 | Caesar and Pompey |  |
Act V.
Scene I.
Enter Ushers, with the two Lentuli, and Septimius before Cornelia; Cyris, Telefilla, Lelia, Drusus, with others, following. Cornelia; Septimius and the two Lentuli reading letters.Cor.
So may comforts for this good newes thriue
As I am thankfull for them to the Gods.
Ioyes vnexpected, and in desperate plight,
Are still most sweet, and proue from whence they come;
When earths still Moonelike confidence, in ioy,
Is at her full. True ioy descending farre
From past her sphere, and from that highest heauen
That moues and is not mou'd: how farre was I
From hope of these euents, when fearefull dreames
Of Harpies tearing out my heart? of armies
Terribly ioyning? Cities, kingdomes falling,
And all on me? prou'd sleepe, not twin to death,
But to me, death it selfe? yet making then,
These letters; full of as much chearefull life,
I found closde in my hand. O gods how iustly
Ye laugh at all things earthly? at all feares
Not drawne directly from your selues, and in ye,
Distrust in man is faith, trust in him ruine.
Why write great learned men? men merely rapt
With sacred rage, of confidence, beleefe?
Vndanted spirits? inexorable fate
And all feare treading on? tis all but ayre,
If any comfort be, tis in despaire.
1 Len.
You learned Ladies may hold any thing.
2 Lent.
Now madam is your walk from coach come neare
The promontory, where you late commanded
A Sentinell should stand to see from thence
If either with a nauy, brought by sea,
Or traine by land; great Pompey comes to greet you
As in your letters, he neare this time promisde.
Cor.
O may this Isle of Lesbos, compast in
With the Ægæan sea, that doth diuide
Europe from Asia. (The sweet literate world
From the Barbarian) from my barbarous dreames
Diuide my dearest husband and his fortunes.
2 Len.
He's busied now with ordering offices.
By this time, madam, sits your honor'd father
He looks in his letter.
In Cæsars chaire of vniuersall Bishop.
Domitius Ænobarbas, is made Consull,
Spynther his Consort; and Phaonius
Tribune, or Pretor.
Septimius with a letter.
Sep.
These were only sought
Before the battaile, not obtaind; nor mouing
My father but in shadowes.
Corn.
Why should men
Tempt fate with such firme confidence? seeking places
Before the power that should dispose could grant them?
For then the stroke of battaile was not struck.
2 Len.
Nay, that was sure enough. Physitians know
Your letters telling you his victory
Lost in the skirmish, which I know hath broken
Both the eyes and heart of Cæsar: for as men
Healthfull through all their liues to grey-hayr'd age,
When sicknesse takes them once, they seldom scape:
So Cæsar victor in his generall fights
Till this late skirmish, could no aduerse blow
Sustaine without his vtter ouerthrow.
2 Lent.
See, madam, now; your Sentinell: enquire.
Cor.
Seest thou no fleet yet (Sentinell) nor traine
That may be thought great Pompeys?
Sen.
Not yet, madame.
1 Len.
Seest thou no trauellers addrest this way?
In any number on this Lesbian shore?
Sent.
I see some not worth note; a couple comming
This way, on foot, that are not now farre hence.
2 Lent.
Come they apace? like messengers with newes?
Sent.
No, nothing like (my Lord) nor are their habites
Of any such mens fashions; being long mantles,
And sable hew'd; their heads all hid in hats
Of parching Thessaly, broad brimm'd, high crown'd.
Cor.
These serue not our hopes.
Sent.
Now I see a ship,
A kenning hence; that strikes into the hauen.
Cor.
One onely ship?
Sen.
One only, madam, yet,
Cor.
That should not be my Lord.
1 Lent.
Your Lord? no madam.
Sen.
She now lets out arm'd men vpon the land.
2 Lent.
Arm'd men? with drum and colours?
Sen.
No, my Lord,
But bright in armes, yet beare halfe pikes, or beadhookes.
1 Lent.
These can be no plumes in the traine of Pompey.
Cor.
Ile see him in his letter, once againe.
Sen.
Now, madam, come the two I saw on foot.
Dem.
See your Princesse, Sir, come thus farre from the
City in her coach, to encounter your promist comming
About this time in your last letters.
Pom.
The world is alterd since Demetrius;
offer to goe by.
1 Lent.
See, madam, two Thessalian Augurs it seemes
By their habits. Call, and enquire if either by their
Skils or trauels, they know no newes of your husband.
Cor.
My friends? a word.
Dem.
With vs, madam?
Cor.
Yes. Are you of Thessaly?
Dem.
I, madam, and all the world besides.
Cor.
Your Country is great.
Dem.
And our portions little.
Cor.
Are you Augures?
Dem.
Augures, madam? yes a kinde of Augures, alias
Wizerds, that goe vp and downe the world, teaching
How to turne ill to good.
Cor.
Can you doe that?
Dem.
I, madam, you haue no worke for vs, haue you?
No ill to turne good, I meane?
Cor.
Yes; the absence of my husband.
Dem.
What's he?
Cor.
Pompey the great.
Dem.
Wherein is he great?
Cor.
In his command of the world.
Dem.
Then he's great in others. Take him without his
Addition (great) what is he then?
Cor.
Pompey.
Dem.
Not your husband then?
Cor.
Nothing the lesse for his greatnesse.
Dem.
Not in his right; but in your comforts he is.
Cor.
His right is my comfort.
Dem.
What's his wrong?
Cor.
My sorrow.
And that's ill.
Cor.
Yes.
Dem.
Y'are come to the vse of our Profession, madam,
Would you haue that ill turnd good? that
Sorrow turnd comfort?
Cor.
Why is my Lord wrong'd?
Dem.
We professe not that knowledge, madam:
Supose he were.
Cor.
Not I.
Dem.
Youle suppose him good.
Cor.
He is so.
Dem.
Then must you needs suppose him wrong'd; for
All goodnesse is wrong'd in this world.
Cor.
What call you wrong?
Dem.
Ill fortune, affliction.
Cor.
Thinke you my Lord afflicted?
Dem.
If I thinke him good (madam) I must. Vnlesse he
Be worldly good, and then, either he is ill, or has ill:
Since, as no sugar is without poyson: so is no worldly
Good without ill. Euen naturally nourisht in it, like a
Houshold thiefe, which is the worst of all theeues.
Cor.
Then he is not worldly, but truly good.
Dem.
He's too great to be truly good; for worldly greatnes
Is the chiefe worldly goodnesse; and all worldly goodnesse
(I prou'd before) has ill in it: which true good has not.
Cor.
If he rule well with his greatnesse, wherein is he ill?
Dem.
But great Rulers are like Carpenters that weare their
Rules at their backs still: and therefore to make good your
True good in him, y'ad better suppose him little, or meane.
For in the meane only is the true good.
Pom.
But euery great Lady must haue her husband
Great still, or her loue will be little.
Cor.
I am none of those great Ladyes.
1 Len.
She's a Philosophresse Augure, and can turne
Ill to good as well as you.
Pom.
I would then, not honor, but adore her: could you
Submit your selfe chearefully to your husband,
Cor.
If he submit himselfe chearfully to his fortune?
Pom.
Tis the greatest greatnes in the world you vndertake.
Cor.
I would be so great, if he were.
Pom.
In supposition.
Cor.
In fact.
Pom.
Be no woman, but a Goddesse then; & make good thy greatnesse;
I am chearfully falne; be chearfull.
Cor.
I am: and welcome, as the world were closde
In these embraces.
Pom.
Is it possible?
A woman, losing greatnesse, still as good,
As at her greatest? O gods, was I euer
Great till this minute?
Amb., Len.
Pompey?
Pom.
View me better.
Amb., Len.
Conquerd by Cæsar?
Pom.
Not I, but mine army.
No fault in me, in it: no conquest of me:
I tread this low earth as I trod on Cæsar.
Must I not hold my selfe, though lose the world?
Nor lose I lesse; a world lost at one clap,
Tis more then Ioue euer thundred with.
What glory is it to haue my hand hurle
So vast a volley through the groning ayre?
And is't not great, to turne griefes thus to ioyes,
That breake the hearts of others?
Amb., Len.
O tis Ioue-like.
Pom,
It is to imitate Ioue, that from the wounds
Of softest clouds, beats vp the terriblest sounds.
I now am good, for good men still haue least,
That twixt themselues and God might rise their rest.
Cor.
O Pompey, Pompey: neuer Great till now.
Pom.
O my Cornelia: let vs still be good,
And we shall still be great: and greater farre
In euery solid grace, then when the tumor
And bile of rotten obseruation sweld vs.
Greatnesse, not of it selfe, is neuer sure.
Before, we went vpon heauen, rather treading
The virtues of it vnderfoot, in making
The vicious world our heauen; then walking there
Euen here, as knowing that our home; contemning
All forg'd heauens here raisde; setting hills on hills.
Vulcan from heauen sell, yet on's feet did light,
And stood no lesse a god then at his height;
At lowest, things lye fast: we now are like
The two Poles propping heauen, on which heauen moues;
And they are fixt, and quiet, being aboue
All motion farre; we rest aboue the heauens.
Cor.
O, I more ioy, t'embrace my Lord thus fixt,
Then he had brought me ten inconstant conquests.
1 Len.
Miraculous standing in a fall so great,
Would Cæsar knew, Sir, how you conquerd him
In your conuiction.
Pom.
Tis enough for me
That Pompey knows it. I will stand no more
On others legs: nor build one ioy without me.
If euer I be worth a house againe,
Ile build all inward: not a light shall ope
The common outway: no expence, no art,
No ornament, no dore will I vse there,
But raise all plaine, and rudely, like a rampier,
Against the false society of men
That still batters
All reason peecemeale. And for earthy greatnesse
All heauenly comforts ratifies to ayre,
Ile therefore liue in darke, and all my light,
Like ancient Temples, let in at my top.
This were to turne ones back to all the world,
And only looke at heauen. Empedocles
Recur'd a mortall plague through all his Country,
With stopping vp the yawning of a hill,
From whence the hollow and vnwholsome Scuth
Is any King, giuen ouer to his lusts,
But euen the poyson'd cleft of that crackt mountaine,
That all his kingdome plagues with his example?
Which I haue stopt now, and so cur'd my Country
Of such a sensuall pestilence:
When therefore our diseas'de affections
Harmefull to humane freedome; and stormelike
Inferring darknesse to th'infected minde
Oppresse our comforts: tis but letting in
The light of reason, and a purer spirit,
Take in another way; like roomes that fight
With windowes gainst the winde, yet let in light.
Amb., Len.
My Lord, we seru'd before, but now adore you.
Sen.
My Lord, the arm'd men I discour'd lately
Vnshipt, and landed; now are trooping neare.
Pom.
What arm'd men are they?
1 Len.
Some, my Lord, that lately
The Sentinell discouer'd, but not knew.
Sen.
Now all the sea (my Lords) is hid with ships,
Another Promontory flanking this,
Some furlong hence, is climb'd, and full of people,
That easily may see hither; it seemes looking
What these so neare intend: Take heed, they come.
Enter Achillas, Septius, Saluius, with souldiers,
Ach.
Haile to Romes great Commander; to whom Ægypt
(Not long since seated in his kingdome by thee,
And sent to by thee in thy passage by)
Sends vs with answer: which withdraw and heare.
Pom.
Ile kisse my children first.
Sep.
Blesse me, my Lord.
Pom.
I will, and Cyris, my poore daughter too.
Euen that high hand that hurld me downe thus low,
Keepe you from rising high: I heare: now tell me.
I thinke (my friend) you once seru'd vnder me:
Septius only nods with his head.
Nod onely? not a word daigne? what are these?
Cornelia? I am now not worth mens words.
Ach.
Please you receiue your ayde, Sir?
Pom.
I, I come.
Exit Pom. They draw and follow.
Cor.
Why draw they? See, my Lords; attend them vshers.
Sen.
O they haue slaine great Pompey.
Cor.
O my husband.
Sept., Cyr.
Mother, take comfort.
Enter Pompey bleeding.
O my Lord and father.
Pom.
See heauens your sufferings, is my Countries loue,
The iustice of an Empire; pietie;
Worth this end in their leader: last yet life,
And bring the gods off fairer: after this
Who will adore, or serue the deities?
He hides his face with his robe.
Enter the Murtherers.
Ach.
Helpe hale him off: and take his head for Cæsar.
Sep.
Mother? O saue vs; Pompey? O my father.
Enter the two Lentuli and Demetrius bleeding, and kneele about Cornelia.
1 Len.
Yet fals not heauen? Madam, O make good
Your late great spirits; all the world will say,
You know not how to beare aduerse euents,
If now you languish.
Omn.
Take her to her coach.
They beare her out.
Cato
with a booke in his hand.
O Beastly apprehenders of things manly,
And merely heauenly: they with all the reasons
I vsde for iust mens liberties, to beare
Their liues and deaths vp in their owne free hands;
Feare still my resolution though I seeme
To thinke my life in lawes rule, not mine owne,
When once it comes to death; as if the law
Made for a sort of outlawes, must bound me
In their subiection; as if I could
Be rackt out of my vaines, to liue in others;
As so I must, if others rule my life;
And publique power keepe all the right of death,
As if men needes must serue the place of iustice;
The forme, and idoll, and renounce it selfe?
Our selues, and all our rights in God and goodnesse?
Our whole contents and freedomes to dispose,
All in the ioyes and wayes of arrant rogues?
No stay but their wilde errors, to sustaine vs?
No forges but their throats to vent our breaths?
To forme our liues in, and repose our deaths?
See, they haue got my sword. Who's there?
Enter Marcillius bare.
Mar.
My Lord.
Cat.
Who tooke my sword hence? Dumb? I doe not aske
For any vse or care of it: but hope
I may be answered. Goe Sir, let me haue it.
Exit Mar.
Poore slaues, how terrible this death is to them?
If men would sleepe, they would be wroth with all
That interrupt them Physick take to take
The golden rest it brings: both pay and pray
For good, and soundest naps. all friends consenting
In those kinde inuocations; praying all
Good rest, the gods vouchsafe you; but when death
(Sleepes naturall brother) comes; (that's nothing worse,
But better; being more rich; and keepes the store;
Sleepe euer fickle, wayward still, and poore)
O how men grudge, and shake, and teare, and fly
His sterne approaches? all their comforts taken
In faith, and knowledge of the blisse and beauties
Dround in the paines and horrors of their sense
Sustainde but for an houre; be all the earth
Rapt with this error, Ile pursue my reason,
And hold that as my light and fiery pillar,
Th'eternall law of heauen and earth no firmer.
But while I seeke to conquer conquering Cæsar,
My soft-splen'd seruants ouerrule and curb me.
He knocks, and Brutus enters.
Where's he I sent to fetch and place my sword
Where late I left it? Dumb to? Come another!
Enter Cleanthes.
Where's my sword hung here?
Cle.
My Lord, I know not,
Ent. Marcilius.
Cat.
The rest, come in there. Where's the sword I charg'd you
To giue his place againe? Ile breake your lips ope,
Spight of my freedome; all my seruants, friends;
My sonne and all, will needs betray me naked
To th'armed malice of a foe so fierce
And Beare-like, mankinde of the blood of virtue.
O gods, who euer saw me thus contemn'd?
Goe call my sonne in; tell him, that the lesse
He shewes himselfe my sonne, the lesse Ile care
To liue his father.
Enter Athenodorus, Porcius: Porcius kneeling; Brutus, Cleanthes and Marcilius by him.
Por.
I beseech you, Sir,
Rest patient of my duty, and my loue;
Your other children think on, our poore mother,
Your family, your Country.
Cat.
If the gods
Giue ouer all, Ile fly the world with them.
Athenodorus, I admire the changes,
I note in heauenly prouidence. When Pompey
Did all things out of course, past right, past reason,
Yet, now his cares grew pious, and his powers
Set all vp for his Countrey, he is conquered.
Ath.
The gods wills secret are, nor must we measure
Their chast-reserued deepes by our dry shallowes.
Sufficeth vs, we are entirely such
As twixt them and our consciences we know
Their graces in our virtues, shall present
Vnspotted with the earth; to'th high throne
That ouerlookes vs: for this gyant world
Let's not contend with it, when heauen it selfe
Failes to reforme it: why should we affect
The least hand ouer it, in that ambition?
A heape tis of digested villany;
Virtue in labor with eternall Chaos
Prest to a liuing death, and rackt beneath it.
Her throwes vnpitied; euery worthy man
Limb by limb sawne out of her virgine wombe,
To liue here peecemeall tortur'd, fly life then;
Your life and death made presidents for men.
Exit.
Cat.
Ye heare (my masters) what a life this is,
And vse much reason to respect it so.
But mine shall serue ye. Yet restore my sword,
Lest too much ye presume, and I conceiue
Ye front me like my fortunes. Where's Statilius?
Por.
I think Sir, gone with the three hundred Romans
In Lucius Cæsars charge, to serue the victor.
Cat.
And would not take his leaue of his poore friend?
Then the Philosophers haue stoop't his spirit.
Which I admire, in one so free, and knowing,
And such a fiery hater of base life,
Besides, being such a vow'd and noted foe
To our great Conqueror. But I aduisde him
To spare his youth, and liue.
Por.
My brother Brutus
Is gone to Cæsar.
Cat.
Brutus? Of mine honor
There went as worthy, and as learned a President
As liues in Romes whole rule, for all lifes actions;
And yet your sister Porcia (his wife)
Would scarce haue done this. But (for you my sonne)
Howeuer Cæsar deales with me; be counsailde
By your experienc't father, not to touch
At any action of the publique weale,
Nor any rule beare neare her politique sterne:
For, to be vpright, and sincere therein
Like Catos sonne, the times corruption
Will neuer beare it: and, to sooth the time,
You shall doe basely, and vnworthy your life;
Which, to the gods I wish, may outweigh mine
In euery virtue; howsoeuer ill
You thriue in honor.
Por.
I, my Lord, shall gladly
Obey that counsell.
Cat.
And what needed you
Vrge my kinde care of any charge that nature
Imposes on me? haue I euer showne
Loues least defect to you? or any dues
The most indulgent father (being discreet)
Could doe his dearest blood? doe you me right
In iudgement, and in honor; and dispence
With passionate nature: goe, neglect me not,
But send my sword in. Goe, tis I that charge you.
Por.
O my Lord, and father, come, aduise me.
Exeunt.
Cat.
What haue I now to thinke on in this world?
No one thought of the world, I goe each minute
Discharg'd of all cares that may fit my freedome.
The next world, and my soule, then let me serue
With her last vtterance, that my body may
With sweetnesse of the passage drowne the sowre
That death will mix with it: the Consuls soules
That slew themselues so nobly, scorning life
Led vnder Tyrants Scepters, mine would see.
Retaine those formes of knowledge learn'd in life;
Since, if what here we learne, we there shall lose,
Our immortality were not life, but time.
And that our soules in reason are immortall,
Their naturall and proper obiects proue;
Which immortallity and knowledge are.
For to that obiect euer is referr'd
The nature of the soule, in which the acts
Of her high faculties are still employde.
And that true obiect must her powers obtaine
To which they are in natures aime directed.
Since twere absurd to haue her set an obiect
Which possibly she neuer can aspire.
Enter a Page with his sword taken out before.
Pag.
Your sword, my Lord.
Cat.
O is it found? lay downe
Vpon the bed (my boy) Exit Pa.
Poore men; a boy
Must be presenter; manhood at no hand
Must serue so foule a fact; for so are calde
(In common mouths) mens fairest acts of all.
Vnsheath; is't sharpe? tis sweet. Now I am safe,
Come Cæsar, quickly now, or lose your vassall.
Now wing thee, deare soule, and receiue her heauen.
The earth, the ayre, and seas I know, and all
The toyes, and horrors of their peace and warres,
And now will see the gods state, and the starres.
He fals vpon his sword, and enter Statilius at another side of the Stage with his sword drawne, Porcius, Brutus, Cleanthes and Marcilius holding his hands.
Stat.
Cato? my Lord?
Por.
I sweare (Statilius)
To seeke elsewhere, lest you had slaine your selfe;
And by his loue entreated you would liue.
Sta.
I sweare by all the gods, Ile run his fortunes.
Por.
You may, you may; but shun the victor now,
Who neare is, and will make vs all his slaues.
Sta.
He shall himselfe be mine first, and my slaues.
Exit.
Por.
Looke, looke in to my father, O (I feare)
He is no sight for me to beare and liue.
Exit.
Omn. 3.
O ruthfull spectacle?
Cle.
He hath ript his entrals.
Bru.
Search, search; they may be sound.
Cle.
They may, and are.
Giue leaue, my Lord, that I may few them vp
Being yet vnperisht.
He thrusts him back, & plucks out his entrals.
Ca.
Stand off; now they are not.
Haue he my curse that my lifes least part saues.
Iust men are only free, the rest are slaues.
Bru.
Myrror of men.
Mar.
The gods enuied his goodnesse.
Enter Cæsar, Anthony, Brutus, Acilius, with Lords and Citizens of Vtica.
Cæs.
Too late, too late; with all our haste. O Cato,
All my late Conquest, and my lifes whole acts,
Most crownde, most beautified, are basted all
With thy graue lifes expiring in their scorne.
Thy life was rule to all liues, and thy death
(Thus forcibly despising life) the quench
Of all liues glories.
Ant.
Vnreclaimed man?
How censures Brutus his sterne fathers fact?
Bru.
Twas not well done.
Cæs.
O censure not his acts;
Who knew as well what fitted man, as all men.
All kneeling.
Your enemies head great Cæsar.
Cæs.
Cursed monsters,
Wound not mine eyes with it, nor in my camp
Let any dare to view it; farre as noblesse
The den of barbarisme flies, and blisse
The bitterest curse of vext and tyrannisde nature,
Transferre it from me. Borne the plagues of virtue
How durst ye poyson thus my thoughts? to torture
Them with instant rapture.
Omn. 3.
Sacred Cæsar.
Cæs.
Away with them; I vow by all my comforts,
Who slack seemes, or not fiery in my charge,
Shall suffer with them.
All the souldiers.
Out base murtherers;
Tortures, tortures for them:
bale them out.
Omn.
Cruell Cæsar.
Cæs.
Too milde with any torture.
Bru.
Let me craue
The ease of my hate on their one curst life.
Cæs.
Good Brutus take it; O you coole the poyson
These villaines flaming pou'rd vpon my spleen
To suffer with my lothings. If the blood
Of euery common Roman toucht so neare;
Shall I confirme the false brand of my tyranny
With being found a fautor of his murther
Whom my deare Country chusde to fight for her?
Ant.
Your patience Sir, their tortures well will quit you.
Bru.
Let my slaues vse, Sir, be your president.
Cæs.
It shall, I sweare: you doe me infinite honor.
O Cato, I enuy thy death, since thou
Enuiedst my glory to preserue thy life.
Why fled his sonne and friend Statilius?
So farre I fly their hurt, that all my good
Shall fly to their desires. And (for himselfe)
His much renowne of you, quit with your most.
And by the sea, vpon some eminent rock,
Erect his sumptuous tombe; on which aduance
With all fit state his statue; whose right hand
Let hold his sword, where, may to all times rest
His bones as honor'd as his soule is blest.
FINIS.
| Caesar and Pompey | |