That they will blesse our holy purposes Me thinks I see poore Rome in horror clad And aged Senators in sad discourse Mourne for our sorrowes and theyr seruitude Me thinks I see them while lamenting thus Theyr harts and eyes lye houering ouer vs. On then braue men my fellowes and Romes friends To shew vs worthy of our auncestors And let vs fight with courage and conceite That we may rest the Maisters of the field That this braue Tyrant valiantly beset May perrish in the presse before our faces And that his troopes as tucht wyth lightning flames May by our horse in heapes be ouer-throwne And he blood-thirsting wallow in his owne Thys sayd His Army crying all at once With ioyfull tokens did applaude his speeches VVhose swift shrill noyse did pierce into the clowdes Lyke Northern windes that beate the horned Alpes The clattring Armour buskling as they paced Ronge through the Forrests with a frightfull noyse And euery Eccho tooke the Trompets clange When like a tempest rais'd with whire-winds rage They ranne at euer-each other hand and foote Where-with the dust as with a darksome clowde Arose and ouer-shadowed horse and man The Darts and Arrowes on theyr Armour glaunced And with theyr fall the trembling earth was shaken The ayre that thickned with theyr thundring cryes With pale wanne clowdes discoloured the Sunne The fire in sparks fro forth theyr Armour flew And with a duskish yellow chokt the heauens The battel 's lockt with bristle-poynted speares Doe at the halfe pyke freely charge each other And dash together like two lustie Bulls That iealous of some Heyfar in the Heard Runne head to head and sullen wil not yeeld Till dead or fled the one forsake the field The shyuered Launces ratling in the ayre Fly forth as thicke as moates about the Sunne When with theyr swords flesht with the former fight They hewe their Armour and they cleaue their casks Till streames of blood like Riuers fill the Downes That being infected with the stench thereof Surcloyes the ground and of a Champant Land Makes it a Quagmire where kneedeepe they stand Blood-thirstie Discord with her snakie hayre A fearfull Hagge with fier-darting eyes Runnes crosse the Squadrons with a smokie brand And with her murdring whip encourageth The ouer-forward hands to bloode and death Bellona fiered with a quenchles rage Runnes vp and downe and in the thickest throng Cuts casts the ground and madding makes a poole Which in her rage free passage doth afford That with our blood she may annoynt her sword Now we of our side vrge them to retreate And nowe before them we retyre as fast As on the Alpes the sharpe Nor-North-east wind Shaking a Pynetree with theyr greatest powre One while the top doth almost touch the earth And then it riseth with a counterbuffe So did the Armies presse and charge each other With selfe-same courage worth and weapons to And prodigall of life for libertie With burning hate let each at other flie Thryce did the Cornets of the souldiers cleerd Turne to the Standerd to be newe supplyde And thrice the best of both was faine to breathe And thrice recomforted they brauely ranne And fought as freshly as they first beganne Like two fierce Lyons fighting in a Desart To winne the loue of some faire Lyonesse When they haue vomited theyr long-growne rage And proou'd each others force sufficient Passant regardant softly they retyre Theyr iawbones dy'd with foming froth and blood Their lungs like spunges ramm'd within their sides Theyr tongues discouerd and theyr tailes long trailing Till iealous rage engendered with rest Returnes them sharper set then at the first And makes them couple when they see theyr prize With bristled backs and fire-sparkling eyes Tyll tyer'd or conquer'd one submits or flyes Caesar whose kinglike lookes like day-bright starrs Both comfort and encourage his to fight Marcht through the battaile laying still about him And subt'ly markt whose hand was happiest Who nicely did but dyp his speare in blood And who more roughly smear'd it to his fiste Who staggering fell with euery feeble wound And who more strongly pac'd it through the thickest Him he enflam'd and spur'd and fild with horror As when Alecto in the lowest hell Doth breathe new heate within Orestes brest Till out-ward rage with inward griefe begins A fresh remembrance of our former sins For then as if prouokt with pricking goades Theyr warlike Armies fast lockt foote to foote Stooping their heads low bent to tosse theyr staues They fiercely open both Battalions Cleaue breake and raging tempest-like o're-turne What e're makes head to meet them in this humor Our men at Armes in briefe begin to flye And neither prayers intreatie nor example Of any of theyr leaders left aliue Had powre to stay them in this strange carrier Stragling as in the faire Calabrian fields VVhen Wolues for hunger ranging fro the wood Make forth amongst the flock that scattered flyes Before the Shepheard that resistles lyes Corn. O cruell fortune Mess None resisting now the field was fild with all confusion of murder death and direfull massacres The feeble bands that yet were left entyre Had more desire to sleepe then seeke for spoyle No place was free from sorrow euery where Lay Armed men ore-troden with theyr horses Dismembred bodies drowning in theyr blood And wretched heapes lie mourning of theyr maimes VVhose blood as from a spunge or bunche of Grapes Crusht in a VVine-presse gusheth out so fast As with the sight doth make the sound agast Some should you see that had theyr heads halfe clouen And on the earth theyr braines lye trembling Here one new wounded helps another dying Here lay an arme and there a leg lay shiuer'd Here horse and man o're-turnd for mercy cryde With hands exstended to the merciles That stopt theyr eares and would not heare a word But put them all remorceles to the sword He that had hap to scape doth helpe a fresh To re-enforce the side wheron he seru'd But seeing that there the murdring Enemie Pesle-mesle pursued them like a storme of hayle They gan retyre where Iuba was encampt But there had Caesar eftsoones tyranniz'd So that dispayring to defend themselues They layd aside theyr Armour and at last Offred to yeeld vnto the enemy Whose stony hart that nere dyd Romaine good VVould melt with nothing but theyr deerest blood And Scipio my Father when he beheld His people so discomfited and scorn'd When he perceiu'd the labour profitles To seeke by new encouraging his men To come vpon them with a fresh alarme And when he saw the enemies pursuite To beate them downe as fierce as thundring flints And lay them leuell with the charged earth Lyke eares of Corne with rage of windie showres Their battailes scattred and their Ensignes taken And to conclude his men dismayd to see The passage choakt with bodies of the dead Incessantly lamenting th' extreame losse And souspirable death of so braue souldiers He spurrs his horse and breaking through the presse Trots to
And thy dismembred body stab'd and torne Dragd through the streets disdained to bee borne Phillip Cornelia Amongst the rest of mine extreame mishaps I finde my fortune not the least in this That I haue kept my Maister company Both in his life and at hys latest houre Pompey the great whom I haue honored With true deuotion both aliue and dead one selfesame shyp containd vs when I saw The murdring Egiptians bereaue his lyfe And when the man that had afright the earth Did homage to it with his deerest blood O're whom I shed full many a bitter teare And did performe hys obsequies with sighes And on the strond vpon the Riuer side Where to my sighes the waters seem'd to turne I woaue a Coffyn for his corse of Seggs That with the winde dyd waue like bannerets And layd his body to be burn'd thereon Which when it was consum'd I kindly tooke And sadly cloz'd within an earthen Vrne The asshie reliques of his haples bones Which hauing scapt the rage of wind and Sea I bring to faire Cornelia to interr Within his Elders Tombe that honoured her Cornelia Ayh-me what see I Phil. Pompeys tender bones which in extreames an earthen Vrne containeth Corn. O sweet deere deplorable cynders O myserable woman lyuing dying O poore Cornelia borne to be distrest Why liu'st thou toyl'd that dead mightst lye at rest O faithles hands that vnder cloake of loue Did entertaine him to torment him so O barbarous inhumaine hatefull traytors Thys your disloyall dealing hath defam'd Your King and his inhospitable seate Of the extreamest and most odious cryme That gainst the heauens might bee imagined For yee haue basely broke the Law of Armes And out-rag'd ouer an afflicted soule Murdred a man that did submit himselfe And iniur'd him that euer vs'd you kindly For which misdeed be Egipt pestered With battaile famine and perpetuall plagues Let Aspies Serpents Snakes and Lybian Beares Tygers and Lyons breed with you for euer And let fayre Nylus wont to nurse your Corne Couer your Land with Toades and Crocadils That may infect deuoure and murder you Els earth make way and hell receiue them quicke A hatefull race mongst whom there dooth abide All treason luxurie and homicide Phillip Cease these laments Corn. I doe but what I ought to mourne his death Phil. Alas that profits nought Cor. Will heauen let treason be vnpunished Phil. Heauens will performe what they haue promised Cor. I feare the heauens will not heare our prayer Phil. The plaints of men opprest doe pierce the ayre Cor. Yet Caesar liueth still Phil. Due punishment Succeedes not alwaies after an offence For oftentimes t' is for our chastisement That heauen doth with wicked men dispence That when they list they may with vsurie For all misdeeds pay home the penaltie Cor. This is the hope that feeds my haples daies Els had my life beene long agoe expired I trust the gods that see our hourely wrongs Will fire his shamefull bodie with their flames Except some man resolued shall conclude With Caesars death to end our seruitude Els god to fore my selfe may liue to see His tired corse lye toyling in his blood Gor'd with a thousand stabs and round about The wronged people leape for inward ioy And then come Murder then come vglie Death Then Lethe open thine infernall Lake I le downe with ioy because before I died Mine eyes haue seene what I in hart desir'd Pompey may not reuiue and Pompey dead Let me but see the murdrer murdered Phil. Caesar bewail'd his death Corn. His death hee mournd whom while hee lyu'd to lyue lyke him hee scorne Phil. Hee punished his murdrers Corn. Who murdred hym but hee that followd Pompey with the sword He murdred Pompey that pursu'd his death And cast the plot to catch him in the trap He that of his departure tooke the spoyle Whose fell ambition founded first in blood By nought but Pompeys lyfe could be with-stood Phil. Photis and false Achillas he beheadded Corn. That was because that Pompey being theyr freend they had determin'd once of Caesars end Phil. What got he by his death Cor. Supremacie Phil. Yet Caesar speakes of Pompey honourablie Corn. Words are but winde nor meant he what he spoke Phil. He will not let his statues be broke Cor. By which disguise what ere he doth pretend His owne from beeing broke he doth defend And by the traynes where-with he vs allures His owne estate more firmely he assures Phil. He tooke no pleasure in his death you see Corn. Because hymselfe of life did not bereaue him Phil. Nay he was mou'd with former amitie Corn. He neuer trusted him but to deceiue him But had he lou'd him with a loue vnfained Yet had it beene a vaine and trustlesse league For there is nothing in the soule of man So firmely grounded as can qualifie Th' inextinguible thyrst of signiorie Not heauens feare nor Countries sacred loue Not auncient lawes nor nuptiall chast desire Respect of blood or that which most should moue The inward zeale that Nature doth require All these nor any thing we can deuise Can stoope the hart resolu'd to tyrannize Phil. I feare your griefes increase with thys discourse Corn. My griefes are such as hardly can be worse Phil. Tyme calmeth all things Corn. No tyme quallifies my dolefull spyrits endles myseries My griefe is lyke a Rock whence ceaseles strayne Fresh springs of water at my weeping eyes Still fed by thoughts lyke floods with winters rayne For when to ease th' oppression of my hart I breathe an Autumne forth of fiery sighes Yet herewithall my passion neither dyes Nor dryes the heate the moysture of mine eyes Phil. Can nothing then recure these endlesse teares Corn. Yes newes of Caesars death that medcyn beares Phil. Madam beware for should hee heare of thys his wrath against you t' will exasperate Corn. I neither stand in feare of him nor his Phil. T' is pollicie to feare a powrefull hate Corn. What can he doe Phil. Madam what cannot men that haue the powre to doe what pleaseth them Corn. He can doe mee no mischiefe that I dread Phil. Yes cause your death Corn. Thrise happy were I dead Phil. With rigorous torments Corn. Let him torture mee Pull me in peeces famish fire mee vp Fling mee aliue into a Lyons denn There is no death so hard torments mee so As his extreame tryumphing in our woe But if he will torment me let him then Depriue me wholy of the hope of death For I had died before the fall of Rome And slept with Pompey in the peacefull deepes Saue that I lyue in hope to see ere long That Caesars death shall satisfie his wrong CHORVS FOrtune in powre imperious Vs'd ore the world and worldings thus to tirannize VVhen shee hath heap't her gifts on vs away shee flies Her feete more swift then is the winde Are more inconstant in their kinde then Autumne blasts A womans shape a womans minde that sildom lasts One while shee
bends her angry browe And of no labour will allow Another while She fleres againe I know not how still to beguile Fickle in our aduersities And fickle when our fortunes rise shee scoffs at vs That blynd herselfe can bleare our eyes to trust her thus The Sunne that lends the earth his light Behelde her neuer ouer night lye calmely downe But in the morrow following might perceiue her frowne Shee hath not onely power and will T' abuse the vulgar wanting skill but when shee list To Kings and Clownes doth equall ill without resist Mischaunce that euery man abhors And cares for crowned Emperors shee doth reserue As for the poorest labourers that worke or starue The Merchant that for priuate gaine Doth send his Ships to passe the maine vpon the shore In hope he shall his wish obtaine doth thee adore Vpon the sea or on the Land VVhere health or wealth or vines doe stand thou canst doe much And often helpst the helples hande thy power is such And many times dispos'd to iest Gainst one whose power and cause is best thy power to try To him that n'ere put speare in rest giu'st victory For so the Lybian Monarchy That with Ausonian blood did die our warlike field To one that n'ere got victorie was vrg'd to yeelde So noble Marius Arpins friend That dyd the Latin state defend from Cymbrian rage Did proue thy furie in the end which nought could swage And Pompey whose dayes haply led So long thou seem'dst t' haue fauoured in vaine t' is sayd VVhen the Pharsalian field be led implor'd thine ayde Now Caesar swolne with honors heate Sits signiorizing in her seate and will not see That Fortune can her hopes defeate what e're they be From chaunce is nothing franchized And till the time that they are dead is no man blest He onely that no death doth dread doth liue at rest ACTVS QVARTVS Cassius Decim Brutus ACcursed Rome that arm'st against thy selfe A Tyrants rage and mak'st a wretch thy King For one mans pleasure O iniurious Rome Thy chyldren gainst thy children thou hast arm'd And thinkst not of the riuers of theyr bloode That earst was shed to saue thy libertie Because thou euer hatedst Monarchie Now o're our bodies tumbled vp on heapes Lyke cocks of Hay when Iuly sheares the field Thou buildst thy kingdom and thou seat'st thy King And to be seruile which torments me most Employest our liues and lauishest our blood O Rome accursed Rome thou murdrest vs And massacrest thy selfe in yeelding thus Yet are there Gods yet is there heauen and earth That seeme to feare a certaine Thunderer No no there are no Gods or if there be They leaue to see into the worlds affaires They care not for vs nor account of men For what we see is done is done by chaunce T' is Fortune rules for equitie and right Haue neither helpe nor grace in heauens sight Scipio hath wrencht a sword into hys brest And launc'd hys bleeding wound into the sea Vndaunted Cato tore hys entrails out Affranius and Faustus murdred dyed Iuba-and Petreus fiercely combatting Haue each done other equall violence Our Army 's broken and the Lybian Beares Deuoure the bodies of our Cittizens The conquering Tyrant high in Fortunes grace Doth ryde tryumphing o're our Common-wealth And mournfull we behold him brauely mounted With stearne lookes in his Chariot where he leades The conquered honor of the people yok't So Rome to Caesar yeelds both powre and pelfe And o're Rome Caesar raignes in Rome it selfe But Brutus shall wee dissolutelie sitte And see the tyrant liue to tyranize Or shall theyr ghosts that dide to doe vs good Plaine in their Tombes of our base cowardise Shall lamed Souldiours and graue gray-haird men Poynt at vs in theyr bitter teares and say See where they goe that haue theyr race forgot And rather chuse vnarm'd to serue with shame Then arm'd to saue their freedom and their fame Brutus I sweare by heauen th'Immortals highest throne Their Temples Altars and theyr Images To see for one that Brutus suffer not His ancient liberty to be represt I freely marcht with Caesar in hys warrs Not to be subiect but to ayde his right But if enuenom'd with ambitious thoughts He lyft his hand imperiously o're vs If he determyn but to raigne in Rome Or follow'd Pompey but to thys effect Or if these ciuill discords now dissolu'd He render not the Empyre back to Rome Then shall he see that Brutus thys day beares The selfe-same Armes to be aueng'd on hym And that thys hand though Caesar blood abhor Shall toyle in his which I am sorry for I loue I loue him deerely But the loue That men theyr Country and theyr birth-right beare Exceeds all loues and deerer is by farre Our Countries loue then friends or chyldren are Cassius If this braue care be nourisht in your blood Or if so franck a will your soule possesse Why hast we not euen while these words are vttred To sheathe our new-ground swords in Caesars throate Why spend we day-light and why dies he not That by his death we wretches may reuiue We stay too-long I burne till I be there To see this massacre and send his ghost To theyrs whom subtilly he for Monarchie Made fight to death with show of liberty Bru. Yet haply he as Sylla whylom dyd When he hath rooted ciuill warre from Rome Will there-withall discharge the powre he hath Cass Caesar and Sylla Brutus be not like Sylla assaulted by the enemie Did arme himselfe but in his owne defence Against both Cynnas host and Marius Whom when he had discomfited and chas'd And of his safety throughly was assur'd He layd apart the powre that he had got And gaue vp rule for he desier'd it not Where Caesar that in silence might haue slept Nor vrg'd by ought but his ambition Did breake into the hart of Italie And lyke rude Brennus brought his men to field Trauers'd the seas And shortly after backt With wintered souldiers vs'd to conquering He aym'd at vs bent to exterminate Who euer sought to intercept his state Now hauing got what he hath gaped for Deere Brutus thinke you Caesar such a chyld Slightly to part with so great signiorie Belieue it not he bought it deere you know And traueled too farre to leaue it so Brut. But Casius Caesar is not yet a King Cas No but Dictator in effect as much He doth what pleaseth hym a princely thing And wherein differ they whose powre is such Brutus Hee is not bloody Cassius But by bloody iarres he hath vnpeopled most part of the earth Both Gaule and Affrique perrisht by his warres Egypt Emathia Italy and Spayne Are full of dead mens bones by Caesar slayne Th' infectious plague and Famins bitternes Or th' Ocean whom no pitty can asswage Though they containe dead bodies numberles Are yet inferior to Caesars rage Who monster-like wyth his ambition Hath left more Tombes then ground to lay them on Brut. Souldiers with such reproch
our sorrowes to surcease Latium alreadie quaild will be destroyd ACTVS SECVNDVS Cornelia Cicero AND wil ye needs bedew my dead-grown ioyes And nourish sorrow with eternall teares O eyes and will yee cause I cannot dry Your ceaselesse springs not suffer me to die Then make the blood fro forth my branch-like vaines Lyke weeping Riuers trickle by your vaults And spunge my bodies heate of moisture so As my displeased soule may shunne my hart Heauens let me dye and let the Destinies Admit me passage to th' infernall Lake That my poore ghost may rest where powerfull fate In Deaths sad kingdom hath my husband lodg'd Fayne would I die but darksome vgly Death With-holds his darte and in disdaine doth flye me Malitiously knowing that hels horror Is mylder then mine endles discontent And that if Death vpon my life should seaze The payne supposed would procure mine ease But yee sad Powers that rule the silent deepes Of dead-sad Night where sinnes doe maske vnseene You that amongst the darksome mansions Of pyning ghosts twixt sighes and sobs and teares Do exercise your mirthlesse Empory Yee gods at whose arbitrament all stand Dislodge my soule and keepe it with your selues For I am more then halfe your prysoner My noble husbands more then noble soules Already wander vnder your commaunds O then shall wretched I that am but one Yet once both theyrs suruiue now they are gone Alas thou shouldst thou shouldst Cornelia Haue broke the sacred thred that tyde thee heere When as thy husband Crassus in his flowre Did first beare Armes and bare away my loue And not as thou hast done goe break the bands By calling Hymen once more back againe Lesse haples and more worthily thou might'st Haue made thine auncesters and thee renound If like a royall Dame with faith fast kept Thou with thy former husbands death hadst slept But partiall Fortune and the powerful Fates That at their pleasures wield our purposes Bewitcht my life and did beguile my loue Pompey the fame that ranne of thy frayle honors Made me thy wife thy loue and like a thiefe From my first husband stole my faithles griefe But if as some belieue in heauen or hell Be heauenly powers or infernall spirits That care to be aueng'd of Louers othes Oathes made in marriage and after broke Those powers those spirits mou'd with my light faith Are now displeas'd with Pompey and my selfe And doe with ciuill discord furthering it Vntye the bands that sacred Hymen knyt Els onely I am cause of both theyr wraths And of the sinne that ceeleth vp thine eyes Thyne eyes O deplorable Pompey I am shee I am that plague that sacks thy house and thee For t' is not heauen nor Crassus cause hee sees That I am thine in iealosie pursues vs. No t' is a secrete crosse an vnknowne thing That I receiu'd from heauen at my birth That I should heape misfortunes on theyr head Whom once I had receiu'd in marriage bed Then yee the noble Romulists that rest Hence-forth forbeare to seeke my murdring loue And let theyr double losse that held me deere Byd you beware for feare you be beguild Ye may be ritch and great in Fortunes grace And all your hopes with hap may be effected But if yee once be wedded to my loue Clowdes of aduersitie will couer you So pestilently fraught with change of plagues Is mine infected bosome from my youth Like poyson that once lighting in the body No sooner tutcheth then it taints the blood One while the hart another while the liuer According to th' encountring passages Nor spareth it what purely feeds the hart More then the most infected filthiest part Pompey what holpe it thee say deerest life Tell mee what holpe thy warlike valiant minde T' encounter with the least of my mishaps What holpe it thee that vnder thy commaund Thou saw'st the trembling earth with horror mazed Or where the sunne forsakes th' Ocean sea Or watereth his Coursers in the West Thaue made thy name by farre more fam'd and feard Then Summers thunder to the silly Heard What holpe it that thou saw'st when thou wert young Thy Helmet deckt with coronets of Bayes So many enemies in battaile rang'd Beate backe like flyes before a stome of hayle T' haue lookt a-skance and see so many Kings To lay their Crownes and Scepters at thy feete T' embrace thy knees and humbled by theyr fate T' attend thy mercy in this morneful state Alas and here-withall what holpe it thee That euen in all the corners of the earth Thy wandring glory was so greatly knowne And that Rome saw thee while thou tryumph'dst thrice O're three parts of the world that thou hadst yok'd That Neptune weltring on the windie playnes Escapt not free fro thy victorious hands Since thy hard hap since thy fierce destinie Enuious of all thine honors gaue thee mee By whom the former course of thy faire deeds Might with a byting brydle bee restraind By whom the glorie of thy conquests got Might die disgrac'd with mine vnhappines O haples wife thus ominous to all Worse then Megera worse then any plague What foule infernall or what stranger hell Hence-forth wilt thou inhabite where thy hap None others hopes with mischiefe may entrap Cicero What end O race of Scipio will the Eates Afford your teares Will that day neuer come That your desastrous griefes shall turne to ioy And we haue time to burie our annoy Cornelia Ne're shall I see that day for Heauen and Time Haue faild in power to calme my passion Nor can they should they pittie my complaints Once ease my life but with the pangs of death Cicero The wide worlds accidents are apt to change And tickle Fortune staies not in a place But like the Clowdes continuallie doth range Or like the Sunne that hath the Night in chace Then as the Heauens by whom our hopes are guided Doe coast the Earth with an eternall course We must not thinke a miserie betided Will neuer cease but still grow worse and worse When Isie Winter 's past then comes the spring Whom Sommers pride with sultrie heate pursues To whom mylde Autumne doth earths treasure bring The sweetest season that the wise can chuse Heauens influence was nere so constant yet In good or bad as to continue it When I was young I saw against poore Sylla Proud Cynna Marius and Carbo flesh'd So long till they gan tiranize the Towne And spilt such store of blood in euery street As there were none but dead-men to be seene Within a while I saw how Fortune plaid And wound those Tyrants vnderneath her wheele Who lost theyr liues and power at once by one That to reuenge himselfe did with his blade Commit more murther then Rome euer made Yet Sylla shaking tyrannie aside Return'd due honors to our Common-wealth Which peaceably retain'd her auncient state Growne great without the strife of Cittizens Till thys ambitious Tyrants time that toyld To stoope the world and Rome to his desires But flattring