'd at Perruque gray
Olde rustie Charon weareth:
Who voide of dread can looke vpon
The dreadfull shades that rome alone,
On bankes where sound no voices:
Whom with her fire-brands and her Snakes
No whit afraide Alecto makes,
Nor triple-barking noyses:
Who freely can himselfe dispose
Of that last hower which all must close,
And leaue this life at pleasure:
This noble freedome more esteemes,
And in his hart more precious deemes,
Then Crowne and kingly treasure.
The waues which Boreas blasts turmoile
And cause with foaming furie boile,
Make not his heart to tremble:
Nor brutish broile, when with strong head

A rebell people madly ledde
Against their Lords assemble:
Nor fearfull face of Tirant wood,
Who breaths but threats, and drinks but bloud,
No, nor the hand which thunder,
The hand of Ioue which thunder beares,
And ribbs of rocks in sunder teares,
Teares mountains sides in sunder:
Nor bloudie Marses butchering bands,
Whose lightnings desert laie the lands
whome dustie cloudes do couer:
From of whose armour sun-beames flie,
And vnder them make quaking lie
The plaines wheron they houer:
Nor yet the cruell murth'ring blade
Warme in the moistie bowells made
of people pell mell dieng
In some great Cittie put to sack
By sauage Tirant brought to wrack,
At his colde mercie lieng.
How abiect him, how base think I,
Who wanting courage can not dye
When need him therto calleth?
From whom the dagger drawne to kill
The curelesse griefes that vexe him still
For feare and faintnes falleth?
O Antonie with thy deare mate
Both in misfortunes fortunate!
Whose thoughts to death aspiring
Shall you protect frrom victors rage,
Who on each side doth you encage,

To triumph much desiring.
That Cæsar may you not offend
Nought else but Death can you defend,
which his weake force derideth,
And all in this round earth containd,
Powr'les on them whom once enchaind
Auernus prison hideth:
Where great Psammetiques ghost doth rest,
Not with infernall paine possest,
But in swete fields detained:
And olde Amasis soule likewise,
And all our famous Ptolemies
That whilome on vs raigned.

Act. 4.

Cæsar. Agrippa. Dircetus the Messenger.
Cæsar.

You euer-liuing Gods which all things holde
Within the power of your celestiall hands,
By whom heate, colde, the thunder, and the winde,
The properties of enterchaunging mon'ths
Their course and being haue; which do set downe
Of Empires by your destinied decree
The force, age, time, and subiect to no chaunge
Chaunge all, reseruing nothing in one state:
You haue aduaunst, as high as thundring heau'n
The Romains greatnes by Bellonas might:
Mastring the world with fearfull violence,

Making the world widow of libertie.
Yet at this daie this proud exalted Rome
Despoil'd, captiu'd, at one mans will doth bende:
Her Empire mine, her life is in my hand,
As Monarch I both world and Rome commaund;
Do all, can all; fourth my commaund'ment cast
Like thundring fire from one to other Pole
Equall to Ioue: bestowing by my worde
Happes and mishappes, as Fortunes King and Lord.

No Towne there is, but vp my Imagesettes,
But sacrifice to me doth dayly make:
Whither where Phæbus ioyne his morning steedes,
Or where the night them weary entertaines,
Or where the heat the Garamants doth scorche,
Or where the colde from Boreas breast is blowne:
All Cæsar do both awe and honor beare,
And crowned Kings his verie name do feare.

Antonie knowes it well, for whom not one
Of all the Princes all this earth do rule,
Armes against me: for all redoubt the power
Which heau'nly powers on earth haue made me beare.

Antonie, he poore man with fire enflam'de
A womans beauties kindled in his heart,
Rose against me, who longer could not beare
My sisters wrong he did so ill entreat:
Seing her left while that his leud delights
Her husband with his Cleopatra tooke
In Alexandrie, where both nights and daies
Their time they pass'd in nought but loues and plaies.

All Asias forces into one he drewe,
And forth he sett vpon the azur'd waues

A thousand and a thousand Shipps, which fill'd
With Souldiors, pikes, with targets, arrowes, darts,
Made Neptune quake, and all the watrie troupes
Of Glauques, and Tritons lodg'd at Actium.
But mightie Gods, who still the force withstand
Of him, who causles doth another wrong,
In lesse then moments space redus'd to nought
All that proud power by Sea or land he brought.

Agr.

Presumptuouse pride of high and hawtie sprite,
Voluptuouse care of fonde and foolish loue,
Haue iustly wrought his wrack: who thought he helde
(By ouerweening) Fortune in his hand.
Of vs he made no count, but as to play,
So fearles came our forces to assay.

So sometimes fell to Sonnes of Mother Earth,
Which crawl'd to heau'n warre on the Gods to make,
Olymp on Pelion, Ossa on Olymp,
Pindus on Ossa loading by degrees:
That at hand strokes with mightie clubbes they might
On mossie rocks the Gods make tumble downe:
When mightie Ioue with burning anger chaf'd,
Disbraind with him Gyges and Briareus,
Blunting his darts vpon their brused bones.
For no one thing the Gods can lesse abide
In dedes of men, then Arrogance and Pride.
And still the proud, which too much takes in hand,
Shall fowlest fall, where best he thinks to stand.

Cæs.

Right as some Pallace, or some stately tower,
Which ouer-lookes the neighbour buildings round
In scorning wise, and to the Starres vp growes,
Which in short time his owne weight ouerthrowes.

What monstrous pride, nay what impietie

Incenst him onward to the Gods disgrace?
When his two children, Cleopatras bratts,
To Phæbe and her brother he compar'd,
Latonas race, causing them to be call'd
The Sunne and Moone? Is not this folie right?
And is not this the Gods to make his foes?
And is not this himself to worke his woes?

Agr.
In like proud sort he caus'd his head to leese
The Iewish king Antigonus, to haue
His Realme for balme, that Cleopatra lou'd,
As though on him he had some treason prou'd.

Cæs.
Lydia to her, and Siria he gaue,
Cyprus of golde, Arabia rich of smelles:
And to his children more Cilicia,
Parth's, Medes, Armenia, Phænicia:
The kings of kings proclaiming them to be,
By his owne worde, as by a sound decree.

Agr.
What? Robbing his owne countrie of her due
Triumph'd he not in Alexandria,
Of Artabasus the Armenian King,
Who yelded on his periur'd word to him?

Cæs.
Nay, neuer Rome more iniuries receiu'd,
Since thou, ô Romulus, by flight of birds
with happy hand the Romain walles did'st build,
Then Antonies fond loues to it hath done.
Nor euer warre more holie, nor more iust,
Nor vndertaken with more hard constraint,
Then is this warre: which were it not, our state
Within small time all dignitie should loose:
Though I lament (thou Sunne my witnes art,
And thou great Ioue) that it so deadly proues:

That Romain bloud should in such plentie flowe,
Watring the fields and pastures where we goe.
What Carthage in olde hatred obstinate,
What Gaule still barking at our rising state,
What rebell Samnite, what fierce Pyrrhus power,
What cruell Mithridate, what Parth hath wrought
Such woe to Rome? whose common wealth he had,
(Had he bene victor) into Egipt brought.

Agr.
Surely tbe Gods, which haue this Cittie built
Stedfast to stand as long as time endures,
Which kepe the Capitoll, of vs take care,
And care will take of those shall after come,
Haue made you victor, that you might redresse
Their honor growne by passed mischieues lesse.

Cæs.
The seelie man when all the Greekish Sea
His fleete had hidd, in hope me sure to drowne,
Me battaile gaue: where fortune, in my stede,
Repulsing him his forces disaraied.
Him selfe tooke flight, soone as his loue he saw
All wanne through feare with full sailes flie away.
His men, though lost, whome none did now direct,
With courage fought fast grappled shipp with shipp,
Charging, resisting, as their oares would serue,
With darts, with swords, with Pikes, with fierie flames.
So that the darkned night her starrie vaile
Vpon the bloudie sea had ouer-spred,
Whilst yet they held: and hardlie, hardlie then
They fell to flieng on the wauie plaine.
All full of Souldiors ouerwhelm'd with waues:
The aire throughout with cries and grones did sound:
The Sea did blush with bloud: the neighbor shores

Groned, so they with shipwracks pestred were,
And floting bodies left for pleasing foode
To birds, and beasts, and fishes of the sea.

You know it well Agrippa.

Ag.
Mete it was
The Romain Empire so should ruled be,
As heau'n is rul'd: which turning ouer vs,
All vnder things by his example turnes.
Now as of heau'n one onely Lord we know:
One onely Lord should rule this earth below.
When one self pow're is common made to two,
Their duties they nor suffer will, nor doe.
In quarell still, in doubt, in hate, in feare;
Meane while the people all the smart do beare.

Cæs.
Then to the ende none, while my daies endure,
Seeking to raise himselfe may succours finde,
We must with bloud marke this our victorie,
For iust example to all memorie.
Murther we must, vntill not one we leaue,
Which may hereafter vs of rest bereaue.

Ag.
Marke it with murthers? who of that can like?

Cæ.
Murthers must vse, who doth assurance seeke.

Ag.
Assurance call you enemies to make?

Cæs.
I make no such, but such away I take.

Ag.
Nothing so much as rigour doth displease.

Cæs.
Nothing so much doth make me liue at ease.

Ag.
What ease to him that feared is of all?

Cæ.
Feared to be, and see his foes to fall.

Ag.
Commonly feare doth brede and nourish hate.

Cæ.
Hate without pow'r, comes comonly too late.

Ag.
A feared Prince hath oft his death desir'd.

Cæ.
A Prince not fear'd hath oft his wrong conspir'de.

Ag.
No guard so sure, no forte so strong doth proue,
No such defence, as is the peoples loue.

Cæs.
Nought more vnsure more weak, more like the winde,
Then Peoples favor still to chaunge enclinde.

Ag.
Good Gods! what loue to gracious Prince men beare!

Cæs.
What honor to the Prince that is seuere!

Ag.
Nought more diuine then is Benignitie.

Cæ.
Nought likes the Gods as doth Seueritie.

Ag.
Gods all forgiue.

Cæ.
On faults they paines do laie.

Ag.
And giue their goods.

Cæ.
Oft times they take away.

Ag.
They wreake them not, ô Cæsar, at each time
That by our sinnes they are to wrathe prouok'd.
Neither must you (beleue, I humblie praie)
Your victorie with crueltie defile.
The Gods it gaue, it must not be abus'd,
But to the good of all men mildlie vs'd,
And they be thank'd: that hauing giu'n you grace
To raigne alone, and rule this earthlie masse,
They may hence-forward hold it still in rest,
All scattred power vnited in one brest.

Cæ.
But what is he, that breathles comes so fast,
Approching vs, and going in such hast?

Ag.
He semes affraid: and vnder his arme I
(But much I erre) a bloudie sworde espie.

Cæs.
I long to vnderstand what it may be.

Ag.
He hither comes: it's best we stay and see.

Dirce.
What good God now my voice will reenforce,
That tell I may to rocks, and hilles, and woods,
To waues of sea, which dash vpon the shore,
To earth, to heau'n, the woefull newes I bring?

Ag.
What sodaine chaunce thee towards vs hath brought?

Dir.
A lamentable chance. O wrath of heau'ns!

O Gods too pittiles!

Cæs.
What monstrous happ
Wilt thou recount?

Dir.
Alas too hard mishapp!
When I but dreame of what mine eies beheld,
My hart doth freeze, my limmes do quiuering quake,
I senceles stand, my brest with tempest tost
Killes in my throte my wordes, ere fully borne.
Dead, dead he is: be sure of what I say,
This murthering sword hath made the man away.

Cæs.
Alas my heart doth cleaue, pittie me rackes,
My breast doth pant to heare this dolefull tale.
Is Antonie then dead? To death, alas!
I am the cause despaire him so compelld.
But souldiour of his death the maner showe,
And how he did this liuing light forgoe.

Dir.

When Antonie no hope remaining saw
How warre he might, or how agreement make,
Saw him betraid by all his men of warre
In euery fight as well by sea, as lande;
That not content to yeld them to their foes
They also came against himselfe to fight:
Alone in Court he gan himself torment,
Accuse the Queene, himselfe of hir lament,
Call'd hir vntrue and traytresse, as who sought
To yeld him vp she could no more defend:
That in the harmes which for hir sake he bare,
As in his blisfull state, she might not share.

But she againe, who much his furie fear'd,
Gatt to the Tombes, darke horrors dwelling place:
Made lock the doores, and pull the hearses downe.
Then fell shee wretched, with hir selfe to fight.
A thousand plaints, a thousand sobbes she cast
From hir weake brest which to the bones was torne.

Of women hir the most vnhappie call'd,
Who by hir loue, hir woefull loue, had lost
Hir realme, hir life, and more, the loue of him,
Who while he was, was all hir woes support.
But that she faultles was she did inuoke
For witnes heau'n, and aire, and earth, and sea.
Then sent him worde, she was no more aliue,
But lay inclosed dead within hir Tombe.
This he beleeu'd; and fell to sigh and grone,
And crost his armes, then thus began to mone.

Cæs.
Poore hopeles man!

Dir.

What dost thou more attend
Ah Antonie! why dost thou death deferre:
Since Fortune thy professed enimie,
Hath made to die, who only made thee liue?
Sone as with sighes he had these words vp clos'd,
His armor he vnlaste, and cast it of,
Then all disarm'd he thus againe did say:
My Queene, my heart, the grief that now I feele,
Is not that I your eies, my Sunne, do loose,
For soone againe one Tombe shal vs conioyne:
I grieue, whom men so valorouse did deeme,
Should now, then you, of lesser valor seeme.

So said, forthwith he Eros to him call'd,
Eros his man; summond him on his faith
To kill him at his nede. He tooke the sworde,
And at that instant stab'd therwith his breast,
And ending life fell dead before his fete.
O Eros thankes (quoth Antonie) for this
Most noble acte, who pow'rles me to kill,
On thee hast done, what I on mee should doe.

Of speaking thus he scarce had made an ende,
And taken vp the bloudie sword from ground,

But he his bodie piers'd; and of redd bloud
A gushing fountaine all the chamber fill'd.
He staggred at the blowe, his face grew pale,
And on a couche all feeble downe he fell,
Swounding with anguish: deadly cold him tooke,
As if his soule had then his lodging left.
But he reuiu'd, and marking all our eies
Bathed in teares, and how our breasts we beatt
For pittie, anguish, and for bitter griefe,
To see him plong'd in extreame wretchednes:
He prai'd vs all to haste his lingr'ing death:
But no man willing, each himselfe withdrew.
Then fell he new to crie and vexe himselfe,
Vntill a man from Cleopatra came,
Who said from hir he had commaundement
To bring him to hir to the monument.

The poore soule at these words euen rapt with Ioy
Knowing she liu'd, prai'd vs him to conuey
Vnto his Ladie. Then vpon our armes
We bare him to the Tombe, but entred not.
For she, who feared captiue to be made,
And that she should to Rome in triumph goe,
Kept close the gate: but from a window high
Cast downe a corde, wherin he was impackt.
Then by hir womens helpt the corps she rais'd,
And by strong armes into hir windowe drew.

So pittifull a sight was neuer sene.
Little and little Antonie was pull'd,
Now breathing death: his beard was all vnkempt,
His face and brest all bathed in his bloud.
So hideous yet, and dieng as he was,
His eies half-clos'd vppon the Queene he cast:

Held vp his hands, and holpe himself to raise,
But still with weakenes back his bodie fell.
The miserable ladie with moist eies,
With haire which careles on hir forhead hong,
With brest which blowes had bloudilie benumb'd,
With stooping head, and bodie down-ward bent,
Enlast hir in the corde, and with all force
This life-dead man couragiously vprais'de.
The bloud with paine into hir face did flowe,
Hir sinewes stiff, her selfe did breathles growe.

The people which beneath in flocks beheld,
Assisted her with gesture, speech, desire:
Cri'de and incourag'd her, and in their soules
Did sweate, and labor, no white lesse then shee.
Who neuer tir'd in labor, held so long
Helpt by hir women, and hir constant heart,
That Antonie was drawne into the tombe,
And ther (I thinke) of dead augments the summe.

The Cittie all to teares and sighes is turn'd,
To plaints and outcries horrible to heare:
Men, women, children, hoary-headed age
Do all pell mell in house and strete lament,
Scratching their faces, tearing of their haire,
Wringing their hands, and martyring their brests.
Extreame their dole: and greater misery
In sacked townes can hardlie euer be.
Not if the fire had scal'de the highest towers:
That all things were of force and murther full;
That in the streets the bloud in riuers stream'd;
The sonne his sire saw in his bosome slaine,
The sire his sonne: the husband rest of breath
In his wiues armes, who furious runnes to death.

Now my brest wounded with their piteouse plaints
I left their towne, and tooke with me this sworde,
Which I tooke vp at what time Antonie
Was from his chamber caried to the tombe:
And brought it you, to make his death more plaine,
And that therby my words may credite gaine.

Cæs.
Ah Gods what cruell happ! poore Antonie,
Alas hast thou this sword so long time borne
Against thy foe,, that in the ende it should
Of thee his Lord the cursed murthr'er be?
O Death how I bewaile thee! we (alas!)
So many warres haue ended, brothers, frends,
Companions, coozens, equalls in estate:
And must it now to kill thee be my fate?

Ag.
Why trouble you your selfe with bootles griefe?
For Antonie why spend you teares in vaine?
Why darken you with dole your victorie?
Me seemes your self your glorie do enuie.
Enter the towne, giue thankes vnto the Gods.

Cæs.
I cannot but his tearefull chaunce lament,
Although not I, but his owne pride the cause,
And vnchaste loue of this Ægyptian.

Agr,
But best we sought into the tombe to gett,
Lest shee consume in this amazed case
So much rich treasure, with which happelie
Despaire in death may make hir feed the fire:
Suffring the flames hir Iewells to deface,
You to defraud, hir funerall to grace.
Sende then to hir, and let some meane be vs'd
With some deuise so holde hir still aliue,
Some faire large promises: and let them marke
Whether they may by some fine conning slight

Enter the tombes.

Cæsar.
Let Proculeius goe,
And fede with hope hir soule disconsolate.
Assure hir so, that we may wholie gett
Into our hands hir treasure and hir selfe.
For this of all things most I doe desire
To kepe hir safe vntill our going hence:
That by hir presence beautified may be
The glorious triumph Rome prepares for me.

Chorus of Romaine Souldiors.

Shall euer ciuile bate
gnaw and deuour our state?
Shall neuer we this blade,
Our bloud hath bloudie made,
Lay downe? these armes downe lay
As robes we weare alway?
But as from age to age,
So passe from rage to rage?

Our hands shall we not rest
To bath in our owne brest?
And shall thick in each land
Our wretched trophees stand,
To tell posteritie,
What madd Impietie
Our stonie stomakes ledd
Against the place vs bredd?

Then still must heauen view
The plagues that vs pursue:
And euery where descrie
Heaps of vs scattred lie,

Making the straunger plaines
Fatt with our bleeding raines,
Proud that on them their graue
So manie legions haue.

And with our fleshes still
Neptune his fishes fill
And dronke with bloud from blue
The sea take blushing hue:
As iuice of Tyrian shell,
When clarified well
To wolle of finest fields
A purple glosse it yelds.

But since the rule of Rome,
To one mans hand is come,
Who gouernes without mate
Hir now vnited state,
Late iointlie rulde by three
Enuieng mutuallie,
Whose triple yoke much woe
On Latines necks did throwe:

I hope the cause of iarre,
And of this bloudie warre,
And deadlie discord gone
By what we last haue done:
Our banks shall cherish now
The branchie pale-hew'd bow
Of Oliue, Pallas praise,
In stede of barraine bayes.

And that his temple dore,
Which bloudie Mars before
Held open, now at last
Olde Ianus shall make fast:

And rust the sword consume,
And spoild of wauing plume,
The vseles morion shall
On crooke hang by the wall.

At least if warre returne
It shall not here soiourne,
To kill vs with those armes
Were forg'd for others harmes:
But haue their pointes addrest,
Against the Germains brest,
The Parthians fayned fligbt,
The Biscaines martiall might.

Olde Memorie doth there
Painted on forhead weare
Our Fathers praise: thence torne
Our triumphes baies haue worne:
Therby our matchles Rome
Whilome of Shepeheards come
Rais'd to this greatnes stands,
The Queene of forraine lands.

Which now euen seemes to face
The heau'ns, her glories place:
Nought resting vnder Skies
That dares affront her eies.
So that she needes but feare
The weapons Ioue doth beare,
Who angrie at one blowe
May her quite ouerthrowe.

Act. 5.

Cleopatra. Euphron. Children of Cleopatra. Charmion. Eras.
Cleop.

O cruell Fortune! ô accursed lott!
O plaguy loue! ô most detested brand!
O wretched ioyes! ô beauties miserable!
O deadlie state! ô deadly roialtie!
O hatefull life! ô Queene most lamentable!
O Antonie by my fault buriable!
O hellish worke of heau'n! alas! the wrath
Of all the Gods at once on vs is falne.
Vnhappie Queene! ô would I in this world
The wandring light of day had neuer sene?
Alas! of mine the plague and poison I
The crowne haue lost my ancestors me left,
This Realme I haue to straungers subiect made,
And robd my children of their heritage.

Yet this is nought (alas!) vnto the price
Of you deare husband, whome my snares entrap'd:
Of you, whom I haue plagu'd, whom I haue made
With bloudie hand a guest of mouldie Tombe:
Of you, whome I destroid, of you, deare Lord,
Whome I of Empire, honor, life haue spoil'd.

O hurtfull woman! and can I yet liue,
Yet longer liue in this Ghost-haunted tombe?
Can I yet breathe! can yet in such annoy,
Yet can my Soule within this bodie dwell?

O Sisters you that spinne the thredes of death!
O Styx! ô Phlegethon! you brookes of hell!
O Impes of Night!

Euph.
Liue for your childrens sake:
Let not your death of kingdome them depriue.
Alas what shall they do? who will haue care?
Who will preserue this royall race of yours?
Who pittie take? euen now me seemes I see
These little soules to seruile bondage falne,
And borne in triumph.

Cl.
Ah most miserable!

Euph.
Their tender armes with cursed corde fast bound
At their weake backs.

Cl.
Ah Gods what pittie more!

Eph.
Their seelie necks to ground with weaknesse bend.

Cl.
Neuer on vs, good Gods, such mischiefe sende.

Euph.
And pointed at with fingers as they go.

Cl.
Rather a thousand deaths.

Euph.
Lastly his knife
Some cruell caytiue in their bloud embrue.

Cl.

Ah my heart breaks. By shadie bankes of hell,
By fieldes wheron the lonely Ghosts do treade,
By my soule, and the soule of Antonie
I you beseche, Euphron, of them haue care.
Be their good Father, let your wisedome lett
That they fall not into this Tyrants handes.
Rather conduct them where their freezed locks
Black Æthiopes to neighbour Sunne do shewe;
On wauie Ocean at the waters will;
On barraine cliffes of snowie Caucasus;
To Tigers swift, to Lions, and to Beares;
And rather, rather vnto euery coaste,
To eu'rie land and sea: for nought I feare
As rage of him, whose thirst no bloud can quench.

Adieu deare children, children deare adieu:

Good Isis you to place of safetie guide,
Farre from our foes, where you your liues may leade
In free estate deuoid of seruile dread.

Remember not, my children, you were borne
Of such a Princelie race: remember not
So manie braue Kings which haue Egipt rul'de
In right descent your ancestors haue bene:
That this great Antonie your Father was,
Hercules bloud, and more then he in praise.
For your high courage such remembrance will,
Seing your fall with burning rages fill.

Who knowes if that your hands false Destinie
The Scepters promis'd of imperiouse Rome,
In stede of them shall crooked shepehookes beare,
Needles or forkes, or guide the carte, or plough?
Ah learne t'endure: your birth and high estate
Forget, my babes, and bend to force of fate.

Farwell, my babes, farwell, my hart is clos'de
With pitie and paine, my self with death enclos'de,
My breath doth faile. Farwell for euermore,
Your Sire and me you shall see neuer more.
Farwell swete care, farwell.

Chil.
Madame Adieu.

Cl.
Ah this voice killes me. Ah good Gods! I swounde.
I can no more, I die.

Eras.
Madame, alas!
And will you yeld to woe? Ah speake to vs.

Eup.
Come children.

Chil.
We come.

Eup.
Follow we our chaunce.
The Gods shall guide vs.

Char.
O too cruell lott!
O too hard chaunce! Sister what shall we do,
What shall we do, alas! if murthring darte
Of death arriue while that in slumbring swound
Half dead she lie with anguish ouergone?

Er.
Her face is frozen.

Ch.
Madame for Gods loue
Leaue vs not thus: bidd vs yet first farwell.
Alas! wepe ouer Antonie: Let not
His bodie be without due rites entomb'de.

Cl.
Ah, ah.

Char.
Madame.

Cle.
Ay me!

Cl.
How fainte she is?

Cl.

My Sisters, holde me vp. How wretched I,
How cursed am! and was ther euer one
By Fortunes hate into more dolours throwne?

Ah, weeping Niobe, although thy hart
Beholdes it selfe enwrap'd in causefull woe
For thy dead children, that a sencelesse rocke
With griefe become, on Sipylus thou stand'st
In endles teares: yet didst thou neuer feele
The weights of griefe that on my heart do lie.
Thy Children thou, mine I poore soule haue lost,
And lost their Father, more then them I waile,
Lost this faire realme; yet me the heauens wrathe
Into a Stone not yet transformed hath.

Phaetons sisters, daughters of the Sunne,
Which waile your brother falne into the streames
Of stately Po: the Gods vpon the bankes
Your bodies to banke-louing Alders turn'd.
For me, I sigh, I ceasles wepe, and waile,
And heauen pittiles laughes at my woe,
Reuiues, renewes it still: and in the ende
(Oh crueltie!) doth death for comfort lende.

Die Cleopatra then, no longer stay
From Antonie, who thee at Styx attends:
Goe ioine thy Ghost with his, and sobbe no more
Without his loue within these tombes enclos'd.

Eras.
Alas! yet let vs wepe, lest sodaine death

From him our teares, and those last duties take
Vnto his tombe we owe.

Ch.
Ah let vs wepe
While moisture lasts, then die before his feete.

Cl.
who furnish will mine eies with streaming teares
My boiling anguish worthilie to waile,
Waile thee Antonie, Antonie my heart?
Alas, how much I weeping liquor want!
Yet haue mine eies quite drawne their Conduits drie
By long beweeping my disastred harmes.
Now reason is that from my side they sucke
First vitall moisture, then the vitall bloud.
Then let the bloud from my sad eies out flowe,
And smoking yet with thine in mixture growe.
Moist it, and heate it newe, and neuer stopp,
All watring thee, while yet remaines one dropp.

Cha.
Antonie take our teares: this is the last
Of all the duties we to thee can yelde,
Before we die.

Er.
These sacred obsequies
Take Antony, and take them in good parte.

Cl.

O Goddesse thou whom Cyprus doth adore,
Venus of Paphos, bent to worke vs harme
For olde Iulus broode, if thou take care
Of Cæsar, why of vs tak'st thou no care?
Antonie did descend, as well as he,
From thine owne Sonne by long enchained line:
And might haue rul'd by one and self same fate,
True Troian bloud, the statelie Romain state.

Antonie, poore Antonie, my deare soule,
Now but a blocke, the bootie of a tombe,
Thy life, thy heate is lost, thy coullor gone,
And hideous palenes on thy face hath seaz'd.

Thy eies, two Sunnes, the lodging place of loue,
Which yet for tents to warlike Mars did serue,
Lock'd vp in lidds (as faire daies cherefull light
Which darknesse flies) do winking hide in night.

Antonie by our true loues I thee beseche,
And by our hearts swete sparks haue sett on fire,
Our holy mariage, and the tender ruthe
Of our deare babes, knot of our amitie:
My dolefull voice thy eare let entertaine,
And take me with thee to the hellish plaine,
Thy wife, thy frend: heare Antonie, ô heare
My sobbing sighes, if here thou be, or there.

Liued thus long, the winged race of yeares
Ended I haue as Destinie decreed,
Flourish'd and raign'd, aud taken iust reuenge
Of him who me both hated and despisde.
Happie, alas too happie! if of Rome
Only the fleete had hither neuer come.
And now of me an Image great shall goe
Vnder the earth to bury there my woe.
What say I? where am I? ô Cleopatra,
Poore Cleopatra, griefe thy reason reaues.
No, no, most happie in this happles case,
To die with thee, and dieng thee embrace:
My bodie ioynde with thine, my mouth with thine,
My mouth, whose moisture burning sighes haue dried:
To be in one selfe tombe, and one selfe chest,
And wrapt with thee in one selfe sheete to rest.

The sharpest torment in my heart I feele
Is that I staie from thee, my heart, this while.
Die will I straight now, now streight will I die,
And streight with thee a wandring shade will be,

Vnder the Cypres trees thou haunt'st alone,
Where brookes of hell do falling seeme to mone.
But yet I stay, and yet thee ouerliue,
That ere I die due rites I may thee giue.

A thousand sobbes I from my brest will teare,
With thousand plaints thy funeralles adorne:
My haire shall serue for thy oblations,
My boiling teares for thy effusions,
Mine eies thy fire: for out of them the flame
(Which burnt thy heart on me enamour'd) came.

Wepe my companious, wepe, and from your eies
Raine downe on him of teares a brinish streame.
Mine can no more, consumed by the coales
Which from my breast, as from a furnace, rise.
Martir your breasts with multiplied blowes,
With violent hands teare of your hanging haire,
Outrage your face: alas! why should we seeke
(Since now we die) our beawties more to kepe?

I spent in teares, not able more to spende,
But kisse him now, what rests me more to doe?
Then lett me kisse you, you faire eies, my light,
Front seate of honor, face most fierce, most faire!
O neck, ô armes, ô hands, ô breast where death
(Oh mischief) comes to choake vp vitall breath.
A thousand kisses, thousand thousand more
Let you my mouth for honors farewell giue:
That in this office weake my limmes may growe,
Fainting on you, and fourth my soule may flowe.

At Rams burie. 26. of Nouember. 1590.