Chapter 4

Now to end well this life, is onely to ende it willingly: following with full consent the will and direction of God, and not suffering vs to be drawen by the necessetie of destenie. To end it willingly, we must hope, and not feare death. To hope for it, we must certainely looke after this life, for a better life. To looke for that, wee must feare God: whome whoso well feareth, feareth indeede nothing in this worlde, and hopes for all things in the other. To one well resolued in these points death can be but sweete and agreeable: knowing that through it hee is to enter into a place of all ioyes. The griefe that may be therein shall bee allaied with sweetnes: the sufferance of ill, swallowed in the confidence of good: the sting of Death it selfe shall bee dead, which is nothing else but Feare. Nay, I wil say more, not onely all the euilles conceiued in death shall be to him nothing: but he shall euen scorne all the mishappes men redoubt in this life, and laugh at all these terrors. For I pray what can he feare, whose death is his hope? Thinke we to banish him his country? He knows he hath a country other-where, whence wee cannot banish him: and that all these countries are but Innes, out of which he must part at the wil of his hoste. To put him in prison? a more straite prison he cannot haue, then his owne body, more filthy, more darke, more full of rackes and torments. To kill him and take him out of the worlde? that is it he hopes for: that is it with all his heart he aspires vnto. By fire, by sworde, by famine, by sickenesse: within three yeeres, within three dayes, within three houres, all is one to him: all is one at what gate, or at what time he passe out of this miserable life. For his businesses are euer ended, his affaires all dispatched, and by what way he shall go out, by the same hee shall enter into a most happie and euerlasting life. Men can threaten him but death, and death is all he promiseth himselfe: the worst they can doe, is, to make him die, and that is the best hee hopes for. The threatnings of tyrants are to him promises, the swordes of his greatest enemies drawne in his fauor: forasmuch as he knowes that threatning him death, they threaten him life: and the most mortall woundes can make him but immortall. Who feares God, feares not death: and who feares it not, feares not the worst of this life.

By this reckoning, you will tell me death is a thing to be wished for: and to passe from so much euill, to so much good, a man shoulde as it seemeth cast away his life. Surely, I feare not, that for any good wee expect, we will hasten one step the faster: though the spirite aspire, the body it drawes with it, withdrawes it euer sufficiently towardes the earth. Yet is it not that I conclude. We must seeke to mortifie our flesh in vs, and to cast the world out of vs: but to cast our selues out of the world is in no sort permitted vs. The Christian ought willingly to depart out of this life but not cowardly to runne away. The Christian is ordained by God to fight therein: and cannot leaue his place without incurring reproch and infamie. But if it please the grand Captaine to recall him, let him take the retrait in good part, and with good will obey it. For hee is not borne for himselfe, but for God: of whome he holdes his life at farme, as his tenant at will, to yield him the profites. It is in the landlord to take it from him, not in him to surrender it, when a conceit takes him. Diest thou yong? praise God as the mariner that hath had a good winde, soone to bring him to the Porte. Diest thou olde? praise him likewise, for if thou hast had lesse winde, it may be thou hast also had lesse waues. But thinke not at thy pleasure to go faster or softer: for the winde is not in thy power, and in steede of taking the shortest way to the Hauen, thou maiest happily suffer shipwracke. God calleth home from his worke, one in the morning, an other at noone, and an other at night. One he exerciseth til the first sweate, another he sunne-burneth, another he rosteth and drieth throughly. But of all his he leaues not one without, but brings them all to rest, and giues them all their hire, euery one in his time. Who leaues his worke before God call him, looses it: and who importunes him before the time, looses his reward. We must rest vs in his will, who in the middest of our troubles sets vs at rest.

To ende, we ought neither to hate this life for the toiles therein, for it is slouth and cowardise: nor loue it for the delights, which is follie and vanitie: but serue vs of it, to serue God in it, who after it shall place vs in true quietnesse, and replenish vs with pleasures whiche shall neuer more perish. Neyther ought we to flye death, for it is childish to feare it: and in flieng from it, wee meete it. Much lesse to seeke it, for that is temeritie: nor euery one that would die, can die. As much despaire in the one, as cowardise in the other: in neither any kinde of magnanimitie. It is enough that we constantly and continually waite for her comming, that shee may neuer finde vs vnprouided. For as there is nothing more certaine then death, so is there nothing more vncertaine then the houre of death, knowen onlie to God, the onlie Author of life and death, to whom wee all ought endeuour both to liue and die.

_Die to liue,_ _Liue to die._

The 13. of May 1590.

At Wilton.

* * * * * * * * *

[Transcriber's Note:

The play was printed in Italic type, with Roman for emphasis. For this e-text, only the _emphasis_ is shown.

Acts 1 and 3 are unlabeled in the text. Act 1 can only be Antony's soliloquy, with following Chorus, but Act 3 is ambiguous. Between Act 2 and Act 4 are: (scene) Cleopatra. Eras. Charmion. Diomede. (soliloquy): Diomed. Chorus (scene) M. Antonius. Lucilius. Chorus Structurally the play seems to have six Acts, but Act 4 and Act 5 are each labeled as such.]

[Decoration]

The Argument.

After the ouerthrowe of _Brutus_ and _Cassius_, the libertie of _Rome_ being now vtterly oppressed, and the Empire setled in the hands of _Octauius Cæsar_ and _Marcus Antonius_, (who for knitting a straiter bonde of amitie betweene them, had taken to wife _Octauia_ the sister of _Cæsar_) _Antonius_ vndertooke a iourney against the Parthians, with intent to regaine on them the honor wonne by them from the Romains, at the discomfiture and slaughter of _Crassus_. But comming in his iourney into Siria, the places renewed in his remembrance the long intermitted loue of _Cleopatra_ Queene of Aegipt: who before time had both in Cilicia and at Alexandria, entertained him with all the exquisite delightes and sumptuous pleasures, which a great Prince and voluptuous Louer could to the vttermost desire. Whereupon omitting his enterprice, he made his returne to Alexandria, againe falling to his former loues, without any regard of his vertuous wife _Octauia_, by whom neuertheles he had excellent Children. This occasion _Octauius_ tooke of taking armes against him: and preparing a mighty fleet, encountred him at Actium, who also had assembled to that place a great number of Gallies of his own, besides 60. which _Cleopatra_ brought with her from Aegipt. But at the very beginning of the battell _Cleopatra_ with all her Gallies betooke her to flight, which _Antony_ seeing could not but follow; by his departure leauing to _Octauius_ the greatest victorye which in any Sea Battell hath beene heard off. Which he not negligent to pursue, followes them the next spring, and besiedgeth them within Alexandria, where _Antony_ finding all that he trusted to faile him, beginneth to growe iealouse and to suspect _Cleopatra_. She thereupon enclosed her selfe with two of her women in a monument she had before caused to be built, thence sends him woord she was dead: which he beleeuing for truth, gaue himselfe with his Swoord a deadly wound: but died not vntill a messenger came from _Cleopatra_ to haue him brought to her to the tombe. Which she not daring to open least she should be made a prisoner to the _Romaines_, and carried in _Cæsars_ triumph, cast downe a corde from an high window, by the which (her women helping her) she trussed vp _Antonius_ halfe dead, and so got him into the monument. The Stage supposed Alexandria: the Chorus, first Egiptians, and after Romane Souldiors. The Historie to be read at large in _Plutarch_ in the life of _Antonius_.

The Actors.

_Antonius_. _Cleopatra_. _Eras_ and } _Cleopatras_ women. _Charmion_. } _Philostratus_ a Philosopher. _Lucilius_. _Diomede_ Secretary to _Cleopatra_. _Octauius Cæsar._ _Agrippa_. _Euphron_, teacher of _Cleopatras_ children. _Children_ of _Cleopatra_. _Dircetus_ the Messenger.

[Decoration]

_Antonius._

Since cruell Heau'ns against me obstinate, Since all mishappes of the round engin doe Conspire my harme: since men, since powers diuine, Aire, earth, and Sea are all iniurious: And that my Queene her self, in whome I liu'd, The Idoll of my hart, doth me pursue; It's meete I dye. For her haue I forgone My Country, _Cæsar_ vnto warre prouok'd (For iust reuenge of Sisters wrong my wife, Who mou'de my Queene (ay me!) to iealousie) For loue of her, in her allurements caught Abandon'd life, I honor haue despisde, Disdain'd my freends, and of the statelye Rome Despoilde the Empire of her best attire, Contemn'd that power that made me so much fear'd, A slaue become vnto her feeble face. O cruell, traitres, woman most vnkinde, Thou dost, forsworne, my loue and life betraie: And giu'st me vp to ragefull enemie, Which soone (ô foole!) will plague thy periurye. Yelded _Pelusium_ on this Countries shore, Yelded thou hast my Shippes and men of warre, That nought remaines (so destitute am I) But these same armes which on my back I weare. Thou should'st haue had them too, and me vnarm'de Yeelded to _Cæsar_ naked of defence. Which while I beare let _Cæsar_ neuer thinke Triumph of me shall his proud chariot grace Not think with me his glory to adorne, On me aliue to vse his victorie. Thou only _Cleopatra_ triumph hast, Thou only hast my freedome seruile made, Thou only hast me vanquisht: not by force (For forste I cannot be) but by sweete baites Of thy eyes graces, which did gaine so fast vpon my libertie, that nought remain'd. None els hencefoorth, but thou my dearest Queene, Shall glorie in commaunding _Antonie_. Haue _Cæsar_ fortune and the Gods his freends, To him haue Ioue and fatall sisters giuen The Scepter of the earth: he neuer shall Subiect my life to his obedience. But when that Death, my glad refuge, shall haue Bounded the course of my vnstedfast life, And frosen corps vnder a marble colde Within tombes bosome widdowe of my soule: Then at his will let him it subiect make: Then what he will let _Cæsar_ doo with me: Make me limme after limme be rent: make me My buriall take in sides of _Thracian_ wolfe. Poore _Antonie_! alas what was the day, The daies of losse that gained thee thy loue! Wretch _Antony_! since then _Mægæra_ pale With Snakie haires enchain'd thy miserie. The fire thee burnt was neuer _Cupids_ fire (For Cupid beares not such a mortall brand) It was some furies torch, _Orestes_ torche, which sometimes burnt his mother-murdering soule (When wandring madde, rage boiling in his bloud, He fled his fault which folow'd as he fled) kindled within his bones by shadow pale Of mother slaine return'd from Stygian lake. _Antony_, poore _Antony_! since that daie Thy olde good hap did farre from thee retire. Thy vertue dead: thy glory made aliue So ofte by martiall deeds is gone in smoke: Since then the _Baies_ so well thy forehead knewe To Venus mirtles yeelded haue their place: Trumpets to pipes: field tents to courtly bowers: Launces and Pikes to daunces and to feastes. Since then, ô wretch! in stead of bloudy warres Thou shouldst haue made vpon the Parthian Kings For Romain honor filde by _Crassus_ foile, Thou threw'st thy Curiace off, and fearfull healme, With coward courage vnto _Ægipts_ Queen In haste to runne, about her necke to hang Languishing in her armes thy Idoll made: In summe giuen vp to _Cleopatras_ eies. Thou breakest at length from thence, as one encharm'd Breakes from th'enchaunter that him strongly helde. For thy first reason (spoyling of their force the poisned cuppes of thy faire Sorceres) Recur'd thy sprite: and then on euery side Thou mad'st againe the earth with Souldiours swarme. All Asia hidde: Euphrates bankes do tremble To see at once so many Romanes there Breath horror, rage, and with a threatning eye In mighty squadrons crosse his swelling streames. Nought seene but horse, and fier sparkling armes: Nought heard but hideous noise of muttring troupes. The _Parth_, the _Mede_, abandoning their goods Hide them for feare in hilles of _Hircanie_, Redoubting thee. Then willing to besiege The great _Phraate_ head of _Media_, Thou campedst at her walles with vaine assault, Thy engins fit (mishap!) not thither brought. So long thou stai'st, so long thou doost thee rest, So long thy loue with such things nourished Reframes, reformes it selfe and stealingly Retakes his force and rebecomes more great. For of thy Queene the lookes, the grace, the woords, Sweetenes, alurements, amorous delights, Entred againe thy soule, and day and night, In watch, in sleepe, her Image follow'd thee: Not dreaming but of her, repenting still That thou for warre hadst such a Goddes left. Thou car'st no more for _Parth_, nor _Parthian_ bow, Sallies, assaults, encounters, shocks, alarmes, For diches, rampiers, wards, entrenched grounds: Thy only care is sight of _Nilus_ streames, Sight of that face whose guilefull semblant doth (Wandring in thee) infect thy tainted hart. Her absence thee besottes: each hower, each hower Of staie, to thee impatient seemes an age. Enough of conquest, praise thou deem'st enough, If soone enough the bristled fieldes thou see Of fruitfull _Ægipt_, and the stranger floud Thy Queenes faire eyes (another _Pharos_) lights. Returned loe, dishonoured, despisde, In wanton loue a woman thee misleades Sunke in foule sinke: meane while respecting nought Thy wife _Octauia_ and her tender babes, Of whom the long contempt against thee whets The sword of _Cæsar_ now thy Lord become. Lost thy great Empire, all those goodly townes Reuerenc'd thy name as rebells now thee leaue: Rise against thee, and to the ensignes flocke Of conqu'ring _Cæsar_, who enwalles thee round Cag'd in thy holde, scarse maister of thy selfe, Late maister of so many nations. Yet, yet, which is of grief extreamest grief, Which is yet of mischiefe highest mischiefe, It's _Cleopatra_ alas! alas, it's she, It's she augments the torment of thy paine, Betraies thy loue, thy life alas! betraies, _Cæsar_ to please, whose grace she seekes to gaine: With thought her Crowne to saue, and fortune make Onely thy foe which common ought haue beene. If her I alwaies lou'd, and the first flame Of her heart-killing loue shall burne me last: Iustly complaine I she disloyall is, Nor constant is, euen as I constant am, To comfort my mishap, despising me No more, then when the heauens fauour'd me. _But ah! by nature women wau'ring are,_ _Each moment changing and rechanging mindes._ _Vnwise, who blinde in them, thinkes loyaltie_ _Euer to finde in beauties company._

Chorus.

The boyling tempest still Makes not Sea waters fome: Nor still the Northern blast Disquiets quiet streames: Nor who his chest to fill Sayles to the morning beames, On waues winde tosseth fast Still kepes his Ship from home. Nor _Ioue_ still downe doth cast Inflam'd with bloudie ire On man, on tree, on hill, His darts of thundring fire: Nor still the heat doth last On face of parched plaine: Nor wrinkled colde doth still On frozen furrowes raigne. But still as long as we In this low world remaine, Mishapps our dayly mates Our liues do entertaine: And woes which beare no dates Still pearch vpon our heads, None go, but streight will be Some greater in their Steads. Nature made vs not free When first she made vs liue: When we began to be, To be began our woe: Which growing euermore As dying life dooth growe Do more and more vs greeue, And tire vs more and more. No stay in fading states, For more to height they retch, Their fellow miseries The more to height do stretch. They clinge euen to the crowne, And threatning furious wise From tirannizing pates Do often pull it downe. In vaine on waues vntride to shunne them go we should To _Scythes_ and _Massagetes_ Who neare the Pole reside: In vaine to boiling sandes Which _Phæbus_ battry beates, For with vs still they would Cut seas and compasse landes. The darknes no more sure To ioyne with heauy night: The light which guildes the dayes To follow _Titan_ pure: No more the shadow light The body to ensue: Then wretchednes alwaies Vs wretches to pursue. O blest who neuer breath'd, Or whome with pittie mou'de, _Death_ from his cradle reau'de, And swadled in his graue: And blessed also he (As curse may blessing haue) Who low and liuing free No princes charge hath prou'de. By stealing sacred fire _Prometheus_ then vnwise, Prouoking Gods to ire, The heape of ills did sturre, And sicknes pale and colde Our ende which onward spurre, To plague our hands too bolde To filch the wealth of Skies. In heauens hate since then Of ill with ill enchain'd We race of mortall men full fraught our breasts haue borne: And thousand thousand woes Our heau'nly soules now thorne, Which free before from those No! earthly passion pain'd. Warre and warres bitter cheare Now long time with vs staie, And feare of hated foe Still still encreaseth sore: Our harmes worse dayly growe, Lesse yesterdaye they were Then now, and will be more To morowe then to daye.

Act. 2.

_Philostratus._

What horrible furie, what cruell rage, O _Ægipt_ so extremely thee torments? Hast thou the Gods so angred by thy fault? Hast thou against them some such crime conceiu'd, That their engrained hand lift vp in threats They should desire in thy hard bloud to bathe? And that their burning wrath which nought can quench Should pittiles on vs still lighten downe? We are not hew'n out of the monst'rous masse Of _Giantes_ those, which heauens wrack conspir'd: _Ixions_ race, false prater of his loues: Nor yet of him who fained lightnings found: Nor cruell _Tantalus_, nor bloudie _Atreus_, Whose cursed banquet for _Thyestes_ plague Made the beholding Sunne for horrour turne His backe, and backward from his course returne: And hastning his wing-footed horses race Plunge him in sea for shame to hide his face: While sulleine night vpon the wondring world For mid-daies light her starrie mantle cast, But what we be, what euer wickednes By vs is done, Alas! with what more plagues, More eager torments could the Gods declare To heauen and earth that vs they hatefull holde? With Souldiors, strangers, horrible in armes Our land is hidde, our people drown'd in teares. But terror here and horror, nought is seene: And present death prizing our life each hower. Hard at our ports and at our porches waites Our conquering foe: harts faile vs, hopes are dead: Our Queene laments: and this great Emperour Sometime (would now they did) whom worlds did feare, Abandoned, betraid, now mindes no more But from his euils by hast'ned death to passe. Come you poore people tir'de with ceasles plaints With teares and sighes make mournfull sacrifice On _Isis_ altars: not our selues to saue, But soften _Cæsar_ and him piteous make To vs, his pray: that so his lenitie May change our death into captiuitie. Strange are the euils the fates on vs haue brought, O but alas! how farre more strange the cause! Loue, loue (alas, who euer would haue thought?) Hath lost this Realme inflamed with his fire. Loue, playing loue, which men say kindles not But in soft harts, hath ashes made our townes. And his sweet shafts, with whose shot none are kill'd, Which vlcer not, with deaths our lands haue fill'd, Such was the bloudie, murdring, hellish loue Possest thy hart faire false guest _Priams_ Sonne, Fi'ring a brand which after made to burne The _Troian_ towers by _Græcians_ ruinate. By this loue, _Priam_, _Hector_, _Troilus_, _Memnon_, _Deiphobus_, _Glaucus_, thousands mo, Whome redd _Scamanders_ armor clogged streames Roll'd into Seas, before their dates are dead. So plaguie he, so many tempests raiseth So murdring he, so many Cities raiseth, When insolent, blinde, lawles, orderles, With madd delights our sence he entertaines. All knowing Gods our wracks did vs foretell By signes in earth, by signes in starry Sphæres: Which should haue mou'd vs, had not destinie With too strong hand warped our miserie. The _Comets_ flaming through the scat'red clouds With fiery beames, most like vnbroaded haires: The fearefull dragon whistling at the bankes, And holie _Apis_ ceaseles bellowing (As neuer erst) and shedding endles teares: Bloud raining downe from heau'n in vnknow'n showers: Our Gods darke faces ouercast with woe, And dead mens Ghosts appearing in the night. Yea euen this night while all the Cittie stoode Opprest with terror, horror, seruile feare, Deepe silence ouer all: the sounds were heard Of diuerse songs, and diuers instruments, Within the voide of aire: and howling noise, Such as madde _Bacchus_ priests in _Bacchus_ feasts On _Nisa_ make: and (seem'd) the company, Our Cittie lost, went to the enemie. So we forsaken both of Gods and men, So are we in the mercy of our foes: And we hencefoorth obedient must become To lawes of them who haue vs ouercome.

Chorus.