University of Virginia Library

SCE. 3.

Enter Cæsar, Cleopatra, Anthony, Dolobella, a Lord,
Cæsar.
There sterne Achillas and Fortunius lie,
Traytorous Sempronius and proud Ptolomey,
Go plead your cause fore the angry Rhadamant,
And tel him why you basely Pompey slew.
And let your guilty blood appease his Ghost,
That now sits wandring by the Stygian bankes,
Vnworthy sacrifice to quite his worth,
For Pompey though thou wert mine enemy,
And vayne ambition mou'd vs to this strife;
Yet now in death when strife and enuy cease.
Thy princely vertues and thy noble minde,
Moue me to rue thy vndeserued death,
That found a greater daunger then it fled;
Vnhapy man to scape so many wars,
And to protract thy glorious day so long,
Here for to perish in a barbarous soyle,
And end liues date stabd by a Bastards hand,
But yet with honour shalt thou be Intomb'd,
I will enbalme thy body with my teares,
And put thy ashes in an Vrne of gold,
And build with marble a deserued graue.
Whose worth indeede a Temple ought to haue.

Dolo.
See how compassion drawes foorth Princely teares
And Vertue weepes her enemies funerall,
So sorrowed the mighty Alexander,
When Bessus hand caus'd Darius to die.

Ant.
These greeued sorrowing Princes do with me,
Ioyntly agree in Contrariety,
Alacke we mourne, greeued is our mind alike,
Our gate is discontented, heauy our lookes,
Our sorrowes all a like, but dislike cause.
Their foe is their grifes causer which my friend,
It is the losse of one that makes them wayle,
But I, that one there is a cruell one,
Do wayle and greeue and vnregarded mone.
Fayre beames cast forth from these dismayfull eyes,
Chaine my poore heart, in loue and sorrowes giues,

Cleo.
Forget sweete Prince these sad perlexed thoughts,
Withdraw thy mind in clowdy discontent,
And with Ægiptian pleasures feed thine eyes,
Wilt thou be hould the Sepulchers of Kings,
And Monuments that speake the workemens prayse?
Ile bring thee to Great Alexanders Tombe,
Where he, whome all the world could not suffice,
In bare six foote of Earth, intombed lies,
And shew thee all the cost and curious art,
Which either Cleops or our Memphis boast:
Would you command a banquit in the Court,
Ile bring you to a Royall goulden bowre,
Fayrer then that wherein great Ioue doth sit,
And heaues vp boles of Nectar to his Queene,
A stately Pallace, whose fayre doble gates:
Are wrought with garnish'd Carued Iuory,
And stately pillars of pure bullion framd.
With Orient Pearles and Indian stones imbost,
With golden Roofes that glister like the Sunne,
Shalbe prepard to entertaine my Loue:
Or wilt thou see our Academick Schooles,
Or heare our Priests to reason of the starres,
Hence Plato fecht his deepe Philosophy:
And heere in Heauenly knowledg they excell.

Antho.
More then most faire, another Heauen to me,
The starres where on Ile gaze shalbe thy face,
Thy morall deedes my sweete Philosophy,
Uenus the muse whose ayde I must implore:
O let me profit in this study best,
For Beauties scholler I am now prefest.

Lord.
See how this faire Egiptian Sorceres,
Enchantes these Noble warriars man-like mindes,
And melts their hearts in loue and wantones.

Cæs.
Most glorious Queene, whose cheerefull smiling words
Expell these cloudes that ouer cast my minde.
Cæsar will ioy in Cleopatras ioy,
And thinke his fame no whit disparaged,
To change his armes, and deadly sounding droms,
For loues sweete Laies, and Lydian harmony,
And now hang vp these Idle instruments.
My warlike speare and vncontrouled crest:
My mortall wounding sword and siluer shield,
And vnder thy sweete banners beare the brunt,
Of peacefull warres and amarous Alarmes:
Why Mars himselfe his bloudy rage alayd,
Dallying in Venus bed hath often playd,
And great Alcides, when he did returne:
From Iunos taskes, and Nemean victories,
From monsters fell, and Nemean toyles:
Reposed himselfe in Deianiras armes.
Heere will I pitch the pillars of my fame,
Heere the non vltra of my labors write,
And with these Cheekes of Roses, lockes of Gold,
End my liues date, and trauayles manifould.

Dolo.
How many lets do hinder vertuous mindes,
From the pursuit of honours due reward,
Be sides Caribdis, and fell Scyllas spight:
More dangerous Circe and Calipsoes cup,
Then pleasant gardens of Alcionus:
And thousand lets voluptiousnesse doth offer.

Cæs.
I will regard no more these murtherous spoyles,
And bloudy triumphs that I lik'd of late:
But in loues pleasures spend my wanton dayes,
Ile make thee garlondes of sweete smelling flowers,
And with faire rosall Chaplets crowne thy head,
The purple Hyacinth of Phæbus Land:
Fresh Amarinthus that doth neuer die,
And faire Narcissus deere respendent shoars,
And Violets of Daffadilles so sweete,
Shall Beautify the Temples of my Loue,
Whil'st I will still gaze on thy beautious eyes,
And with Ambrosean kisses bath thy Cheekes.

Cleo.
Come now faire Prince, and feast thee in our Courts
Where liberall Cæres, and Liæus fat,
Shall powre their plenty forth and fruitfull store,
The sparkling liquor shall ore-flow his bankes:
And Meroe learne to bring forth pleasant wine,
Fruitfull Arabia, and the furthest Ind,
Shall spend their treasuries of Spicery,
VVith Nardus Coranets weele guird our heads;
And al the while melodious warbling notes,
Passing the seauen-fould harmony of Heauen:
Shall seeme to rauish our enchanted thoughts,
Thus is the feare of vnkinde Ptolomey,
Changed by thee to feast in Iolity:

Antho.
O how mine eares suck vp her heauenly words,
The whil'st mine eyes do prey vpon her face:

Cæs.
Winde we then Anthony with this Royall Queene,
This day weele spend in mirth and banqueting.

Antho.
Had I Queene, Iunoes heard-mans hundred eies,
To gaze vpon these two bright Sunnes of hirs:
Yet would they all be blinded instantly.

Cæs.
VVhat hath some Melancholy discontent,
Ore-come thy minde with trobled passions.

Ant.
Yet being blinded with the Sunny beames,
Her beauties pleasing colours would restore,
Decayed sight with fresh variety.

Lord.
Lord Anthony what meanes this trobled minde,
Cæsar inuites thee to the royall feast,
That faire Queene Cleopatra hath prepard.

Antho.
Pardon me worthy Cæsar and you Lords,
In not attending your most gratious speech
Thoughts of my Country, and returne to Rome,
Som-what distempered my busy head.

Cæs.
Let no such thoughts distemper now thy minde,
This day to Bacchus will wee consecrate,
And in deepe goblets of the purest wine,
Drinke healths vnto our seuerall friends at home.

Antho.
If of my Country or of Rome I thought,
Twas that I neuer ment for to come there,
But spend my life in this sweete paradise.

Exeunt.