The Tragedy Of Caesar's Revenge Part 2

_Ach._ Here are we placed, by _Ptolomies_ command, To murther _Pompey_ when he comes on sh.o.r.e, Then braue _Semp.r.o.nius_ prepare they selfe.

To execute the charge thou hast in hand, _Sem._ I am a _Romaine_, and haue often serued, Vnder his collours, when in former state, _Pompey_ hath bin the Generall of the field, 650 But cause I see that now the world is changd: And like wise feele some of King _Ptolomeis_ gould.

Ile kill him were he twenty Generalls, And send him packing to his longest home.

I maruell of what mettell was the _French_ man made.

Who when he should haue stabbed _Marius_, They say he was astonished with his lookes.

_Marius_, had I beene there, thou neere hadst liu'd, To brag thee of thy seauen Consuls.h.i.+ps.

_Achil._ Brauely resolu'd, n.o.ble _Semp.r.o.nius_, 660 The d.a.m.nedst villaine that ere I heard speake: But great men still must haue such instruments, To bring about their purpose, which once donne, The deede they loue, but do the doer hate: Thou shalt no lesse (stout _Romaine_) be renown'd, For being _Pompeys_ Deaths-man, then was he, That fir'd the faire _aegiptian_ G.o.ddesse Church.

_Sem._ Nay that's al one, report say what she list, Tis for no shadowes I aduenture for: Heere are the Crownes, heere are the wordly goods, 670 This betweene Princes doth contention bring: Brothers this sets at ods, turnes loue to hate; It makes the Sonne to wish his Father hang'd That he thereby might reuell with his bagges: And did I knowe that in my Mothers womb, There lurk'd a hidden vaine of Sacred gould, This hand, this sword, should rape and rip it out.

_Achil._ Compa.s.sion would that greedinesse restraine.

_Sem._ I that's my fault, I am to compa.s.sionate, Why man, art thou a souldier and dost talke 680 Of womanish pity and compa.s.sion?

Mens eyes must mil-stones drop, when fooles shed teares, But soft heeres _Pompey_, Ile about my worke.

_Enter Pompey._

_Pom._ Trusting vpon King _Ptolomeys_ promis'd fayth, And hoping succor, I am come to sh.o.r.e: In _Egipt_ heere a while to make aboade.

_Sem._ Fayth longer _Pompey_ then thou dost expect.

_Pom._ See now worlds Monarchs, whom your state makes proud That thinke your Honors to be permanent, 690 Of Fortunes change see heere a president, Who whilom did command, now must intreate And sue for that which to accept of late, Vnto the giuer was thought fortunate.

_Sem._ I pray thee _Pompey_ do not spend thy breath, In reckning vp these rusty t.i.tles now, Which thy ambition grac'd thee with before, I must confesse thou wert my Generall, But that cannot a vaile to saue thy life.

Talke of thy Fortune while thou list, 700 There is thy fortune _Pompey_ in my fist.

_Pom._ O you that know what hight of honor meanes, What tis for men that lulled in fortunes lap, Haue climd the heighest top of soueraignety.

From all that pomp to be cast hed-long downe, You may conceaue what _Pompey_ doth sustayne, I was not wont to walke thus all alone, But to be met with troopes of Horse and Men.

With playes and pageants to be entertaynd, A courtly trayne in royall rich aray, 710 With spangled plumes, that daunced in the ayre, Mounted on steeds, with braue Caparisons deckt, That in their gates did seeme to scorne the Earth.

Was wont my intertaynment beautiefie, But now thy comming is in meaner sort, They by thy fortune will thy welcom rate.

_Sem._ What dost thou for such entertaynement looke, _Pompey_ how ere thy comming hether bee, I haue prouided for thy going hence.

_Achi._ I will draw neere, and with fayre pleasing shew, 720 Wellcome great _Pompey_ as the _Siren_ doth The wandering s.h.i.+pman with her charming song.

_Pom._ O how it greeues a n.o.ble hauty mind, Framed vp in honors vncontrouled schoole, To serue and sue, whoe erst did rule and sway What shall I goe and stoope to _Ptolomey_, Nought to a n.o.ble mind more greefe can bring Then be a begger where thou wert a King, _Ach._ Wellcome a sh.o.r.e most great and gratious prince Welcome to _aegipt_ and to _Ptolomey_. 730 The King my Maister is at hand my Lord, To gratulate your safe ariuall heere.

_Sem._ This is the King, and here is the Gentleman, Which must thy comming gratulate a non, _Pom._ Thanks worthy Lord vnto your King and you, It ioyes me much that in extremity, I found so sure a friend as _Ptolomey_, _Sem._ Now is the date of thy proud life expird, To which my poniard must a full poynt put, _Pompey_ from _Ptolomey_ I come to thee, 740 From whome a presant and a guift I bring, This is the gift and this my message is _Stab him_ _Pom._ O Villaine thou hast slayne thy Generall, And with thy base hand gor'd my royall heart.

Well I haue liued till to that height I came, That all the world did tremble at my name, My greatnesse then by fortune being enuied, Stabd by a murtherous villaynes hand I died.

_Ach._ What is he dead, then straight cut of his head, That whilom mounted with ambitions wings: 750 _Caesar_ no doubt with praise and n.o.ble thanks, Regarding well this well deserued deede, Whome weele present with this most pleasing gift, _Sem._ Loe you my maisters, hee that kills but one, Is straight a Villaine and a murtherer cald, But they that vse to kill men by the great, And thousandes slay through their ambition, They are braue champions, and stout warriors cald, Tis like that he that steales a rotten sheepe That in a dich would else haue cast his hide, 760 He for his labour hath the haltars hier.

But Kings and mighty Princes of the world, By letter pattens rob both Sea and Land.

Do not then _Pompey_ of thy murther plaine, Since thy ambition halfe the world hath slayne.

ACTVS 2. SCENA. 2. {SN _Act II sc. ii_}

_Enter Cornelia._

_Corne._ O traterous villaines, hold your murthering hands, Or if that needes they must be washt in blood, Imbrue them heere, heere in _Cornelias_ brest. 770 Ay mee as I stood looking from the s.h.i.+p (Accursed s.h.i.+ppe that did not sinke and drowne: And so haue sau'd me from so loath'd a sight) Thee to behold what did betide my Lord, My _Pompey_ deere (nor _Pompey_ now nor Lord) I sawe those villaines that but now were heere: Bucher my loue and then with violence, To drawe his deare beloued Body hence; What dost thou stand to play the Oratrix, And tell a tale of thy deere husbands death? 780 Doth _Pompey_, doth thy loue moue thee no more?

Go cursed _Cornelia_ rent thy wretched haire, Drowne blobred cheekes in seas of saltest teares.

And if, it be true that sorrowes feeling powre, Could turne poore _Niobe_ into a weeping stone O let mee weepe a like, and like stone be, And you poore lights, that sawe this tragick sight, Be blind and punnish'd with eternall night.

Vnhappy long to speake, bee neare so bould Since that thou this so heauy tale hast tould. 790 These are but womanish exclamations Light sorrowe makes such lamentations, _Pompey_ no words my true griefe can declare, This for thy loue shalbe my best welfare. _Stab her selfe._

ACT. 2. SCE. 3. {SN _Act II sc. iii_}

_Enter Caesar, Cleopatra, Anthony, Dolobella, a Lord,_

_Caesar._ There sterne _Achillas_ and _Fortunius_ lie, Traytorous _Semp.r.o.nius_ 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 n.o.ble 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 b.a.s.t.a.r.ds 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 compa.s.sion 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 n.o.ble 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 s.h.i.+eld, 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 sh.o.a.rs, 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, Pa.s.sing 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 pa.s.sions.

_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 n.o.ble _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 d.a.m.ned deede.

_Cam._ O Trayterous _Ptolomey_.

_Tre._ O most vnworthy and vngratefull fact. 990 _c.u.m._ 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 hea.r.s.e, 1000 None could thy Consuls.h.i.+pes 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 n.o.ble _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 n.o.ble _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._