University of Virginia Library

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 Father to vngently slaine,
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,
When liuing vertue did require such meede,
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.
Sweete woundes in which I see distressed Rome,
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.