University of Virginia Library

SCE. 4.

Enter Cicero, Brutus, Casca, Camber, Trebonius.
Cice.
Most prudent heads, that with your councels wise,
The pillars of the mighty Rome sustaine,
You see how ciuill broyles haue torne our state:
And priuate strife hath wrought a publique wo,
Thessalia boasts that she hath seene our fall,
And Rome that whilom wont to Tiranize,
And in the necks of all the world hath rang'd,
Loosing her rule, to serue is now constraynd,
Pompey the hope and stay of Common-weale,
VVhose vertues promis'd Rome security
Now flies distrest, disconsolate, forlorne,
Reproch of Fortune, and the victors scorne.

Cæs.
VVhat now is left for wretched Rome to hope,
But in laments and bitter future woe,
To wey the downefall of her former pride:
Againe Porsenna brings in Tarquins names,
And Rome againe doth smoke with furious flames.
In Pompeys fall wee all are ouerthrowne,
And subiect made to conqueror Tirany.

Bru.
Most Noble Cicero and you Romaine Peeres,
Pardon the author of vnhappy newes,
And then prepare to heare my tragick tale.
VVith that same looke, that great Atrides stood,
At cruell alter staind with Daughters blood,
VVhen Pompey fled pursuing Cæsars sword,
And thought to shun his following desteny.
And then began to thinke on many a friend,
And many a one recalled hee to minde,
Who in his Fortunes pride did leaue their liues,
And vowed seruice at his princely feere,
From out the rest, the yong Egiptian King,
VVhose Father of an Exild banish'd man
Hee seated had in throne of Maiesty,
Him chose, to whome he did commit his life,
(But O, who doth remember good-turnes past)
The Rising Sunne, not Setting, doth men please,
To ill committed was so great a trust,
Vnto so base a Fortune fauoring minde.
For he the Conquerors fauor to obtaine,
By Treason caus'd great Pompey to be slaine:

Casca.
O damned deede.

Cam.
O Trayterous Ptolomey.

Tre.
O most vnworthy and vngratefull fact.

Cum.
What plages may serue to expiate this act,
The rouling stone or euerturning wheele,
The quenchles flames of firy Phlegeton,
Or endles thirst of which the Poets talke,
Are all to gentle for so vilde a deede.

Cas.
Well did the Cibills vnrespected verse.
Bid thee beware of Crocadilish Nile,

Ter.
And art thou in a barbarous soyle betrayd,
Defrawded Pompey of thy funerall rites,
There none could weepe vpon thy funerall hearse,
None could thy Consulshipes and triumphs tell,
And in thy death set fourth thy liuing praise,
None would erect to thee a sepulcher.
Or put thine ashes in a pretious vrne,

Cice.
Peace Lords lament not noble Pompeys death,
Nor thinke him wreched, cause he wants a Tombe,
Heauen couers him whome Earth denyes a graue:
Thinke you a heape of stones could him inclose,
Whoe in the Oceans circuite buried is,
And euery place where Roman names are heard,
The world is his graue, where liuing fame doth blaze,
His funerall praise through his immortall trump,
And ore his tombe vertue and honor sits,
With rented heare and eyes bespent with teares,
And waile and weepe their deere sonne Pompeys death,

Bru.
But now my Lords for to augment this griefe,
Cæsar the Senates deadly enimie,
Aimes eke to vs, and meanes to tryumph heere,
Vpon poore conquered Rome and common wealth,

Cas.
This was the end at which he alwayes aymd,

Tre.
Then end all hope of Romaines liberty,
Rise noble Romaine, rise from rotten Tombes,
And with your swordes recouer that againe:
With your braue prowes won, our basenes lost.

Gic.
Renowned Lords content your trobled minds,
Do not ad Fuell to the conquerors fier.
Which once inflamed will borne both Rome and vs.
Cæsar although of high aspiring thoughtes,
And vncontrould ambitious Maiesty,
Yet is of nature faire and courteous,
You see hee commeth conqueror of the East,
Clad in the spoyles of the Pharsalian fieldes,
Then wee vnable to resist such powre:
By gentle peace and meeke submission,
Must seeke to pacify the victors wrath.

Exeunt.