University of Virginia Library

Actus tertius.

Octauia.
Cæsar.
O fearce desire, the spring of sighes and teares,
Relieu'd with want, impouerisht with store,
Nurst with vaine hopes, and fed with doubtful feares,
Whose force withstood, encreaseth more and more.
How doth thy pride thus torture my poore heart,
Whiles I for bodies shadowes entertaine:
And in the haruest of most high desert,
Do reape no fruite, but scorne and deep disdaine.
No fearce Hyrcanian forrest doth possesse,
So wilde a Tyger, nor no Libian coaste,
Hath euer knowne a greedy Lyonesse,
Rob'd of the pray which she affected most,
So beyond measure full of furious Ire,
As is the minde rob'd of his chiefe desire.
O destinies, that draw the golden twine,
Which doth conduct the neuer-tyred poste,
Why haue you lest vnclos'd these eyes of mine,
To see the field of all mine honor lost?
In vaine I sought a whyle, to cure the wound
With balme of hope, drawne from a constant minde,
But now the truth is manyfestly found:
I heare, I see, I know, I feele, I finde,
The shamefull wronge, the scorne and high disdaine
Which faithlesse he most falsly dooth pretend,
To power on me whiles from dispaire in vaine,
With constant hope, my weaknesse I defend,
O torment, worse then deaths most bitter gall:
Worse then is found in that infernall place;
To see another glory in my fall;
To see another proud with my disgrace.
Why doost thou stay, distrest Octauia dye.
Dead to all ioyes let death thy torments end,
Who gaue thee life, the same doth now deny:
And to another his affection bend.
Another dooth thy interest enioy:
And yet thou liuest, and yet thou doost delay,
To calme with death the tempest of annoye,
When to disgrace thy life dooth thee betray.
Dye dead Octauia. What? and basely dye?
Shall I sit downe and yeeld my selfe to shame?
Shall I content my selfe with wronges? not I.
Reuenge Octauia, or thou art too blame.
Dye neuer vnreueng'd of such a wrong.
My power is such that I may well preuaile
And rather then I will endure it long,
With fier and sword I will you both assaile.
My nature doth abhorre to be thus vsed,
My heart doth scorne such monstrous iniurie:
My birth, my state, disdaine to be abused,
And I will deeply score thy periurie.
Then greefe giue place a while vnto disdaine.
Mylde pittie, make thee wings and flye away:
And death, withdraw thy hastie hand againe,
Whiles with aduantage I their debts repay.
How now Octauia, whither wilt thou flye?
Not what thou maist, but do thou what is iust:
Shall these same hands attempt impietie?
I may, I can, I will, I ought, I must,
Reuenge this high disgrace, this Cæsar will,
Byrthe, nature, reason, all require the same.
Yet vertue will not haue me to do ill.
Yeeld, all things yeeld, to vertues sacred name.
How then? euen thus, with patience make thee strong,
The heauens are iust, let them reuenge thy wrong.
Cruell to me, selfe-wronging Antony,
Thy follie shall not make Octauia sinne:
Ile be as true in vertuous constancie,
As thou art false and infamous therein.
Ile be as famous for a vertuous wife,
As thou notorious for so leawd a life.

Cæsar.
As is a sweet pearle dropping siluer showre,
Which some milde cloud down from the shadie skies
Vpon the parched flowrie fields dooth power:
Such is Octauiaes sight to Cæsars eyes.
Hath Iæsons trauaile gaind the goulden fleece,
Or hath Octauia faild of hir entent?
Is Antony within the bounds of Greece,
Or dooth he stay at Blanckbourg malecontent?

Oct.
O Cæsar, how my now distracted minde
Vnites it selfe to render worthy thanks:
But woe is me, no way, no meanes I finde,
No hope to hide Antonius lustful prankes.
I him besought, by all that words might say,
By this same ring that knit the Gordian knot:
By all the rights past on our wedding day,
But all in vaine, for all is now forgot.
Looke how some proude hard harted mighty rocke,
Which makes the sea a mirrour for his face,
Repell's the waters with a churlish stroake,
Which mildely striue his body to imbrace:
So his indurate minde reiects my words,
And rudely makes me and my hopes forlorne,
His flinty heart naught but repulse affoords,
And my deserts returne me naught but scorne.

Cæsar.
Were not Octauia precious in my sight,
Whose will withstood what I did most desire:
The bloudy lynes had not been now to wrighte,
Of such reuenge as his leawd deeds require.
But worthy branch of braue Octauius lyne,
In Cæsars thoughts liue and predominate:
Yours is my kingdome and what els is mine,
My selfe, my scepter and my royal state.
Then sith I euer graunted your request,
And let you prooue al meanes his loue to winne:
Since you and we in vaine haue done our best,
To stay his foote out of the sincke of sinne;
Now for my sake, if I may ought preuaile,
For dead Octauius neuer stained worth:
For deare Anchariaes loue, and your auaile,
Excuse no more his faithlesnesse hencefoorth,
Yeeld but to this, liue heere and banish care,
Forget his name that traytor-like is fled:
Liue like a Queene, remember who you are,
And let me rouse him from his Lemmans bed.
Leaue you this house of his, and what is his,
Stand of your selfe since he entends your fall:
Dishonor not your name with others misse,
If loue cannot recall him terror shall.

Oct.
Dishonor not my name! O Cæsar no,
My miserie is not of that degree:
Wrought by my follie or forc'd by my foe,
Which mought attribute that disgrace to me.
Tis paine, and greefe, to beare and suffer wrong,
But shame and sinne to him that dooth the same:
True patience can mildly suffer long,
Where rage and furie do our liues defame.
Tis fortitude which scornes the force of wrong,
And temperance not to be moou'd withall:
Tis constancie makes vs continue strong,
And wisdoms worke to free our selues from thrall.
But I am wrong'd you say, and tis base feare.
Without reuenge to suffer iniurie:
Its cowardize vnworthy wrongs to beare,
And madnesse to giue way to trecherie,
Well then, reuenge, but what? Octauiaes wrong,
Of whom? of Antony. And who is he?
Ah my deere Lord, that will returne ere long,
And hate his fall, and be most true to me.
If not, Ile then reuenge, but how? with death?
He is my selfe, his greefe procures my paine.
With spoile and losse? O no that were not good,
By certaine losse to hope for doubtfull gaine.
How then? be false as he is most vntrue.
One wound doth not an others balme procure.
Flame is not quencht with flame, but both renue,
A double force not easie to endure.
Whence springs reuenge? from malice and disdaine:
Then speake not of it, for it is in vaine.
Earth open first thine vndeuided Iawes,
And swallow me in thine infernall wombe:
Eare willingly I swarue from vertues lawes,
Truthe my loues childbed was, truthe be his tombe.

Cæs.
Were Antony as loyall in his loue,
As he is false forsworne, and fondly bent:
Then would I thinke it reason to approoue,
And highly praise your vertuous entent.
But sith he willingly doth you forsake,
And wilfully persistes to do vs wrong:
High honor dooth require our swords to take,
Most iust reuenge, which we may not prolong.

Oct.
His falshood dooth not malice raise in me,
But rather shewes how fraile mans nature is:
An argument which bids me carefull be,
Least I my selfe should likewise do amisse.

Cæs.
Can my perswasions then no whit preuaile?
Can my request no thought of yeelding finde?
Can you esteeme of him whose truth dooth faile?
There are few women of Octauiaes minde.

Octa.
Too few I grant, and therefore am I such,
And though alone, yet will perseuer still:
We imitate the multitude too much,
Most do, as do the most, and most do ill.
The number of the vertuous is so small,
That few delight to tread that loanely way:
But wisdomes heires are iealious of their fall;
And thinke it shamefull all should goe astray.
A vertuous act seemes strange in some mens sight,
Because they seldome saw the like before,
But noble mindes are carefull of the right,
And others errors make them feare the more.
How sencelesly we sleepe in follies bedde,
How few there are indeed, how all would seeme
Wise, honest, iust, how fondly are we led,
To vse that least which we do most esteeme?
Then ought a prince to feare much more then any:
Least his fault be a president to many.

Cæs.
And is it vertue then to be misused?

Octa.
To giue no cause why we should be abused.

Cæs.
Do but consent, Ile act and beare the blame.

Octa.
To giue consent to sinne, is sinne & shame.

Cæs.
And is it sinne to punish leawdnesse then?

Octa.
Sinne to exulte vpon repentant men.

Cæs.
But he persists in hatefull trecherie.

Oct.
True loue may spring from pardoned iniurie.

Cæ.
How may they loue, who worlds of distance part?

Octa
He is not far thats lodg'd within the heart.

Cæ.
But time, and absence, will consume all loue.

Oct.
Soner the hart, which doth those passions proue.

Cæs.
Not so, no mortall darte neare loue is found.

Oct.
But we are mortall which endure the wound.

Cæs.
Yet leaue this house, if not his loue deny.

Oct.
First let this soule out of his lodging flye.

Cæs.
Can nature then no priuiledge obtaine?
Are his deserts in such aboundant store?
Must all I do be fruitlesse and in vaine?
Antonius be your guide, I say no more.

Oct.
If that my words so much offend your minde,
O silent death, thou my best refuge art:
O breake my heart, for Cæsar is vnkinde,
In silent greefe, O breake my wounded heart.

Cæs.
What in a traunce? O sister, sister deare,
Light of my life, deare modell of my soule:
Hurt not your selfe, O banish needlesse feare,
Woe, woe, to me, that did you thus controule:
O deare Octauia, I spake but to prooue,
How farre your thoughts were bent with iealousie;
To see if malice had exilde your loue,
To finde how you esteemd of Antony.

Oct.
O Cæsar more belou'd then these same eyes,
More then the light which glads my tired life:
Do not my truly louing minde despise,
Kill not my heart with this your factious strife.
Alasse tis not his house that I respect,
His wealth, or try partite high regiment:
I would the worlds great treasurie neglect,
Rather then hazard Cæsars discontent.
Tis not affection that enchaines my minde,
Or partiall loue that makes my faith so strong:
Too well alasse my selfe abusde I finde,
And this my hart too sensible of wrong.
And what is worse, this wrong so full of scorne,
As mought incense the mildest minde aliue:
To see my Lord a gracelesse Queene suborne;
And my dishonour carelesly contriue.
Nay worse then that, if worse then that may be,
No creature euer felt the like disgrace:
Each wronged wight may hope for remedie,
My shamefull storie nothing may deface.
For if my Lord would cure this wound againe:
Yet woe is me, the scarre will still remaine.
In these respects, perhaps I could be brought,
To strike reuenge as deepe as any could:
I want no meanes whereby it mought be wrought,
For many thousands wish it if I would.
And what is more, my selfe can scarcely let:
But Cæsars sworde for me would pay the debt.
But when I finde in closet of my heart,
How I haue paun'd my faith to Antony,
How I haue vow'd that nought but death should part
From him my loue, and my fidelitie.
When that I see the vulgar peoples eyes,
Make my designes the patterne of their deeds:
How with my thoughts they striue to simpathize,
And how my misse their certaine errour breedes.
When that I finde how my departure were,
The opening of a gate to ciuill warres:
Then Atlas-like I am constrain'd to beare,
A hated hell though not the happie starres.
Ile rather dye then witnesse with these eyes,
In mortall wounds and bloudie lines enrowled,
The argument of my calamities,
Whom proud mischance, vniustly thus controwled.
Shall neuer two such noble Emperours,
Their dearest liues aduenture for my sake:
Shall neuer for my sake such mightie powers,
The doubtfull chaunce of battle vndertake.
Shall neuer tongue recount Octauiaes errour,
An instance of his faithlesse periurie
Ile rather dye the worlds vnspotted myrrour,
And with my faith surmount his iniurie.

Cæs.
Well sister, then I see that constancie
Is sometimes seated in a womans brest:
Your strange designes euen from your infancie,
Can neuer without wonder be exprest.

Oct.
I know not what you thinke of woman kinde,
That they are faithlesse and vnconstant euer:
For me, I thinke all women striue to finde
The perfect good, and therein to perseuer.
Euen as a Torche, or Sulphure poudered light,
Whiles any nourishment maintaines his flame,
Fayles not to burne, and burning shineth bright,
Till arte obscure, or force put out the same:
Such is the minde in womans brest contained,
With the true zeale of vertues loue enflam'd,
We may be dead, but liuing neuer stained,
We may be wrongd, but neuer rightly blam'd.

Cæs.
Wel, for your selfe proceed as you thinke best:
Time and the heauens, must see these wrongs redrest.

Cæsar. Titius. Plancus.
[Cæs.]
Great peeres that striue with wisdoms sacred fame,
To ouer-liue all humaine memory:
Shew me, for what entent you hither came,
What causde you to reuoult from Antony?

Tit.
By our accesse we nothing else entend,
But humbly to beseech your maiestie:
Vnder your gracious fauour to defend,
Our wronged selues from hatefull iniurie.
Proud Cleopatræ, Ægypts craftie Queene,
Rules Antony, and wrongs she cares not where:
So insolent hir late attempts haue been,
As no pride-scorning Romaine heart can beare.
She is become our Queene and gouernour,
And we whose courage feares the force of no man:
By seruile basenesse of our Emperour,
Must be content to stoope vnto a woman.

Cæs.
What Angel Queen rules those Nyleian coasts,
Whose beautie can so ouer-rule mens mindes:
What goddesse can command the man that boasts
To equall Iulius, in his high designes.

Plan.
If in those guifts, by nature we enioy,
Vnto Octauiaes sacred maiestie,
Shee be but comparable any way:
Be neuer Romaines so disgrac'd as we.
But for hir artificiall ornaments,
For pompe, for pride, for superfluitie,
For all excesse that folly represents:
She doth exceed the height of vanitie.
Hir sunne-burnt beautie cannot please his sight,
That hath a minde with any reason fraught:
But tis hir Syren tongue that dooth delight,
Hir craftie Cyrces wit which hath him caught.
As when from Athens, Niger made returne,
And did relate the Emperesse entent,
Which he of purpose had in charge to learne:
And did hir princely guifts to him present.
And further did with truth discouering words,
Octauiaes well deserued praises frame:
An argument which to that Queene affords,
A furious blast to raise a Iealious flame.
Then did she nothing vnattempted leaue,
That art mought frame, or wit mought well deuize
Which mought his minde, of reason quite bereaue:
And thus she straight began to Syrenize.
Shee pines hir body with the want of food,
That she mought seeme to languish for his sake:
And by hir gestures would be vnderstood,
How from his absence she hir death should take.
Hir deepe lamenting lookes fixt in his face,
In silent termes present an earnest sute:
As who should say, O pitty my hard case,
Whom violence of passion maketh mute.
Then would she stand of purpose in his way,
In any place where he should passage make:
And there as though vnwilling to bewray,
What bitter griefe she inwardly did take:
Downe from her eyes distils a Christall tyde,
Which at his comming she would dry againe,
And sodainly would turne her head a side,
As though vnwilling to reueale her paine.
Thus in his presence rauished with ioy,
She smiles, and shewes, what mirth she can deuize:
But in his absence drowned with annoy,
She seemes to take her life from those his eyes.
Then Meeremaid-like his scences she inuades,
With sweetest nectar of a sugered tongue:
Vnto her will, she euer him perswades,
The force of her words witch-craft is so strong.
Then came the kenell of her flattering crew,
Who largely paint the story of her death,
Like feede Atturneys they her sute renue,
And hunt Antonius spirits out of breath.
Wherewith assayl'd, he like a man enchaunted,
To make her know she need not to misdoubt him:
Or like to one with some mad fury haunted,
Assembleth all the people round about him.
In that fayre Citty royalliz'd by fame,
By that great Macedonian monarke builded:
Of whom it tooke beginning, birth and name;
Where on a high Tribunall seate which yeelded,
A large prospect, were plac'd too chayres of golde;
One for himselfe, another for her grace,
And humbler seates which mought her childrē hold,
Of such like mettall, in the selfe same place.
There he establisht Cleopatra, Queene
Of Ægipt, Cyprus, and of Lidia:
And that his bounty mought the more beseene,
He ioyn'd thereto the lower Syria.
Cæsarion, heyre apparant to her grace
Was constituted King of those same lands.
His owne two sonnes by her were there in place,
Attended with great troopes of martiall bands.
These two, the mighty Kings of Kings he called,
And to the eldest gaue Armenia,
The country Media, and forthwith enstalled
Him regent of the Kingdome Parthia.
To Ptolomy he gaue Phœnicia,
And all the terrytories there adioyning:
The vpper Syria, and Cilicia,
Vnto them both peculiar guards assigning.
A Median gowne the elder of them ware,
And all th'Armenian souldiers so instructed:
Accomplishing the charge they had before,
About him came and thence they him conducted.
In Macedonian robes the other stands,
In distance from his brother little space:
About him came the Macedonian bands,
And guarded safe his person from the place.
These things proclaim'd, the trumpets lowdest voice,
Vnto all peoples eares foorth with imparted,
Whereat some frowne, some murmure, some reioyce,
Whiles he, with his immortall queene departed.

Cæs.
Immortall? why you said she was not such.

Pla.
Not she, but her attyre did claime thus much.

Cæ.
Was her attyre so admirable then?

Pla.
Scorning the basenes of vs mortall men.
Clad like the Goddesse Isis she did goe:
Then what hard heart wold not haue thought her so

Cæs.
When that Appollodorus on his backe,
A flockbed did to Iulius Cæsar bring:
With thongs of leather trust vp like a sacke;
As though there had been need of such a thing,
Where was the Goddesse when this came to passe?

Pla.
Shee, noble she, was ryding on her Asse.

Cæs.
When Antony about the streetes doth runne,
Listning at each mans window in the night:
To heare what in the house is said or done,
And with strainge noyses passengers affright.
Where is this Goddesse then so highly blest?

Pla.
She ambles after to laugh at the iest.

Cæ
And shal our state maintaine their hateful pride?
Shall bleeding Roome procure their wanton peace?
Tis time we stould a remedy prouide,
And their ambition speedily suppresse.

Chorus.