Part 4

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 grassie plaine, Which lodg'd his campe at siege of Mutina. Make all his combats, and couragiouse acts: And yearly plaies to his praise institute: Honor his memorie: with doubled care Breed and bring vp the children of you both In Caesars grace: who as a noble Prince Will leaue them Lords of this most gloriouse realme.

Cl. What shame were that? ah Gods! 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 hellish 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 Gods, 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.

Diom. I will obey your will.

Cl. So the desert The Gods repay of thy true faithfull heart.

Diomed.

And is't not pittie, Gods, ah Gods of heau'n! To see from loue such hatefull frutes to spring? And is't not pittie that this firebrand so Laies waste the trophes of Philippi fieldes? Where are those swete allurements, those swete lookes, Which Gods themselues right hart-sicke would haue made? What doth that beautie, rarest guift of heau'n, Wonder of earth? Alas! what doe those eies? And that swete voice all Asia vnderstoode, And sunburnt Afrike wide in deserts spred? Is their force dead? haue they no further power? Can not by them Octauius be supriz'd? Alas! if Ioue in middst of all his ire, With thunderbolt in hand some land to plague, Had cast his eies on my Queene, out of hande His plaguing bolte had falne out of his hande: Fire of his wrathe into vaine smoke should turne, And other fire within his brest should burne. Nought liues so faire. Nature by such a worke Her selfe, should seme, in workmanship hath past. She is all heau'nlie: neuer any man But seing hir was rauish'd with her sight. The Allablaster couering of hir face, The corall coullor hir two lipps engraines, Her beamie eies, two Sunnes of this our world, Of hir faire haire the fine and flaming golde, Her braue streight stature, and hir winning partes Are nothing else but fiers, fetters, dartes. Yet this is nothing th'e'nchaunting skilles Of her celestiall Sp'rite, hir training speache, Her grace, hir Maiestie, and forcing voice, Whither she it with fingers speach consorte, Or hearing sceptred kings embassadors Answer to eache in his owne language make. Yet now at nede she aides hir not at all With all these beauties, so hir sorowe stings. Darkned with woe hir only studie is To wepe, to sigh, to seke for lonelines. Careles of all, hir haire disordred hangs: Hir charming eies whence murthring looks did flie, Now riuers grown', whose wellspring anguish is, Do trickling wash the marble of hir face. Hir faire discouer'd brest with sobbing swolne Selfe cruell she still martireth with blowes, Alas! It's our ill happ, for if hir teares She would conuert into hir louing charmes, To make a conquest of the conqueror, (As well shee might, would she hir force imploie) She should vs saftie from these ills procure, Hir crowne to hir, and to hir race assure. Vnhappy he, in whome selfe-succour lies, Yet self-forsaken wanting succour dies.

Chorus.

O swete fertile land, wherin Phaebus did with breath inspire Man who men did first begin, Formed first of Nilus mire. Whence of Artes the eldest kindes, Earthes most heauenly ornament, Were as from their fountaine sent, To enlight our mistie mindes. Whose grosse sprite from endles time, As in darkned prison pente, Neuer did to knowledg clime. Wher the Nile, our father good, Father-like doth neuer misse Yearely vs to bring such food, As to life required is: Visiting each yeare this plaine, And with fatt slime cou'ring it, Which his seauen mouthes do spitt, As the season comes againe. Making therby greatest growe Busie reapers ioyfull paine, When his flouds do highest flowe. Wandring Prince of riuers thou, Honor of the AEthiops lande, Of a Lord and master now Thou a slaue in awe must stand. Now of Tiber which is spred Lesse in force, and lesse in fame Reuerence thou must the name, Whome all other riuers dread, For his children swolne in pride, Who by conquest seeke to treade Round this earth on euery side. Now thou must begin to sende Tribute of thy watrie store, As Sea pathes thy stepps shall bende, Yearely presents more and more. Thy fatt skumme, our frutefull corne, Pill'd from hence with theeuish hands All vncloth'd shall leaue our lands Into foraine Countrie borne. Which puft vp with such a pray Shall therby the praise adorne Of that scepter Rome doth sway. Nought thee helps thy hornes to hide Farre from hence in vnknowne grounds, That thy waters wander wide, Yearely breaking bankes, and bounds. And that thy Skie-coullor'd brookes Through a hundred peoples passe, Drawing plots for trees and grasse With a thousand turn's and crookes. Whome all weary of their way Thy throats which in widenesse passe Powre into their Mother Sea. Nought so happie haplesse life "In this worlde as freedome findes: "Nought wherin more sparkes are rife "To inflame couragious mindes. "But if force must vs enforce "Nedes a yoke to vndergoe, "Vnder foraine yoke to goe "Still it proues a bondage worse. "And doubled subiection "See we shall, and feele, and knowe "Subiect to a stranger growne. From hence forward for a King, whose first being from this place Should his brest by nature bring Care of Countrie to embrace, We at surly face must quake Of some Romaine madly bent: Who, our terrour to augment, His Proconsuls axe will shake. Driuing with our Kings from hence Our establish'd gouerment, Iustice sworde, and Lawes defence. Nothing worldly of such might But more mightie Destinie, By swift Times vnbridled flight, Makes in ende his ende to see. Euery thing Time ouerthrowes, Nought to ende doth stedfast staie: His great sithe mowes all away As the stalke of tender rose. Onlie Immortalitie Of the Heau'ns doth it oppose Gainst his powerfull Deitie. One daie there will come a daie Which shall quaile thy fortunes flower, And thee ruinde low shall laie In some barbarous Princes power. When the pittie-wanting fire Shall, O Rome, thy beauties burne, And to humble ashes turne Thy proud wealth, and rich attire, Those guilt roofes which turretwise, Iustly making Enuie mourne, Threaten now to pearce Skies. As thy forces fill each land Haruests making here and there, Reaping all with rauening hand They finde growing any where: From each land so to thy fall Multitudes repaire shall make, From the common spoile to take What to each mans share maie fall. Fingred all thou shalt beholde: No iote left for tokens sake That thou wert so great of olde. Like vnto the auncient Troie Whence deriu'de thy founders be, Conqu'ring foe shall thee enioie, And a burning praie in thee. For within this turning ball This we see, and see each daie: All things fixed ends do staie, Ends to first beginnings fall. And that nought, how strong or strange, Chaungles doth endure alwaie, But endureth fatall change.