University of Virginia Library

SCENA 3.

Enter Anthony, Dolobella, Lord and others.
An.
From sad Pharsalia blushing al with bloud,
From deaths pale triumphes, Pompey ouerthrowne,
Romains in forraine soyles, brething their last,
Reuenge, stange wars and dreadfull stratagems,
Wee come to set the Lawrell on thy head
And fill thy eares with triumphs and with ioyes.

Dolo.
As when that Hector from the Gracian campe
With spoiles of slaughtered Argians return'd,
The Troyan youths with crownes of conquering palme:
The Phrigian Virgins with faire flowry wrethes
Welcom'd the hope, and pride of Ilium,
So for thy victory and conquering actes
Wee bring faire wreths of Honor & renowne,
Which shall enternally thy head adorne.

Lord.
Now hath thy sword made passage for thy selfe,
To wade in bloud of them that sought thy death,
The ambitious riuall of thine Honors high,
Whose mightinesse earst made him to be feard
Now flies and is enforc'd to giue thee place.
Whil'st thou remainst the conquering Hercules
Triumphing in thy spoyles and victories.

Cæs.
When Phæbus left faire Thetis watery couch,
And peeping forth from out the goulden gate
Of his bright pallace saw our battle rank'd:
Oft did hee seeke to turne his fiery steedes,
Oft hid his face, and shund such tragick sights.
What stranger passest euer by this cost
Thee this accursed soyle distainde with blood
Not Christall riuers, are to quench thy thirst.
For goaring streames, their riuers cleerenesse staines:
Heere are no hils wherewith to feede thine eyes,
But heaped hils of mangled Carkases,
Heere are no birdes to please thee with their notes:
But rauenous Vultures, and night Rauens horse.

Anto.
What meanes great Cæsar, droopes our generall,
Or melts in womanish compassion:
To see Pharsalias fieldes to change their hewe
And siluer streames be turn'd to lakes of blood?
Why Cæsar oft hath sacrific'd in France,
Millions of Soules, to Plutoes grisly dames:
And made the changed coloured Rhene to blush,
To beare his bloody burthen to the sea.
And when as thou in mayden Albion shore
The Romaine, Ægle brauely didst aduance,
No hand payd greater tribute vnto death,
No heart with more couragious Noble fire
And hope, did burne with glorious great intent.
And now shall passion base that Noble minde,
And weake euents that courrage ouercome?
Let Pompey proud, and Pompeys Complices
Die on our swords, that did enuie our liues,
Let pale Tysiphone be cloyd with bloud:
And snaky furies quench their longing thirst,
And Cæsar liue to glory in their end.

Cæs.
They say when as the younger Affrican,
Beheld the mighty Carthage wofull fall:
And sawe her stately Towers to smoke from farre,
He wept, and princely teares ran downe his cheekes,
Let pity then and true compassion,
Moue vs to rue no traterous Carthage fall,
No barbarous periurd enemies decay,
But Rome our natiue Country, haples Rome,
Whose bowe's to vngently we haue peerc'd,
Faire pride of Europe, Mistresse of the world,
Cradle of vertues, nurse of true renowne,
Whome Ioue hath plac'd in top of seauen hils:
That thou the lower worldes seauen climes mightst rule.
Thee the proud Parthian and the cole-black Moore,
The sterne Tartarian, borne to manage armes,
Doth feare and tremble at thy Maiesty.
And yet I bred and fostered in thy lappe,
Durst striue to ouerthrowe thy Capitol:
And thy high Turrets lay as low as hell.

Dolo.
O Rome, and haue the powers of Heauen decreed,
When as thy fame did reach vnto the Skie,
And the wide Ocean was thy Empires boundes,
And thou enricht with spoyles of all the world,
Was waxen proud with peace and soueraine raigne:
That Ciuill warres should loose what Forraine won,
And peace his ioyes, be turn'd to luckles broyles.

Lord.
O Pompey, cursed cause of ciuill warre,
Which of those hel-borne sterne Eumenides:
Inflam'd thy minde with such ambitious fire,
As nought could quench it but thy Countries bloud.

Dolo.
But this no while thy valour doth destayne,
Which found'st vnsought for cause of ciuill broyles,
And fatall fuell which this fire enflamd.

Anto.
Let then his death set period to this strife,
Which was begun by his ambitious life.

Cæs.
The flying Pompey to Larissa hastes,
And by Thessalian Temple shapes his course:
Where faire Peneus tumbles vp his waues,
Him weele pursue as fast as he vs flies,
Nor he though garded with Numidian horse,
Nor ayded with the vnresisted powre:
The Meroe, or seauen mouth'd Nile can yeeld:
No not all Affrick arm'd in his defence
Shall serue to shrowd him from my fatall sworde.

Exit.