FINIS.Act. 3.

Cæs.Why thinkes my loue to fright me with her dreames?1591Shall bug-beares feareCæsarsvndaunted heart,WhomePompeysFortune neuer could amaze,Nor theFrenchhorse, norMauritanianboe,And now shall vaine illusions mee affright:Or shadowes daunt, whom substance could not quell?Calphur.O dearestCæsar, hast thou seene thy selfe,(As troubled dreames to me did faine thee seene:)Torne, Wounded, Maymed, Blod-slaughtered, Slaine,O thou thy selfe, wouldst then haue dread thy selfe:1600And feard to thrust thy life to dangers mouth.Cæs.There you bewray the folly of your dreame,For I am well, aliue, vncaught, vntoucht.Calphur.T’wasin the Senate-house I sawe thee so,And yet thou dreadles thither needes will go.Cæs.The Senate is a place of peace, not death,But these were but deluding visions.Calphur.O do not set so little by the heauens,Dreames ar diuine, men say they come fromIoue,Beware betimes, and bee not wise to late:1610Mens good indeuours change the wills of Fate.Cæs.Weepe not faire loue, let not thy wofull tearesBode mee, I knowe what thou wouldest not haue tohapIt will distaine mine honor wonne in fightTo say a womans dreame could me affright.Cal.OCæsarno dishonour canst thou get,In seeking to preuent vnlucky chance:Foole-hardy men do runne vpon their death,Becthou in this perswaded by thy wife:No vallour bids thee cast away thy life.1620Cæs.Tis dastard cowardize and childish feare,To dread those dangers that do not appeare:Cal.Thou must sad chance byfore-cast,wise resist,Or being done say boote-les had I wist.Cæs.But for to feare wher’s no suspition,Will to my greatnesse be derision.Cal.There lurkes an adder in the greenest grasse,Daungers of purpose alwayes hide their face:Cæs.Perswade no moreCæsar’sresolu’d to go.Cal.The Heauens resolue that hee may safe returne,1630For if ought happen to my loue but well:His danger shalbe doubled with my death.Exit.

Enter Augur.

Augur.I, come they are, but yet they are not gon.Cæs.What hast thou sacrifiz’d, as custome is,Before wee enter in the Senat-house.Augur.O stay thosesteepsthat leade thee to thy death,The angry heauens withthreeatningdire aspect,Boding mischance, and balfull massacers,Menace the ouerthrowe ofCæsarspowre:1640Saturnesits frowning on the God of Warre,VVho in their sad coniunction do conspire,Vniting both theirbale fullinfluences,To heape mischance, and danger to thy life:The Sacrificing beast is heart-les found:Sad ghastly sightes, and raysed Ghostes appeare,Which fill the silent woods, with groning cries:The hoarse Night-rauen tunes the chearles voyce,And calls thebale-fullOwle, and howling Doge,To make aconsort. Inwhose sad song is this,1650Neere is the ouerthrow ofCæsarsblisse.Exit.Cæsar.The world is set to fray mee from my wits,Heers harteles Sacrifice and visions,Howlinge and cryes, and gastly grones of Ghosts,SoftCæsardo not make a mockery,Of these Prodigious signes sent from the Heauens,CalphurniasDre ameIumpingwhichAugurswords,Shew (if thou markest itCæsar) cause to feare:This day the Senate there shalbe dissolued,And Ile returne to myCalphurniahome,One giues him a paper.1660What hast thou heare that thou presents vs with,Pre.A thing my Lord that doth concerne your life.Which loue to you and hate of such a deed,Makes me reueale vnto your excellence.Cæsar laughs.Smilest thou, or think’st thou it someildetoy,Thoutfrownea nonto read so many names.That haue conspird and sworne thy bloody death,Exit.

Enter Cassius.

Cassius.Now must I come, and with close subtile girdes,Deceaue the prey that Ile deuoureanon,1670My Lord the Sacred Senate doth expect,Your royall presence inPompeiuscourt:Cæsar.Cassiusthey tell me that some daungersnigh.And death pretended in the Senatehouse.Cassi.What danger or what wrong can be,Where harmeles grauitie and vertuesits,Tis past alldaungerpresent death it is,Nor is it wrong to render due desert.To feare the Senators without a cause,Will bee a cause why theile be to be feared,1680Cæsa.The Senate stayes for me inPompeyscourt.AndCæsarsheere, and dares not goe to them,Packe hence all dread of danger and of death,What must be must be;Cæsarsprest forall,Cassi.Now haue I sent him headlong to his ende,Vengance and death awayting at his heeles,Cæsarthy life now hangeth on a twine,Which by my Poniard must bee cut in twaine,Thy chaire of state now turn’d is to thy Beere,Thy Princely robes to make thy winding sheete:1690The Senators the Mourners ore the Hearse,AndPompeysCourt, thy dreadfull graueshalbe.

Act III sc. viiiSenatorscrie all at once.

Omnes.Hold downe the Tyrant stab him to the death:Casi.Now doth the musick play and this the songThatCassiusheart hath thirsted for so long:And now my Poniard in this mazing sound,Must strike that touch that must his life confound.Stab on, stab on, thus should your Poniards play,Alouddeepe note vpon this trembling Kay.stab him.1700Buco.Bucoliansends thee this.stab him.Cum.AndCumberthis.stab him.Cas.Take this frõCascafor to quiteRomeswronges.Cæs.Why murtherous villaines know you whõ you strike,TisCæsar,Cæsar, whom your Poniards pierce:Cæsarwhose name might well afright such slaues:O Heauens that see and hate this haynous guilt,And thou ImmortallIouethat Idle holdestDeluding Thunder in thy faynting hand,Why stay’st thy dreadfull doome, and dost with-hold,1710Thy three-fork’d engine to reuenge my death:But if my plaintes the Heauens cannot mooue,Then blackest hell andPlutobee thou iudge:You greesly daughters of the cheereles night,Whose hearts, nor praier nor pitty, ere could lend,Leaue the black dungeon of yourChaosdeepe:Come and with flaming brandes into the world,Reuenge, and death, bringe seated inyouteyes:Andplaugethese villaynes for their trecheries.

Enter Brutus.1720

Bru.I haue heldAnthonywith a vaine discourse,The whilst the deed’s in execution,But liues hee still, yet doth the Tyrant breath?Chalinging Heauens with his blasphemies,HeereBrutusmaketh a passage for thy Soule,To plead thy cause for them whose ayde thou crauest,Cæs.WhatBrutusto? nay nay, then let me die,Nothing wounds deeper then ingratitude,Bru.I bloodyCæsar,Cæsar,Brutustoo,Dothgeeuethee this, and this to quiteRomeswrongs,1730Cassius.O had the Tyrant had as manyliues.As that fellHydraborne inLerna lake,That heare I still might stab and stabing kill,Till that more liues might bee extinquished,Then hisambition,RomanesSlaughtered.Tre.How heauens haue iustly on the authors head,Returnd the guiltles blood which he hath shed,AndPompeyhe who caused thy Tragedy,Here breathles lies before thy NobleStatue,

Enter Anthony.1740

Anth.What cryes of death resound within my eares,Whome I doeseegreatCæsarbuchered thus?What said I great? I Cæsar thou wast great,But O that greatnes was that brought thy death:O vniust Heauens, (if Heauens at all there be,)Since vertues wronges makes question of your powers,How could your starry eyes this shame behold,How could the sunne see this and not eclipze?Fayre bud of fame ill cropt before thy time:WhatHyrcantygar, or wild sauage bore,1750(For he moreheardthen Bore or Tyger was,)Durst do so vile and execrate a deede,Could not those eyes so full of maiesty,Nor priesthood (o not thus to bee prophand)Nor yet the reuerence to this sacred place,Nor flowing eloquence of thy goulden tounge,Nor name made famous through immortall merit,Deter those murtherors from so vild a deed?Sweete friend accept these obsequies of mine,Which heare with teares I doe vnto thy hearse,1760And thou being placeda mongthe shiningstarrs.Shalt downe from Heauen behold what deepe reueng,I will inflict vpon the murtherers,Exit withCæsar,in his armes.

Chor. IVEnter Discord.

Dis.Brutusthou hast what long desire hath sought,CæsarLyes weltring in his purple Goare,Thou art the author ofRomesliberty,Proud in thy murthering hand and bloody knife.1770Yet thinkeOctauianand sterneAnthony.Cannot let passe this murther vnreuenged,Thessaliaonce againe must see your blood,AndRomanedrommes must strike vp newa laromes,Harke howBellonashakes her angry lance:And enuie clothed in her crimson weed,Me thinkes I see the fiery shields to clash,Eagle gainst Eagle,RomegainstRometo fight,Phillipi,Cæsarquittance must thy wronges,Whereas that hand shall stab that trayterous heart.1780That durst encourage it to worke thy death,Thus from thine ashesCæsardoth ariseAs fromMedeashaples scatered teeth:New flames of wars, and new outraigous broyles,Now smileÆmathiathat euen in thy top,Romesvictory and pride shalbe entombd,And those great conquerors of the vanquished earth,Shall with their swords come there to dig theirgraues.

Enter Octauian.

Octa.Mourne gentle Heauens for you haue lost your ioy.1791Mourne greeued earth thy ornament is gon,MourneRomein greatthy Father is deceased:Mourne thouOctauian, thou it is must mourne,Mourne for thy Vncle who is dead and gon.Mourne for thy Father to vngently slaine,Mourne for thy Friend whome thy mishap hath lost,For Father, Vnkell, Friend, go make thy mone,Who all did liue, who all did die in one.But heere I vow these blacke and sable weeds,1800The outward signes of inward heauines,Shall changed be ere long to crimsen hew,And this soft raiment to a coate of steele,Cæsar, nomoreI heare the mornefullsongs.The tragick pomp of his sad exequies,And deadly burning torches are at hand,I must accompany the mornefull troope:And sacryfice my teares to the Gods below.Exit.

Act IV sc. iiEnter CæsarsHearse CalphurniaOctauian, Anthony,Cicero, Dolobella, two Romaynes,mourners.

Calp.Set downe the hearse and letCalphurniaweepe,Weepe for her Lord and bath his Wounds in teares:1812Feare of the world, and onely hope ofRome,Thou whilest thou liuedst wasCalphurniasioye,And being dead my ioyes are dead with thee:Here doth my care and comfort resting lie:Let them accompany thy mournefull hearse.Cice.This is the hearse of vertue and renowne,Here stroe red roses and sweete violets:And lawrell garlands for to crowne his fame,1820The Princely weede of mighty conquerors:These worthles obsequies pooreRomebestowes,Vpon thy sacred ashes and deare hearse.1. Rom.And as a token of thy liuing praise,And fame immortall take this laurell wreath,Which witnesseth thy name shall neuer die:And with this take the Loue and teares ofRome,For on thy tombe shall still engrauen be,Thy losse, her griefe, thydeathes,her pittying thee,Dolo.Vnwilling do I come to pay this debt,1830Though not vnwilling for to crowne desert,O how much rather had I this bestowed,On thee returning from foes ouerthrow,When liuing vertue did require such meede,Then for to crowne thy vertue being dead,Lord.Those wreaths that in thy life our conquests crownedAnd our fayre triumphes beauty glorified,Now in thy death do serue thy hearse to adorne,ForCæsarsliuing vertues to bee crowned,Not to be wept as buried vnder grownd,18402. Ro.Thou whilest thou liuedst wast faire vertues flowreCrowned with eternall honor and renowne,To thee being dead,Floraboth crownes and flowers,(The cheefest vertues of our mother earth,)Doth giue to gratulate thy noble hearse.Let thentheysoule diuine vouchsafe to take,These worthles obsequies our loue doth make.Calp.All that I am is but despaire and greefe,This all I giue to Celebrate thy death,What funerall pomp of riches and of pelfe,1850Do you expect?Calphurniagiues her selfe.Ant.You that toCæsariustly did decreeHonors diuine and sacred reuerence:And oft him grac’d with titles well deserued,Of Countries Father, stay ofCommonwealth.And that which neuer any bare before,Inviolate, Holy, Consecrate,Vntucht.Doe see this friend ofRome, this Contryes Father,This Sonne of lasting fame ande ndlespraise,And in a mortall trunke, immortall vertue1860Slaughtered, profan’d, and bucherd like a beast,By trayterous handes, and damned Paracides:Recounte those deedes and see what he hath don,Subdued those nations which three hundredyeares.Remayndvnconquered;still afflictingRome,And recompensed the firy Capitoll,With many Citties vnto ashes burnt:And this reward, these thankes you render him:Here lyes he dead to whome you owe your liues:By you this slaughtered body bleedes againe,1870Which oft for you hath bled in fearefull fight.Sweete woundes in which I see distressedRome,From her pearc’d sides to powre forth streames of bloud,Bee you a witnesse of my sad Soules griefe:And of my teares which wounded heart doth bleede,Not such as vse from womanish eyes proceede.Octa.And were the deede most worthy and vnblamed,Yet you vnworthely did do the same:Who being partakers with his enemies,ByCæsarall were saued from death and harme,1880And for the punnishment you should haue had,You were prefer’d to Princely dignities:Rulers and Lordes of Prouinces were you made,Thus thanke-les men hee did preferre of nought,That by their hands his murther might be wrought.

All at once except Anthony and Octauian.

Omnes.Reuenge, Reuenge vpon the murtherers.Antho.Braue Lords this worthy resolution shewes,Your deerest loue, and great affectionVVhich to this slaughtered Prince you alwaies bare,1890And may like bloudy chance befall my life:If I be slack for to reuenge his death.Octa.Now on my Lords, this body lets inter:Amongest the monuments ofRomanKinges,And build a Temple to his memory:Honoring therein his sacred Deity.Exeunt omnes.

Enter Cassius, and Brutus with an army.

Cassi.NowRomainsproud foe, worlds common enemy,In his greatest hight and chiefest Iollitie,1900In the Sacred Senate-house is done to death:Euen as the Consecrated Oxe whichsoundes,At horny alters, in his dying pride:VVith flowry leaues and gar-lands all bedight,Stands proudly wayting for thehastedstroke:Till hee amazed with the dismallsound,Falls to the Earth and staines the holy ground,The spoyles and riches of the conquered world,Are now but idle Trophies of histombe:His laurell gar-landes do but Crowne his chaire,1910His sling, his shilde, and fatall bloudy speare,VVhich hee in battell oft ’gainstRomedid beare,Now serue for nought but rusty monuments.Bru.SoRomuluswhen proud ambition,His former vertue and renowne had stayned:Did by the Senators receiue his end,But soft what boadesTitinniushasting speede.

Enter Titinnius.

Titin.The frantike people and impatient,ByAnthonyesexhorting to reuenge:1920Runne madding throw the bloudy streetes ofRome,Crying Reuenge, and murthering they goe,All those that causedCæsarsouerthrowe.Cassi.The wauering peoplepytiyngCæsarsdeath,Do rage at vs, whoforeto winne their weale:Spare not the danger of our dearest liues,But since no safetyRomefor vs affordes:Brutusweell hast vs to our Prouinces,I intoSyre,thou intoMaccedon,Where wee will muster vp such martiall bandes,1930As shall afright our following enemies.Bru.InThessalyweele meete the Enemy,And in that ground distaynd withPompeysbloud,And fruitefull made withRomanemassaker,VVeele either sacrifice our guilty foe,To appease the furies of these howling Ghostes,That wander restles through the sliemy groundOr else thatThessalybee a common Tombe:To bury those that fight to infranchizeRome.Titin.Brauely resolu’d, I see yongBrutusminde,1940Strengthned with force of vertues sacred rule:Contemneth death, and holdes proud chance in scorne.Bru.I that before fear’d not to do the deede,Shalt neuer now repent it being done,No more I Fortun’d, like theRomanLord,Whose faith brought death yet with immortall fame,I kisse thee hand for doing such a deede:And thanke my heart for this so Noble thought,And blesse the Heauens for fauoring my attempts:For NobleRome, and if thou beest not free,1950Yet I haue done what euer lay in mee:And worthy friend as both our thoughts conspired,And ioyned in vnion to performe this deede,This acceptable deede to Heauens andRome,So lets continue in our high resolue:And as wee haue with honor thus begunne,So lets persist, vntill our liues bee done.Cassi.Then let vs go and with our warlike troopes,Collected from our seuerall Prouinces,MakeAsiasubiect to our Conquering armes.1960Brutusthou hast commanded the Illirian bandes:The fearedCeltsandLusitanianhorse,Partheniansproud, andThrasiansborne in warre:AndMacedonyet proud with our old actes,With all the flowre of LouelyThessaly,Vnder my warlike collours there shall march:New come fromSyriaand fromBabilon,The warlikeMede, and theArabianBoe,TheParthianfighting when hee seemes to flie:Those conqueringGaulsthat built their seates in Greece,1970And all the Costers on theMirapont.

Enter Cæsars Ghost.

Gho.Out of the horror of those shady vaultes,Where Centaurs, Harpies, paynes and furies fell:And Gods and Ghosts and vgly Gorgons dwell,My restles soule comes heere to tell his wronges.Hayle to thy walles, thou pride of all the world,Thou art the place where whilome in mylife.My seat of mounting honour was erected,1980And my proud throane that seem’d to check theheauens:But now my pompe and I are layd more lowe,With these asosiates of my ouerthrow,Here ancientAssurand proudBeluslyes,Ninusthe first that sought a Monarches name.Atridesfierce with theÆacides,TheGreeke Heros, and theTroianflower,Blood-thirstingCyrusand the conquering youth:That sought to fetch his pedegree from Heauen,SterneRomulusand proudTarquinius,1990The mightySiriansand thePontickeKings,A lcidesand the stout,CarthagianLord,The fatall enemie to theRomanname.AmbitiousSyllaand fierceMarius,And both thePompeyesby me don to death,I am the last not least of the same crue,Looke on my deeds and say whatCæsarwas,Thessalia,Ægipt,Pontus,Africa,SpayneBrittaine,AlmanyandFrance,So many a bloody tryall of my worth.2000But why doe I my glory thus restraine,When all the world was but a Charyot,Wherein I rode Triumphing in my pride?But whatauaylesthistale of what I was?Since in my chefest hightBrutusbasehand.With three and twenty wounds my heart did goare,Giue me my sword and shild Ile be Reueng’d,My mortall wounding speare and gouldenCrest.I will dishorse my foemen in the field,Alasse pooreCæsarthou a shadow art,2010An ayery substance wanting force and might,Then will I goe and crie vpon the world,Exclame onAnthonyandOctauian,Which seeke through discord and discentions broyles,T’imbrue their weapons in each others blood,And leaue to execute my iust reuenge,I heare the drummes and bloody Trumpets sound,O how this sight my greeued soule doth wound,

Enter Anthony, atondore, Octauian atanother with Souldiers.2020

Anth.Now martiall friends competitors in armes,You that will followAnthonyto fight,Whome statelyRomehath oft her Consull seene,Grac’d with eternall trophes of renowne,WithLibiantriumphes andIiberianspoyles,Who scorns to haue his honour now distaind,Or credit blemisht by a Boyes disgrace,Prepare your dauntles stomakes to the fight,Where without striking you shall ouer come.Octa.Fellowes inwar-fairewhich haue often serued,2030Vnder greatCæsarmy disceased sier,And haue return’d the conquerors of the world,Clad in the Spoyles of all the Orient:That will not brooke that anyRomanLord,Should iniure mightyIulius Cæsarssonne,Recall your wonted vallour and these hearts,That neuer entertaynd Ignoble thoughtsAnd make my firstwarre-faireand fortunate:Ant.Stikevp drums, and let your banners flie,Thus will we set vpon the enemy.2040Gho.Cease Drums to strike, and fould your banners vp,Wake notBellonawith your trumpets Clange,Nor call vnwillingMarsvnto the field:SeeRomaines, see my wounds not yet clos’d vp,The bleeding monuments ofCæsarswronges.Haue you so soonefor gotmy life and death?My life wherein I reard your fortunes vp.My death wherein my reared fortune fell,My life admir’d and wondred at of men?My death which seem’d vnworthy to the Gods,2050My life which heap’d on you rewards and gifts,My death now begges one gift; a iust reueng.Ant.A Chilly cowld possesseth all my Ioyntes,And pale wan feare doth cease my fainting heart,Octa.O see how terrible myFatherslookes?My haire stands stiffe to see his greisly hue:Alasse I deare not looke him in the face,And words do cleaue to my benummed Iawes.Gho.For shame weakeAnthonythrow thy weapons downeSonne sheath thy sword, not now for to be drawne,2060Brutusmust feele the heauy stroke thereof:But if that needes you will into the field,And that warrs enuie pricks your forwardhate.To slacke your fury with each others blood,Then forward on to your prepared deathsLet sadAlectosound her fearefull trump,Reuenga risein lothsome sable weedes,Light-shining Treasons andvnquencedHates,Horror and vgly Murther (nights blacke child,)Let sterneMægeraon her thundering drumme,2070Play gastly musicke tocomsortyour deathes.Banner to banner, foote gainst foote opos’d,Sword against sword, shild gainst shild, and life to life,Let death goe raginge through your armed rankes,And load himselfe with heapes of murthered men,And let Heauens iustice send you all to Hell,Anth.Shamst thou notAnthonyto draw thy sword,OnCæsarsSonne, for rude rashyouth fullbrawles,And dost let passe their treason vnrevenged,ThatCæsarslife and glory both did end,2080Octa.Shame of my selfe, and this intended fight,Doth make me feare t’ approach his dreadfull sight:Forgiue my slacknes to reuenge thy wronges,Pardon my youth that rashly was mislead,Through vaine ambition for to doe this deed,Gho.Then ioyne your hands and heare let battle cease,Chang feare to Ioy, and warre to smooth-fac’t Peace.Oct.Then Father heere in sight of Heauen and thee,I giue my hand and heart toAnthony,Ant.Take likewise mine, the hand that once wasvowd’,2090To bee imbrued in thy luke-warme bloud,VVhich now shall strike in yongOctauiansrights.Gho.Now sweare by all theDietiesof Heauen,All Gods and powers you do adore and serue:For to returne my murther on their cruell head,Whose trayterous hands my guiltles bloud haue shed.Anth.Then by the Gods that through the raging waues,Brought thee braueTroianto oldLatium,And greatQuirinusplaced now in Heauen:By theGradinusthat with shield of Brasse,2100DefendestRome, by theouerburningflamesOfVestaandCarpeianTowers ofIoue.VowesAnthonyto quite thy worthy death,Or in performance loose his vitall breath.Octa.The likeOctauianvowes to Heauen and thee.Gho.Then go braue warriors with succesfull hap,Fortune shall waite vpon your rightfull armes,And courage sparkell, from your Princely eyes,Dartes of reuenge to daunt yourenemies.Antho.Now with our armies both conioyned in one,2110Weele meete the enemy inMacedon:Æmathianfieldes shall change her flowry greene,And die proudFlorain a sadder hew:SiluerStremonia,whose faire Christall waues,Once founded greatAlcidesechoing fame:When as he slew that fruitefull headed snake,WhichLernalong-time fostered in her wombe:Shall in more tragick accentes and sad tunes,Eccho the terror of thy dismall sight,Hemusshall fat his barren fieldes with bloud:2120And yellowCeresspring from woundes of men,The toyling husband-menin time to come,Shall with his harrow strike on rusty helmes,And finde, and wonder, at our swordes and speares,And with his plowe dig vp braueRomansgraues:

Enter Discord.

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