Cæs.Thy sad complaints fayre Lady cannot chuse,482But mooue a heart though made ofAdamant,And draw to yeeld vnto thy powerfull plaint,I will replant thee in theÆgiptianThroneAnd all thy wrongs shallCæsar’svallor right,Ile pull thy crowne from the vsurpers head,And make the ConqueredPtolomeyto stoope,And feare by force to wrong a mayden Queene.Cleo.Looke as the Earth at her great loues approch,490When goulden tressed fayreHipperionsSonneWith those life-lending beames salutes his Spouse,Doth then cast of her moorning widdowes weeds,And calleth herhandmayde, forthher flowery fayre,To cloth her in the beauty of the spring,And of fayre primroses, and sweet violets,To make gay Garlonds for to crowne her head.Sohathyour presence, welcome and fayre sight,That glads the world, comforts pooreÆgiptsQueene,Who begs for succor of that conquering hand,500That asIouesScepter this our world doth sway.Dolo.Who would refuse to ayde so fayre a Queene.Lord.Base bee the mind, that for so sweet a fayre,Would not aduenture more thenPerseusdid,When as he freed the faireAndromeda.Cæsar.O how those louelyTyranizingeyes,The Graces beautious habitation,Where sweet desire, darteswoundringshafts of loue:Consume my heart with inward burning heate.Not onelyÆgipt, but allAfrica,510Will I subiect toCleopatrasname.Thy rule shall stretch from vnknowneZanziber,Vnto those Sandes where high erectedpoastes.Of greatAlcides, do vp hold hisname,The sunne burnt Indians, from the east shallbring:Their pretious store of pure refined gould,The laboring worme shall weaue theAfricketwiste,And to exceed the pompe ofPersianQueene,The Sea shall pay the tribute of hispearles.For to adorne thy goulden yellow lockes,520Which in their curled knots, my thoughts do hold,Thoughtes captiud to thy beauties conquering power.Anto.I marueyle not at that which fables tell,How rauishtHellenmoued the angryGreeks,To vndertake eleuen yeares tedious seege,To re-obtayne a beauty so diuine,When Ibeheldthy sweete composed face.O onely worthy for whose matchles sake,Another seege, and new warres should arise,Hectorbe dragde about theGreciancampe,530AndTroyagaine consumed withGrecianfire.Cleo.Great Prince, what thanks canCleopatragiue,Nought haue poore Virgins to requite such good:My simple selfe and seruice then vouchsafe,And let the heauens, and he thatalthingssees.With equall eyes such merits recompence,I doe not seeke ambitiously to rule,And in proudAfricato monarchize.I onely craue that what my father gaue,Who in his last be-hest did dying, will,540That I should ioyntly with my brother raigne:But.How sweet those words drop from those hunny lipsWhich whilst she speakes they still each other kisse.Cæsa,Raigne, I, stil raigne inCæsarsconquered thoughts,There build thy pallace, and thy sun-bright throne:There sway thy Scepter, and with it beat downe,Those traiterous thoughts (if any dare aryse:)That will not yeeld to thy perfection,To chasetheeflyingPompeyhaue Icut,The greatIonian, andEgeanseas:550And dredeles past the toyling Hellespont,Famous for amorousLeandersdeath:And now by gentle Fortunes so am blest,As to behold what mazed thoughtes admire:Heauens wonder, Natures and Earths Ornament,And gaze vpon these firy sun-bright eyes:The Heauenly spheares which Loue and Beauty mooue,These Cheekes where Lillyes and red-roses striue,For soueraignty, yet both do equall raigne:The dangling tresses of thy curled haire,560Netsweaudto cach our frayle and wandring thoughts:Thy beauty shining like proudPhœbusface,WhenGangesglittereth with his radiant beamesHe on his goulden trappedPalfreysrides,That from their nostrels do the morning blow,Through Heauens great path-way pau’d with shining starresThou art thefizedpole of my Soules ioy,Bout which my resteles thoughts areouerturn’d:MyCynthia, whose glory neuer waynes,Guyding the Tide of mine affections:570That with the change of thy imperious lookes,Dost make my doubtfull ioyes to eb and flowe.Cleo.Might all the deedes thy hands had ere achiu’d,That make thy farre extolled name to sound:From sun-burnt East vnto the VVestern Iles,VVhich greatNeptnnusfouldeth in his armes,It shall not be the least to seat a Maide,And inthronize her in her natiue right.Lord.VVhat neede you stand disputing on your right,Or prouing title to theÆgiptianCrowne:580Borne to be Queene and Empresse of the world.An.On thy perfection let me euer gaze,And eyes now learne to treade a louers maze,Heere may you surfet with delicious store,The more you see, desire to looke the more:Vpon her face a garden of delite,Exceeding farAdonisfayned Bowre,Heere staind white Lyllies spread their branches faire,Heere lips send forth sweete Gilly-flowers smell.And Damasck-rose in her faire cheekes do bud,590VVhile beds of Violets still come betweeneVVith fresh varyety to please the eye,Nor neede these flowers the heate ofPhœbusbeames,They cherisht are by vertue of her eyes.O that I might but enter in this bowre,Or once attaine the cropping of the flower.Cæs.Now wend we Lords toAlexandria,Famous for those wide wondredPiramids.Whose towring tops do seeme to threat the skie,And make it proud by presence of my loue:600ThenPaphianTemples andCytherianhils,And sacredGnidasbonnet vaile to it,A fayrer saint thenVenusthere shall dwell.Antho.Led with the lode-starre of her lookes, I goAs crazed Bark is toss’d in trobled Seas,Vncertaine to ariue in wishedport.
Cæs.Thy sad complaints fayre Lady cannot chuse,482But mooue a heart though made ofAdamant,And draw to yeeld vnto thy powerfull plaint,I will replant thee in theÆgiptianThroneAnd all thy wrongs shallCæsar’svallor right,Ile pull thy crowne from the vsurpers head,And make the ConqueredPtolomeyto stoope,And feare by force to wrong a mayden Queene.Cleo.Looke as the Earth at her great loues approch,490When goulden tressed fayreHipperionsSonneWith those life-lending beames salutes his Spouse,Doth then cast of her moorning widdowes weeds,And calleth herhandmayde, forthher flowery fayre,To cloth her in the beauty of the spring,And of fayre primroses, and sweet violets,To make gay Garlonds for to crowne her head.Sohathyour presence, welcome and fayre sight,That glads the world, comforts pooreÆgiptsQueene,Who begs for succor of that conquering hand,500That asIouesScepter this our world doth sway.Dolo.Who would refuse to ayde so fayre a Queene.Lord.Base bee the mind, that for so sweet a fayre,Would not aduenture more thenPerseusdid,When as he freed the faireAndromeda.Cæsar.O how those louelyTyranizingeyes,The Graces beautious habitation,Where sweet desire, darteswoundringshafts of loue:Consume my heart with inward burning heate.Not onelyÆgipt, but allAfrica,510Will I subiect toCleopatrasname.Thy rule shall stretch from vnknowneZanziber,Vnto those Sandes where high erectedpoastes.Of greatAlcides, do vp hold hisname,The sunne burnt Indians, from the east shallbring:Their pretious store of pure refined gould,The laboring worme shall weaue theAfricketwiste,And to exceed the pompe ofPersianQueene,The Sea shall pay the tribute of hispearles.For to adorne thy goulden yellow lockes,520Which in their curled knots, my thoughts do hold,Thoughtes captiud to thy beauties conquering power.Anto.I marueyle not at that which fables tell,How rauishtHellenmoued the angryGreeks,To vndertake eleuen yeares tedious seege,To re-obtayne a beauty so diuine,When Ibeheldthy sweete composed face.O onely worthy for whose matchles sake,Another seege, and new warres should arise,Hectorbe dragde about theGreciancampe,530AndTroyagaine consumed withGrecianfire.Cleo.Great Prince, what thanks canCleopatragiue,Nought haue poore Virgins to requite such good:My simple selfe and seruice then vouchsafe,And let the heauens, and he thatalthingssees.With equall eyes such merits recompence,I doe not seeke ambitiously to rule,And in proudAfricato monarchize.I onely craue that what my father gaue,Who in his last be-hest did dying, will,540That I should ioyntly with my brother raigne:But.How sweet those words drop from those hunny lipsWhich whilst she speakes they still each other kisse.Cæsa,Raigne, I, stil raigne inCæsarsconquered thoughts,There build thy pallace, and thy sun-bright throne:There sway thy Scepter, and with it beat downe,Those traiterous thoughts (if any dare aryse:)That will not yeeld to thy perfection,To chasetheeflyingPompeyhaue Icut,The greatIonian, andEgeanseas:550And dredeles past the toyling Hellespont,Famous for amorousLeandersdeath:And now by gentle Fortunes so am blest,As to behold what mazed thoughtes admire:Heauens wonder, Natures and Earths Ornament,And gaze vpon these firy sun-bright eyes:The Heauenly spheares which Loue and Beauty mooue,These Cheekes where Lillyes and red-roses striue,For soueraignty, yet both do equall raigne:The dangling tresses of thy curled haire,560Netsweaudto cach our frayle and wandring thoughts:Thy beauty shining like proudPhœbusface,WhenGangesglittereth with his radiant beamesHe on his goulden trappedPalfreysrides,That from their nostrels do the morning blow,Through Heauens great path-way pau’d with shining starresThou art thefizedpole of my Soules ioy,Bout which my resteles thoughts areouerturn’d:MyCynthia, whose glory neuer waynes,Guyding the Tide of mine affections:570That with the change of thy imperious lookes,Dost make my doubtfull ioyes to eb and flowe.Cleo.Might all the deedes thy hands had ere achiu’d,That make thy farre extolled name to sound:From sun-burnt East vnto the VVestern Iles,VVhich greatNeptnnusfouldeth in his armes,It shall not be the least to seat a Maide,And inthronize her in her natiue right.Lord.VVhat neede you stand disputing on your right,Or prouing title to theÆgiptianCrowne:580Borne to be Queene and Empresse of the world.An.On thy perfection let me euer gaze,And eyes now learne to treade a louers maze,Heere may you surfet with delicious store,The more you see, desire to looke the more:Vpon her face a garden of delite,Exceeding farAdonisfayned Bowre,Heere staind white Lyllies spread their branches faire,Heere lips send forth sweete Gilly-flowers smell.And Damasck-rose in her faire cheekes do bud,590VVhile beds of Violets still come betweeneVVith fresh varyety to please the eye,Nor neede these flowers the heate ofPhœbusbeames,They cherisht are by vertue of her eyes.O that I might but enter in this bowre,Or once attaine the cropping of the flower.Cæs.Now wend we Lords toAlexandria,Famous for those wide wondredPiramids.Whose towring tops do seeme to threat the skie,And make it proud by presence of my loue:600ThenPaphianTemples andCytherianhils,And sacredGnidasbonnet vaile to it,A fayrer saint thenVenusthere shall dwell.Antho.Led with the lode-starre of her lookes, I goAs crazed Bark is toss’d in trobled Seas,Vncertaine to ariue in wishedport.
Chor. IIEnter DiscordFlashes of fire.
Antho.NowCæsarhath thy flattering Fortune heaptThose golden gifts and promis’d victories,610By fatall signes atRubiconforetould:Then triumph in thy glorious greatest pride,And boast thou cast the lucky Die so well,Now let theTritonthat did sound alarme,In his shrill trump resound the victory,That Heauen and Earth may Ecco of thy fame:Yet thinke in this thy FortunesIollity.ThoughCæsarbe as great as great may be,YetPompeyonce was euen as great as he,And how he rode clad inSetoriusspoyles:620And theSicilianPiratsouerthrowe.Ruling likeNepounein the mid-land Seas,Who basely now by Land and Sea doth flie,The heauenlyRectorsprosecuting wrath,Yet Sea nor Land can shroud him from this iar,O how it ioyes my discord thirsting thoughts,To see themwaight,that whilom flow’d inblisse.To see likeBanners, vnlike quarrelshaue.AndRomanweapons shethd inRomanblood,For this I left the deepe Infernall shades630And past the sadAuernusvgly iawes,And in the world came I, being Discord hight,Discord the daughter of the greeslynight.To make the world a hell ofplaugesand woes,Twas I that did the fatal Aple fling,Betwixt the threeIdeangoddesses,That so much blood ofGreekesandTroiansspilt,Twas I that caused the deadlyThebanswarre,And made the brothers swell with endlesse hate.And now ORome, woe, woe, to thee I cry640Which to the world do bring almisery.
Antho.NowCæsarhath thy flattering Fortune heaptThose golden gifts and promis’d victories,610By fatall signes atRubiconforetould:Then triumph in thy glorious greatest pride,And boast thou cast the lucky Die so well,Now let theTritonthat did sound alarme,In his shrill trump resound the victory,That Heauen and Earth may Ecco of thy fame:Yet thinke in this thy FortunesIollity.ThoughCæsarbe as great as great may be,YetPompeyonce was euen as great as he,And how he rode clad inSetoriusspoyles:620And theSicilianPiratsouerthrowe.Ruling likeNepounein the mid-land Seas,Who basely now by Land and Sea doth flie,The heauenlyRectorsprosecuting wrath,Yet Sea nor Land can shroud him from this iar,O how it ioyes my discord thirsting thoughts,To see themwaight,that whilom flow’d inblisse.To see likeBanners, vnlike quarrelshaue.AndRomanweapons shethd inRomanblood,For this I left the deepe Infernall shades630And past the sadAuernusvgly iawes,And in the world came I, being Discord hight,Discord the daughter of the greeslynight.To make the world a hell ofplaugesand woes,Twas I that did the fatal Aple fling,Betwixt the threeIdeangoddesses,That so much blood ofGreekesandTroiansspilt,Twas I that caused the deadlyThebanswarre,And made the brothers swell with endlesse hate.And now ORome, woe, woe, to thee I cry640Which to the world do bring almisery.
Enter Achillas, and Sempronius.
Ach.Here are we placed, byPtolomiescommand,To murtherPompeywhen he comes on shore,Then braueSemproniuspreparetheyselfe.To execute the charge thou hast in hand,Sem.I am aRomaine, and haue often serued,Vnder his collours, when in former state,Pompeyhath bin the Generall of the field,650But cause I see that now the world is changd:Andlike wisefeele some of KingPtolomeisgould.Ile kill him were he twenty Generalls,And send him packing to his longest home.I maruell of what mettell was theFrenchmanmade.Who when he should haue stabbedMarius,They say he was astonished with his lookes.Marius, had I beene there, thou neere hadst liu’d,To brag thee of thy seauen Consulships.Achil.Brauely resolu’d, NobleSempronius,660The damnedst 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 (stoutRomaine) be renown’d,For beingPompeysDeaths-man, then was he,That fir’d the faireÆgiptianGoddesse 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 thewordlygoods,670This betweene Princes doth contention bring:Brothers this sets at ods, turnes loue to hate;It makes the Sonne to wish his Father hang’dThat 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.Compassion would that greedinesse restraine.Sem.I that’s my fault, I am to compassionate,Why man, art thou a souldier and dost talke680Of womanish pity and compassion?Mens eyes must mil-stones drop, when fooles shed teares,But soft heeresPompey, Ile about my worke.
Ach.Here are we placed, byPtolomiescommand,To murtherPompeywhen he comes on shore,Then braueSemproniuspreparetheyselfe.To execute the charge thou hast in hand,Sem.I am aRomaine, and haue often serued,Vnder his collours, when in former state,Pompeyhath bin the Generall of the field,650But cause I see that now the world is changd:Andlike wisefeele some of KingPtolomeisgould.Ile kill him were he twenty Generalls,And send him packing to his longest home.I maruell of what mettell was theFrenchmanmade.Who when he should haue stabbedMarius,They say he was astonished with his lookes.Marius, had I beene there, thou neere hadst liu’d,To brag thee of thy seauen Consulships.Achil.Brauely resolu’d, NobleSempronius,660The damnedst 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 (stoutRomaine) be renown’d,For beingPompeysDeaths-man, then was he,That fir’d the faireÆgiptianGoddesse 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 thewordlygoods,670This betweene Princes doth contention bring:Brothers this sets at ods, turnes loue to hate;It makes the Sonne to wish his Father hang’dThat 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.Compassion would that greedinesse restraine.Sem.I that’s my fault, I am to compassionate,Why man, art thou a souldier and dost talke680Of womanish pity and compassion?Mens eyes must mil-stones drop, when fooles shed teares,But soft heeresPompey, Ile about my worke.
Enter Pompey.
Pom.Trusting vpon KingPtolomeyspromis’d fayth,And hoping succor, I am come to shore:InEgiptheere a while to make aboade.Sem.Fayth longerPompeythen thou dost expect.Pom.See now worlds Monarchs, whom your state makes proudThat thinke your Honors to be permanent,690Of Fortunes change see heere a president,Who whilom did command, now must intreateAnd sue for that which to accept of late,Vnto the giuer was thought fortunate.Sem.I pray theePompeydo not spend thy breath,In reckning vp these rusty titles now,Which thy ambition grac’d thee with before,I must confesse thou wert my Generall,But that cannota vaileto saue thy life.Talke of thy Fortune while thou list,700There is thy fortunePompeyin 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 ofsoueraignety.From all that pomp to be cast hed-long downe,You may conceaue whatPompeydoth sustayne,I was not wont to walke thus all alone,But to be met with troopes of Horse andMen.With playes and pageants to beentertaynd,A courtly trayne in royall rich aray,710With spangled plumes, that daunced in the ayre,Mounted on steeds, with braue Caparisons deckt,That in their gates did seeme to scorne theEarth.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,Pompeyhowere thy comming hether bee,I haue prouided for thy going hence.Achi.I will draw neere, and with fayre pleasing shew,720Wellcome greatPompeyas theSirendothThe wandering shipman with her charming song.Pom.O how it greeues a noble hauty mind,Framed vp in honors vncontrouled schoole,To serue and sue, whoe erst did rule andswayWhat shall I goe and stoope toPtolomey,Nought to a noble mind more greefe can bringThen be a begger where thou wert a King,Ach.Wellcome a shore most great and gratious princeWelcome toÆgiptand toPtolomey.730The 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 gratulatea non,Pom.Thanks worthy Lord vnto your King and you,It ioyes me much that in extremity,I found so sure a friend asPtolomey,Sem.Now is the date of thy proud life expird,To which my poniard must a full poynt put,PompeyfromPtolomeyI come to thee,740From whome a presant and a guift I bring,This is the gift and this my message isStab himPom.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:750Cæsarno doubt with praise and noble 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 sheepeThat in a dich would else haue cast his hide,760He for his labour hath the haltars hier.But Kings and mighty Princes of the world,Byletter pattensrob both Sea and Land.Do not thenPompeyof thy murther plaine,Since thy ambition halfe the world hathslayne.
Pom.Trusting vpon KingPtolomeyspromis’d fayth,And hoping succor, I am come to shore:InEgiptheere a while to make aboade.Sem.Fayth longerPompeythen thou dost expect.Pom.See now worlds Monarchs, whom your state makes proudThat thinke your Honors to be permanent,690Of Fortunes change see heere a president,Who whilom did command, now must intreateAnd sue for that which to accept of late,Vnto the giuer was thought fortunate.Sem.I pray theePompeydo not spend thy breath,In reckning vp these rusty titles now,Which thy ambition grac’d thee with before,I must confesse thou wert my Generall,But that cannota vaileto saue thy life.Talke of thy Fortune while thou list,700There is thy fortunePompeyin 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 ofsoueraignety.From all that pomp to be cast hed-long downe,You may conceaue whatPompeydoth sustayne,I was not wont to walke thus all alone,But to be met with troopes of Horse andMen.With playes and pageants to beentertaynd,A courtly trayne in royall rich aray,710With spangled plumes, that daunced in the ayre,Mounted on steeds, with braue Caparisons deckt,That in their gates did seeme to scorne theEarth.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,Pompeyhowere thy comming hether bee,I haue prouided for thy going hence.Achi.I will draw neere, and with fayre pleasing shew,720Wellcome greatPompeyas theSirendothThe wandering shipman with her charming song.Pom.O how it greeues a noble hauty mind,Framed vp in honors vncontrouled schoole,To serue and sue, whoe erst did rule andswayWhat shall I goe and stoope toPtolomey,Nought to a noble mind more greefe can bringThen be a begger where thou wert a King,Ach.Wellcome a shore most great and gratious princeWelcome toÆgiptand toPtolomey.730The 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 gratulatea non,Pom.Thanks worthy Lord vnto your King and you,It ioyes me much that in extremity,I found so sure a friend asPtolomey,Sem.Now is the date of thy proud life expird,To which my poniard must a full poynt put,PompeyfromPtolomeyI come to thee,740From whome a presant and a guift I bring,This is the gift and this my message isStab himPom.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:750Cæsarno doubt with praise and noble 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 sheepeThat in a dich would else haue cast his hide,760He for his labour hath the haltars hier.But Kings and mighty Princes of the world,Byletter pattensrob both Sea and Land.Do not thenPompeyof thy murther plaine,Since thy ambition halfe the world hathslayne.
Enter Cornelia.
Corne.O traterous villaines, hold your murthering hands,Or if that needes they must be washt in blood,Imbrue them heere, heere inCorneliasbrest.770Ay mee as I stood looking from the Ship(Accursed shippe 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,MyPompeydeere (norPompeynow 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?780DothPompey, doth thy loue moue thee no more?Go cursedCorneliarent thy wretched haire,Drowne blobred cheekes in seas of saltest teares.Andif,it be true that sorrowes feeling powre,Could turne pooreNiobeinto a weeping stoneO let mee weepea 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 bouldSince that thou this so heauy tale hast tould.790These are but womanish exclamationsLight sorrowe makes such lamentations,Pompeyno words my true griefe can declare,This for thy loue shalbe my best welfare.Stab her selfe.
Corne.O traterous villaines, hold your murthering hands,Or if that needes they must be washt in blood,Imbrue them heere, heere inCorneliasbrest.770Ay mee as I stood looking from the Ship(Accursed shippe 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,MyPompeydeere (norPompeynow 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?780DothPompey, doth thy loue moue thee no more?Go cursedCorneliarent thy wretched haire,Drowne blobred cheekes in seas of saltest teares.Andif,it be true that sorrowes feeling powre,Could turne pooreNiobeinto a weeping stoneO let mee weepea 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 bouldSince that thou this so heauy tale hast tould.790These are but womanish exclamationsLight sorrowe makes such lamentations,Pompeyno words my true griefe can declare,This for thy loue shalbe my best welfare.Stab her selfe.
Enter Cæsar, Cleopatra, Anthony,Dolobella, a Lord
Cæsar.There sterneAchillasandFortuniuslie,TraytorousSemproniusand proudPtolomey,Go plead your cause fore the angryRhadamant,800And tel him why you baselyPompeyslew.And let your guilty blood appease his Ghost,That now sits wandring by the Stygian bankes,Vnworthy sacrifice to quite his worth,ForPompeythough thou wert mine enemy,And vayne ambition mou’d vs to this strife;Yet now in death when strife and enuycease.Thy princely vertues and thy noble minde,Moue me to rue thy vndeserued death,That found a greater daunger then it fled;810Vnhapy 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 Bastards 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 deseruedgraue.Whose worth indeede a Temple ought to haue.Dolo.See how compassion drawes foorth Princely teares820And Vertue weepes her enemies funerall,So sorrowed the mightyAlexander,WhenBessushand caus’dDariusto die.Ant.These greeued sorrowing Princes do with me,Ioyntly agree in Contrariety,Alackewe mourne, greeued is our mind alike,Our gate is discontented, heauy our lookes,Our sorrowes alla like, but dislike cause.Their foe is their grifescauser whichmy friend,It is the losse of one that makes them wayle,830But 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 sadperlexedthoughts,Withdraw thy mind in clowdy discontent,And withÆgiptianpleasures feed thine eyes,Wilt thoube houldthe Sepulchers of Kings,And Monuments that speake the workemens prayse?Ile bring thee to GreatAlexandersTombe,840Where 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 eitherCleopsor ourMemphisboast:Would you command a banquit in the Court,Ile bring you to a Royall goulden bowre,Fayrer then that wherein greatIouedoth sit,And heaues vp boles ofNectarto hisQueene,A stately Pallace, whose fayre doble gates:Are wrought with garnish’d Carued Iuory,850And stately pillars of pure bullionframd.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 ourAcademickSchooles,Or heare our Priests to reason of the starres,HencePlatofecht 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,860Thy morall deedes my sweete Philosophy,Venusthe muse whose ayde I must implore:O let me profit in this study best,For Beauties scholler I am nowprefest.Lord.See how this faireEgiptianSorceres,Enchantes these Noble warriars man-like mindes,And melts their hearts in loue and wantones.Cæs.Most glorious Queene, whose cheerefull smiling wordsExpell these cloudes that ouer cast my minde.Cæsarwill ioy inCleopatrasioy,870And 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 Idleinstruments.My warlike speare and vncontrouled crest:My mortall wounding sword and siluer shield,And vnder thy sweete banners beare the brunt,Of peacefull warres and amarous Alarmes:WhyMarshimselfe his bloudy rage alayd,Dallying inVenusbed hath often playd,880And greatAlcides, when he did returne:FromIunostaskes, andNemeanvictories,From monsters fell, andNcmeantoyles:Reposed himselfe inDeianirasarmes.Heere will I pitch the pillarsosmy fame,Heere thenon vltraof 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,890Be sidesCaribdis, and fellScyllasspight:More dangerousCirceandCalipsoescup,Then pleasant gardens ofAlcionus:And thousand lets voluptiousnesse doth offer.Cæs.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 fairerosallChaplets crowne thyhead,The purpleHyacinthofPhœbusLand:900FreshAmarinthusthat doth neuer die,And faireNarcissusdeererespendentshoars,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 CourtsWhere liberalCæres, andLiæusfat,Shall powre their plenty forth and fruitfull store,The sparkling liquor shall ore-flow his bankes:910AndMeroélearne to bring forth pleasant wine,FruitfullArabia, and the furthest Ind,Shall spend their treasuries ofSpiceryVVithNardusCoranets weele guird our heads:And al the while melodious warbling notes,Passing the seauen-fould harmony of Heauen:Shall seeme to rauish our enchanted thoughts,Thus is the feare of vnkindePtolomey,Changed by thee to feast in Iolity:Antho.O how mine stares suck vp her heauenly words,920The whilst mine eyes do prey vpon her face:Cæs.Winde we thenAnthonywith this Royall Queene,This day weele spend in mirth and banqueting.Antho.Had IQueene,Iunoesheard-mans hundred eies,To gaze vpon these two bright Sunnesofhirs:Yet would they all be blinded instantly.Cæs.VVhat hath some Melancholy discontent,Ore-come thy minde with trobled passions.Ant.Yet being blinded with the Sunny beames,Her beauties pleasing colours would restore,930Decayed sight with fresh variety.Lord.LordAnthonywhat meanes this trobled minde,Cæsarinuites thee to the royall feast,That faire QueeneCleopatrahath prepard.Antho.Pardon me worthyCæsarand you Lords,In not attending your most gratiousspeechThoughts of my Country, and returne toRome,Som-what distempered my busy head.Cæs.Let no such thoughts distemper now thy minde,This day toBacchuswill wee consecrate,940And in deepe goblets of the purest wine,Drinke healths vnto our seuerall friends at home.Antho.If of my Country or ofRomeI thought,Twas that I neuer ment for to come there,But spend my life in this sweete paradise.Exeunt.
Cæsar.There sterneAchillasandFortuniuslie,TraytorousSemproniusand proudPtolomey,Go plead your cause fore the angryRhadamant,800And tel him why you baselyPompeyslew.And let your guilty blood appease his Ghost,That now sits wandring by the Stygian bankes,Vnworthy sacrifice to quite his worth,ForPompeythough thou wert mine enemy,And vayne ambition mou’d vs to this strife;Yet now in death when strife and enuycease.Thy princely vertues and thy noble minde,Moue me to rue thy vndeserued death,That found a greater daunger then it fled;810Vnhapy 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 Bastards 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 deseruedgraue.Whose worth indeede a Temple ought to haue.Dolo.See how compassion drawes foorth Princely teares820And Vertue weepes her enemies funerall,So sorrowed the mightyAlexander,WhenBessushand caus’dDariusto die.Ant.These greeued sorrowing Princes do with me,Ioyntly agree in Contrariety,Alackewe mourne, greeued is our mind alike,Our gate is discontented, heauy our lookes,Our sorrowes alla like, but dislike cause.Their foe is their grifescauser whichmy friend,It is the losse of one that makes them wayle,830But 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 sadperlexedthoughts,Withdraw thy mind in clowdy discontent,And withÆgiptianpleasures feed thine eyes,Wilt thoube houldthe Sepulchers of Kings,And Monuments that speake the workemens prayse?Ile bring thee to GreatAlexandersTombe,840Where 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 eitherCleopsor ourMemphisboast:Would you command a banquit in the Court,Ile bring you to a Royall goulden bowre,Fayrer then that wherein greatIouedoth sit,And heaues vp boles ofNectarto hisQueene,A stately Pallace, whose fayre doble gates:Are wrought with garnish’d Carued Iuory,850And stately pillars of pure bullionframd.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 ourAcademickSchooles,Or heare our Priests to reason of the starres,HencePlatofecht 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,860Thy morall deedes my sweete Philosophy,Venusthe muse whose ayde I must implore:O let me profit in this study best,For Beauties scholler I am nowprefest.Lord.See how this faireEgiptianSorceres,Enchantes these Noble warriars man-like mindes,And melts their hearts in loue and wantones.Cæs.Most glorious Queene, whose cheerefull smiling wordsExpell these cloudes that ouer cast my minde.Cæsarwill ioy inCleopatrasioy,870And 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 Idleinstruments.My warlike speare and vncontrouled crest:My mortall wounding sword and siluer shield,And vnder thy sweete banners beare the brunt,Of peacefull warres and amarous Alarmes:WhyMarshimselfe his bloudy rage alayd,Dallying inVenusbed hath often playd,880And greatAlcides, when he did returne:FromIunostaskes, andNemeanvictories,From monsters fell, andNcmeantoyles:Reposed himselfe inDeianirasarmes.Heere will I pitch the pillarsosmy fame,Heere thenon vltraof 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,890Be sidesCaribdis, and fellScyllasspight:More dangerousCirceandCalipsoescup,Then pleasant gardens ofAlcionus:And thousand lets voluptiousnesse doth offer.Cæs.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 fairerosallChaplets crowne thyhead,The purpleHyacinthofPhœbusLand:900FreshAmarinthusthat doth neuer die,And faireNarcissusdeererespendentshoars,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 CourtsWhere liberalCæres, andLiæusfat,Shall powre their plenty forth and fruitfull store,The sparkling liquor shall ore-flow his bankes:910AndMeroélearne to bring forth pleasant wine,FruitfullArabia, and the furthest Ind,Shall spend their treasuries ofSpiceryVVithNardusCoranets weele guird our heads:And al the while melodious warbling notes,Passing the seauen-fould harmony of Heauen:Shall seeme to rauish our enchanted thoughts,Thus is the feare of vnkindePtolomey,Changed by thee to feast in Iolity:Antho.O how mine stares suck vp her heauenly words,920The whilst mine eyes do prey vpon her face:Cæs.Winde we thenAnthonywith this Royall Queene,This day weele spend in mirth and banqueting.Antho.Had IQueene,Iunoesheard-mans hundred eies,To gaze vpon these two bright Sunnesofhirs:Yet would they all be blinded instantly.Cæs.VVhat hath some Melancholy discontent,Ore-come thy minde with trobled passions.Ant.Yet being blinded with the Sunny beames,Her beauties pleasing colours would restore,930Decayed sight with fresh variety.Lord.LordAnthonywhat meanes this trobled minde,Cæsarinuites thee to the royall feast,That faire QueeneCleopatrahath prepard.Antho.Pardon me worthyCæsarand you Lords,In not attending your most gratiousspeechThoughts of my Country, and returne toRome,Som-what distempered my busy head.Cæs.Let no such thoughts distemper now thy minde,This day toBacchuswill wee consecrate,940And in deepe goblets of the purest wine,Drinke healths vnto our seuerall friends at home.Antho.If of my Country or ofRomeI thought,Twas that I neuer ment for to come there,But spend my life in this sweete paradise.Exeunt.
Enter Cicero, Brutus, Casca,Camber, Trebonius.
Cice.Most prudent heads, that with your councels wise,The pillars of the mightyRomesustaine,You see how ciuill broyles haue torne our state:950And priuate strife hath wrought a publique wo,Thessaliaboasts that she hath seene our fall,AndRomethat whilom wont to Tiranize,And in the necks of all the world hath rang’d,Loosing her rule, to serue is now constraynd,Pompeythe hope and stay of Common-weale,VVhose vertues promis’dRomesecurityNow flies distrest, disconsolate, forlorne,Reproch of Fortune, and the victors scorne.Cæs.VVhat now is left for wretchedRometo hope,960But in laments and bitter future woe,To wey the downefall of her former pride:AgainePorsennabrings inTarquinsnames,AndRomeagaine doth smoke with furious flames.InPompeysfall wee all are ouerthrowne,And subiect made to conqueror Tirany.Bru.Most NobleCiceroand youRomainePeeres,Pardon the author of vnhappy newes,And then prepare to heare my tragicktale.VVith that same looke, that greatAtridesstood,970At cruell alter staind with Daughtersblood,WhenPompeyfled pursuingCæsarssword,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 yongEgiptianKing,VVhose Father of an Exild banish’d manHee seated had in throne of Maiesty,980Him 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 greatPompeyto be slaine:Casca.O damned deede.Cam.O TrayterousPtolomey.Tre.O most vnworthy and vngratefull fact.990Cum.What plages may serue to expiate this act,The rouling stone or euerturning wheele,The quenchles flames of firyPhlegeton,Or endles thirst of which the Poets talke,Are all to gentle for so vilde a deede.Cas.Well did theCibillsvnrespectedverse.Bid thee beware ofCrocadilish Nile,Ter.And art thou in a barbarous soyle betrayd,DefrawdedPompeyof thy funerall rites,There none could weepe vpon thy funerall hearse,1000None could thy Consulshipes and triumphs tell,And in thy death set fourth thy liuing praise,None would erect to thee asepulcher.Or put thine ashes in a pretious vrne,Cice.Peace Lords lament not noblePompeysdeath,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 theOceanscircuite buried is,And euery place whereRomannames are heard,1010The world is his graue, where liuing fame doth blaze,His funerallpraisethrough his immortall trump,And ore his tombe vertue and honor sits,With rented heare and eyesbespentwith teares,And waile and weepe their deere sonnePompeysdeath,Bru.But now my Lords for to augment this griefe,CæsartheSenatesdeadly enimie,Aimes eke to vs, and meanes to tryumph heere,Vpon poore conqueredRomeand common wealth,Cas.This was the end at which he alwayes aymd,1020Tre.Then end all hope ofRomainesliberty,Rise nobleRomaine,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 willbornebothRomeand vs.Cæsaralthough of high aspiring thoughtes,And vncontrould ambitious Maiesty,Yet is of nature faire and courteous,1030You see hee commeth conqueror of the East:Clad in the spoyles of thePharsalianfieldes,Then wee vnable to resist such powre:By gentle peace and meeke submission,Must seeke to pacify the victors wrath.Exeunt.
Cice.Most prudent heads, that with your councels wise,The pillars of the mightyRomesustaine,You see how ciuill broyles haue torne our state:950And priuate strife hath wrought a publique wo,Thessaliaboasts that she hath seene our fall,AndRomethat whilom wont to Tiranize,And in the necks of all the world hath rang’d,Loosing her rule, to serue is now constraynd,Pompeythe hope and stay of Common-weale,VVhose vertues promis’dRomesecurityNow flies distrest, disconsolate, forlorne,Reproch of Fortune, and the victors scorne.Cæs.VVhat now is left for wretchedRometo hope,960But in laments and bitter future woe,To wey the downefall of her former pride:AgainePorsennabrings inTarquinsnames,AndRomeagaine doth smoke with furious flames.InPompeysfall wee all are ouerthrowne,And subiect made to conqueror Tirany.Bru.Most NobleCiceroand youRomainePeeres,Pardon the author of vnhappy newes,And then prepare to heare my tragicktale.VVith that same looke, that greatAtridesstood,970At cruell alter staind with Daughtersblood,WhenPompeyfled pursuingCæsarssword,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 yongEgiptianKing,VVhose Father of an Exild banish’d manHee seated had in throne of Maiesty,980Him 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 greatPompeyto be slaine:Casca.O damned deede.Cam.O TrayterousPtolomey.Tre.O most vnworthy and vngratefull fact.990Cum.What plages may serue to expiate this act,The rouling stone or euerturning wheele,The quenchles flames of firyPhlegeton,Or endles thirst of which the Poets talke,Are all to gentle for so vilde a deede.Cas.Well did theCibillsvnrespectedverse.Bid thee beware ofCrocadilish Nile,Ter.And art thou in a barbarous soyle betrayd,DefrawdedPompeyof thy funerall rites,There none could weepe vpon thy funerall hearse,1000None could thy Consulshipes and triumphs tell,And in thy death set fourth thy liuing praise,None would erect to thee asepulcher.Or put thine ashes in a pretious vrne,Cice.Peace Lords lament not noblePompeysdeath,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 theOceanscircuite buried is,And euery place whereRomannames are heard,1010The world is his graue, where liuing fame doth blaze,His funerallpraisethrough his immortall trump,And ore his tombe vertue and honor sits,With rented heare and eyesbespentwith teares,And waile and weepe their deere sonnePompeysdeath,Bru.But now my Lords for to augment this griefe,CæsartheSenatesdeadly enimie,Aimes eke to vs, and meanes to tryumph heere,Vpon poore conqueredRomeand common wealth,Cas.This was the end at which he alwayes aymd,1020Tre.Then end all hope ofRomainesliberty,Rise nobleRomaine,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 willbornebothRomeand vs.Cæsaralthough of high aspiring thoughtes,And vncontrould ambitious Maiesty,Yet is of nature faire and courteous,1030You see hee commeth conqueror of the East:Clad in the spoyles of thePharsalianfieldes,Then wee vnable to resist such powre:By gentle peace and meeke submission,Must seeke to pacify the victors wrath.Exeunt.
Enter Cato Senior, and Cato Iunior.