A Discourse of Life and Death, by Mornay; and Antonius by Garnier Part 3

_Char._ But this your loue nought mitigates his paine.

_Cl._ Without this loue I should be inhumaine.

_Char._ Inhumaine he, who his owne death pursues.

_Cl._ Not inhumaine who miseries eschues.

_Ch._ Liue for your sonnes.

_Cl._ Nay for their father die.

_Cha._ Hardhearted mother!

_Cl._ Wife kindhearted I.

_Ch._ Then will you them depriue of royall right?

_Cl._ Do I depriue them? no, it's dest'nies might.

_Ch._ Do you not them not depriue of heritage, That giue them vp to aduersaries handes, A man forsaken fearing to forsake, Whome such huge numbers hold enuironned?

T' abandon one gainst whome the frowning world Banded with _Caesar_ makes conspiring warre.

_Cl._ The lesse ought I to leaue him lest of all.

_A frend in most distresse should most a.s.sist._ If that when _Antonie_ great and glorious His legions led to drinke _Euphrates_ streames, So many Kings in traine redoubting him; In triumph rais'd as high as highest heaun; Lord-like disposing as him pleased best, The wealth of _Greece_, the wealth of_Asia_: In that faire fortune had I him exchaung'd For _Caesar_, then, men would haue counted me Faithles, vnconstant, light: but now the storme, And bl.u.s.tring tempest driuing on his face, Readie to drowne, _Alas_! what would they saie?

What would himselfe in _Plutos_ mansion saie?

If I, whome alwaies more then life he lou'de, If I, who am his heart, who was his hope, Leaue him, forsake him (and perhaps in vaine) Weakly to please who him hath ouerthrowne?

Not light, vnconstant, faithlesse should I be, But vile, forsworne, of treachrous crueltie.

_Ch._ Crueltie to shunne, you selfe-cruell are.

_Cl._ Selfe-cruell him from crueltie to spare.

_Ch._ Our first affection to our selfe is due.

_Cl._ He is my selfe.

_Ch._ Next it extendes vnto Our children, frends, and to our countrie soile.

And you for some respect of wiuelie loue, (Albee scarce wiuelie) loose your natiue land, Your children, frends, and (which is more) your life, With so strong charmes doth loue bewitch our witts: So fast in vs this fire once kindled flames.

Yet if his harme by yours redresse might haue,

_Cl._ With mine it may be clos'de in darksome graue.

_Ch._ And that, as _Alcest_ to hir selfe vnkinde, You might exempt him from the lawes of death.

But he is sure to die: and now his sworde Alreadie moisted is in his warme bloude, Helples for any succour you can bring Against deaths stinge, which he must shortlie feele.

Then let your loue be like the loue of olde Which _Carian_ Queene did nourish in hir heart Of hir Mausolus: builde for him a tombe Whose statelinesse a wonder new may make.

Let him, let him haue sumtuouse funeralles: Let graue thereon the horror of his fights: Let earth be buri'd with vnburied heaps.

Frame ther _Pharsaly_, and discoulour'd stream's Of depe _Enipeus_: frame the gra.s.sie plaine, Which lodg'd his campe at siege of _Mutina_.

Make all his combats, and couragiouse acts: And yearly plaies to his praise inst.i.tute: Honor his memorie: with doubled care Breed and bring vp the children of you both In _Caesars_ grace: who as a n.o.ble Prince Will leaue them Lords of this most gloriouse realme.

_Cl._ What shame were that? ah G.o.ds! what infamie!

With _Antonie_ in his good happs to share, And ouerliue him dead: deeming enough To shed some teares vpon a widdowe tombe?

The after-liuers iustly might report That I him onlie for his empire lou'd, And high estate: and that in hard estate I for another did him lewdlie leaue?

Like to those birds wafted with wandring wings From foraine lands in spring-time here arriue: And liue with vs so long as Somers heate, And their foode lasts, then seke another soile.

And as we see with ceaslesse fluttering Flocking of seelly flies a brownish cloud To vintag'd wine yet working in the tonne, Not parting thence while they swete liquor taste: After, as smoke, all vanish in the aire, And of the swarme not one so much appeare.

_Eras._ By this sharp death what profit can you winne?

_Cl._ I neither gaine, nor profit seke therein.

_Er._ What praise shall you of after-ages gett?

_Cl._ Nor praise, nor glory in my cares are sett.

_Er._ What other end ought you respect, then this?

_Cl._ My only ende my onely dutie is.

_Er._ your dutie must vpon some good be founded.

_Cl._ On vertue it, the onlie good, is grounded.

_Er._ What is that _vertue_?

_Cl._ That which vs beseemes.

_Er._ Outrage our selues? who that beseeming deemes?

_Cl._ Finish I will my sorowes dieng thus.

_Er._ Minish you will your glories doing thus.

_Cl._ Good frends I praie you seeke not to reuoke My fix'd intent of folowing _Antonie_.

I will die. I will die: must not his life, His life and death by mine be folowed?

Meane while, deare sisters, liue: and while you liue, Doe often honor to our loued Tombes.

Straw them with flowrs: and sometimes happelie The tender thought of _Antonie_ your Lorde And me poore soule to teares shall you inuite, And our true loues your dolefull voice commend.

_Ch._ And thinke you Madame, we from you will part?

Thinke you alone to feele deaths ougly darte?

Thinke you to leaue vs? and that the same sunne Shall see at once you dead, and vs aliue?

Weele die with you: and _Clotho_ pittilesse Shall vs with you in h.e.l.lish boate imbarque.

_Cl._ Ah liue, I praie you: this disastred woe Which racks my heart, alone to me belonges: My lott longs not to you: seruants to be No shame, no harme to you, as is to me.

Liue sisters, liue, and seing his suspect Hath causlesse me in sea of sorowes drown'd, And that I can not liue, if so I would, Nor yet would leaue this life, if so I could, Without, his loue: procure me, _Diomed_, That gainst poore me he be no more incensd.

Wrest out of his conceit that harmfull doubt, That since his wracke he hath of me conceiu'd Though wrong conceiu'd: witnesse you reuerent G.o.ds, Barking _Anubis_, _Apis_ bellowing.

Tell him, my soule burning, impatient, Forlorne with loue of him, for certaine seale Of her true loialtie my corpse hath left, T' encrease of dead the number numberlesse.

Go then, and if as yet he me bewaile, If yet for me his heart one sign fourth breathe Blest shall I be: and farre with more content Depart this world, where so I me torment.

Meane season vs let this sadd tombe enclose, Attending here till death conclude our woes.