The Works of Christopher Marlowe Volume III Part 40

Blunt,[577] I propose to be blunt with you, and, out of my dulness, to encounter you with a Dedication in memory of that pure elemental wit, Chr. Marlowe, whose ghost or genius is to be seen walk the Churchyard,[578] in, at the least, three or four sheets. Methinks you should presently look wild now, and grow humorously frantic upon the taste of it. Well, lest you should, let me tell you, this spirit was sometime a familiar of your own, _Lucan's First Book translated_; which, in regard of your old right in it, I have raised in the circle of your patronage. But stay now, Edward: if I mistake not, you are to accommodate yourself with some few instructions, touching the property of a patron, that you are not yet possessed of; and to study them for your better grace, as our gallants do fas.h.i.+ons. First, you must be proud, and think you have merit enough in you, though you are ne'er so empty; then, when I bring you the book, take physic, and keep state; a.s.sign me a time by your man to come again; and, afore the day, be sure to have changed your lodging; in the meantime sleep little, and sweat with the invention of some pitiful dry jest or two, which you may happen to utter with some little, or not at all, marking of your friends, when you have found a place for them to come in at; or, if by chance something has dropped from you worth the taking up, weary all that come to you with the often repet.i.tion of it; censure, scornfully enough, and somewhat like a traveller; commend nothing, lest you discredit your (that which you would seem to have) judgment. These things, if you can mould yourself to them, Ned, I make no question that they will not become you. One special virtue in our patrons of these days I have promised myself you shall fit excellently, which is, to give nothing; yes, thy love I will challenge as my peculiar object, both in this, and, I hope, many more succeeding offices. Farewell: I affect not the world should measure my thoughts to thee by a scale of this nature: leave to think good of me when I fall from thee.

Thine in all rights of perfect friends.h.i.+p,

THOMAS THORPE.

FOOTNOTES:

[576] A well-known bookseller.

[577] Old ed. "Blount."

[578] Paul's churchyard, the Elizabethan "Booksellers' Row."

THE FIRST BOOK OF LUCAN.

Wars worse than civil on Thessalian plains, And outrage strangling law, and people strong, We sing, whose conquering swords their own b.r.e.a.s.t.s lancht,[579]

Armies allied, the kingdom's league uprooted, Th' affrighted world's force bent on public spoil, Trumpets and drums, like[580] deadly, threatening other, Eagles alike display'd, darts answering darts, Romans, what madness, what huge l.u.s.t of war, Hath made barbarians drunk with Latin blood?

Now Babylon, proud through our spoil, should stoop, 10 While slaughter'd Cra.s.sus' ghost walks unreveng'd, Will ye wage war, for which you shall not triumph?

Ay me! O, what a world of land and sea Might they have won whom civil broils have slain!

As far as t.i.tan springs, where night dims heaven, I, to the torrid zone where mid-day burns, And where stiff winter, whom no spring resolves, Fetters the Euxine Sea with chains of ice; Scythia and wild Armenia had been yok'd, And they of Nilus' mouth, if there live any. 20 Rome, if thou take delight in impious war, First conquer all the earth, then turn thy force Against thyself: as yet thou wants not foes.

That now the walls of houses half-reared totter, That, rampires fallen down, huge heaps of stone Lie in our towns, that houses are abandon'd, And few live that behold their ancient seats; Italy many years hath lien untill'd And chok'd with thorns; that greedy earth wants hinds;-- Fierce Pyrrhus, neither thou nor Hannibal 30 Art cause; no foreign foe could so afflict us: These plagues arise from wreak of civil power.

But if for Nero, then unborn, the Fates Would find no other means, and G.o.ds not slightly Purchase immortal thrones, nor Jove joy'd heaven Until the cruel giants' war was done; We plain not, heavens, but gladly bear these evils For Nero's sake: Pharsalia groan with slaughter, And Carthage souls be glutted with our bloods!

At Munda let the dreadful battles join; 40 Add, Caesar, to these ills, Perusian famine, The Mutin toils, the fleet at Luca[s] sunk, And cruel[581] field near burning aetna fought!

Yet Rome is much bound to these civil arms, Which made thee emperor. Thee (seeing thou, being old, Must s.h.i.+ne a star) shall heaven (whom thou lovest) Receive with shouts; where thou wilt reign as king, Or mount the Sun's flame-bearing chariot, And with bright restless fire compa.s.s the earth, Undaunted though her former guide be chang'd; 50 Nature and every power shall give thee place, What G.o.d it please thee be, or where to sway.

But neither choose the north t'erect thy seat, Nor yet the adverse reeking[582] southern pole, Whence thou shouldst view thy Rome with squinting[583] beams.

If any one part of vast heaven thou swayest, The burden'd axes[584] with thy force will bend: The midst is best; that place is pure and bright; There, Caesar, mayst thou s.h.i.+ne, and no cloud dim thee.

Then men from war shall bide in league and ease, 60 Peace through the world from Ja.n.u.s' face shall fly, And bolt the brazen gates with bars of iron.

Thou, Caesar, at this instant art my G.o.d; Thee if I invocate, I shall not need To crave Apollo's aid or Bacchus' help; Thy power inspires the Muse that sings this war.

The causes first I purpose to unfold Of these garboils,[585] whence springs a long discourse; And what made madding people shake off peace.

The Fates are envious, high seats[586] quickly perish, 70 Under great burdens falls are ever grievous; Rome was so great it could not bear itself.

So when this world's compounded union breaks, Time ends, and to old Chaos all things turn, Confused stars shall meet, celestial fire Fleet on the floods, the earth shoulder the sea, Affording it no sh.o.r.e, and Phoebe's wain Chase Phoebus, and enrag'd affect his place, And strive to s.h.i.+ne by day and full of strife Dissolve the engines of the broken world. 80 All great things crush themselves; such end the G.o.ds Allot the height of honour; men so strong By land and sea, no foreign force could ruin.

O Rome, thyself art cause of all these evils, Thyself thus s.h.i.+ver'd out to three men's shares!

Dire league of partners in a kingdom last not.

O faintly-join'd friends, with ambition blind, Why join you force to share the world betwixt you?

While th' earth the sea, and air the earth sustains, While t.i.tan strives against the world's swift course, 90 Or Cynthia, night's queen, waits upon the day, Shall never faith be found in fellow kings: Dominion cannot suffer partners.h.i.+p.

This need[s] no foreign proof nor far-fet[587] story: Rome's infant walls were steep'd in brother's blood; Nor then was land or sea, to breed such hate; A town with one poor church set them at odds.[588]

Caesar's and Pompey's jarring love soon ended, 'Twas peace against their wills; betwixt them both Stepp'd Cra.s.sus in. Even as the slender isthmos, 100 Betwixt the aegaean,[589] and the Ionian sea, Keeps each from other, but being worn away, They both burst out, and each encounter other; So whenas Cra.s.sus' wretched death, who stay'd them, Had fill'd a.s.syrian Carra's[590] walls with blood, His loss made way for Roman outrages.

Parthians, y'afflict us more than ye suppose; Being conquer'd, we are plagu'd with civil war.

Swords share our empire: Fortune, that made Rome Govern the earth, the sea, the world itself, 110 Would not admit two lords; for Julia, s.n.a.t.c.h'd hence by cruel Fates, with ominous howls Bare down to h.e.l.l her son, the pledge of peace, And all bands of that death-presaging alliance.

Julia, had heaven given thee longer life, Thou hadst restrain'd thy headstrong husband's rage, Yea, and thy father too, and, swords thrown down, Made all shake hands, as once the Sabines did: Thy death broke amity, and train'd to war These captains emulous of each other's glory. 120 Thou fear'd'st, great Pompey, that late deeds would dim Old triumphs, and that Caesar's conquering France Would dash the wreath thou war'st for pirates' wreck: Thee war's use stirr'd, and thoughts that always scorn'd A second place. Pompey could bide no equal, Nor Caesar no superior: which of both Had justest cause, unlawful 'tis to judge: Each side had great partakers; Caesar's cause The G.o.ds abetted, Cato lik'd the other.[591]

Both differ'd much. Pompey was struck in years, 130 And by long rest forgot to manage arms, And, being popular, sought by liberal gifts To gain the light unstable commons' love, And joy'd to hear his theatre's applause: He lived secure, boasting his former deeds, And thought his name sufficient to uphold him: Like to a tall oak in a fruitful field, Bearing old spoils and conquerors' monuments, Who, though his root be weak, and his own weight Keep him within the ground, his arms all bare, 140 His body, not his boughs, send forth a shade; Though every blast it nod,[592] and seem to fall, When all the woods about stand bolt upright, Yet he alone is held in reverence.

Caesar's renown for war was loss; he restless, Shaming to strive but where he did subdue; When ire or hope provok'd, heady and bold; At all times charging home, and making havoc; Urging his fortune, trusting in the G.o.ds, Destroying what withstood his proud desires, 150 And glad when blood and ruin made him way: So thunder, which the wind tears from the clouds, With crack of riven air and hideous sound Filling the world, leaps out and throws forth fire, Affrights poor fearful men, and blasts their eyes With overthwarting flames, and raging shoots Alongst the air, and, not resisting it, Falls, and returns, and s.h.i.+vers where it lights.

Such humours stirr'd them up; but this war's seed Was even the same that wrecks all great dominions. 160 When Fortune made us lords of all, wealth flow'd, And then we grew licentious and rude; The soldiers' prey and rapine brought in riot; Men took delight in jewels, houses, plate, And scorn'd old sparing diet, and ware robes Too light for women; Poverty, who hatch'd Rome's greatest wits,[593] was loath'd, and all the world Ransack'd for gold, which breeds the world['s] decay; And then large limits had their b.u.t.ting lands; The ground, which Curius and Camillus till'd, 170 Was stretched unto the fields of hinds unknown.

Again, this people could not brook calm peace; Them freedom without war might not suffice: Quarrels were rife; greedy desire, still poor, Did vild deeds; then 'twas worth the price of blood, And deem'd renown, to spoil their native town; Force mastered right, the strongest govern'd all; Hence came it that th' edicts were over-rul'd, That laws were broke, tribunes with consuls strove, Sale made of offices, and people's voices 180 Bought by themselves and sold, and every year Frauds and corruption in the Field of Mars; Hence interest and devouring usury sprang, Faith's breach, and hence came war, to most men welcome.

Now Caesar overpa.s.s'd the snowy Alps; His mind was troubled, and he aim'd at war: And coming to the ford of Rubicon, At night in dreadful vision fearful[594] Rome Mourning appear'd, whose h.o.a.ry hairs were torn, And on her turret-bearing head dispers'd, 190 And arms all naked; who, with broken sighs, And staring, thus bespoke: "What mean'st thou, Caesar?

Whither goes my standard? Romans if ye be, And bear true hearts, stay here!" This spectacle Struck Caesar's heart with fear; his hair stood up, And faintness numb'd his steps there on the brink.

He thus cried out: "Thou thunderer that guard'st Rome's mighty walls, built on Tarpeian rock!

Ye G.o.ds of Phrygia and Ilus' line, Quirinus' rites, and Latian Jove advanc'd 200 On Alba hill! O vestal flames! O Rome, My thoughts sole G.o.ddess, aid mine enterprise!

I hate thee not, to thee my conquests stoop: Caesar is thine, so please it thee, thy soldier.

He, he afflicts Rome that made me Rome's foe."

This said, he, laying aside all lets[595] of war, Approach'd the swelling stream with drum and ensign: Like to a lion of scorch'd desert Afric, Who, seeing hunters, pauseth till fell wrath And kingly rage increase, then, having whisk'd 210 His tail athwart his back, and crest heav'd up, With jaws wide-open ghastly roaring out, Albeit the Moor's light javelin or his spear Sticks in his side, yet runs upon the hunter.

In summer-time the purple Rubicon, Which issues from a small spring, is but shallow, And creeps along the vales, dividing just The bounds of Italy from Cisalpine France.

But now the winter's wrath, and watery moon Being three days old, enforc'd the flood to swell, 220 And frozen Alps thaw'd with resolving winds.

The thunder-hoof'd[596] horse, in a crooked line, To scape the violence of the stream, first waded; Which being broke, the foot had easy pa.s.sage.

As soon as Caesar got unto the bank And bounds of Italy, "Here, here," saith he, "An end of peace; here end polluted laws!

Hence leagues and covenants! Fortune, thee I follow!

War and the Destinies shall try my cause."

This said, the restless general through the dark, 230 Swifter than bullets thrown from Spanish slings, Or darts which Parthians backward shoot, march'd on; And then, when Lucifer did s.h.i.+ne alone, And some dim stars, he Ariminum enter'd.

Day rose, and view'd these tumults of the war: Whether the G.o.ds or bl.u.s.tering south were cause I know not, but the cloudy air did frown.

The soldiers having won the market-place, There spread the colours with confused noise Of trumpets' clang, shrill cornets, whistling fifes. 240 The people started; young men left their beds, And s.n.a.t.c.h'd arms near their household-G.o.ds hung up, Such as peace yields; worm-eaten leathern targets, Through which the wood peer'd,[597] headless darts, old swords With ugly teeth of black rust foully scarr'd.

But seeing white eagles, and Rome's flags well known, And lofty Caesar in the thickest throng, They shook for fear, and cold benumb'd their limbs, And muttering much, thus to themselves complain'd: "O walls unfortunate, too near to France! 250 Predestinate to ruin! all lands else Have stable peace: here war's rage first begins; We bide the first brunt. Safer might we dwell Under the frosty bear, or parching east, Waggons or tents, than in this frontier town.

We first sustain'd the uproars of the Gauls And furious Cimbrians, and of Carthage Moors: As oft as Rome was sack'd, here gan the spoil."

Thus sighing whisper'd they, and none durst speak, And show their fear or grief; but as the fields 260 When birds are silent thorough winter's rage, Or sea far from the land, so all were whist,[598]

Now light had quite dissolv'd the misty night, And Caesar's mind unsettled musing stood; But G.o.ds and fortune p.r.i.c.ked him to this war, Infringing all excuse of modest shame, And labouring to approve[599] his quarrel good.

The angry senate, urging Gracchus'[600] deeds, From doubtful Rome wrongly expell'd the tribunes That cross'd them: both which now approach'd the camp, 270 And with them Curio, sometime tribune too, One that was fee'd for Caesar, and whose tongue Could tune the people to the n.o.bles' mind.[601]

"Caesar," said he, "while eloquence prevail'd, And I might plead and draw the commons' minds To favour thee, against the senate's will, Five years I lengthen'd thy command in France; But law being put to silence by the wars, We, from her houses driven, most willingly Suffer'd exile: let thy sword bring us home, 280 Now, while their part is weak and fears, march hence: Where men are ready lingering ever hurts.[602]

In ten years wonn'st thou France: Rome may be won With far less toil, and yet the honour's more; Few battles fought with prosperous success May bring her down, and with her all the world.

Nor shalt thou triumph when thou com'st to Rome, Nor Capitol be adorn'd with sacred bays; Envy denies all; with thy blood must thou Aby thy conquest past:[603] the son decrees 290 To expel the father: share the world thou canst not; Enjoy it all thou mayst." Thus Curio spake; And therewith Caesar, p.r.o.ne enough to war, Was so incens'd as are Elean[604] steeds.

With clamours, who, though lock'd and chain'd in stalls,[605]

Souse[606] down the walls, and make a pa.s.sage forth.

Straight summon'd he his several companies Unto the standard: his grave look appeas'd The wrestling tumult, and right hand made silence; And thus he spake: "You that with me have borne 300 A thousand brunts, and tried me full ten years, See how they quit our bloodshed in the north, Our friends' death, and our wounds, our wintering Under the Alps! Rome rageth now in arms As if the Carthage Hannibal were near; Cornets of horse are muster'd for the field; Woods turn'd to s.h.i.+ps; both land and sea against us.

Had foreign wars ill-thriv'd, or wrathful France Pursu'd us. .h.i.ther, how were we bested, When, coming conqueror, Rome afflicts me thus? 310 Let come their leader[607] whom long peace hath quail'd, Raw soldiers lately press'd, and troops of gowns, Babbling[608] Marcellus, Cato whom fools reverence!

Must Pompey's followers, with strangers' aid (Whom from his youth he brib'd), needs make him king?

And shall he triumph long before his time, And, having once got head, still shall he reign?

What should I talk of men's corn reap'd by force, And by him kept of purpose for a dearth?

Who sees not war sit by the quivering judge, 320 And sentence given in rings of naked swords, And laws a.s.sail'd, and arm'd men in the senate?

'Twas his troop hemm'd in Milo being accus'd; And now, lest age might wane his state, he casts For civil war, wherein through use he's known To exceed his master, that arch-traitor Sylla.

A[s] brood of barbarous tigers, having lapp'd The blood of many a herd, whilst with their dams They kennell'd in Hyrcania, evermore Will rage and prey; so, Pompey, thou, having lick'd 330 Warm gore from Sylla's sword, art yet athirst: Jaws flesh[ed] with blood continue murderous.

Speak, when shall this thy long-usurped power end?

What end of mischief? Sylla teaching thee, At last learn, wretch, to leave thy monarchy!

What, now Sicilian[609] pirates are suppress'd, And jaded[610] king of Pontus poison'd slain, Must Pompey as his last foe plume on me, Because at his command I wound not up My conquering eagles? say I merit naught,[611] 340 Yet, for long service done, reward these men, And so they triumph, be't with whom ye will.

Whither now shall these old bloodless souls repair?

What seats for their deserts? what store of ground For servitors to till? what colonies To rest their bones? say, Pompey, are these worse Than pirates of Sicilia?[612] they had houses.

Spread, spread these flags that ten years' s.p.a.ce have conquer'd!

Let's use our tried force: they that now thwart right, In wars will yield to wrong:[613] the G.o.ds are with us; 350 Neither spoil nor kingdom seek we by these arms, But Rome, at thraldom's feet, to rid from tyrants."

This spoke, none answer'd, but a murmuring buzz Th' unstable people made: their household-G.o.ds And love to Rome (though slaughter steel'd their hearts, And minds were p.r.o.ne) restrain'd them; but war's love And Caesar's awe dash'd all. Then Laelius,[614]

The chief centurion, crown'd with oaken leaves For saving of a Roman citizen, Stepp'd forth, and cried: "Chief leader of Rome's force, So be I may be bold to speak a truth, 361 We grieve at this thy patience and delay.

What, doubt'st thou us? even now when youthful blood p.r.i.c.ks forth our lively bodies, and strong arms Can mainly throw the dart, wilt thou endure These purple grooms, that senate's tyranny?

Is conquest got by civil war so heinous?

Well, lead us, then, to Syrtes' desert sh.o.r.e, Or Scythia, or hot Libya's thirsty sands.

This band, that all behind us might be quail'd, 370 Hath with thee pa.s.s'd the swelling ocean, And swept the foaming breast of Arctic[615] Rhene.

Love over-rules my will; I must obey thee, Caesar: he whom I hear thy trumpets charge, I hold no Roman; by these ten blest ensigns And all thy several triumphs, shouldst thou bid me Entomb my sword within my brother's bowels, Or father's throat, or women's groaning[616] womb, This hand, albeit unwilling, should perform it?

Or rob the G.o.ds, or sacred temples fire, 380 These troops should soon pull down the church of Jove;[617]