Part 6

Ant. All that I can, is done: for last assay (When all means fail'd) I to entreatie fell, (Ah coward creature!) whence againe repulst Of combate I vnto him proffer made: Though he in prime, and I by feeble age Mightily weakned both in force and skill. Yet could not he his coward heart aduaunce Baselie affraid to trie so praisefull chaunce. This makes me plaine, makes me my selfe accuse, Fortune in this hir spitefull force doth vse 'Gainst my gray hayres: in this vnhappie I Repine at heau'ns in my happes pittiles. A man, a woman both in might and minde, In Marses schole who neuer lesson learn'd, Should me repulse, chase, ouerthrow, destroie, Me of such fame, bring to so lowe an ebbe? Alcides bloud, who from my infancie With happie prowesse crowned haue my praise. Witnesse thou Gaule vnus'd to seruile yoke, Thou valiant Spaine, you fields of Thessalie With millions of mourning cries bewail'd, Twise watred now with bloude of Italie.

Lu. witnesse may Afrique, and of conquer'd world All fower quarters witnesses may be. For in what part of earth inhabited, Hungrie of praise haue you not ensignes spredd?

An. Thou know'st rich AEgypt (AEgypt of my deeds Faire and foule subiect) AEgypt ah! thou know'st How I behau'd me fighting for thy kinge, When I regainde him his rebellious Realme. Against his foes in battaile shewing force, And after fight in victorie remorse. Yet if to bring my glorie to the ground, Fortune had made me ouerthrowne by one Of greater force, of better skill then I; One of those Captaines feared so of olde, Camill, Marcellus, worthy Scipio, This late great Caesar, honor of our state, Or that great Pompei aged growne in armes; That after haruest of a world of men Made in a hundred battailes, fights, assaults, My bodie thorow pearst with push of pike Had vomited my bloud, in bloud my life, In midd'st of millions felowes in my fall: The lesse hir wrong, the lesse should my woe: Nor she should paine, nor I complain me so. No, no, wheras I should haue died in armes, And vanquisht oft new armies should haue arm'd, New battailes giuen, and rather lost with me All this whole world submitted vnto me: A man who neuer saw enlaced pikes With bristled pointes against his stomake bent, Who feares the field, and hides him cowardly Dead at the verie noise the souldiors make. His vertue, fraude, deceit, malicious guile, His armes the arts that false Vlisses vs'de, Knowne at Modena, wher the Consuls both Death-wounded were, and wounded by his men To gett their armie, warre with it to make Against his faith, against his countrie soile. Of Lepidus, which to his succours came, To honor whome he was by dutie bounde; The Empire he vsurpt: corrupting first With baites and bribes the most part of his men. Yet me hath ouercome, and made his pray, And state of Rome, with me hath ouercome. Strange! one disordred act at Actium The earth subdu'de, my glorie hath obscur'd. For since, as one whome heauens wrath attaints, With furie caught, and more then furious Vex'd with my euills, I neuer more had care My armies lost, or lost name to repaire: I did no more resist.

Lu. All warres affaires, But battailes most, daily haue their successe Now good, now ill: and though that fortune haue Great force and power in euery worldlie thing, Rule all, do all, haue all things fast enchaind Vnto the circle of hir turning wheele: Yet seemes it more then any practise else She doth frequent Ballonas bloudie trade: And that hir fauour, wauering as the wind, Hir greatest power therin doth oftnest shewe. Whence growes, we dailie see, who in their youth Gatt honor ther, do loose it in their age, Vanquisht by some lesse warlike then themselues: Whome yet a meaner man shall ouerthrowe. Hir vse is not to lende vs still her hande, But sometimes headlong back a gaine to throwe, When by hir fauor she hath vs extolld Vnto the topp of highest happines.

Ant. well ought I curse within my grieued soule, Lamenting daie and night, this sencelesse loue, Whereby my faire entising foe entrap'd My hedelesse Reason, could no more escape. It was not fortunes euer chaunging face, It was not Dest'nies chaungles violence Forg'd my mishap. Alas! who doth not know They make, nor marre, nor any thing can doe. Fortune, which men so feare, adore, detest, Is but a chaunce whose cause vnknow'n doth rest. Although oft times the cause is well perceiu'd, But not th'effect the fame that was conceiu'd. Pleasure, nought else, the plague of this our life, Our life which still a thousand plagues pursue, Alone hath me this strange disastre spunne, Falne from a souldior to a Chamberer, Careles of vertue, careles of all praise. Nay, as the fatted swine in filthy mire With glutted heart I wallow'd in delights, All thoughts of honor troden vnder foote. So I me lost: for finding this swete cupp Pleasing my tast, vnwise I drunke my fill, And through the swetenes of that poisons power By stepps I draue my former witts astraie. I made my frends, offended me forsake, I holpe my foes against my selfe to rise. I robd my subiects, and for followers I saw my selfe besett with flatterers. Mine idle armes faire wrought with spiders worke, My scattred men without their ensignes strai'd: Caesar meane while who neuer would haue dar'de To cope with me, me sodainlie despis'de, Tooke hart to fight, and hop'de for victorie On one so gone, who glorie had forgone.

Lu. Enchaunting pleasure; Venus swete delights Weaken our bodies, ouer-cloud our sprights, Trouble our reason, from our harts out chase All holie vertues lodging in their place. Like as the cunning fisher takes the fishe By traitor baite wherby the hooke is hidde: So Pleasure serues to vice in steede of foode To baite our soules theron too licourishe. This poison deadlie is alike to all, But on great kings doth greatest outrage worke, Taking the Roiall scepters from their hands, Thenceforward to be by some straunger borne: While that their people charg'd with heauy loades Their flatt'rers pill, and suck their mary drie, Not ru'lde but left to great men as a pray, While this fonde Prince himselfe in pleasur's drowns: Who heares nought, sees nought, doth nought of a king, Seming himselfe against himselfe conspirde. Then equall Iustice wandreth banished, And in hir seat sitts greedie Tyrannie. Confus'd disorder troubleth all estates, Crimes without feare and outrages are done. Then mutinous Rebellion shewes hir face, Now hid with this, and now with that pretence, Prouoking enimies, which on each side Enter at ease, and make them Lords of all. The hurtfull workes of pleasure here behold.

An. The wolfe is not so hurtfull to the folde, Frost to the grapes, to ripened fruits the raine: As pleasure is to Princes full of paine.

Lu. Ther nedes no proofe, but by th' Assirian kinge, On whome that Monster woefull wrack did bring.

An. Ther nedes no proofe, but by vnhappie I, Who lost my empire, honor, life therby.

Lu. Yet hath this ill so much the greater force, As scarcelie anie do against it stand: No, not the Demy-gods the olde world knew, Who all subdu'de, could Pleasures power subdue. Great Hercules, Hercules once that was Wonder of earth and heau'n, matchles in might, Who Anteus, Lycus, Geryon ouercame, Who drew from hell the triple-headed dogg, Who Hydra kill'd, vanquishd Achelous, Who heauens weight on his strong shoulders bare: Did he not vnder Pleasures burthen bow? Did he not Captiue to this passion yelde, When by his Captiue, so he was enflam'de, As now your selfe in Cleopatra burne? Slept in hir lapp, hir bosome kist and kiste, With base vnsemelie seruice bought her loue, Spinning at distaffe, and with sinewy hand Winding on spindles threde, in maides attire? His conqu'ring clubbe at rest on wal did hang: His bow vnstringd he bent not as he vs'de: Vpon his shafts the weauing spiders spunne: And his hard cloake the freating mothes did pierce. The monsters free and fearles all the time Throughout the world the people did torment, And more and more encreasing daie by day Scorn'd his weake heart become a mistresse plaie.

An. In onelie this like Hercules am I, In this I proue me of his lignage right: In this himselfe, his deedes I shew in this, In this, nought else, my ancestor he is. But go we: die I must, and with braue ende Conclusion make of all foregoing harmes: Die, die I must: I must a noble death, A glorious death vnto my succor call: I must deface the shame of time abus'd, I must adorne the wanton loues I vs'de With some couragiouse act: that my last daie By mine owne hand my spotts may wash away. Come deare Lucill: alas! why wepe you thus! This mortall lot is common to vs all. We must all die, each doth in homage owe Vnto that God that shar'd the Realmes belowe. Ah sigh no more: alas: appeace your woes, For by your griefe my griefe more eager growes.

Chorus.

Alas, with what tormenting fire. Vs martireth this blinde desire To staie our life from flieng! How ceasleslie our minds doth rack, How heauie lies vpon our back This dastard feare of dieng! Death rather healthfull succor giues, Death rather all mishappes relieues That life vpon vs throweth: And euer to vs doth vnclose The doore, wherby from curelesse woes Our wearie soule out goeth. What Goddesse else more milde then shee To burie all our paine can be, What remedie more pleasing? Our pained hearts when dolor stings, And nothing rest, or respite brings, What help haue we more easing? Hope which to vs doth comfort giue, And doth or fainting hearts reuiue, Hath not such force in anguish: For promising a vaine reliefe She oft vs failes in midst of griefe, And helples letts vs languish. But Death who call on her at nede Doth neuer with vaine semblant feed, But when them sorow paineth, So riddes their soules of all distresse Whose heauie weight did them oppresse, That not one griefe remaineth. Who feareles and with courage bolde Can Acherons black face beholde, Which muddie water beareth: And crossing ouer, in the way Is not amaz'd at Perruque gray Olde rustie Charon weareth: Who voide of dread can looke vpon The dreadfull shades that rome alone, On bankes where sound no voices: Whom with her fire-brands and her Snakes No whit afraide Alecto makes, Nor triple-barking noyses: Who freely can himselfe dispose Of that last hower which all must close, And leaue this life at pleasure: This noble freedome more esteemes, And in his hart more precious deemes, Then Crowne and kingly treasure. The waues which Boreas blasts turmoile And cause with foaming furie boile, Make not his heart to tremble: Nor brutish broile, when with strong head A rebell people madly ledde Against their Lords assemble: Nor fearfull face of Tirant wood, Who breaths but threats, and drinks but bloud, No, nor the hand which thunder, The hand of Ioue which thunder beares, And ribbs of rocks in sunder teares, Teares mountains sides in sunder: Nor bloudie Marses butchering bands, Whose lightnings desert laie the lands whome dustie cloudes do couer: From of whose armour sun-beames flie, And vnder them make quaking lie The plaines wheron they houer: Nor yet the cruell murth'ring blade Warme in the moistie bowells made of people pell mell dieng In some great Cittie put to sack By sauage Tirant brought to wrack, At his colde mercie lieng. How abiect him, how base think I, Who wanting courage can not dye When need him therto calleth? From whom the dagger drawne to kill The curelesse griefes that vexe him still For feare and faintnes falleth? O Antonie with thy deare mate Both in misfortunes fortunate! Whose thoughts to death aspiring Shall you protect from victors rage, Who on each side doth you encage, To triumph much desiring. That Caesar may you not offend Nought else but Death can you defend, which his weake force derideth, And all in this round earth containd, Powr'les on them whom once enchaind Auernus prison hideth: Where great Psammetiques ghost doth rest, Not with infernall paine possest, But in swete fields detained: And olde Amasis soule likewise, And all our famous Ptolemies That whilome on vs raigned.

Act. 4.

Caesar. Agrippa. Dircetus the Messenger.

Caesar.

You euer-liuing Gods which all things holde Within the power of your celestiall hands, By whom heate, colde, the thunder, and the winde, The properties of enterchaunging mon'ths Their course and being haue, which do set downe Of Empires by your destinied decree The force, age, time, and subiect to no chaunge Chaunge all, reseruing nothing in one state: You haue aduaunst, as high as thundring heau'n The Romains greatnes by Bellonas might: Mastring the world with fearfull violence, Making the world widow of libertie. Yet at this daie this proud exalted Rome Despoil'd, captiu'd, at one mans will doth bende: Her Empire mine, her life is in my hand, As Monarch I both world and Rome commaund; Do all, can all; fourth my commaund'ment cast Like thundring fire from one to other Pole Equall to Ioue: bestowing by my worde Happes and mishappes, as Fortunes King and Lord. No Towne there is, but vp my Image settes, But sacrifice to me doth dayly make: Whither where Phaebus ioyne his morning steedes, Or where the night them weary entertaines, Or where the heat the Garamants doth scorche, Or where the colde from Boreas breast is blowne: All Caesar do both awe and honor beare, And crowned Kings his verie name do feare. Antonie knowes it well, for whom not one Of all the Princes all this earth do rule, Armes against me: for all redoubt the power Which heau'nly powers on earth haue made me beare. Antonie, he poore man with fire enflam'de A womans beauties kindled in his heart, Rose against me, who longer could not beare My sisters wrong he did so ill entreat: Seing her left while that his leud delights Her husband with his Cleopatra tooke In Alexandrie, where both nights and daies Their time they pass'd in nought but loues and plaies. All Asias forces into one he drewe, And forth he sett vpon the azur'd waues A thousand and a thousand Shipps, which fill'd With Souldiors, pikes, with targets, arrowes, darts, Made Neptune quake, and all the watrie troupes Of Glauques, and Tritons lodg'd at Actium_. But mightie Gods, who still the force withstand Of him, who causles doth another wrong, In lesse then moments space redus'd to nought All that proud power by Sea or land he brought.

Agr. Presumptuouse pride of high and hawtie sprite, Voluptuouse care of fonde and foolish loue, Haue iustly wrought his wrack: who thought he helde (By ouerweening) Fortune in his hand. Of vs he made no count, but as to play, So fearles came our forces to assay. So sometimes fell to Sonnes of Mother Earth, Which crawl'd to heau'n warre on the Gods to make, Olymp on Pelion, Ossaon Olymp, Pindus on Ossa loading by degrees: That at hand strokes with mightie clubbes they might On mossie rocks the Gods make tumble downe: When mightie Ioue with burning anger chaf'd, Disbraind with him Gyges and Briareus, Blunting his darts vpon their brused bones. For no one thing the Gods can lesse abide In dedes of men, then Arrogance and Pride. And still the proud, which too much takes in hand, Shall fowlest fall, where best he thinks to stand.

Caes. Right as some Pallace, or some stately tower, Which ouer-lookes the neighbour buildings round In scorning wise, and to the Starres vp growes, Which in short time his owne weight ouerthrowes. What monstrous pride, nay what impietie Incen'st him onward to the Gods disgrace? When his two children, Cleopatras bratts, To Phaebe and her brother he compar'd, Latonas race, causing them to be call'd The Sunne and Moone? Is not this folie right? And is not this the Gods to make his foes? And is not this himself to worke his woes?

Agr. In like proud sort he caus'd his head to leese The Iewish king Antigonus, to haue His Realme for balme, that Cleopatra lou'd, As though on him he had some treason prou'd.

Caes. Lydia to her, and Siria he gaue, Cyprus of golde, Arabia rich of smelles: And to his children more Cilicia, Parth's, Medes, Armenia, Phaenicia: The kings of kings proclaiming them to be, By his owne worde, as by a sound decree.

Agr. What? Robbing his owne countrie of her due Triumph'd he not in Alexandria, Of Artabasus the Armenian King, Who yelded on his periur'd word to him?

Caes. Nay, neuer Rome more iniuries receiu'd, Since thou, o Romulus, by flight of birds with happy hand the Romain walles did'st build, Then Antonies fond loues to it hath done. Nor euer warre more holie, nor more iust, Nor vndertaken with more hard constraint, Then is this warre: which were it not, our state Within small time all dignitie should loose: Though I lament (thou Sunne my witnes art; And thou great Ioue) that it so deadly proues: That Romain bloud should in such plentie flowe, Watring the fields and pastures where we goe. What Carthage in olde hatred obstinate, What Gaule still barking at our rising state, What rebell Samnite, what fierce Pyrrhus power, What cruell Mithridate, what Parth hath wrought Such woe to Rome: whose common wealth he had, (Had he bene victor) into Egipt brought.

Agr. Surely the Gods, which haue this Cittie built Stedfast to stand as long as time endures, Which kepe the Capitoll, of vs take care, And care will take of those shall after come, Haue made you victor, that you might redresse Their honor growne by passed mischieues lesse.

Caes. The seelie man when all the Greekish Sea His fleete had hidd, in hope me sure to drowne, Me battaile gaue: where fortune, in my stede, Repulsing him his forces disaraied. Him selfe tooke flight, soone as his loue he saw All wanne through feare with full sailes flie away. His men, though lost, whome none did now direct, With courage fought fast grappled shipp with shipp, Charging, resisting, as their oares would serue, With darts, with swords, with Pikes, with fierie flames. So that the darkned night her starrie vaile Vpon the bloudie sea had ouer-spred, Whilst yet they held: and hardlie, hardlie then They fell to flieng on the wauie plaine. All full of Souldiors ouerwhelm'd with waues: The aire throughout with cries and grones did sound: The Sea did blush with bloud: the neighbor shores Groned, so they with shipwracks pestred were, And floting bodies left for pleasing foode To birds, and beasts, and fishes of the sea. You know it well Agrippa.

Ag. Mete it was The Romain Empire so should ruled be, As heau'n is rul'd: which turning ouer vs, All vnder things by his example turnes. Now as of heau'n one onely Lord we know: One onely Lord should rule this earth below. When one self pow're is common made to two, Their duties they nor suffer will, nor doe. In quarell still, in doubt, in hate, in feare; Meane while the people all the smart do beare.

Caes. Then to the ende none, while my daies endure, Seeking to raise himselfe may succours finde, We must with bloud marke this our victorie, For iust example to all memorie. Murther we must, vntill not one we leaue, Which may hereafter vs of rest bereaue.

Ag. Marke it with murthers? who of that can like?