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 | Antonius |  |
Since
cruell Heau'ns against me obstinate,
Since all mishappes of the round engin doo
Conspire my harme: since men, since powers diuine,
Aire, earth, and Sea are all iniurious:
And that my Queene her self, in whome I liu'd,
The Idoll of my hart, doth me pursue;
It's meete I dye. For her haue I forgone
My Country, Cæsar vnto warre prouok'd
(For iust reuenge of Sisters wrong my wife,
Who mou'de my Queene (ay me!) to iealousie)
For loue of her, in her allurements caught
Abandon'd life, I honor haue despisde,
Disdain'd my freends, and of the statelye Rome
Despoilde the Empire of her best attire,
Contemn'd that power that made me so much fear'd,
A slaue become vnto her feeble face.
Since all mishappes of the round engin doo
Conspire my harme: since men, since powers diuine,
Aire, earth, and Sea are all iniurious:
And that my Queene her self, in whome I liu'd,
The Idoll of my hart, doth me pursue;
It's meete I dye. For her haue I forgone
My Country, Cæsar vnto warre prouok'd
(For iust reuenge of Sisters wrong my wife,
Who mou'de my Queene (ay me!) to iealousie)
For loue of her, in her allurements caught
Abandon'd life, I honor haue despisde,
Disdain'd my freends, and of the statelye Rome
Despoilde the Empire of her best attire,
Contemn'd that power that made me so much fear'd,
A slaue become vnto her feeble face.
O cruell, traitres, woman most vnkinde,
Thou dost, forsworne, my loue and life betraie:
And giu'st me vp to ragefull enemie,
Which soone (ô foole!) will plague thy periurye.
Thou dost, forsworne, my loue and life betraie:
And giu'st me vp to ragefull enemie,
Which soone (ô foole!) will plague thy periurye.
Yelded Pelusuim on this Countries shore,
Yelded thou hast my Shippes and men of warre,
That nought remaines (so destitute am I)
But these same armes which on my back I weare.
Thou should'st haue had them too, and me vnarm'de
Yeelded to Cæsar naked of defence.
Which while I beare let Cæsar neuer thinke
Triumph of me shall his proud chariot grace
Not think with me his glory to adorne,
On me aliue to vse his victorie.
Yelded thou hast my Shippes and men of warre,
That nought remaines (so destitute am I)
But these same armes which on my back I weare.
Thou should'st haue had them too, and me vnarm'de
Yeelded to Cæsar naked of defence.
Which while I beare let Cæsar neuer thinke
Triumph of me shall his proud chariot grace
Not think with me his glory to adorne,
On me aliue to vse his victorie.
Thou only Cleopatra triumph hast,
Thou only hast my freedome seruile made,
Thou only hast me vanquisht: not by force
(For forste I cannot be) but by sweete baites
Of thy eyes graces, which did gaine so fast
vpon my libertie, that nought remain'd.
None els hencefoorth, but thou my dearest Queene,
Shall glorie in commaunding Antonie.
Thou only hast my freedome seruile made,
Thou only hast me vanquisht: not by force
(For forste I cannot be) but by sweete baites
Of thy eyes graces, which did gaine so fast
vpon my libertie, that nought remain'd.
None els hencefoorth, but thou my dearest Queene,
Shall glorie in commaunding Antonie.
Haue Cæsar fortune and the Gods his freends,
To him haue Ioue and fatall sisters giuen
The Scepter of the earth: he neuer shall
Subiect my life to his obedience.
But when that Death, my glad refuge, shall haue
Bounded the course of my vnstedfast life,
And frosen corps vnder a marble colde
Within tombes bosome widdowe of my soule:
Then at his will let him it subiect make:
Then what he will let Cæsar doo with me:
Make me limme after limme be rent: make me
My buriall take in sides of Thracian wolfe.
To him haue Ioue and fatall sisters giuen
The Scepter of the earth: he neuer shall
Subiect my life to his obedience.
But when that Death, my glad refuge, shall haue
Bounded the course of my vnstedfast life,
And frosen corps vnder a marble colde
Within tombes bosome widdowe of my soule:
Then at his will let him it subiect make:
Then what he will let Cæsar doo with me:
Make me limme after limme be rent: make me
My buriall take in sides of Thracian wolfe.
Poore Antonie! alas what was the day,
The daies of losse that gained thee thy loue!
Wretch Antony! since then Mægæra pale
With Snakie haires enchain'd thy miserie.
The fire thee burnt was neuer Cupids fire
(For Cupid beares not such a mortall brand)
It was some furies torch, Orestes torche,
Which sometimes burnt his mother-murdering soule
(When wandring madde, rage boiling in his bloud,
He fled his fault which folow'd as he fled)
kindled within his bones by shadow pale
Of mother slaine return'd from Stygian lake.
Wretch Antony! since then Mægæra pale
With Snakie haires enchain'd thy miserie.
The fire thee burnt was neuer Cupids fire
(For Cupid beares not such a mortall brand)
It was some furies torch, Orestes torche,
Which sometimes burnt his mother-murdering soule
(When wandring madde, rage boiling in his bloud,
He fled his fault which folow'd as he fled)
kindled within his bones by shadow pale
Of mother slaine return'd from Stygian lake.
Antony, poore Antony! since that daie
Thy olde good hap did farre from thee retire.
Thy vertue dead: thy glory made aliue
So ofte by martiall deeds is gone in smoke:
Since then the Baies so well thy forehead knewe
To Venus mirtles yeelded haue their place:
Trumpets to pipes: field tents to courtly bowers:
Launces and Pikes to daunces and to feastes.
Since then, ô wretch! in stead of bloudy warres
Thou shouldst haue made vpon the Parthian Kings
For Romain honor filde by Crassus foile,
Thou threw'st thy Curiace off, and fearfull healme,
With coward courage vnto Ægipts Queene
In haste to runne, about her necke to hang
Languishing in her armes thy Idoll made:
In summe giuen vp to Cleopatras eies.
Thou breakest at length from thence, as one encharm'd
Breakes from th'enchaunter that him strongly helde.
For thy first reason (spoyling of their force
the poisned cuppes of thy faire Sorceres)
Recur'd thy sprite: and then on euery side
Thou mad'st againe the earth with Souldiours swarme.
All Asia hidde: Euphrates bankes do tremble
To see at once so many Komanes there
Breath horror, rage, and with a threatning eye
In mighty squadrons crosse his swelling streames.
Nought seene but horse, and fier sparkling armes:
Nought heard but hideous noise of muttring troupes.
The Parth, the Mede, abandoning their goods
Hide them for feare in hilles of Hircanie,
Redoubting thee. Then willing to besiege
The great Phraate head of Media,
Thou campedst at her walles with vaine assault,
Thy engins fit (mishap!) not thither brought.
Thy olde good hap did farre from thee retire.
Thy vertue dead: thy glory made aliue
So ofte by martiall deeds is gone in smoke:
Since then the Baies so well thy forehead knewe
To Venus mirtles yeelded haue their place:
Trumpets to pipes: field tents to courtly bowers:
Launces and Pikes to daunces and to feastes.
Since then, ô wretch! in stead of bloudy warres
Thou shouldst haue made vpon the Parthian Kings
For Romain honor filde by Crassus foile,
Thou threw'st thy Curiace off, and fearfull healme,
With coward courage vnto Ægipts Queene
In haste to runne, about her necke to hang
Languishing in her armes thy Idoll made:
In summe giuen vp to Cleopatras eies.
Thou breakest at length from thence, as one encharm'd
Breakes from th'enchaunter that him strongly helde.
For thy first reason (spoyling of their force
the poisned cuppes of thy faire Sorceres)
Thou mad'st againe the earth with Souldiours swarme.
All Asia hidde: Euphrates bankes do tremble
To see at once so many Komanes there
Breath horror, rage, and with a threatning eye
In mighty squadrons crosse his swelling streames.
Nought seene but horse, and fier sparkling armes:
Nought heard but hideous noise of muttring troupes.
The Parth, the Mede, abandoning their goods
Hide them for feare in hilles of Hircanie,
Redoubting thee. Then willing to besiege
The great Phraate head of Media,
Thou campedst at her walles with vaine assault,
Thy engins fit (mishap!) not thither brought.
So long thou stai'st, so long thou doost thee rest,
So long thy loue with such things nourished
Reframes, reformes it selfe and stealingly
Retakes his force and rebecomes more great.
For of thy Queene the lookes, the grace, the woords,
Sweetenes, alurements, amorous delights,
Entred againe thy soule, and day and night,
In watch, in sleepe, her Image follow'd thee:
Not dreaming but of her, repenting still
That thou for warre hadst such a Goddes left.
So long thy loue with such things nourished
Reframes, reformes it selfe and stealingly
Retakes his force and rebecomes more great.
For of thy Queene the lookes, the grace, the woords,
Sweetenes, alurements, amorous delights,
Entred againe thy soule, and day and night,
In watch, in sleepe, her Image follow'd thee:
Not dreaming but of her, repenting still
That thou for warre hadst such a Goddes left.
Thou car'st no more for Parth, nor Parthian bow,
Sallies, assaults, encounters, shocks, alarmes,
For diches, rampiers, wards, entrenched grounds:
Thy only care is sight of Nilus streames,
Sight of that face whose guilefull semblant doth
(Wandring in thee) infect thy tainted hart.
Her absence thee besottes: each hower, each hower
Of staie, to thee impatient seemes an age.
Enough of conquest, praise thou deem'st enough,
If soone enough the bristled fieldes thou see
Of fruitfull Ægipt, and the stranger floud
Thy Queenes faire eyes (another Pharos) lights.
Sallies, assaults, encounters, shocks, alarmes,
For diches, rampiers, wards, entrenched grounds:
Thy only care is sight of Nilus streames,
Sight of that face whose guilefull semblant doth
(Wandring in thee) infect thy tainted hart.
Her absence thee besottes: each hower, each hower
Enough of conquest, praise thou deem'st enough,
If soone enough the bristled fieldes thou see
Of fruitfull Ægipt, and the stranger floud
Thy Queenes faire eyes (another Pharos) lights.
Returned loe, dishonoured, despisde,
In wanton loue a woman thee misleades
Sunke in foule sinke: meane while respecting nought
Thy wife Octauia and her tender babes,
Of whom the long contempt against thee whets
The sword of Cæsar now thy Lord become.
In wanton loue a woman thee misleades
Sunke in foule sinke: meane while respecting nought
Thy wife Octauia and her tender babes,
Of whom the long contempt against thee whets
The sword of Cæsar now thy Lord become.
Lost thy great Empire, all those goodly townes
Reuerenc'd thy name as rebells now thee leaue:
Rise against thee, and to the ensignes flocke
Of conqu'ring Cæsar, who enwalles thee round
Cag'd in thy holde, scarse maister of thy selfe,
Late maister of so many nations.
Reuerenc'd thy name as rebells now thee leaue:
Rise against thee, and to the ensignes flocke
Of conqu'ring Cæsar, who enwalles thee round
Cag'd in thy holde, scarse maister of thy selfe,
Late maister of so many nations.
Yet, yet, which is of grief extreamest grief,
Which is yet of mischiefe highest mischiefe,
It's Cleopatra alas! alas, it's she,
It's she augments the torment of thy paine,
Betraies thy loue, thy life alas!) betraies,
Cæsar to please, whose grace she seekes to gaine:
With thought her Crowne to saue, and fortune make
Onely thy foe which common ought haue beene.
Which is yet of mischiefe highest mischiefe,
It's Cleopatra alas! alas, it's she,
It's she augments the torment of thy paine,
Betraies thy loue, thy life alas!) betraies,
Cæsar to please, whose grace she seekes to gaine:
With thought her Crowne to saue, and fortune make
Onely thy foe which common ought haue beene.
If her I alwaies lou'd, and the first flame
Of her heart-killing loue shall burne me last:
Iustly complaine I she disloyall is,
Nor constant is, euen as I constant am,
To comfort my mishap, despising me
No more, then when the heauens fauour'd me.
Of her heart-killing loue shall burne me last:
Iustly complaine I she disloyall is,
Nor constant is, euen as I constant am,
To comfort my mishap, despising me
No more, then when the heauens fauour'd me.
But ah! by nature women wau'ring are,
Each moment changing and rechanging mindes.
Vnwise, who blinde in them, thinkes loyaltie
Euer to finde in beauties company.
Each moment changing and rechanging mindes.
Vnwise, who blinde in them, thinkes loyaltie
Euer to finde in beauties company.
Chorus.
The boyling tempest still
Makes not Sea waters fome:
Nor still the Northern blast
Disquiets quiet streames:
Nor who his chest to fill
Sayles to the morning beames,
On waues winde tosseth fast
Still kepes his Ship from home.
Nor Ioue still downe doth cast
Inflam'd with bloudie ire
On man, on tree, on hill,
His darts of thundring fire:
Nor still the heat doth last
On face of parched plaine:
Nor wrinkled colde doth still
On frozen furrowes raigne.
But still as long as we
In this low world remaine,
Mishapps our dayly mates
Our liues do entertaine:
And woes which beare no dates
Still pearch vpon our heads,
None go, but streight will be
Some greater in their Steads.
When first she made vs liue:
When we began to be,
To be began our woe:
Which growing euermore
As dying life dooth growe,
Do more and more vs greeue,
And tire vs more and more.
No stay in fading states,
For more to height they retch,
Their fellow miseries
The more to height do stretch.
They clinge euen to the crowne,
And threatning furious wise
From tir annizing pates
Do often pull it downe.
In vaine on waues vntride
to shunne them go we should
To Scythes and Massagetes
Who neare the Pole reside:
In vaine to boiling sandes
Which Phæbus battry beates,
For with vs still they would
Cut seas and compasse landes.
The darknes no more sure
To ioyne with heauy night:
The light which guildes the dayes
To follow Titan pure:
No more the shadow light
The body to ensue:
Then wretchednes alwaies
O blest who neuer breath'd,
Or whome with pittie mou'de,
Death from his cradle reau'de,
And swadled in his graue:
And blessed also he
(As curse may blessing haue)
Who low and liuing free
No princes charge hath prou'de.
By stealing sacred fire
Prometheus then vnwise,
Prouoking Gods to ire,
The heape of ills did sturre,
And sicknes pale and colde
Our ende which onward spurre,
To plague our hands too bolde
To filch the wealth of Skies.
In heauens hate since then
Of ill with ill enchain'd
We race of mortall men
full fraught our breasts haue borne:
And thousand thousand woes
Our heaun'ly soules now thorne,
Which free before from those
No! earthly passion pain'd.
Warre and warres bitter cheare
Now long time with vs staie,
And feare of hated foe
Still still encreaseth sore:
Our harmes worse dayly growe,
Lesse yesterdaye they were
To morowe then to daye.
| Antonius | |