The Tragedy Of Caesar's Revenge Part 3

_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 a.s.sault, that faithfull princely hand: And mak'st the base Earth to drinke thy n.o.ble 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 a.s.saultes 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 n.o.ble 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 n.o.bly 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 _Ca.s.sius_? 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 _Ca.s.sius_ 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 Ca.s.sius._

_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 b.l.o.o.d.y 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.

_Ca.s.sius_ hath vowed it to dead _Pompeys_ soule, _Ca.s.sius_ hath vowed it to afflicted _Rome_, _Ca.s.sius_ 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-G.o.ds 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 G.o.ds, 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, _Ca.s.siopea_ 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 _Hyda.s.spis_, 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 b.l.o.o.d.y 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 n.o.ble 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 a.s.saults, 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 G.o.ds (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 G.o.ds 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 pa.s.sions: 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 ign.o.ble patience, Shall I behold my Countries wofull fall, O you braue _Romains_, and among'st the rest Most n.o.ble _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 n.o.ble stomack dead.

_Enter Ca.s.sius._