The Tragedy Of Caesar's Revenge Part 5

Sweete friend accept these obsequies of mine, Which heare with teares I doe vnto thy hea.r.s.e, 1760 And thou being placed a mong the s.h.i.+ning starrs.

Shalt downe from Heauen behold what deepe reueng, I will inflict vpon the murtherers, _Exit with Caesar, in his armes._

_FINIS._ Act. 3.

{SN _Chor. IV_}

_Enter Discord._

_Dis._ _Brutus_ thou hast what long desire hath sought, _Caesar_ Lyes weltring in his purple Goare, Thou art the author of _Romes_ liberty, Proud in thy murthering hand and b.l.o.o.d.y knife. 1770 Yet thinke _Octauian_ and sterne _Anthony_.

Cannot let pa.s.se this murther vnreuenged, _Thessalia_ once againe must see your blood, And _Romane_ drommes must strike vp new a laromes, Harke how _Bellona_ shakes her angry lance: And enuie clothed in her crimson weed, Me thinkes I see the fiery s.h.i.+elds to clash, Eagle gainst Eagle, _Rome_ gainst _Rome_ to fight, _Phillipi_, _Caesar_ quittance must thy wronges, Whereas that hand shall stab that trayterous heart. 1780 That durst encourage it to worke thy death, Thus from thine ashes _Caesar_ doth arise As from _Medeas_ haples scatered teeth: New flames of wars, and new outraigous broyles, Now smile _aemathia_ that euen in thy top, _Romes_ victory and pride shalbe entombd, And those great conquerors of the vanquished earth, Shall with their swords come there to dig their graues.

ACTVS. 4. SCENA. 1. {SN _Act IV sc. i_}

_Enter Octauian._

_Octa._ Mourne gentle Heauens for you haue lost your ioy. 1791 Mourne greeued earth thy ornament is gon, Mourne _Rome_ in great thy Father is deceased: Mourne thou _Octauian_, 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, 1800 The outward signes of inward heauines, Shall changed be ere long to crimsen hew, And this soft raiment to a coate of steele, _Caesar_, no more I heare the mornefull songs.

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 G.o.ds below. _Exit._

{SN _Act IV sc. ii_}

_Enter Caesars Hea.r.s.e Calphurnia Octauian, Anthony, Cicero, Dolobella, two Romaynes, mourners._

_Calp._ Set downe the hea.r.s.e and let _Calphurnia_ weepe, Weepe for her Lord and bath his Wounds in teares: 1812 Feare of the world, and onely hope of _Rome_, Thou whilest thou liuedst was _Calphurnias_ ioye, And being dead my ioyes are dead with thee: Here doth my care and comfort resting lie: Let them accompany thy mournefull hea.r.s.e.

_Cice._ This is the hea.r.s.e of vertue and renowne, Here stroe red roses and sweete violets: And lawrell garlands for to crowne his fame, 1820 The Princely weede of mighty conquerors: These worthles obsequies poore _Rome_ bestowes, Vpon thy sacred ashes and deare hea.r.s.e.

_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 of _Rome_, For on thy tombe shall still engrauen be, Thy losse, her griefe, thy deathes, her pittying thee, _Dolo._ Vnwilling do I come to pay this debt, 1830 Though 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 crowned And our fayre triumphes beauty glorified, Now in thy death do serue thy hea.r.s.e to adorne, For _Caesars_ liuing vertues to bee crowned, Not to be wept as buried vnder grownd, 1840 _2. Ro._ Thou whilest thou liuedst wast faire vertues flowre Crowned with eternall honor and renowne, To thee being dead, _Flora_ both crownes and flowers, (The cheefest vertues of our mother earth,) Doth giue to gratulate thy n.o.ble hea.r.s.e.

Let then they soule 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, 1850 Do you expect? _Calphurnia_ giues her selfe.

_Ant._ You that to _Caesar_ iustly did decree Honors diuine and sacred reuerence: And oft him grac'd with t.i.tles well deserued, Of Countries Father, stay of Commonwealth.

And that which neuer any bare before, Inviolate, Holy, Consecrate, Vntucht.

Doe see this friend of _Rome_, this Contryes Father, This Sonne of lasting fame and e ndles praise, And in a mortall trunke, immortall vertue 1860 Slaughtered, profan'd, and bucherd like a beast, By trayterous handes, and d.a.m.ned Paracides: Recounte those deedes and see what he hath don, Subdued those nations which three hundred yeares.

Remaynd vnconquered; still afflicting _Rome_, 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, 1870 Which oft for you hath bled in fearefull fight.

Sweete woundes in which I see distressed _Rome_, 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, By _Caesar_ all were saued from death and harme, 1880 And 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 affection VVhich to this slaughtered Prince you alwaies bare, 1890 And 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 of _Roman_ Kinges, And build a Temple to his memory: Honoring therein his sacred Deity. _Exeunt omnes._

ACT. 4. SC. 2. {SN _Act IV sc. iii_}

_Enter Ca.s.sius, and Brutus with an army._

_Ca.s.si._ Now _Romains_ proud foe, worlds common enemy, In his greatest hight and chiefest Iollitie, 1900 In the Sacred Senate-house is done to death: Euen as the Consecrated Oxe which soundes, At h.o.r.n.y alters, in his dying pride: VVith flowry leaues and gar-lands all bedight, Stands proudly wayting for the hasted stroke: Till hee amazed with the dismall sound, Falls to the Earth and staines the holy ground, The spoyles and riches of the conquered world, Are now but idle Trophies of his tombe: His laurell gar-landes do but Crowne his chaire, 1910 His sling, his s.h.i.+lde, and fatall bloudy speare, VVhich hee in battell oft 'gainst _Rome_ did beare, Now serue for nought but rusty monuments.

_Bru._ So _Romulus_ when proud ambition, His former vertue and renowne had stayned: Did by the Senators receiue his end, But soft what boades _t.i.tinnius_ hasting speede.

_Enter t.i.tinnius._

_t.i.tin._ The frantike people and impatient, By _Anthonyes_ exhorting to reuenge: 1920 Runne madding throw the bloudy streetes of _Rome_, Crying Reuenge, and murthering they goe, All those that caused _Caesars_ ouerthrowe.

_Ca.s.si._ The wauering people pytiyng _Caesars_ death, Do rage at vs, who fore to winne their weale: Spare not the danger of our dearest liues, But since no safety _Rome_ for vs affordes: _Brutus_ weell hast vs to our Prouinces, I into _Syre_, thou into _Maccedon_, Where wee will muster vp such martiall bandes, 1930 As shall afright our following enemies.

_Bru._ In _Thessaly_ weele meete the Enemy, And in that ground distaynd with _Pompeys_ bloud, And fruitefull made with _Romane_ ma.s.saker, VVeele either sacrifice our guilty foe, To appease the furies of these howling Ghostes, That wander restles through the sliemy ground Or else that _Thessaly_ bee a common Tombe: To bury those that fight to infranchize _Rome_.

_t.i.tin._ Brauely resolu'd, I see yong _Brutus_ minde, 1940 Strengthned 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 the _Roman_ Lord, Whose faith brought death yet with immortall fame, I kisse thee hand for doing such a deede: And thanke my heart for this so n.o.ble thought, And blesse the Heauens for fauoring my attempts: For n.o.ble _Rome_, and if thou beest not free, 1950 Yet 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 and _Rome_, So lets continue in our high resolue: And as wee haue with honor thus begunne, So lets persist, vntill our liues bee done.

_Ca.s.si._ Then let vs go and with our warlike troopes, Collected from our seuerall Prouinces, Make _Asia_ subiect to our Conquering armes. 1960 _Brutus_ thou hast commanded the Illirian bandes: The feared _Celts_ and _Lusitanian_ horse, _Parthenians_ proud, and _Thrasians_ borne in warre: And _Macedon_ yet proud with our old actes, With all the flowre of Louely _Thessaly_, Vnder my warlike collours there shall march: New come from _Syria_ and from _Babilon_, The warlike _Mede_, and the _Arabian_ Boe, The _Parthian_ fighting when hee seemes to flie: Those conquering _Gauls_ that built their seates in Greece, 1970 And all the Costers on the _Mirapont_.

ACT. 3. SCE. I. {SN _Act IV sc. iv_}

_Enter Caesars Ghost._

_Gho._ Out of the horror of those shady vaultes, Where Centaurs, Harpies, paynes and furies fell: And G.o.ds 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 my life.

My seat of mounting honour was erected, 1980 And my proud throane that seem'd to check the heauens: But now my pompe and I are layd more lowe, With these asosiates of my ouerthrow, Here ancient _a.s.sur_ and proud _Belus_ lyes, _Ninus_ the first that sought a Monarches name.

_Atrides_ fierce with the _aeacides_, The _Greeke Heros_, and the _Troian_ flower, Blood-thirsting _Cyrus_ and the conquering youth: That sought to fetch his pedegree from Heauen, Sterne _Romulus_ and proud _Tarquinius_, 1990 The mighty _Sirians_ and the _Ponticke_ Kings, _A lcides_ and the stout, _Carthagian_ Lord, The fatall enemie to the _Roman_ name.

Ambitious _Sylla_ and fierce _Marius_, And both the _Pompeyes_ by me don to death, I am the last not least of the same crue, Looke on my deeds and say what _Caesar_ was, _Thessalia_, _aegipt_, _Pontus_, _Africa_, _Spayne_ _Brittaine_, _Almany_ and _France_, So many a b.l.o.o.d.y tryall of my worth. 2000 But why doe I my glory thus restraine, When all the world was but a Charyot, Wherein I rode Triumphing in my pride?

But what auaylesthis tale of what I was?

Since in my chefest hight _Brutus_ base hand.

With three and twenty wounds my heart did goare, Giue me my sword and s.h.i.+ld Ile be Reueng'd, My mortall wounding speare and goulden Crest.

I will dishorse my foemen in the field, Ala.s.se poore _Caesar_ thou a shadow art, 2010 An ayery substance wanting force and might, Then will I goe and crie vpon the world, Exclame on _Anthony_ and _Octauian_, 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 b.l.o.o.d.y Trumpets sound, O how this sight my greeued soule doth wound,

_Enter Anthony, at on dore, Octauian at another with Souldiers._ 2020

_Anth._ Now martiall friends compet.i.tors in armes, You that will follow _Anthony_ to fight, Whome stately _Rome_ hath oft her Consull seene, Grac'd with eternall trophes of renowne, With _Libian_ triumphes and _Iiberian_ spoyles, 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 in war-faire which haue often serued, 2030 Vnder great _Caesar_ my disceased sier, And haue return'd the conquerors of the world, Clad in the Spoyles of all the Orient: That will not brooke that any _Roman_ Lord, Should iniure mighty _Iulius Caesars_ sonne, Recall your wonted vallour and these hearts, That neuer entertaynd Ign.o.ble thoughts And make my first warre-faire and fortunate: _Ant._ Stike vp drums, and let your banners flie, Thus will we set vpon the enemy. 2040 _Gho._ Cease Drums to strike, and fould your banners vp, Wake not _Bellona_ with your trumpets Clange, Nor call vnwilling _Mars_ vnto the field: See _Romaines_, see my wounds not yet clos'd vp, The bleeding monuments of _Caesars_ wronges.

Haue you so soone for got my 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 G.o.ds, 2050 My 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 my Fathers lookes?

My haire stands stiffe to see his greisly hue: Ala.s.se I deare not looke him in the face, And words do cleaue to my benummed Iawes.

_Gho._ For shame weake _Anthony_ throw thy weapons downe Sonne sheath thy sword, not now for to be drawne, 2060 _Brutus_ must feele the heauy stroke thereof: But if that needes you will into the field, And that warrs enuie p.r.i.c.ks your forward hate.

To slacke your fury with each others blood, Then forward on to your prepared deaths Let sad _Alecto_ sound her fearefull trump, _Reueng_ a rise in lothsome sable weedes, Light-s.h.i.+ning Treasons and vnquenced Hates, Horror and vgly Murther (nights blacke child,) Let sterne _Maegera_ on her thundering drumme, 2070 Play gastly musicke to comsort your deathes.

Banner to banner, foote gainst foote opos'd, Sword against sword, s.h.i.+ld gainst s.h.i.+ld, 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 h.e.l.l, _Anth._ Shamst thou not _Anthony_ to draw thy sword, On _Caesars_ Sonne, for rude rash youth full brawles, And dost let pa.s.se their treason vnrevenged, That _Caesars_ life and glory both did end, 2080 _Octa._ 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 to _Anthony_, _Ant._ Take likewise mine, the hand that once was vowd', 2090 To bee imbrued in thy luke-warme bloud, VVhich now shall strike in yong _Octauians_ rights.

_Gho._ Now sweare by all the Dieties of Heauen, All G.o.ds 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 G.o.ds that through the raging waues, Brought thee braue _Troian_ to old _Latium_, And great _Quirinus_ placed now in Heauen: By the _Gradinus_ that with s.h.i.+eld of Bra.s.se, 2100 Defendest _Rome_, by the ouerburning flames Of _Vesta_ and _Carpeian_ Towers of _Ioue_.

Vowes _Anthony_ to quite thy worthy death, Or in performance loose his vitall breath.

_Octa._ The like _Octauian_ vowes 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 your enemies.

_Antho._ Now with our armies both conioyned in one, 2110 Weele meete the enemy in _Macedon_: _aemathian_ fieldes shall change her flowry greene, And die proud _Flora_ in a sadder hew: Siluer _Stremonia_, whose faire Christall waues, Once founded great _Alcides_ echoing fame: When as he slew that fruitefull headed snake, Which _Lerna_ long-time fostered in her wombe: Shall in more tragick accentes and sad tunes, Eccho the terror of thy dismall sight, _Hemus_ shall fat his barren fieldes with bloud: 2120 And yellow _Ceres_ spring from woundes of men, The toyling husband-men in 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 braue _Romans_ graues: