 | The Tragedie of Caesar and Pompey or Caesars Reuenge |  |
ACTVS. 4.
Enter Discord.Dis.
Brutus thou hast what long desire hath sought,
Cæsar Lyes weltring in his purple Goare,
Thou art the author of Romes liberty,
Proud in thy murthering hand and bloody knife.
Yet thinke Octauian and sterne Anthony.
Cannot let passe this murther vnreuenged,
Thessalia once againe must see your blood,
And Romane drommes must strike vp new a laromes,
Harke how Bellona shakes her angry lance:
And enuie clothed in her crimson weed,
Me thinkes I see the fiery shields to clash,
Eagle gainst Eagle, Rome gainst Rome to fight,
Phillipi, Cæsar, quittance must thy wronges,
Whereas that hand shall stab that trayterous heart.
That durst encourage it to worke thy death,
Thus from thine ashes Cæsar doth arise
As from Medeas haples scatered teeth:
New flames of wars, and new outragious broyles,
Now smile Æmathia that euen in thy top,
Romes victory and pride shalbe entombd,
And those great conquerors of the vanquished earth,
Shall with their swords come there to dig their graues.
SCENA. 1.
Enter Octauian.Octa.
Mourne gentle Heauens for you haue lost your ioy.
Mourne greeued earth thy ornament is gon,
Mourne Rome in great thy Father is deceased:
Mourne thou Octauian, thou it is must mourne,
Mourne for thy Vncle who is dead and gon.
Mourne for thy Friend whome thy mishap hath lost,
For Father, Vnkell, Friend, go make thy mone,
Who all did liue, who all did die in one.
But heere I vow these blacke and sable weeds,
The outward signes of inward heauines,
Shall changed be ere long to crimsen hew,
And this soft raiment to a coate of steele,
Cæsar, no more I heare the mornefull songs.
The tragick pomp of his sad exequies,
And deadly burning torches are at hand,
I must accompany the mornefull troope:
And sacryfice my teares to the Gods below.
Exit.
Enter Cæsars Hearse Calphurnia Octauian, Anthony, Cicero, Dolobella, two Romaynes, mourners.
Calp.
Set downe the hearse and let Calphurnia weepe,
Weepe for her Lord and bath his Wounds in teares:
Feare of the world, and onely hope of Rome,
Thou whilest thou liuedst was Calphurnias ioye,
And being dead my ioyes are dead with thee:
Here doth my care and comfort resting lie:
Let them accompany thy mournefull hearse.
Cice.
This is the hearse of vertue and renowne,
Here stroe red roses and sweete violets:
And lawrell garlands for to crowne his fame,
The Princely weede of mighty conquerors:
These worthles obsequies poore Rome bestowes,
Vpon thy sacred ashes and deare hearse.
1. Rom.
And as a token of thy liuing praise,
And fame immortall take this laurell wreath,
Which witnesseth thy name shall neuer die:
And with this take the Loue and teares of Rome,
For on thy tombe shall still engrauen be,
Thy losse, her griefe, thy deathes, her pittying thee,
Dolo.
Vnwilling do I come to pay this debt,
Though not vnwilling for to crowne desert,
O how much rather had I this bestowed,
On thee returning from foes ouerthrow,
Then for to crowne thy vertue being dead,
Lord.
Those wreaths that in thy life our conquests crowned
And our fayre triumphes beauty glorified,
Now in thy death do serue thy hearse to adorne,
For Cæsars liuing vertues to bee crowned,
Not to be wept as buried vnder grownd,
2. Ro.
Thou whilest thou liuedst wast faire vertues flowre
Crowned with eternall honor and renowne,
To thee being dead, Flora both crownes and flowers,
(The cheefest vertues of our mother earth,)
Doth giue to gratulate thy noble hearse.
Let then they soule diuine vouchsafe to take,
These worthles obsequies our loue doth make.
Calp.
All that I am is but despaire and greefe,
This all I giue to Celebrate thy death,
What funerall pomp of riches and of pelfe,
Do you expect? Calphurnia giues her selfe.
Ant.
You that to Cæsar iustly did decree
Honors diuine and sacred reuerence:
And oft him grac'd with titles well deserued,
Of Countries Father, stay of Commonwealth.
And that which neuer any bare before,
Inviolate, Holy, Consecrate, Vntucht.
Doe see this friend of Rome, this Contryes Father,
This Sonne of lasting fame and endles praise,
And in a mortall trunke, immortall vertue
Slaughtered, profan'd, and bucherd like a beast,
By trayterous handes, and damned Paracides:
Recounte those deedes and see what he hath don,
Subdued those nations which three hundred yeares.
Remaynd vnconquered; still afflicting Rome,
And recompensed the firy Capitoll,
With many Citties vnto ashes burnt:
And this reward, these thankes you render him:
Here lyes he dead to whome you owe your liues:
By you this slaughtered body bleedes againe,
Which oft for you hath bled in fearefull fight.
From her pearc'd sides to powre forth streames of bloud,
Bee you a witnesse of my sad Soules griefe:
And of my teares which wounded heart doth bleede,
Not such as vse from womanish eyes proceede.
Octa.
And were the deede most worthy and vnblamed,
Yet you vnworthely did do the same:
Who being partakers with his enemies,
By Cæsar all were saued from death and harme,
And for the punnishment you should haue had,
You were prefer'd to Princely dignities:
Rulers and Lordes of Prouinces were you made,
Thus thanke-les men hee did preferre of nought,
That by their hands his murther might be wrought.
All at once except Anthony and Octauian.
Omnes.
Reuenge, Reuenge vpon the murtherers.
Antho.
Braue Lords this worthy resolution shewes,
Your deerest loue, and great affection
VVhich to this slaughtered Prince you alwaies bare,
And may like bloudy chance befall my life:
If I be slack for to reuenge his death.
Octa.
Now on my Lords, this body lets inter:
Amongest the monuments of Roman Kinges,
And build a Temple to his memory:
Honoring therein his sacred Deity.
Exeunt omnes.
SC. 2.
Enter Cassius, and Brutus with an army.Cassi.
Now Romains proud foe, worlds common enemy,
In his greatest hight and chiefest Iollitie,
In the Sacred Senate-house is done to death:
Euen as the Consecrated Oxe which soundes,
At horny alters in his dying pride:
VVith flowry leaues and gar-lands all bedight,
Stands proudly wayting for the hasted stroke:
Till hee amazed with the dismall sound,
The spoyles and riches of the conquered world,
Are now but idle Trophies of his tombe:
His laurell gar-landes do but Crowne his chaire,
His sling, his shilde, and fatall bloudy speare,
VVhich hee in battell oft 'gainst Rome did beare,
Now serue for nought but rusty monuments.
Bru.
So Romulus when proud ambition,
His former vertue and renowne had stayned:
Did by the Senators receiue his end,
But soft what boades Titinnius hasting speede.
Enter Titinnius.
Titin.
The frantike people and impatient,
By Anthonyes exhorting to reuenge:
Runne madding throw the bloudy streetes of Rome,
Crying Reuenge, and murthering they goe,
All those that caused Cæsars ouerthrowe.
Cassi.
The wauering people pytiyng Cæsars death,
Do rage at vs, who fore to winne their weale:
Spare not the danger of our dearest liues,
But since no safety Rome for vs affordes:
Brutus weell hast vs to our Prouinces,
I into Syre, thou into Maccedon,
Where wee will muster vp such martiall bandes,
As shall afright our following enemies.
Bru.
In Thessaly weele meete the Enemy,
And in that ground distaynd with Pompeys bloud,
And fruitefull made with Romane massaker,
VVeele either sacrifice our guilty foe,
To appease the furies of these howling Ghostes,
That wander restles through the sliemy ground
Or else that Thessaly bee a common Tombe:
To bury those that fight to infranchize Rome.
Titin.
Brauely resolu'd, I see yong Brutus minde,
Strengthned with force of vertues sacred rule:
Contemneth death, and holdes proud chance in scorne.
Bru.
I that before fear'd not to do the deede,
Shall neuer now repent it being done,
Whose faith brought death yet with immortall fame,
I kisse thee hand for doing such a deede:
And thanke my heart for this so Noble thought,
And blesse the Heauens for fauoring my attempts:
For Noble Rome, and if thou beest not free,
Yet I haue done what euer lay in mee:
And worthy friend as both our thoughts conspired,
And ioyned in vnion to performe this deede,
This acceptable deede to Heauens and Rome,
So lets continue in our high resolue:
And as wee haue with honor thus begunne,
So lets persist, vntill our liues bee done.
Cassi.
Then let vs go and with our warlike troopes,
Collected from our seuerall Prouinces,
Make Asia subiect to our Conquering armes,
Brutus thou hast commanded the Illirian bandes:
The feared Celts and Lusitanian horse,
Parthenians proud, and Thrasians borne in warre:
And Macedon yet proud with our old actes,
With all the flowre of Louely Thessaly,
Vnder my warlike collours there shall march:
New come from Syria and from Babilon,
The warlike Mede, and the Arabian Boe,
The Parthian fighting when hee seemes to flie:
Those conquering Gauls that built their seates in Greece,
And all the Costers on the Mirapont.
SCE. 1.
Enter Cæsars Ghost.Gho.
Out of the horror of those shady vaultes,
Where Centaurs, Harpies, paynes and furies fell:
And Gods and Ghosts and vgly Gorgons dwell,
My restles soule comes heere to tell his wronges.
Hayle to thy walles, thou pride of all the world,
Thou art the place where whilome in my life.
And my proud throane that seem'd to check the heauens.
But now my pompe and I are layd more lowe,
With these asosiates of my ouerthrow,
Here ancient Assur and proud Belus lyes,
Ninus the first that sought a Monarches name.
Atrides fierce with the Æacides,
The Greeke Heros, and the Troian flower,
Blood-thirsting Cyrus and the conquering youth:
That sought to fetch his pedegree from Heauen,
Sterne Romulus and proud Tarquinius,
The mighty Sirians and the Ponticke Kings,
Alcides and the stout, Carthagian Lord,
The fatall enemie to the Roman name.
Ambitious Sylla and fierce Marius,
And both the Pompeyes by me don to death,
I am the last not least of the same crue,
Looke on my deeds and say what Cæsar was,
Thessalia, Ægipt, Pontus, Africa,
Spayne Brittaine, Almany and France,
Saw many a bloody tryall of my worth.
But why doe I my glory thus restraine,
When all the world was but a Charyot,
Wherein I rode Triumphing in my pride?
But what auayles this tale of what I was?
Since in my chefest hight Brutus base hand.
With three and twenty wounds my heart did goare,
Giue me my sword and shild Ile be Reueng'd,
My mortall wounding speare and goulden Crest.
I will dishorse my foemen in the field,
Alasse poore Cæsar thou a shadow art,
An ayery substance wanting force and might,
Then will I goe and crie vpon the world,
Exclame on Anthony and Octauian,
Which seeke through discord and discentions broyles,
T'imbrue their weapons in each others blood,
And leaue to execute my iust reuenge,
O how this sight my greeued soule doth wound,
Enter Anthony, at on dore, Octauian at another with Souldiers.
Anth.
Now martiall friends competitors in armes,
You that will follow Anthony to fight,
Whome stately Rome hath oft her Consull seene,
Grac'd with eternall trophes of renowne,
With Libian triumphes and Iiberian spoyles,
Who scorns to haue his honour now distaind,
Or credit blemisht by a Boyes disgrace,
Prepare your dauntles stomakes to the fight,
Where without striking you shall ouer come.
Octa.
Fellowes in war-faire which haue often serued,
Vnder great Cæsar my disceased sier,
And haue return'd the conquerors of the world,
Clad in the Spoyles of all the Orient:
That will not brooke that any Roman Lord,
Should iniure mighty Iulius Cæsars sonne,
Recall your wonted vallour and these hearts,
That neuer entertaynd Ignoble thoughts
And make my first warre-faire and fortunate:
Ant.
Stike vp drums, and let your banners flie,
Thus will we set vpon the enemy.
Gho.
Cease Drums to strike, and fould your banners vp,
Wake not Bellona with your trumpets Clange,
Nor call vnwilling Mars vnto the field:
See Romaines, see my wounds not yet clos'd vp,
The bleeding monuments of Cæsars wronges.
Haue you so soone for got my life and death?
My life wherein I reard your fortunes vp.
My death wherein my reared fortune fell,
My life admir'd and wondred at of men?
My death which seem'd vnworthy to the Gods,
My life which heap'd on you rewards and gifts,
My death now begges one gift; a iust reueng.
Ant.
A Chilly cowld possesseth all my Ioyntes,
Octa.
O see how terrible my Fathers lookes?
My haire stands stiffe to see his greisly hue:
Alasse I deare not looke him in the face,
And words do cleaue to my benummed Iawes.
Gho.
For shame weake Anthony throw thy weapons downe
Sonne sheath thy sword, not now for to be drawne,
Brutus must feele the heauy stroke thereof:
But if that needes you will into the field,
And that warrs enuie pricks your forward hate.
To slacke your fury with each others blood,
Then forward on to your prepared deaths
Let sad Alecto sound her fearefull trump.
Reueng a rise in lothsome sable weedes,
Light-shining Treasons and vnquenced Hates,
Horror and vgly Murther (nights blacke child,)
Let sterne Mægera on her thundering drumme,
Play gastly musicke to comfort your deathes.
Banner to banner, foote gainst foote opos'd,
Sword against sword, shild gainst shild, and life to life,
Let death goe raginge through your armed rankes,
And load himselfe with heapes of murthered men,
And let Heauens iustice send you all to Hell,
Anth.
Shamst thou not Anthony to draw thy sword,
On Cæsars Sonne, for rude rash youth full brawles,
And dost let passe their treason vnrevenged,
That Cæsars life and glory both did end,
Octa.
Shame of my selfe, and this intended fight,
Doth make me feare t' approach his dreadfull sight:
Forgiue my slacknes to reuenge thy wronges,
Pardon my youth that rashly was mislead,
Through vaine ambition for to doe this deed,
Gho.
Then ioyne your hands and heare let battle cease,
Chang feare to Ioy, and warre to smooth-fac't Peace.
Oct.
Then Father heere in sight of Heauen and thee,
I giue my hand and heart to Anthony,
Ant.
Take likewise mine, the hand that once was vowd',
VVhich now shall strike in yong Octauians rights.
Gho.
Now sweare by all the Dieties of Heauen,
All Gods and powers you do adore and serue:
For to returne my murther on their cruell head,
Whose trayterous hands my guiltles bloud haue shed.
Anth.
Then by the Gods that through the raging waues,
Brought thee braue Troian to old Latium,
And great Quirinus placed now in Heauen:
By the Gradinus that with shield of Brasse,
Defendest Rome, by the ouerburning flames
Of Uesta and Carpeian Towers of Ioue.
Vowes Anthony to quite thy worthy death,
Or in performance loose his vitall breath.
Octa.
The like Octauian vowes to Heauen and thee.
Gho.
Then go braue warriors with succesfull hap,
Fortune shall waite vpon your rightfull armes,
And courage sparkell, from your Princely eyes,
Dartes of reuenge to daunt your enemies.
Antho.
Now with our armies both conioyned in one,
Weele meete the enemy in Macedon:
Æmathian fieldes shall change her flowry greene,
And die proud Flora in a sadder hew:
Siluer Stremonia, whose faire Christall waues,
Once sounded great Alcides echoing fame:
When as he slew that fruitefull headed snake,
Which Lerna long-time fostered in her wombe:
Shall in more tragick accentes and sad tunes,
Eccho the terror of thy dismall sight,
Hemus shall fat his barren fieldes with bloud:
And yellow Ceres spring from woundes of men,
The toyling husband-men in time to come,
Shall with his harrow strike on rusty helmes,
And finde, and wonder, at our swordes and speares,
And with his plowe dig vp braue Romans graues:
Finis. Act.
| The Tragedie of Caesar and Pompey or Caesars Reuenge | |