FINIS. ACTVS 2.

Cat. Sen. My Sonne thou seest howe all are ouerthrowne,
That fought their Countries free-dome to maintaine,
Egipt forsakes vs, Pompey found his graue, 1040
VVhere hee most succor did expect to haue:
Scipio is ouerthrowne and with his haples fall,
Affrick to vs doth former ayde denay,
O who will helpe men in aduersity:
Yet let vs shewe in our declining state,
That strength of minde, that vertues constancy,
That erst we did in our felicity,
Though Fortune fayles vs lets not fayle our selues,
Remember boy thou art a Romaine borne,
And Catoes Sonne, of me do vertue learne; 1050
Fortune of others, aboue althings see
Thou prize thy Countries loue and liberty,
All blessiings Fathers to their Sonnes can wish
Heauens powre on thee, and now my sonne with-drawe
Thy selfe a while and leaue me to my booke.
Cat. Iun. What meanes my Father by this solemne leaue?
First he remembred me of my Fortunes change,
And then more earnestly did me exhort
To Counrries loue, and constancy of minde,
Then he was wont: som-whats the cause, 1060
But what I knowe not, O I feare I feare,
His to couragious heart that cannot beare
The thrall of Rome and triumph of his foe,
By his owne hand threats danger to his life,
How ere it be at hand I will abide,
VVayting the end of this that shal betide. Exit.

Cato Sen. Plato that promised immortality,
Doth make my soule resolue it selfe to mount,
Vnto the bowre of those Celestiall ioyes, 1070
VVhere freed from lothed Prison of my soule,
In heauenly notes to Phœbus which shall sing:
And Pean Io, Pean loudely ring.
Then fayle not hand to execute this deede,
Nor faint nor heart for to command my hand,
VVauer not minde to counsell this resolue,
But with a courage and thy liues last act,
Now do I giue thee Rome my last farewell.
Who cause thou fearest ill do therefore die,
O talke not now of Cannas ouerthrowe, 1080
And raze out of thy lasting Kalenders,
Those bloudy songes of Hilias dismall sight:
And note with black, that black and cursed day,
When Cæsar conquered in Pharsalia,
Yet will not I his conquest glorifie:
My ouerthrow shall neere his triumph grace,
For by my death to the world Ile make that knowne,
No hand could conquer Cato but his owne. stabs himself.

Ca. Iun. O this it was my minde told me before, 1090
VVhat meanes my Father, why with naked blade,
Dost thou assault, that faithfull princely hand:
And mak’st the base Earth to drinke thy Noble bloud,
Bee not more sterne, and cruell ’gainst thy selfe,
Then thy most hateful enemies would be,
No Parthian, Gaule, Moore, no not Cæsars selfe,
VVould with such cruelty thy worth repay,
O stay thy hand, giue me thy fatall blade:
VVhich turnes his edge and waxeth blunt to wound,
A brest so fraught with vertue excellent. 1100
Ca. Seni. Why dost thou let me of my firme resolue,
Vnkinde boy hinderer of thy Fathers ioy,
Why dost thou slay me, or wilt thou betray
Thy Fathers life vnto his foe-mens hands,
And yet I wrong thy faith, and loue too much,
In thy soules kindenesse, tis thou art vnkinde.
Cat. Iun. If for your selfe you do this life reiect,
Yet you your Sonnes and Countries: sake respect,
Rob not my yong yeares of so sweete a stay,
Nor take from Rome the Pillor of her strength. 1110
Cat. Sene. Although I die, yet do I leaue behinde,
My vertues fauor to bee thy youths guide:
But for my Country, could my life it profit,
Ile not refuse to liue that died for it,
Now doth but one smal snuffe of breath remaine:
And that to keepe, should I mine Honor staine?
Cat. Iuni. Where you do striue to shew your vertue most,
There more you do disgrace it Cowards vse,
To shun the woes and trobles of this life:
Basely to flie to deaths safe sanctuary, 1120
When constant vertues doth the hottest brunt’s,
Of griefes assaultes vnto the end endure.
Ca. Seni. Thy words preuaile, come lift me vp my Son,
And call some help to binde my bleeding wounds.
Cat. Iuni. Father I go with a more willing minde,
Then did Æneas when from Troyan fire,
He bare his Father, and did so restore:
The greatest gift hee had receiued before. Exit.
Cat. Seni. Now haue I freed mee of that hurtfull Loue,
Which interrupted my resolued will, 1130
Which all the world can neuer stay nor change:
Cæsar whose rule commands both Sea and Land,
Is not of powre to hinder this weake hand,
And time succeeding shall behold that I
Although not liue, yet died courragiously, stab himselfe.

Ca. Iuni. O hast thou thus to thine owne harme deceiu’d me
Well I perceiue thy Noble dauntles heart:
Because it would not beare the Conquerors insolence,
Vsed on it selfe this cruell violence, 1140
I know not whether I should more lament,
That by thine owne hand thou thus slaughtred art,
Or Ioy that thou so nobly didst depart. Exit.

Dis. Now Cæsar rides triumphantly through Rome,
And deckes the Capitoll with Pompeys spoyle:
Ambition now doth vertues seat vsurp,
Then thou Reuengfull great Adastria Queene.
Awake with horror of thy dubbing Drumm, 1150
And call the snaky furies from below,
To dash the Ioy of their triumphing pride,
Erinnis kindle now thy Stigian brands,
In discontented Brutus boyling brest,
Let Cæsar die a bleeding sacrifice,
Vnto the Soule of thy dead Country Rome.
Why sleepest thou Cassius? wake thee from thy dreame:
And yet thou naught dost dreame but blood and death.
For dreadfull visions do afright thy sleepe.
And howling Ghosts with gastly horrors cry, 1160
By Cassius hand must wicked Cæsar die,
Now Rome cast of thy gaudy paintcd robes
And cloth thy selfe in sable colored weedes,
Change thy vaine triumphs into funerall pomps,
And Cæsar cast thy Laurell crowne apart,
And bind thy temples with sad Cypres tree.
Of warrs thus peace insues, of peace more harmes,
Then erst was wrought by tragick wars alarmes, Exit.

Cas. Harke how Cæsarians with resounding shoutes, 1171
Tell heauens of their pompes and victories,
Cæsar that long in pleasures idle lap,
And daliance vayne of his Proud Curtezan,
Had luld his sterne and bloody thoughts a sleepe,
Now in Rome streets ore Romaines come to triumph,
And to the Romains shews those Tropheyes sad,
Which from the Romaines he with blood did get:
The Tyrant mounted in his goulden chayre,
Rides drawne with milke white palferies in like pride, 1180
As Phæbus from his Orientall gate,
Mounted vpon the firy Phlegetons backes.
Comes prauncing forth, shaking his dewie locks:
Cæsar thou art in gloryes cheefest pride,
Thy sonne is mounted in the highest poynt:
Thou placed art in top of fortunes wheele,
Her wheele must turne, thy glory must eclipse,
Thy Sunne descend and loose his radiant light,
And if none be, whose countryes ardent loue,
And losse of Roman liberty can moue, 1190
Ile be the man that shall this taske performe.
Cassius hath vowed it to dead Pompeys soule,
Cassius hath vowed it to afflicted Rome,
Cassius hath vowed it, witnes Heauen and Earth, Exit.

Cæsar. Now haue I shaked of these womanish linkes,
In which my captiud thoughts were chayned a fore,
By that fayre charming Circes wounding look,
And now like that same ten yeares trauayler, 1200
Leauing be-hind me all my trobles past.
I come awayted with attending fame,
Who through her shrill triump doth my name resound,
And makes proud Tiber and Lygurian Poe,
(Yet a sad witner of the Sunne-Gods losse,)
Beare my names glory to the Ocean mayne,
Which to the worlds end shall it bound it againe,
As from Phægiean fields the King of the Gods,
With conquering spoyles and Tropheus proud returnd,
When great Typheus fell, by thundering darts, 1210
And rod away with their Cælestiall troops,
In greatest pride through Heauens smooth paued way,
So shall the Pompeous glory of my traine,
Daring to match ould Saturns kingly Sonne,
Call downe these goulden lampes from the bright skie,
And leaue Heauen blind, my greatnes to admire.
This laurell garland in fayre conquest made,
Shall stayne the pride of Ariadnes crowne,
Clad in the beauty of my glorious lampes,
Cassiopea leaue thy starry chayre, 1220
And onmy Sun-bright Chariot wheels attend,
Which in triumphing pompe doth Cæsar beare.
To Earths astonishment, and amaze of Heauen:
Now looke proude Rome from thy seuen-fould seate,
And see the world thy subiect, at thy feete,
And Cæsar ruling ouer all the world.
Dolo. Now let vs cease to boast of Romulus,
First author of high Rome and Romaines name.
Nor talke of Scaurus, worthy Africans,
The scurge of Libia and of Carthage pride, 1230
Nor of vnconquered Paulus dauntles minde,
Since Cæsars glory them exceedes as farre
As shining Phebe doth the dimmest starre.
Ant. Like as the Ship-man that hath lost the starre.
By which his doubtful ship he did direct,
Wanders in darkenes, and in Cloudy night,
So hauing lost my starr, my Gouernesse.
Which did direct me, with her Sonne-bright ray,
In greefe I wander and in sad dismay:
And though of triumphes and of victoryes, 1240
I do the out-ward signes and Trophies beare,
Yet see mine inward mind vnder that face,
Whose collours to these Triumphes is disgrace,
Lord. As when from vanquished Macedonia,
Triumphing ore King Persius ouerthrow,
Conquering Æmelius, in great glory came.
Shewing the worlds spoyles which he had bereft,
From the successors or great Alexander,
With such high pomp, yea greater victories,
Cæsar triumphing coms into fayre Rome, 1250
1. Rom. In this one Champion all is comprehended,
Which ancient times in seuerall men commended,
Alcides strength, Achilles dauntles heart,
Great Phillips Sonne by magnanimity.
Sterne Pyrhus vallour, and great Hectors might,
And all the prowes, that ether Greece or Troy,
Brought forth in that same ten years Troians warre.
2. Rom. Faire Rome great monument of Romulus.
Thou mighty seate of consuls and of Kings:
Ouer-victorious now Earths Conquerer, 1260
Welcome thy valiant sonne that to thee brings,
Spoyles of the world, and exquies of Kings.
Cæsar. The conquering Issue of immortall Ioue.
Which in the Persian spoyles first fetch his fame.
Then through Hydasspis, and the Caspian waues,
Vnto the sea vnknowne his praise did propagate,
Must to my glory vayle his conquering crest:
The Lybick Sands, and Africk Sirts hee past.
Bactrians and Zogdians, knowne but by their names,
Whereby his armes resistles, powers subdued, 1270
And Ganges streames congeald with Indian blood,
Could not transeport his burthen to the sea.
But these nere lerned at Mars his games to play,
Nor tost these bloody bals, of dread and death:
Arar and proud Saramna speaks my praise,
Rohdans shrill Tritons through their brasen trumpes,
Ecco my fame against the Gallian Towers,
And Isis wept to see her daughter Thames.
Chainge her cleere cristall, to vermilian sad,
The big bond German and Heluetian stout, 1280
Which well haue learned to tosse a tusked speare,
And well can curbe a noble stomackt horse,
Can Cæsars vallour witnes to their greefe
Iuba the mighty Affrick Potentate,
That with his cole-black Negroes to the field,
Backt with Numidian and Getulian horse,
Hath felt the puissance of a Roman sword.
I entred Asia with my banners spred,
Displayed the Ægle on the Euxin sea:
By Iason first, and ventrous Argo cut, 1290
And in the rough Cimerian Bosphorus:
A heauy witnesse of Pharnaces flight,
And now am come to triumph heere in Rome,
VVith greater glory then ere Romaine did. Exeunt.

Antho. Alas these triumphes mooue not me at all,
But only do renew remembrance sad,
Of her triumphing and imperious lookes,
VVhich is the Saint and Idoll of my thoughtes: 1300
First was I wounded by her percing eye:
Next prisoner tane by her captiuing speech,
And now shee triumphes ore my conquered heart,
In Cupids Chariot ryding in her pride,
And leades me captiue bounde in Beauties bondes:
Cæsars lip-loue, that neuer touched his heart,
By present triumph and the absent fire,
Is now waxt could; but mine that was more deepe,
Ingrauen in the marble of my brest,
Nor time nor Fortune ere can raze it out. 1310

Gen. Anthony, base femall Anthony,
Thou womans souldiar, fit for nights assaults,
Hast thou so soone forgot the discipline,
And wilsome taskes thy youth was trayned to,
Thy soft downe Pillow, was a helme of steele:
The could damp earth, a bed to ease thy toyle,
Afrigted slumbers were thy golden sleepes:
Hunger and thirst thy sweetest delicates,
Sterne horror, gastly woundes, pale greesly death: 1320
Thy winde depressing pleasures and delights,
And now so soone hath on enchanted face,
These manly labours luld in drowsy sleepe:
The Gods (whose messenger I heere do stand)
Will not then drowne thy fame in Idlenesse:
Yet must Philippi see thy high exploytes,
And all the world ring of thy Victories.
Antho. Say what thou art, that in this dreadful sort
Forbidd’st me of my Cleopatras loue.
Gen. I am thy bonus Genius, Anthony, 1330
VVhich to thy dul eares this do prophecy:
That fatall face which now doth so bewitch thee,
Like to that vaine vnconstant Greekish dame,
VVhich made the stately Ilian towres to smoke,
Shall thousand bleeding Romains lay one ground:
Hymen in sable not in saferon robes,
Instead of roundes shall dolefull dirges singe.
For nuptiall tapers, shall the furies beare,
Blew-burning torches to increase your feare:
The bride-grooms scull shal make the bridal bondes: 1340
And hel-borne hags shall dance an Antick round,
VVhile Hecate Hymen (heu, heu) Hymen cries,
And now methinkes I see the seas blew face:
Hidden with shippes, and now the trumpets sound,
And weake Canopus with the Ægle striues,
Neptune amazed at this dreadfull sight:
Cals blew sea Gods for to behold the fight,
Glaucus and Panopea, Proteus ould,
VVho now for feare changeth his wonted shape,
Thus your vaine loue which with delight begunne: 1350
In Idle sport shall end with bloud and shame. Exit.
Antho. VVhat wast my Genius that mee threatned thus?
They say that from our birth he doth preserue:
And on mee will he powre these miseries?
VVhat burning torches, what alarums of warre,
VVhat shames did he to my loues prophesie?
O no hee comes as winged Mercurie,
From his great Father Ioue, t’Anchises sonne
To warne him leaue the wanton dalliance,
And charming pleasures of the Tyrian Court, 1360
Then wake the Anthony from this idle dreame,
Cast of these base effeminate passions:
Which melt the courrage of thy manlike minde,
And with thy sword receiue thy sleeping praise. Exit.

Bru. How long in base ignoble patience,
Shall I behold my Countries wofull fall,
O you braue Romains, and among’st the rest
Most Noble Brutus, faire befall your soules: 1370
Let Peace and Fame your Honored graues awaite,
Who through such perils, and such tedious warres,
Won your great labors prise sweete liberty,
But wee that with our life did freedoms take,
And did no sooner Men, then free-men, breath:
To loose it now continuing so long,
And with such lawes, such vowes, such othes confirm’d
Can nothing but disgrace and shame expect:
But soft what see I written on my seate,
O vtinam Brute viueres. 1380
What meaneth this, thy courage dead,
But stay, reade forward, Brute mortuus es.
I thou art dead indeed, thy courrage dead
Thy care and loue thy dearest Country dead,
Thy wonted spirit and Noble stomack dead.

Cassi. The times drawe neere by gratious heauens assignd
When Philips Sonne must fall in Babilon,
In his triumphing proud persumption:
But see where melancholy Brutus walkes, 1390
Whose minde is hammering on no meane conceit:
Then sound him Cassius, see how hee is inclined,
How fares young Brutus in this tottering state.
Bru. Euen as an idle gazer, that beholdes,
His Countries wrackes and cannot succor bring.
Cassi. But wil Brute alwaies in this dreame remaine,
And not bee mooued with his Countries mone.
Bru. O that I might in Lethes endles sleepe,
And neere awaking pleasant rest of death
Close vp mine eyes, that I no more might see, 1400
Poore Romes distresse and Countries misery.
Casi. No Brutus liue, and wake thy sleepy minde,
Stirre vp those dying sparkes of honors fire,
VVhich in thy gentle breast weare wont to flame:
See how poore Rome opprest with Countries wronges,
Implores thine ayde, that bred thee to that end,
Thy kins-mans soule from heauen commandes thine aide:
That lastly must by thee receiue his end,
Then purchas honor by a glorious death,
Or liue renown’d by ending Cæsars life. 1410
Bru. I can no longer beare the Tirants pride,
I cannot heare my Country crie for ayde,
And not bee mooued with her pitious mone,
Brutus thy soule shall neuer more complaine:
That from thy linage and most vertuous stock,
A bastard weake degenerat branch is borne,
For to distaine the honor of thy house.
No more shall now the Romains call me dead,
Ile liue againe and rowze my sleepy thoughts:
And with the Tirants death begin this life. 1420
Rome now I come to reare thy states decayed,
VVhen or this hand shall cure thy fatall wound,
Or else this heart by bleeding on the ground.
Cas. Now heauen I see applaudes this enterprise,
And Rhadamanth into the fatall Vrne,
That lotheth death, hath thrust the Tirants name,
Cæsar the life that thou in bloud hast led:
Shall heape a bloudy vengance on thine head. Exeunt.

Cæs. Now servile Pharthia proud in Romaine spoile, 1431
Shall pay her ransome vnto Cæsars Ghost:
Which vnreuenged roues by the Stygian strond,
Exclaming on our sluggish negligence.
Leaue to lament braue Romans, loe I come,
Like to the God of battell, mad with rage,
To die their riuers with vermilion red:
Ile fill Armenians playnes and Medians hils,
With carkases of bastard Scithian broode,
And there proud Princes will I bring to Rome, 1440
Chained in fetters to my charriot wheeles:
Desire of fame and hope of sweete reueng,
Which in my brest hath kindled such a flame,
As nor Euphrates, nor sweet Tybers streame,
Can quench or slack this feruent boyling heate:
These conquering souldiers that haue followed me,
From vanquisht France to sun-burnt Meroe,
Matching the best of Alexanders troopes.
Shall with their lookes put Parthian foes to flight,
And make them twise turne their deceitfull lookes, 1450
Ant. The restlesse mind that harbors sorrowing thoughts,
And is with child of noble enterprise,
Doth neuer cease from honors toilesome taske,
Till it bringes forth Eternall gloryes broode.
So you fayre braunch of vertues great discent,
Now hauing finish’d Ciuill warres sad broyles,
Intend by Parthian triumphes to enlarge,
Your contryes limits, and your owne renowne,
But cause in Sibilles ciuill writs we finde,
None but a King that conquest can atchiue, 1460
Both for to crowne your deedes with due reward,
And as auspicious signes of victorye.
Wee here present you with this Diadem,
Lord. And euen as kings were banish’d Romes high throne
Cause their base vice, her honour did destayne,
So to your rule doth shee submit her selfe,
That her renowne there by might brighter shine,
Cæsar. Why thinke you Lords that tis ambitions spur.
That pricketh Cæsar to these high attempts,
Or hope of Crownes, or thought of Diadems, 1470
That made me wade through honours perilous deepe,
Vertue vnto it selfe a shure reward,
My labours all shall haue a pleasing doome,
If you but Iudge I will deserue of Rome:
Did those old Romaines suffer so much ill?
Such tedious seeges, such enduring warrs?
Tarquinius hates, and great Porsennas threats,
To banish proude imperious tyrants rule?
And shall my euerdaring thoughts contend
To marre what they haue brought to happy end: 1480
Or thinke you cause my Fortune hath expeld,
My friends, come let vs march in iolity,
Ile triumph Monarke-like ore conquering Rome,
Or end my conquests with my countryes spoyles,
Dolo. O noble Princely resolution.
These or not victoryes that we so call,
That onely blood and murtherous spoyles can vaunt:
But this shalbe thy victory braue Prince,
That thou hast conquered thy owne climing thoughts,
And with thy vertue beat ambition downe, 1490
And this no lesse inblazon shall thy fame.
Then those great deeds and chiualrous attempts,
That made thee conqueror in Thessalia.
Ant. This noble mind and Pincely modesty,
Which in contempt of honours brightnes shines,
Makes vs to wish the more for such a Prince,
Whose vertue not ambition won that praise,
Nor shall we thinke it losse of liberty.
Or Romaine liberty any way impeached,
For to subiect vs to his Princely rule, 1500
Whose thoughts fayre vertue and true honor guides:
Vouchsafe then to accept this goulden crowne,
A gift not equall to thy dignity.
Cæs. Content you Lordes for I wilbe no King,
An odious name vnto the Romaine eare,
Cæsar I am, and wilbe Cæsar still,
No other title shall my Fortunes grace:
Which I will make a name of higher state
Then Monarch, King or worldes great Potentate.
Of Ioue in Heauen, shall ruled bee the skie, 1510
The Earth of Cæsar, with like Maiesty.
This is the Scepter that my crowne shall beare,
And this the golden diadem Ile weare,
A farre more rich and royall ornament,
Then all the Crownes that the proud Persian gaue:
Forward my Lordes let Trumpets sound our march,
And drums strike vp Reuenges sad alarms,
Parthia we come with like incensed heate,
As great Atrides with the angry Greekes,
Marching in fury to pale walls of Troy. 1520

Tre. Braue Lords whose forward resolution,
Shewes you descended from true Romaine line,
See how old Rome in winter of her age,
Reioyseth in such Princely budding hopes,
No lesse then once she in Decius vertue did,
Or great Camillus bringing back of spoyles.
On then braue Lords of this attempt begun,
The sacred Senate doth commend the deede: 1530
Your Countries loue incites you to the deed,
Vertue her selfe makes warrant of the deed,
Then Noble Romains as you haue begun:
Neuer desist vntill this deede be done.
Casi. To thee Reueng doth Cassius kneele him downe.
Thou that brings quiet to perplexed soules,
And borne in Hel, yet harborest heauens ioyes,
Whose fauor slaughter is, and dandling death,
Bloud-thirsty pleasures and mis boding blisse:
Brought forth of Fury, nurse of cankered Hate, 1540
To drowne in woe the pleasures of the world.
Thou shalt no more in duskish Erebus:
And dark-some hell obscure thy Deity,
Insteede of Ioue thou shalt my Godesse bee,
To thee faire Temples Cassius will erect:
And on thine alter built of Parian stone
Whole Hecatombs will I offer vp.
Laugh gentle Godesse on my bould attempt,
Yet in thy laughter let pale meager death:
Bee wrapt in wrinkels of thy murthering spoyles. 1550
Bru. An other Tarquin is to bee expeld,
An other Brutus liues to act the deede:
Tis not one nation that this Tarquin wronges,
All Rome is stayn’d with his vnrul’d desires,
Shee whose imperiall scepter was invr’d:
To conquer Kings and to controul the world,
Cannot abate the glory of her state,
To yeeld or bowe to one mans proud desires:
Sweete Country Rome here Brutus vowes to thee,
To loose his life or else to set thee free. 1560
Cas. Shame bee his share that doth his life so prize,
That to Romes weale it would not sacrifize,
My Poniardes point shall pearce his heart as deepe,
As earst his sworde Romes bleeding side did goare:
And change his garments to the purple die,
With which our bloud had staynd sad Thessaly.
Cam. Hee doth refuse the title of a King,
But wee do see hee doth vsurp the thing.
Tre. Our ancient freedome hee empeacheth more,
Then euer King or Tyrant did before. 1570
Cas. The Senators by him are quite disgrac’d,
Rome, Romans, Citty, Freedome, all defac’d.
Cassi. We come not Lords, as vnresolued men,
For to shewe causes of the deed decreed,
This shall dispute for mee and tell him why,
This heart, hand, minde, hath mark’d him out to die:
If it be true that furies quench-les thirst,
Is pleas’d with quaffing of ambitious bloud,
Then all you deuills whet my Poniards point,
And I wil broach you a bloud-sucking heart: 1580
Which full of bloud, must bloud store to you yeeld,
Were it a peerce to flint or marble stone:
Why so it is for Cæsars heart’s a stone,
Els would bee mooued with my Countries mone.
They say you furies instigate mens mindes,
And push their armes to finnish bloudy deedes:
Prick then mine Elbo: goade my bloudy hand,
That it may goare Cæsars ambitious heart. Exeunt.

FINIS. ACTVS 2.

Act III sc. i ACT. 3. SCE. I.

Act III sc. ii ACTVS 3. SCENA 2.

Act III sc. iv ACT. 3. SC. 3.

Act III sc. v ACT. 2. SCE. 4.

Act III sc. vi ACT. 3. SC. 5.

Act III sc. vii ACTVS 3. SCENA 6.