Chapter II: Part 2

_Caesar._ There sterne _Achillas_ and _Fortunius_ lie,
Traytorous _Sempronius_ and proud _Ptolomey_,
Go plead your cause fore the angry _Rhadamant_, 800
And tel him why you basely _Pompey_ slew.
And let your guilty blood appease his Ghost,
That now sits wandring by the Stygian bankes,
Vnworthy sacrifice to quite his worth,
For _Pompey_ though thou wert mine enemy,
And vayne ambition mou'd vs to this strife;
Yet now in death when strife and enuy cease.
Thy princely vertues and thy noble minde,
Moue me to rue thy vndeserued death,
That found a greater daunger then it fled; 810
Vnhapy man to scape so many wars,
And to protract thy glorious day so long,
Here for to perish in a barbarous soyle,
And end liues date stabd by a Bastards hand,
But yet with honour shalt thou be Intomb'd,
I will enbalme thy body with my teares,
And put thy ashes in an Vrne of gold,
And build with marble a deserued graue.
Whose worth indeede a Temple ought to haue.
_Dolo._ See how compassion drawes foorth Princely teares 820
And Vertue weepes her enemies funerall,
So sorrowed the mighty _Alexander_,
When _Bessus_ hand caus'd _Darius_ to die.
_Ant._ These greeued sorrowing Princes do with me,
Ioyntly agree in Contrariety,
Alacke we mourne, greeued is our mind alike,
Our gate is discontented, heauy our lookes,
Our sorrowes all a like, but dislike cause.
Their foe is their grifes causer which my friend,
It is the losse of one that makes them wayle, 830
But I, that one there is a cruell one,
Do wayle and greeue and vnregarded mone.
Fayre beames cast forth from these dismayfull eyes,
Chaine my poore heart, in loue and sorrowes giues,
_Cleo._ Forget sweete Prince these sad perlexed thoughts,
Withdraw thy mind in clowdy discontent,
And with _AEgiptian_ pleasures feed thine eyes,
Wilt thou be hould the Sepulchers of Kings,
And Monuments that speake the workemens prayse?
Ile bring thee to Great _Alexanders_ Tombe, 840
Where he, whome all the world could not suffice,
In bare six foote of Earth, intombed lies,
And shew thee all the cost and curious art,
Which either _Cleops_ or our _Memphis_ boast:
Would you command a banquit in the Court,
Ile bring you to a Royall goulden bowre,
Fayrer then that wherein great _Ioue_ doth sit,
And heaues vp boles of _Nectar_ to his Queene,
A stately Pallace, whose fayre doble gates:
Are wrought with garnish'd Carued Iuory, 850
And stately pillars of pure bullion framd.
With Orient Pearles and Indian stones imbost,
With golden Roofes that glister like the Sunne,
Shalbe prepard to entertaine my Loue:
Or wilt thou see our _Academick_ Schooles,
Or heare our Priests to reason of the starres,
Hence _Plato_ fecht his deepe Philosophy:
And heere in Heauenly knowledg they excell.
_Antho._ More then most faire, another Heauen to me,
The starres where on Ile gaze shalbe thy face, 860
Thy morall deedes my sweete Philosophy,
_Venus_ the muse whose ayde I must implore:
O let me profit in this study best,
For Beauties scholler I am now prefest.
_Lord._ See how this faire _Egiptian_ Sorceres,
Enchantes these Noble warriars man-like mindes,
And melts their hearts in loue and wantones.
_Caes._ Most glorious Queene, whose cheerefull smiling words
Expell these cloudes that ouer cast my minde.
_Caesar_ will ioy in _Cleopatras_ ioy, 870
And thinke his fame no whit disparaged,
To change his armes, and deadly sounding droms,
For loues sweete Laies, and Lydian harmony,
And now hang vp these Idle instruments.
My warlike speare and vncontrouled crest:
My mortall wounding sword and siluer shield,
And vnder thy sweete banners beare the brunt,
Of peacefull warres and amarous Alarmes:
Why _Mars_ himselfe his bloudy rage alayd,
Dallying in _Venus_ bed hath often playd, 880
And great _Alcides_, when he did returne:
From _Iunos_ taskes, and _Nemean_ victories,
From monsters fell, and _Ncmean_ toyles:
Reposed himselfe in _Deianiras_ armes.
Heere will I pitch the pillars os my fame,
Heere the _non vltra_ of my labors write,
And with these Cheekes of Roses, lockes of Gold,
End my liues date, and trauayles manifould.
_Dolo._ How many lets do hinder vertuous mindes,
From the pursuit of honours due reward, 890
Be sides _Caribdis_, and fell _Scyllas_ spight:
More dangerous _Circe_ and _Calipsoes_ cup,
Then pleasant gardens of _Alcionus_:
And thousand lets voluptiousnesse doth offer.
_Caes._ I will regard no more these murtherous spoyles,
And bloudy triumphs that I lik'd of late:
But in loues pleasures spend my wanton dayes,
Ile make thee garlondes of sweete smelling flowers,
And with faire rosall Chaplets crowne thy head,
The purple _Hyacinth_ of _Phoebus_ Land: 900
Fresh _Amarinthus_ that doth neuer die,
And faire _Narcissus_ deere respendent shoars,
And Violets of Daffadilles so sweete,
Shall Beautify the Temples of my Loue,
Whil'st I will still gaze on thy beautious eyes,
And with Ambrosean kisses bath thy Cheekes.
_Cleo._ Come now faire Prince, and feast thee in our Courts
Where liberal _Caeres_, and _Liaeus_ fat,
Shall powre their plenty forth and fruitfull store,
The sparkling liquor shall ore-flow his bankes: 910
And _Meroe_ learne to bring forth pleasant wine,
Fruitfull _Arabia_, and the furthest Ind,
Shall spend their treasuries of _Spicery_
VVith _Nardus_ Coranets weele guird our heads:
And al the while melodious warbling notes,
Passing the seauen-fould harmony of Heauen:
Shall seeme to rauish our enchanted thoughts,
Thus is the feare of vnkinde _Ptolomey_,
Changed by thee to feast in Iolity:
_Antho._ O how mine stares suck vp her heauenly words, 920
The whilst mine eyes do prey vpon her face:
_Caes._ Winde we then _Anthony_ with this Royall Queene,
This day weele spend in mirth and banqueting.
_Antho._ Had I Queene, _Iunoes_ heard-mans hundred eies,
To gaze vpon these two bright Sunnes ofhirs:
Yet would they all be blinded instantly.
_Caes._ VVhat hath some Melancholy discontent,
Ore-come thy minde with trobled passions.
_Ant._ Yet being blinded with the Sunny beames,
Her beauties pleasing colours would restore, 930
Decayed sight with fresh variety.
_Lord._ Lord _Anthony_ what meanes this trobled minde,
_Caesar_ inuites thee to the royall feast,
That faire Queene _Cleopatra_ hath prepard.
_Antho._ Pardon me worthy _Caesar_ and you Lords,
In not attending your most gratious speech
Thoughts of my Country, and returne to _Rome_,
Som-what distempered my busy head.
_Caes._ Let no such thoughts distemper now thy minde,
This day to _Bacchus_ will wee consecrate, 940
And in deepe goblets of the purest wine,
Drinke healths vnto our seuerall friends at home.
_Antho._ If of my Country or of _Rome_ I thought,
Twas that I neuer ment for to come there,
But spend my life in this sweete paradise. _Exeunt._

ACT. 2. SCE. 4. {SN _Act II sc. iv_}

_Enter Cicero, Brutus, Casca, Camber, Trebonius._

_Cice._ Most prudent heads, that with your councels wise,
The pillars of the mighty _Rome_ sustaine,
You see how ciuill broyles haue torne our state: 950
And priuate strife hath wrought a publique wo,
_Thessalia_ boasts that she hath seene our fall,
And _Rome_ that whilom wont to Tiranize,
And in the necks of all the world hath rang'd,
Loosing her rule, to serue is now constraynd,
_Pompey_ the hope and stay of Common-weale,
VVhose vertues promis'd _Rome_ security
Now flies distrest, disconsolate, forlorne,
Reproch of Fortune, and the victors scorne.
_Caes._ VVhat now is left for wretched _Rome_ to hope, 960
But in laments and bitter future woe,
To wey the downefall of her former pride:
Againe _Porsenna_ brings in _Tarquins_ names,
And _Rome_ againe doth smoke with furious flames.
In _Pompeys_ fall wee all are ouerthrowne,
And subiect made to conqueror Tirany.
_Bru._ Most Noble _Cicero_ and you _Romaine_ Peeres,
Pardon the author of vnhappy newes,
And then prepare to heare my tragick tale.
VVith that same looke, that great _Atrides_ stood, 970
At cruell alter staind with Daughters blood,
When _Pompey_ fled pursuing _Caesars_ sword,
And thought to shun his following desteny.
And then began to thinke on many a friend,
And many a one recalled hee to minde:
Who in his Fortunes pride did leaue their liues,
And vowed seruice at his princely feete,
From out the rest, the yong _Egiptian_ King,
VVhose Father of an Exild banish'd man
Hee seated had in throne of Maiesty, 980
Him chose, to whome he did commit his life,
(But O, who doth remember good-turnes past)
The Rising Sunne, not Setting, doth men please,
To ill committed was so great a trust,
Vnto so base a Fortune fauoring minde.
For he the Conquerors fauor to obtaine,
By Treason caus'd great _Pompey_ to be slaine:
_Casca._ O damned deede.
_Cam._ O Trayterous _Ptolomey_.
_Tre._ O most vnworthy and vngratefull fact. 990
_Cum._ What plages may serue to expiate this act,
The rouling stone or euerturning wheele,
The quenchles flames of firy _Phlegeton_,
Or endles thirst of which the Poets talke,
Are all to gentle for so vilde a deede.
_Cas._ Well did the _Cibills_ vnrespected verse.
Bid thee beware of _Crocadilish Nile_,
_Ter._ And art thou in a barbarous soyle betrayd,
Defrawded _Pompey_ of thy funerall rites,
There none could weepe vpon thy funerall hearse, 1000
None could thy Consulshipes and triumphs tell,
And in thy death set fourth thy liuing praise,
None would erect to thee a sepulcher.
Or put thine ashes in a pretious vrne,
_Cice._ Peace Lords lament not noble _Pompeys_ death,
Nor thinke him wreched, cause he wants a Tombe,
Heauen couers him whome Earth denyes a graue:
Thinke you a heape of stones could him inclose,
Whoe in the _Oceans_ circuite buried is,
And euery place where _Roman_ names are heard, 1010
The world is his graue, where liuing fame doth blaze,
His funerall praise through his immortall trump,
And ore his tombe vertue and honor sits,
With rented heare and eyes bespent with teares,
And waile and weepe their deere sonne _Pompeys_ death,
_Bru._ But now my Lords for to augment this griefe,
_Caesar_ the _Senates_ deadly enimie,
Aimes eke to vs, and meanes to tryumph heere,
Vpon poore conquered _Rome_ and common wealth,
_Cas._ This was the end at which he alwayes aymd, 1020
_Tre._ Then end all hope of _Romaines_ liberty,
Rise noble _Romaine_, rise from rotten Tombes,
And with your swordes recouer that againe:
With your braue prowes won, our basenes lost,
_Gic._ Renowned Lords content your trobled minds.
Do not ad Fuell to the conquerors fier.
Which once inflamed will borne both _Rome_ and vs.
_Caesar_ although of high aspiring thoughtes,
And vncontrould ambitious Maiesty,
Yet is of nature faire and courteous, 1030
You see hee commeth conqueror of the East:
Clad in the spoyles of the _Pharsalian_ fieldes,
Then wee vnable to resist such powre:
By gentle peace and meeke submission,
Must seeke to pacify the victors wrath. _Exeunt._

ACT. 2. SCE. 5. {SN _Act II sc. v_}

_Enter Cato Senior, and Cato Iunior._

_Cat. Sen._ My Sonne thou seest howe all are ouerthrowne,
That fought their Countries free-dome to maintaine,
_Egipt_ forsakes vs, _Pompey_ found his graue, 1040
VVhere hee most succor did expect to haue:
_Scipio_ is ouerthrowne and with his haples fall,
_Affrick_ to vs doth former ayde denay,
O who will helpe men in aduersity:
Yet let vs shewe in our declining state,
That strength of minde, that vertues constancy,
That erst we did in our felicity,
Though Fortune fayles vs lets not fayle our selues,
Remember boy thou art a _Romaine_ borne,
And _Catoes_ Sonne, of me do vertue learne; 1050
Fortune of others, aboue althings see
Thou prize thy Countries loue and liberty,
All blessiings Fathers to their Sonnes can wish
Heauens powre on thee, and now my sonne with-drawe
Thy selfe a while and leaue me to my booke.
_Cat. Iun._ What meanes my Father by this solemne leaue?
First he remembred me of my Fortunes change,
And then more earnestly did me exhort
To Counrries loue, and constancy of minde,
Then he was wont: som-whats the cause, 1060
But what I knowe not, O I feare I feare,
His to couragious heart that cannot beare
The thrall of _Rome_ and triumph of his foe,
By his owne hand threats danger to his life,
How ere it be at hand I will abide,
VVayting the end of this that shal betide. _Exit._

_Cato Senior with a booke in his hand._

_Cato Sen._ _Plato_ that promised immortality,
Doth make my soule resolue it selfe to mount,
Vnto the bowre of those Celestiall ioyes, 1070
VVhere freed from lothed Prison of my soule,
In heauenly notes to _Phoebus_ which shall sing:
And _Pean Io, Pean_ loudely ring.
Then fayle not hand to execute this deede,
Nor faint nor heart for to command my hand,
VVauer not minde to counsell this resolue,
But with a courage and thy liues last act,
Now do I giue thee _Rome_ my last farewell.
Who cause thou fearest ill do therefore die,
O talke not now of _Cannas_ ouerthrowe, 1080
And raze out of thy lasting Kalenders,
Those bloudy songes of _Hilias_ dismall sight:
And note with black, that black and cursed day,
When _Caesar_ conquered in _Pharsalia_,
Yet will not I his conquest glorifie:
My ouerthrow shall neere his triumph grace,
For by my death to the world Ile make that knowne,
No hand could conquer _Cato_ but his owne. _stabs himself._

_Enter Cato Iunior running to him._

_Ca. Iun._ O this it was my minde told me before, 1090
VVhat meanes my Father, why with naked blade,
Dost thou assault, that faithfull princely hand:
And mak'st the base Earth to drinke thy Noble bloud,
Bee not more sterne, and cruell 'gainst thy selfe,
Then thy most hateful enemies would be,
No _Parthian_, _Gaule_, _Moore_, no not _Caesars_ selfe,
VVould with such cruelty thy worth repay,
O stay thy hand, giue me thy fatall blade:
VVhich turnes his edge and waxeth blunt to wound,
A brest so fraught with vertue excellent. 1100
_Ca. Seni._ Why dost thou let me of my firme resolue,
Vnkinde boy hinderer of thy Fathers ioy,
Why dost thou slay me, or wilt thou betray
Thy Fathers life vnto his foe-mens hands,
And yet I wrong thy faith, and loue too much,
In thy soules kindenesse, tis thou art vnkinde.
_Cat. Iun._ If for your selfe you do this life reiect,
Yet you your Sonnes and Countries: sake respect,
Rob not my yong yeares of so sweete a stay,
Nor take from _Rome_ the Pillor of her strength. 1110
_Cat. Sene._ Although I die, yet do I leaue behinde,
My vertues fauor to bee thy youths guide:
But for my Country, could my life it profit,
Ile not refuse to liue that died for it,
Now doth but one smal snuffe of breath remaine:
And that to keepe, should I mine Honor staine?
_Cat. Iuni._ Where you do striue to shew your vertue most,
There more you do disgrace it Cowards vse,
To shun the woes and trobles of this life:
Basely to flie to deaths safe sanctuary, 1120
When constant vertues doth the hottest brunt's,
Of griefes assaultes vnto the end endure.
_Ca. Seni._ Thy words preuaile, come lift me vp my Son,
And call some help to binde my bleeding wounds.
_Cat. Iuni._ Father I go with a more willing minde,
Then did _AEneas_ when from _Troyan_ fire,
He bare his Father, and did so restore:
The greatest gift hee had receiued before. _Exit._
_Cat. Seni._ Now haue I freed mee of that hurtfull Loue,
Which interrupted my resolued will, 1130
Which all the world can neuer stay nor change:
_Caesar_ whose rule commands both Sea and Land,
Is not of powre to hinder this weake hand,
And time succeeding shall behold that I
Although not liue, yet died courragiously, _stab himselfe._

_Enter Cato Iunior._

_Ca. Iuni._ O hast thou thus to thine owne harme deceiu'd me
Well I perceiue thy Noble dauntles heart:
Because it would not beare the Conquerors insolence,
Vsed on it selfe this cruell violence, 1140
I know not whether I should more lament,
That by thine owne hand thou thus slaughtred art,
Or Ioy that thou so nobly didst depart. _Exit._

_FINIS._ ACTVS 2.

{SN _Chor. III_}

_Enter Discord._

_Dis._ Now _Caesar_ rides triumphantly through _Rome_,
And deckes the Capitoll with _Pompeys_ spoyle:
Ambition now doth vertues seat vsurp,
Then thou Reuengfull great _Adastria_ Queene.
Awake with horror of thy dubbing Drumm, 1150
And call the snaky furies from below,
To dash the Ioy of their triumphing pride,
_Erinnis_ kindle now thy _Stigian_ brands,
In discontented _Brutus_ boyling brest,
Let _Caesar_ die a bleeding sacrifice,
Vnto the Soule of thy dead Country _Rome_.
Why sleepest thou _Cassius_? wake thee from thy dreame:
And yet thou naught dost dreame but blood and death.
For dreadfull visions do afright thy sleepe.
And howling Ghosts with gastly horrors cry, 1160
By _Cassius_ hand must wicked _Caesar_ die,
Now _Rome_ cast of thy gaudy paintcd robes
And cloth thy selfe in sable colored weedes,
Change thy vaine triumphs into funerall pomps,
And _Caesar_ cast thy Laurell crowne apart,
And bind thy temples with sad _Cypres_ tree.
Of warrs thus peace insues, of peace more harmes,
Then erst was wrought by tragick wars alarmes, _Exit._

ACT. 3. SCE. I. {SN _Act III sc. i_}

_Enter Cassius._

_Cas._ Harke how _Caesarians_ with resounding shoutes, 1171
Tell heauens of their pompes and victories,
_Caesar_ that long in pleasures idle lap,
And daliance vayne of his Proud Curtezan,
Had luld his sterne and bloody thoughts a sleepe,
Now in _Rome_ streets ore _Romaines_ come to triumph,
And to the _Romains_ shews those _Tropheyes_ sad,
Which from the _Romaines_ he with blood did get:
The Tyrant mounted in his goulden chayre,
Rides drawne with milke white palferies in like pride, 1180
As _Phaebus_ from his Orientall gate,
Mounted vpon the firy _Phlegetons_ backes.
Comes prauncing forth, shaking his dewie locks:
_Caesar_ thou art in gloryes cheefest pride,
Thy sonne is mounted in the highest poynt:
Thou placed art in top of fortunes wheele,
Her wheele must turne, thy glory must eclipse,
Thy Sunne descend and loose his radiant light,
And if none be, whose countryes ardent loue,
And losse of _Roman_ liberty can moue, 1190
Ile be the man that shall this taske performe.
_Cassius_ hath vowed it to dead _Pompeys_ soule,
_Cassius_ hath vowed it to afflicted _Rome_,
_Cassius_ hath vowed it, witnes Heauen and Earth, _Exit._

ACTVS 3. SCENA 2. {SN _Act III sc. ii_}

_Enter Caesar, Antony, Dolobella, Lords, two Romaines, & others._

_Caesar._ Now haue I shaked of these womanish linkes,
In which my captiud thoughts were chayned a fore,
By that fayre charming _Circes_ wounding look,
And now like that same ten yeares trauayler, 1200
Leauing be-hind me all my trobles past.
I come awayted with attending fame,
Who through her shrill triump doth my name resound,
And makes proud _Tiber_ and _Lygurian Poe_,
(Yet a sad witner of the Sunne-Gods losse,)
Beare my names glory to the _Ocean_ mayne,
Which to the worlds end shall it bound it againe,
As from _Phaegiean_ fields the King of the Gods,
With conquering spoyles and _Tropheus_ proud returnd,
When great _Typheus_ fell, by thundering darts, 1210
And rod away with their Caelestiall troops,
In greatest pride through Heauens smooth paued way,
So shall the Pompeous glory of my traine,
Daring to match ould _Saturns_ kingly Sonne,
Call downe these goulden lampes from the bright skie,
And leaue Heauen blind, my greatnes to admire.
This laurell garland in fayre conquest made,
Shall stayne the pride of _Ariadnes_ crowne,
Clad in the beauty of my glorious lampes,
_Cassiopea_ leaue thy starry chayre, 1220
And onmy Sun-bright Chariot wheels attend,
Which in triumphing pompe doth _Caesar_ beare.
To Earths astonishment, and amaze of Heauen:
Now looke proude _Rome_ from thy seuen-fould seate,
And see the world thy subiect, at thy feete,
And _Caesar_ ruling ouer all the world.
_Dolo._ Now let vs cease to boast of _Romulus_,
First author of high _Rome_ and _Romaines_ name.
Nor talke of _Scaurus_, worthy _Africans_,
The scurge of _Libia_ and of _Carthage_ pride, 1230
Nor of vnconquered _Paulus_ dauntles minde,
Since _Caesars_ glory them exceedes as farre
As shining _Phebe_ doth the dimmest starre.
_Ant._ Like as the Ship-man that hath lost the starre.
By which his doubtful ship he did direct,
Wanders in darkenes, and in Cloudy night,
So hauing lost my starr, my Gouernesse.
Which did direct me, with her Sonne-bright ray,
In greefe I wander and in sad dismay:
And though of triumphes and of victoryes, 1240
I do the out-ward signes and _Trophies_ beare,
Yet see mine inward mind vnder that face,
Whose collours to these Triumphes is disgrace,
_Lord._ As when from vanquished _Macedonia_,
Triumphing ore King _Persius_ ouerthrow,
Conquering _AEmelius_, in great glory came.
Shewing the worlds spoyles which he had bereft,
From the successors or great _Alexander_,
With such high pomp, yea greater victories,
_Caesar_ triumphing coms into fayre _Rome_, 1250
_1. Rom._ In this one Champion all is comprehended,
Which ancient times in seuerall men commended,
_Alcides_ strength, _Achilles_ dauntles heart,
Great _Phillips_ Sonne by magnanimity.
Sterne _Pyrhus_ vallour, and great _Hectors_ might,
And all the prowes, that ether _Greece_ or _Troy_,
Brought forth in that same ten years _Troians_ warre.
_2. Rom._ Faire _Rome_ great monument of _Romulus_.
Thou mighty seate of consuls and of Kings:
Ouer-victorious now Earths Conquerer, 1260
Welcome thy valiant sonne that to thee brings,
Spoyles of the world, and exquies of Kings.
_Caesar._ The conquering Issue of immortall _Ioue_.
Which in the _Persian_ spoyles first fetch his fame.
Then through _Hydasspis_, and the _Caspian_ waues,
Vnto the sea vnknowne his praise did propagate,
Must to my glory vayle his conquering crest:
The _Lybick_ Sands, and _Africk Sirts_ hee past.
_Bactrians_ and _Zogdians_, knowne but by their names,
Whereby his armes resistles, powers subdued, 1270
And _Ganges_ streames congeald with _Indian_ blood,
Could not transeport his burthen to the sea.
But these nere lerned at _Mars_ his games to play,
Nor tost these bloody bals, of dread and death:
_Arar_ and proud _Saramna_ speaks my praise,
_Rohdans_ shrill _Tritons_ through their brasen trumpes,
Ecco my fame against the _Gallian_ Towers,
And _Isis_ wept to see her daughter _Thames_.
Chainge her cleere cristall, to vermilian sad,
The big bond _German_ and _Heluetian_ stout, 1280
Which well haue learned to tosse a tusked speare,
And well can curbe a noble stomackt horse,
Can _Caesars_ vallour witnes to their greefe
_Iuba_ the mighty _Affrick_ Potentate,
That with his cole-black _Negroes_ to the field,
Backt with _Numidian_ and _Getulian_ horse,
Hath felt the puissance of a _Roman_ sword.
I entred _Asia_ with my banners spred,
Displayed the AEgle on the Euxin sea:
By _Iason_ first, and ventrous _Argo_ cut, 1290
And in the rough _Cimerian Bosphorus_:
A heauy witnesse of _Pharnaces_ flight,
And now am come to triumph heere in _Rome_,
VVith greater glory then ere _Romaine_ did. _Exeunt._

{SN _Act III sc. iii_}

_Sound drums and Trumpets amaine._
_Enter Anthony._

_Antho._ Alas these triumphes mooue not me at all,
But only do renew remembrance sad,
Of her triumphing and imperious lookes,
VVhich is the Saint and Idoll of my thoughtes: 1300
First was I wounded by her percing eye:
Next prisoner tane by her captiuing speech,
And now shee triumphes ore my conquered heart,
In _Cupids_ Chariot ryding in her pride,
And leades me captiue bounde in Beauties bondes:
_Caesars_ lip-loue, that neuer touched his heart,
By present triumph and the absent fire,
Is now waxt could; but mine that was more deepe,
Ingrauen in the marble of my brest,
Nor time nor Fortune ere can raze it out. 1310

_Enter Anthonies bonus genius._

_Gen._ _Anthony_, base femall _Anthony_,
Thou womans souldiar, fit for nights assaults,
Hast thou so soone forgot the discipline,
And wilsome taskes thy youth was trayned to,
Thy soft downe Pillow, was a helme of steele:
The could damp earth, a bed to ease thy toyle,
Afrigted slumbers were thy golden sleepes:
Hunger and thirst thy sweetest delicates,
Sterne horror, gastly woundes, pale greesly death: 1320
Thy winde depressing pleasures and delights,
And now so soone hath on enchanted face,
These manly labours luld in drowsy sleepe:
The Gods (whose messenger I heere do stand)
Will not then drowne thy fame in Idlenesse:
Yet must _Philippi_ see thy high exploytes,
And all the world ring of thy Victories.
_Antho._ Say what thou art, that in this dreadful sort
Forbidd'st me of my _Cleopatras_ loue.
_Gen._ I am thy _bonus Genius_, _Anthony_, 1330
VVhich to thy dul eares this do prophecy:
That fatall face which now doth so bewitch thee,
Like to that vaine vnconstant Greekish dame,
VVhich made the stately _Ilian_ towres to smoke,
Shall thousand bleeding _Romains_ lay one ground:
_Hymen_ in sable not in saferon robes,
Instead of roundes shall dolefull dirges singe.
For nuptiall tapers, shall the furies beare,
Blew-burning torches to increase your feare:
The bride-grooms scull shal make the bridal bondes: 1340
And hel-borne hags shall dance an Antick round,
VVhile _Hecate Hymen_ (heu, heu) _Hymen_ cries,
And now methinkes I see the seas blew face:
Hidden with shippes, and now the trumpets sound,
And weake _Canopus_ with the AEgle striues,
_Neptune_ amazed at this dreadfull sight:
Cals blew sea Gods for to behold the fight,
_Glaucus_ and _Panopea_, _Proteus_ ould,
VVho now for feare changeth his wonted shape,
Thus your vaine loue which with delight begunne: 1350
In Idle sport shall end with bloud and shame. _Exit._
_Antho._ VVhat wast my _Genius_ that mee threatned thus?
They say that from our birth he doth preserue:
And on mee will he powre these miseries?
VVhat burning torches, what alarums of warre,
VVhat shames did he to my loues prophesie?
O no hee comes as winged _Mercurie_,
From his great Father _Ioue_, t'_Anchises_ sonne
To warne him leaue the wanton dalliance,
And charming pleasures of the _Tyrian_ Court, 1360
Then wake the _Anthony_ from this idle dreame,
Cast of these base effeminate passions:
Which melt the courrage of thy manlike minde,
And with thy sword receiue thy sleeping praise. _Exit._

ACT. 3. SC. 3. {SN _Act III sc. iv_}

_Enter Brutus._

_Bru._ How long in base ignoble patience,
Shall I behold my Countries wofull fall,
O you braue _Romains_, and among'st the rest
Most Noble _Brutus_, faire befall your soules: 1370
Let Peace and Fame your Honored graues awaite,
Who through such perils, and such tedious warres,
Won your great labors prise sweete liberty,
But wee that with our life did freedoms take,
And did no sooner Men, then free-men, breath:
To loose it now continuing so long,
And with such lawes, such vowes, such othes confirm'd
Can nothing but disgrace and shame expect:
But soft what see I written on my seate,
_O vtinam Brute viueres_. 1380
What meaneth this, thy courage dead,
But stay, reade forward, _Brute mortuus es_.
I thou art dead indeed, thy courrage dead
Thy care and loue thy dearest Country dead,
Thy wonted spirit and Noble stomack dead.

_Enter Cassius._

_Cassi._ The times drawe neere by gratious heauens assignd
When _Philips_ Sonne must fall in _Babilon_,
In his triumphing proud persumption:
But see where melancholy _Brutus_ walkes, 1390
Whose minde is hammering on no meane conceit:
Then sound him _Cassius_, see how hee is inclined,
How fares young _Brutus_ in this tottering state.
_Bru._ Euen as an idle gazer, that beholdes,
His Countries wrackes and cannot succor bring.
_Cassi._ But wil _Brute_ alwaies in this dreame remaine,
And not bee mooued with his Countries mone.
_Bru._ O that I might in _Lethes_ endles sleepe,
And neere awaking pleasant rest of death
Close vp mine eyes, that I no more might see, 1400
Poore _Romes_ distresse and Countries misery.
_Casi._ No _Brutus_ liue, and wake thy sleepy minde,
Stirre vp those dying sparkes of honors fire,
VVhich in thy gentle breast weare wont to flame:
See how poore _Rome_ opprest with Countries wronges,
Implores thine ayde, that bred thee to that end,
Thy kins-mans soule from heauen commandes thine aide:
That lastly must by thee receiue his end,
Then purchas honor by a glorious death,
Or liue renown'd by ending _Caesars_ life. 1410
_Bru._ I can no longer beare the Tirants pride,
I cannot heare my Country crie for ayde,
And not bee mooued with her pitious mone,
_Brutus_ thy soule shall neuer more complaine:
That from thy linage and most vertuous stock,
A bastard weake degenerat branch is borne,
For to distaine the honor of thy house.
No more shall now the _Romains_ call me dead,
Ile liue againe and rowze my sleepy thoughts:
And with the Tirants death begin this life. 1420
_Rome_ now I come to reare thy states decayed,
VVhen or this hand shall cure thy fatall wound,
Or else this heart by bleeding on the ground.
_Cas._ Now heauen I see applaudes this enterprise,
And _Rhadamanth_ into the fatall Vrne,
That lotheth death, hath thrust the Tirants name,
_Caesar_ the life that thou in bloud hast led:
Shall heape a bloudy vengance on thine head. _Exeunt._

ACT. 2. SCE. 4. {SN _Act III sc. v_}

_Enter Caesar, Anthony Dolobella, Lords, and others._

_Caes._ Now servile _Pharthia_ proud in _Romaine_ spoile, 1431
Shall pay her ransome vnto _Caesars_ Ghost:
Which vnreuenged roues by the Stygian strond,
Exclaming on our sluggish negligence.
Leaue to lament braue _Romans_, loe I come,
Like to the God of battell, mad with rage,
To die their riuers with vermilion red:
Ile fill _Armenians_ playnes and _Medians_ hils,
With carkases of bastard _Scithian_ broode,
And there proud Princes will I bring to _Rome_, 1440
Chained in fetters to my charriot wheeles:
Desire of fame and hope of sweete reueng,
Which in my brest hath kindled such a flame,
As nor _Euphrates_, nor sweet _Tybers_ streame,
Can quench or slack this feruent boyling heate:
These conquering souldiers that haue followed me,
From vanquisht _France_ to sun-burnt _Meroe_,
Matching the best of _Alexanders_ troopes.
Shall with their lookes put _Parthian_ foes to flight,
And make them twise turne their deceitfull lookes, 1450
_Ant._ The restlesse mind that harbors sorrowing thoughts,
And is with child of noble enterprise,
Doth neuer cease from honors toilesome taske,
Till it bringes forth Eternall gloryes broode.
So you fayre braunch of vertues great discent,
Now hauing finish'd Ciuill warres sad broyles,
Intend by _Parthian_ triumphes to enlarge,
Your contryes limits, and your owne renowne,
But cause in _Sibilles_ ciuill writs we finde,
None but a King that conquest can atchiue, 1460
Both for to crowne your deedes with due reward,
And as auspicious signes of victorye.
Wee here present you with this _Diadem_,
_Lord._ And euen as kings were banish'd _Romes_ high throne
Cause their base vice, her honour did destayne,
So to your rule doth shee submit her selfe,
That her renowne there by might brighter shine,
_Caesar._ Why thinke you Lords that tis ambitions spur.
That pricketh _Caesar_ to these high attempts,
Or hope of Crownes, or thought of _Diadems_, 1470
That made me wade through honours perilous deepe,
Vertue vnto it selfe a shure reward,
My labours all shall haue a pleasing doome,
If you but Iudge I will deserue of _Rome_:
Did those old _Romaines_ suffer so much ill?
Such tedious seeges, such enduring warrs?
_Tarquinius_ hates, and great _Porsennas_ threats,
To banish proude imperious tyrants rule?
And shall my euerdaring thoughts contend
To marre what they haue brought to happy end: 1480
Or thinke you cause my Fortune hath expeld,
My friends, come let vs march in iolity,
Ile triumph Monarke-like ore conquering _Rome_,
Or end my conquests with my countryes spoyles,
_Dolo._ O noble Princely resolution.
These or not victoryes that we so call,
That onely blood and murtherous spoyles can vaunt:
But this shalbe thy victory braue Prince,
That thou hast conquered thy owne climing thoughts,
And with thy vertue beat ambition downe, 1490
And this no lesse inblazon shall thy fame.
Then those great deeds and chiualrous attempts,
That made thee conqueror in _Thessalia_.
_Ant._ This noble mind and Pincely modesty,
Which in contempt of honours brightnes shines,
Makes vs to wish the more for such a Prince,
Whose vertue not ambition won that praise,
Nor shall we thinke it losse of liberty.
Or _Romaine_ liberty any way impeached,
For to subiect vs to his Princely rule, 1500
Whose thoughts fayre vertue and true honor guides:
Vouchsafe then to accept this goulden crowne,
A gift not equall to thy dignity.
_Caes._ Content you Lordes for I wilbe no King,
An odious name vnto the _Romaine_ eare,
_Caesar_ I am, and wilbe _Caesar_ still,
No other title shall my Fortunes grace:
Which I will make a name of higher state
Then Monarch, King or worldes great Potentate.
Of _Ioue_ in Heauen, shall ruled bee the skie, 1510
The Earth of _Caesar_, with like Maiesty.
This is the Scepter that my crowne shall beare,
And this the golden diadem Ile weare,
A farre more rich and royall ornament,
Then all the Crownes that the proud _Persian_ gaue:
Forward my Lordes let Trumpets sound our march,
And drums strike vp Reuenges sad alarms,
_Parthia_ we come with like incensed heate,
As great _Atrides_ with the angry Greekes,
Marching in fury to pale walls of Troy. 1520

ACT. 3. SC. 5. {SN _Act III sc. vi_}

_Enter Cassius, Brutus, Trebonius, Cumber Casca._

_Tre._ Braue Lords whose forward resolution,
Shewes you descended from true _Romaine_ line,
See how old _Rome_ in winter of her age,
Reioyseth in such Princely budding hopes,
No lesse then once she in _Decius_ vertue did,
Or great _Camillus_ bringing back of spoyles.
On then braue Lords of this attempt begun,
The sacred Senate doth commend the deede: 1530
Your Countries loue incites you to the deed,
Vertue her selfe makes warrant of the deed,
Then Noble _Romains_ as you haue begun:
Neuer desist vntill this deede be done.
_Casi._ To thee Reueng doth _Cassius_ kneele him downe.
Thou that brings quiet to perplexed soules,
And borne in Hel, yet harborest heauens ioyes,
Whose fauor slaughter is, and dandling death,
Bloud-thirsty pleasures and mis boding blisse:
Brought forth of Fury, nurse of cankered Hate, 1540
To drowne in woe the pleasures of the world.
Thou shalt no more in duskish _Erebus_:
And dark-some hell obscure thy Deity,
Insteede of _Ioue_ thou shalt my Godesse bee,
To thee faire Temples _Cassius_ will erect:
And on thine alter built of _Parian_ stone
Whole _Hecatombs_ will I offer vp.
Laugh gentle Godesse on my bould attempt,
Yet in thy laughter let pale meager death:
Bee wrapt in wrinkels of thy murthering spoyles. 1550
_Bru._ An other _Tarquin_ is to bee expeld,
An other _Brutus_ liues to act the deede:
Tis not one nation that this _Tarquin_ wronges,
All _Rome_ is stayn'd with his vnrul'd desires,
Shee whose imperiall scepter was invr'd:
To conquer Kings and to controul the world,
Cannot abate the glory of her state,
To yeeld or bowe to one mans proud desires:
Sweete Country _Rome_ here _Brutus_ vowes to thee,
To loose his life or else to set thee free. 1560
_Cas._ Shame bee his share that doth his life so prize,
That to _Romes_ weale it would not sacrifize,
My Poniardes point shall pearce his heart as deepe,
As earst his sworde _Romes_ bleeding side did goare:
And change his garments to the purple die,
With which our bloud had staynd sad _Thessaly_.
_Cam._ Hee doth refuse the title of a King,
But wee do see hee doth vsurp the thing.
_Tre._ Our ancient freedome hee empeacheth more,
Then euer King or Tyrant did before. 1570
_Cas._ The Senators by him are quite disgrac'd,
_Rome_, _Romans_, Citty, Freedome, all defac'd.
_Cassi._ We come not Lords, as vnresolued men,
For to shewe causes of the deed decreed,
This shall dispute for mee and tell him why,
This heart, hand, minde, hath mark'd him out to die:
If it be true that furies quench-les thirst,
Is pleas'd with quaffing of ambitious bloud,
Then all you deuills whet my Poniards point,
And I wil broach you a bloud-sucking heart: 1580
Which full of bloud, must bloud store to you yeeld,
Were it a peerce to flint or marble stone:
Why so it is for _Caesars_ heart's a stone,
Els would bee mooued with my Countries mone.
They say you furies instigate mens mindes,
And push their armes to finnish bloudy deedes:
Prick then mine Elbo: goade my bloudy hand,
That it may goare _Caesars_ ambitious heart. _Exeunt._

ACTVS 3. SCENA 6. {SN _Act III sc. vii_}

_Enter Caesar, Calphurnia._

_Caes._ Why thinkes my loue to fright me with her dreames? 1591
Shall bug-beares feare _Caesars_ vndaunted heart,
Whome _Pompeys_ Fortune neuer could amaze,
Nor the _French_ horse, nor _Mauritanian_ boe,
And now shall vaine illusions mee affright:
Or shadowes daunt, whom substance could not quell?
_Calphur._ O dearest _Caesar_, hast thou seene thy selfe,
(As troubled dreames to me did faine thee seene:)
Torne, Wounded, Maymed, Blod-slaughtered, Slaine,
O thou thy selfe, wouldst then haue dread thy selfe: 1600
And feard to thrust thy life to dangers mouth.
_Caes._ There you bewray the folly of your dreame,
For I am well, aliue, vncaught, vntoucht.
_Calphur._ T'was in the Senate-house I sawe thee so,
And yet thou dreadles thither needes will go.
_Caes._ The Senate is a place of peace, not death,
But these were but deluding visions.
_Calphur._ O do not set so little by the heauens,
Dreames ar diuine, men say they come from _Ioue_,
Beware betimes, and bee not wise to late: 1610
Mens good indeuours change the wills of Fate.
_Caes._ Weepe not faire loue, let not thy wofull teares
Bode mee, I knowe what thou wouldest not haue to hap
It will distaine mine honor wonne in fight
To say a womans dreame could me affright.
_Cal._ O _Caesar_ no dishonour canst thou get,
In seeking to preuent vnlucky chance:
Foole-hardy men do runne vpon their death,
Bec thou in this perswaded by thy wife:
No vallour bids thee cast away thy life. 1620
_Caes._ Tis dastard cowardize and childish feare,
To dread those dangers that do not appeare:
_Cal._ Thou must sad chance by fore-cast, wise resist,
Or being done say boote-les had I wist.
_Caes._ But for to feare wher's no suspition,
Will to my greatnesse be derision.
_Cal._ There lurkes an adder in the greenest grasse,
Daungers of purpose alwayes hide their face:
_Caes._ Perswade no more _Caesar's_ resolu'd to go.
_Cal._ The Heauens resolue that hee may safe returne, 1630
For if ought happen to my loue but well:
His danger shalbe doubled with my death. _Exit._

_Enter Augur._

_Augur._ I, come they are, but yet they are not gon.
_Caes._ What hast thou sacrifiz'd, as custome is,
Before wee enter in the Senat-house.
_Augur._ O stay those steeps that leade thee to thy death,
The angry heauens with threeatning dire aspect,
Boding mischance, and balfull massacers,
Menace the ouerthrowe of _Caesars_ powre: 1640
_Saturne_ sits frowning on the God of Warre,
VVho in their sad coniunction do conspire,
Vniting both their bale full influences,
To heape mischance, and danger to thy life:
The Sacrificing beast is heart-les found:
Sad ghastly sightes, and raysed Ghostes appeare,
Which fill the silent woods, with groning cries:
The hoarse Night-rauen tunes the chearles voyce,
And calls the bale-full Owle, and howling Doge,
To make a consort. In whose sad song is this, 1650
Neere is the ouerthrow of _Caesars_ blisse. _Exit._
_Caesar._ The world is set to fray mee from my wits,
Heers harteles Sacrifice and visions,
Howlinge and cryes, and gastly grones of Ghosts,
Soft _Caesar_ do not make a mockery,
Of these Prodigious signes sent from the Heauens,
_Calphurnias_ Dre ame Iumping which _Augurs_ words,
Shew (if thou markest it _Caesar_) cause to feare:
This day the Senate there shalbe dissolued,
And Ile returne to my _Calphurnia_ home, _One giues him a paper._ 1660
What hast thou heare that thou presents vs with,
_Pre._ A thing my Lord that doth concerne your life.
Which loue to you and hate of such a deed,
Makes me reueale vnto your excellence. _Caesar laughs._
Smilest thou, or think'st thou it some ilde toy,
Thout frowne a non to read so many names.
That haue conspird and sworne thy bloody death, _Exit._

_Enter Cassius._

_Cassius._ Now must I come, and with close subtile girdes,
Deceaue the prey that Ile deuoure anon, 1670
My Lord the Sacred Senate doth expect,
Your royall presence in _Pompeius_ court:
_Caesar._ _Cassius_ they tell me that some daungers nigh.
And death pretended in the Senate house.
_Cassi._ What danger or what wrong can be,
Where harmeles grauitie and vertue sits,
Tis past all daunger present death it is,
Nor is it wrong to render due desert.
To feare the Senators without a cause,
Will bee a cause why theile be to be feared, 1680
_Caesa._ The Senate stayes for me in _Pompeys_ court.
And _Caesars_ heere, and dares not goe to them,
Packe hence all dread of danger and of death,
What must be must be; _Caesars_ prest for all,
_Cassi._ Now haue I sent him headlong to his ende,
Vengance and death awayting at his heeles,
_Caesar_ thy life now hangeth on a twine,
Which by my Poniard must bee cut in twaine,
Thy chaire of state now turn'd is to thy Beere,
Thy Princely robes to make thy winding sheete: 1690
The Senators the Mourners ore the Hearse,
And _Pompeys_ Court, thy dreadfull graue shalbe.

{SN _Act III sc. viii_}

_Senators crie all at once._

_Omnes._ Hold downe the Tyrant stab him to the death:
_Casi._ Now doth the musick play and this the song
That _Cassius_ heart hath thirsted for so long:
And now my Poniard in this mazing sound,
Must strike that touch that must his life confound.
Stab on, stab on, thus should your Poniards play,
Aloud deepe note vpon this trembling Kay. _stab him._ 1700
_Buco._ _Bucolian_ sends thee this. _stab him._
_Cum._ And _Cumber_ this. _stab him._
_Cas._ Take this fro _Casca_ for to quite _Romes_ wronges.
_Caes._ Why murtherous villaines know you who you strike,
Tis _Caesar_, _Caesar_, whom your Poniards pierce:
_Caesar_ whose name might well afright such slaues:
O Heauens that see and hate this haynous guilt,
And thou Immortall _Ioue_ that Idle holdest
Deluding Thunder in thy faynting hand,
Why stay'st thy dreadfull doome, and dost with-hold, 1710
Thy three-fork'd engine to reuenge my death:
But if my plaintes the Heauens cannot mooue,
Then blackest hell and _Pluto_ bee thou iudge:
You greesly daughters of the cheereles night,
Whose hearts, nor praier nor pitty, ere could lend,
Leaue the black dungeon of your _Chaos_ deepe:
Come and with flaming brandes into the world,
Reuenge, and death, bringe seated in yout eyes:
And plauge these villaynes for their trecheries.

_Enter Brutus._ 1720

_Bru._ I haue held _Anthony_ with a vaine discourse,
The whilst the deed's in execution,
But liues hee still, yet doth the Tyrant breath?
Chalinging Heauens with his blasphemies,
Heere _Brutus_ maketh a passage for thy Soule,
To plead thy cause for them whose ayde thou crauest,
_Caes._ What _Brutus_ to? nay nay, then let me die,
Nothing wounds deeper then ingratitude,
_Bru._ I bloody _Caesar_, _Caesar_, _Brutus_ too,
Doth geeue thee this, and this to quite _Romes_ wrongs, 1730
_Cassius._ O had the Tyrant had as many liues.
As that fell _Hydra_ borne in _Lerna lake_,
That heare I still might stab and stabing kill,
Till that more liues might bee extinquished,
Then his ambition, _Romanes_ Slaughtered.
_Tre._ How heauens haue iustly on the authors head,
Returnd the guiltles blood which he hath shed,
And _Pompey_ he who caused thy Tragedy,
Here breathles lies before thy Noble Statue,

_Enter Anthony._ 1740

_Anth._ What cryes of death resound within my eares,
Whome I doe see great _Caesar_ buchered thus?
What said I great? I Caesar thou wast great,
But O that greatnes was that brought thy death:
O vniust Heauens, (if Heauens at all there be,)
Since vertues wronges makes question of your powers,
How could your starry eyes this shame behold,
How could the sunne see this and not eclipze?
Fayre bud of fame ill cropt before thy time:
What _Hyrcan_ tygar, or wild sauage bore, 1750
(For he more heard then Bore or Tyger was,)
Durst do so vile and execrate a deede,
Could not those eyes so full of maiesty,
Nor priesthood (o not thus to bee prophand)
Nor yet the reuerence to this sacred place,
Nor flowing eloquence of thy goulden tounge,
Nor name made famous through immortall merit,
Deter those murtherors from so vild a deed?
Sweete friend accept these obsequies of mine,
Which heare with teares I doe vnto thy hearse, 1760
And thou being placed a mong the shining starrs.
Shalt downe from Heauen behold what deepe reueng,
I will inflict vpon the murtherers, _Exit with Caesar, in his armes._

_FINIS._ Act. 3.

{SN _Chor. IV_}

_Enter Discord._

_Dis._ _Brutus_ thou hast what long desire hath sought,
_Caesar_ Lyes weltring in his purple Goare,
Thou art the author of _Romes_ liberty,
Proud in thy murthering hand and bloody knife. 1770
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_, _Caesar_ quittance must thy wronges,
Whereas that hand shall stab that trayterous heart. 1780
That durst encourage it to worke thy death,
Thus from thine ashes _Caesar_ doth arise
As from _Medeas_ haples scatered teeth:
New flames of wars, and new outraigous broyles,
Now smile _AEmathia_ 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.

ACTVS. 4. SCENA. 1. {SN _Act IV sc. i_}

_Enter Octauian._

_Octa._ Mourne gentle Heauens for you haue lost your ioy. 1791
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, 1800
The outward signes of inward heauines,
Shall changed be ere long to crimsen hew,
And this soft raiment to a coate of steele,
_Caesar_, 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._

{SN _Act IV sc. ii_}

_Enter Caesars 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: 1812
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, 1820
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, 1830
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 _Caesars_ liuing vertues to bee crowned,
Not to be wept as buried vnder grownd, 1840
_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, 1850
Do you expect? _Calphurnia_ giues her selfe.
_Ant._ You that to _Caesar_ 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 e ndles praise,
And in a mortall trunke, immortall vertue 1860
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, 1870
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 _Caesar_ all were saued from death and harme, 1880
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, 1890
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._

ACT. 4. SC. 2. {SN _Act IV sc. iii_}

_Enter Cassius, and Brutus with an army._

_Cassi._ Now _Romains_ proud foe, worlds common enemy,
In his greatest hight and chiefest Iollitie, 1900
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,
Falls to the Earth and staines the holy ground,
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, 1910
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._