Chapter 5

Lament we our mishaps, Drowne we with teares our woe: For Lamentable happes Lamented easie growe: And much lesse torment bring Then when they first did spring. We want that wofull song, Wherwith wood-musiques Queene Doth ease her woes, among, fresh springtimes bushes greene, On pleasant branche alone Renewing auntient mone. We want that monefull sounde, That pratling _Progne_ makes On fieldes of _Thracian_ ground, Or streames of _Thracian_ lakes: To empt her brest of paine For _Itys_ by her slaine. Though _Halcyons_ doo still, Bewailing _Ceyx_ lot, The Seas with plainings fill Which his dead limmes haue got, Not euer other graue Then tombe of waues to haue: And though the birde in death That most _Meander_ loues So swetely sighes his breath When death his fury proues,_ _As almost softs his heart, And almost blunts his dart: Yet all the plaints of those, Nor all their tearfull larmes, Cannot content our woes, Nor serue to waile the harmes, In soule which we, poore we, To feele enforced be. Nor they of _Phæbus_ bredd In teares can doo so well, They for their brother shedd, Who into _Padus_ fell, Rash guide of chariot cleare Surueiour of the yeare. Nor she whom heau'nly powers To weping rocke did turne, Whose teares distill in showers, And shew she yet doth mourne. Where with his toppe to Skies Mount _Sipylus_ doth rise. Nor weping drops which flowe From barke of wounded tree, That _Myrrhas_ shame do showe With ours compar'd may be, To quench her louing fire Who durst embrace her sire. Nor all the howlings made On _Cybels_ sacred hill By Eunukes of her trade, Who _Atys_, _Atys_ still With doubled cries resound,_ _Which _Echo_ makes rebound. Our plaints no limits stay, Nor more then doo our woes: Both infinitely straie And neither measure knowes. _In measure let them plaine:_ _Who measur'd griefes sustaine._

_Cleopatra._ _Eras._ _Charmion._ _Diomede._

_Cleopatra._

That I haue thee betraid, deare _Antonie_, My life, my soule, my Sunne? I had such thought? That I haue thee betraide my Lord, my King? That I would breake my vowed faith to thee? Leaue thee? deceiue thee? yeelde thee to the rage Of mightie foe? I euer had that hart? Rather sharpe lightning lighten on my head: Rather may I to deepest mischiefe fall: Rather the opened earth deuower me: Rather fierce _Tigers_ feed them on my flesh: Rather, ô rather let our _Nilus_ send, To swallow me quicke, some weeping _Crocodile_. And didst thou then suppose my royall hart Had hatcht, thee to ensnare, a faithles loue? And changing minde, as Fortune changed cheare, I would weake thee, to winne the stronger, loose? O wretch! ô caitiue! ô too cruell happe! And did not I sufficient losse sustaine Loosing my Realme, loosing my liberty, My tender of-spring, and the ioyfull light Of beamy Sunne, and yet, yet loosing more Thee _Antony_ my care, if I loose not What yet remain'd? thy loue alas! thy loue, More deare then Scepter, children, freedome, light. So ready I to row in _Charons_ barge, Shall leese the ioy of dying in thy loue: So the sole comfort of my miserie To haue one tombe with thee is me bereft. So I in shady plaines shall plaine alone, Not (as I hop'd) companion of thy mone, O height of griefe! _Eras_ why with continuall cries Your griefull harmes doo you exasperate? Torment your selfe with murthering complaints? Straine your weake breast so oft, so vehemently? Water with teares this faire alablaster? With sorrowes sting so many beauties wound? Come of so many Kings want you the hart Brauely, stoutly, this tempest to resist?

_Cl._ My eu'lls are wholy vsupportable, No humain force can them withstand, but death.

_Eras._ To him that striues nought is impossible.

_Cl._ In striuing lyes no hope of my mishapps.

_Eras._ All things do yeelde to force of louely face.

_Cl._ My face too louely caus'd my wretched case. My face hath so entrap'd, so cast vs downe, That for his conquest _Cæsar_ may it thanke, Causing that _Antony_ one army lost The other wholy did to _Cæsar_ yeld. For not induring (so his amorouse sprite Was with my beautie fir'de) my shamefull flight, Soone as he saw from ranke wherein he stoode In hottest fight, my Gallies making saile: Forgetfull of his charge (as if his soule Vnto his Ladies soule had bene enchain'd) He left his men, who so couragiouslie Did leaue their liues to gaine him victorie. And carelesse both of fame and armies losse My oared Gallies follow'd with his Ships Companion of my flight, by this base parte Blasting his former flourishing renowne.

_Eras._ Are you therefore cause of his ouerthrowe?

_Cl._ I am sole cause: I did it, only I.

_Er._ Feare of a woman troubled so his sprite?

_Cl._ Fire of his loue was by my feare enflam'd.

_Er._ And should he then to warre haue ledd a Queene?

_Cl._ Alas! this was not his offence, but mine. _Antony_ (ay me! who else so braue a chiefe!) Would not I should haue taken Seas with him: But would haue left me fearfull woman farre From common hazard of the doubtfull warre. O that I had beleu'd! now, now of _Rome_ All the great Empire at our beck should bende. All should obey, the vagabonding _Scythes_, The feared _Germains_, back-shooting _Parthians_, Wandring _Numidians_, _Brittons_ farre remoou'd, And tawny nations scorched with the Sunne. But I car'd not: so was my soule possest, (To my great harme) with burning iealousie: Fearing least in my absence _Antony_ Should leauing me retake _Octauia_.

_Char._ Such was the rigour of your destinie.

_Cl._ Such was my errour and obstinacie.

_Ch._ But since Gods would not, could you doe withall?

_Cl._ Alwaies from Gods good happs, not harms, do fall.

_Ch._ And haue they not all power on mens affaires?

_Cl._ They neuer bow so lowe, as worldly cares. But leaue to mortall men to be dispos'd Freelie on earth what euer mortall is. If we therin sometimes some faultes commit, We may them not to their high maiesties, But to our selues impute; whose passions Plunge vs each day in all afflictions. Wherwith when we our soules do thorned feele, Flatt'ring our selues we say they dest'nies are: That Gods would haue it so, and that our care Could not empeach but that it must be so.

_Char._ Things here belowe are in the heau'ns begot, Before they be in this our worlde borne: And neuer can our weaknes turne awry The stailes course of powerfull destenie. Nought here force, reason, humaine prouidence, Holie deuotion, noble bloud preuailes: And Ioue himselfe whose hand doth heauens rule, Who both to Gods and men as King commaunds, Who earth (our firme support) with plenty stores, Moues aire and sea with twinckling of his eie, Who all can doe, yet neuer can vndoe What once hath been by their hard laws decreed. When _Troian_ walles, great _Neptunes_ workmanship, Enuiron'd were with _Greekes_, and Fortunes whele Doubtfull ten yeares now to the campe did turne, And now againe towards the towne return'd: How many times did force and fury swell In _Hectors_ veines egging him to the spoile Of conquer'd foes, which at his blowes did flie, As fearfull shepe at feared wolues approche: To saue (in vaine: for why? it would not be) Pore walles of _Troie_ from aduersaries rage, Who died them in bloud, and cast to ground Heap'd them with bloudie burning carcases. No, Madame, thinke, that if the ancient crowne Of your progenitors that _Nilus_ rul'd, Force take from you; the Gods haue will'd it so, To whome oft times Princes are odiouse. They haue to euery thing an end ordain'd; All worldly greatnes by them bounded is; Some sooner, later some, as they think best: None their decree is able to infringe. But, which is more, to vs disastred men Which subiect are in all things to their will, Their will is hidd: nor while we liue, we know How, or how long we must in life remaine. Yet must we not for that feede on dispaire, And make vs wretched ere we wretched bee: But alwaies hope the best, euen to the last, That from our selues the mischief may not growe. Then, Madame, helpe your selfe, leaue of in time _Antonies_ wracke, lest it your wracke procure: Retire you from him, saue frrom wrathfull rage Of angry _Cæsar_ both your Realme and you. You see him lost, so as your amitie Vnto his euills can yelde no more reliefe. You see him ruin'd, so as your support No more hencefourth can him with comfort raise. With-draw you from the storme: persist not still To loose your selfe: this royal diademe Regaine of _Cæsar_.

_Cl._ Soner shining light Shall leaue the daie, and darknes leaue the night: Sooner moist currents of tempestuous seas Shall waue in heauen, and the nightlie troopes Of starres shall shine within the foming waues, Then I thee, _Antonie_, Leaue in depe distres. I am with thee, be it thy worthy soule Lodge in thy brest, or from that lodging parte Crossing the ioyles lake to take hir place In place prepared for men Demy-gods. Liue, if thee please, if life be lothsome die: Dead and aliue, _Antonie_, thou shalt see Thy princesse follow thee, folow, and lament, Thy wrack, no lesse her owne then was thy weale.

_Char._ What helps his wrack this euer-lasting loue?

_Cl._ Help, or help not, such must, such ought I proue.

_Char._ Ill done to loose your selfe, and to no ende.

_Cl._ How ill thinke you to follow such a frende?

_Char._ But this your loue nought mitigates his paine.

_Cl._ Without this loue I should be inhumaine.

_Char._ Inhumaine he, who his owne death pursues.

_Cl._ Not inhumaine who miseries eschues.

_Ch._ Liue for your sonnes.

_Cl._ Nay for their father die.

_Cha._ Hardhearted mother!

_Cl._ Wife kindhearted I.

_Ch._ Then will you them depriue of royall right?

_Cl._ Do I depriue them? no, it's dest'nies might.

_Ch._ Do you not them not depriue of heritage, That giue them vp to aduersaries handes, A man forsaken fearing to forsake, Whome such huge numbers hold enuironned? T' abandon one gainst whome the frowning world Banded with _Cæsar_ makes conspiring warre.

_Cl._ The lesse ought I to leaue him lest of all. _A frend in most distresse should most assist._ If that when _Antonie_ great and glorious His legions led to drinke _Euphrates_ streames, So many Kings in traine redoubting him; In triumph rais'd as high as highest heaun; Lord-like disposing as him pleased best, The wealth of _Greece_, the wealth of_Asia_: In that faire fortune had I him exchaung'd For _Cæsar_, then, men would haue counted me Faithles, vnconstant, light: but now the storme, And blustring tempest driuing on his face, Readie to drowne, _Alas_! what would they saie? What would himselfe in _Plutos_ mansion saie? If I, whome alwaies more then life he lou'de, If I, who am his heart, who was his hope, Leaue him, forsake him (and perhaps in vaine) Weakly to please who him hath ouerthrowne? Not light, vnconstant, faithlesse should I be, But vile, forsworne, of treachrous crueltie.

_Ch._ Crueltie to shunne, you selfe-cruell are.

_Cl._ Selfe-cruell him from crueltie to spare.

_Ch._ Our first affection to our selfe is due.

_Cl._ He is my selfe.

_Ch._ Next it extendes vnto Our children, frends, and to our countrie soile. And you for some respect of wiuelie loue, (Albee scarce wiuelie) loose your natiue land, Your children, frends, and (which is more) your life, With so strong charmes doth loue bewitch our witts: So fast in vs this fire once kindled flames. Yet if his harme by yours redresse might haue,

_Cl._ With mine it may be clos'de in darksome graue.

_Ch._ And that, as _Alcest_ to hir selfe vnkinde, You might exempt him from the lawes of death. But he is sure to die: and now his sworde Alreadie moisted is in his warme bloude, Helples for any succour you can bring Against deaths stinge, which he must shortlie feele. Then let your loue be like the loue of olde Which _Carian_ Queene did nourish in hir heart Of hir Mausolus: builde for him a tombe Whose statelinesse a wonder new may make. Let him, let him haue sumtuouse funeralles: Let graue thereon the horror of his fights: Let earth be buri'd with vnburied heaps. Frame ther _Pharsaly_, and discoulour'd stream's Of depe _Enipeus_: frame the grassie plaine, Which lodg'd his campe at siege of _Mutina_. Make all his combats, and couragiouse acts: And yearly plaies to his praise institute: Honor his memorie: with doubled care Breed and bring vp the children of you both In _Cæsars_ grace: who as a noble Prince Will leaue them Lords of this most gloriouse realme.

_Cl._ What shame were that? ah Gods! what infamie! With _Antonie_ in his good happs to share, And ouerliue him dead: deeming enough To shed some teares vpon a widdowe tombe? The after-liuers iustly might report That I him onlie for his empire lou'd, And high estate: and that in hard estate I for another did him lewdlie leaue? Like to those birds wafted with wandring wings From foraine lands in spring-time here arriue: And liue with vs so long as Somers heate, And their foode lasts, then seke another soile. And as we see with ceaslesse fluttering Flocking of seelly flies a brownish cloud To vintag'd wine yet working in the tonne, Not parting thence while they swete liquor taste: After, as smoke, all vanish in the aire, And of the swarme not one so much appeare.

_Eras._ By this sharp death what profit can you winne?

_Cl._ I neither gaine, nor profit seke therein.

_Er._ What praise shall you of after-ages gett?

_Cl._ Nor praise, nor glory in my cares are sett.

_Er._ What other end ought you respect, then this?

_Cl._ My only ende my onely dutie is.

_Er._ your dutie must vpon some good be founded.

_Cl._ On vertue it, the onlie good, is grounded.

_Er._ What is that _vertue_?

_Cl._ That which vs beseemes.

_Er._ Outrage our selues? who that beseeming deemes?

_Cl._ Finish I will my sorowes dieng thus.

_Er._ Minish you will your glories doing thus.

_Cl._ Good frends I praie you seeke not to reuoke My fix'd intent of folowing _Antonie_. I will die. I will die: must not his life, His life and death by mine be folowed? Meane while, deare sisters, liue: and while you liue, Doe often honor to our loued Tombes. Straw them with flowrs: and sometimes happelie The tender thought of _Antonie_ your Lorde And me poore soule to teares shall you inuite, And our true loues your dolefull voice commend.

_Ch._ And thinke you Madame, we from you will part? Thinke you alone to feele deaths ougly darte? Thinke you to leaue vs? and that the same sunne Shall see at once you dead, and vs aliue? Weele die with you: and _Clotho_ pittilesse Shall vs with you in hellish boate imbarque.

_Cl._ Ah liue, I praie you: this disastred woe Which racks my heart, alone to me belonges: My lott longs not to you: seruants to be No shame, no harme to you, as is to me. Liue sisters, liue, and seing his suspect Hath causlesse me in sea of sorowes drown'd, And that I can not liue, if so I would, Nor yet would leaue this life, if so I could, Without, his loue: procure me, _Diomed_, That gainst poore me he be no more incensd. Wrest out of his conceit that harmfull doubt, That since his wracke he hath of me conceiu'd Though wrong conceiu'd: witnesse you reuerent Gods, Barking _Anubis_, _Apis_ bellowing. Tell him, my soule burning, impatient, Forlorne with loue of him, for certaine seale Of her true loialtie my corpse hath left, T' encrease of dead the number numberlesse. Go then, and if as yet he me bewaile, If yet for me his heart one sign fourth breathe Blest shall I be: and farre with more content Depart this world, where so I me torment. Meane season vs let this sadd tombe enclose, Attending here till death conclude our woes.

_Diom._ I will obey your will.

_Cl._ So the desert The Gods repay of thy true faithfull heart.

_Diomed._

And is't not pittie, Gods, ah Gods of heau'n! To see from loue such hatefull frutes to spring? And is't not pittie that this firebrand so Laies waste the trophes of _Philippi_ fieldes? Where are those swete allurements, those swete lookes, Which Gods themselues right hart-sicke would haue made? What doth that beautie, rarest guift of heau'n, Wonder of earth? Alas! what doe those eies? And that swete voice all _Asia_ vnderstoode, And sunburnt _Afrike_ wide in deserts spred? Is their force dead? haue they no further power? Can not by them _Octauius_ be supriz'd? Alas! if _Ioue_ in middst of all his ire, With thunderbolt in hand some land to plague, Had cast his eies on my Queene, out of hande His plaguing bolte had falne out of his hande: Fire of his wrathe into vaine smoke should turne, And other fire within his brest should burne. Nought liues so faire. Nature by such a worke Her selfe, should seme, in workmanship hath past. She is all heau'nlie: neuer any man But seing hir was rauish'd with her sight. The Allablaster couering of hir face, The corall coullor hir two lipps engraines, Her beamie eies, two Sunnes of this our world, Of hir faire haire the fine and flaming golde, Her braue streight stature, and hir winning partes Are nothing else but fiers, fetters, dartes. Yet this is nothing th'e'nchaunting skilles Of her celestiall Sp'rite, hir training speache, Her grace, hir Maiestie, and forcing voice, Whither she it with fingers speach consorte, Or hearing sceptred kings embassadors Answer to eache in his owne language make. Yet now at nede she aides hir not at all With all these beauties, so hir sorowe stings. Darkned with woe hir only studie is To wepe, to sigh, to seke for lonelines. Careles of all, hir haire disordred hangs: Hir charming eies whence murthring looks did flie, Now riuers grown', whose wellspring anguish is, Do trickling wash the marble of hir face. Hir faire discouer'd brest with sobbing swolne Selfe cruell she still martireth with blowes, Alas! It's our ill happ, for if hir teares She would conuert into hir louing charmes, To make a conquest of the conqueror, (As well shee might, would she hir force imploie) She should vs saftie from these ills procure, Hir crowne to hir, and to hir race assure. _Vnhappy he, in whome selfe-succour lies,_ _Yet self-forsaken wanting succour dies._

Chorus.

O swete fertile land, wherin _Phæbus_ did with breath inspire Man who men did first begin, Formed first of _Nilus_ mire. Whence of _Artes_ the eldest kindes, Earthes most heauenly ornament, Were as from their fountaine sent, To enlight our mistie mindes. Whose grosse sprite from endles time, As in darkned prison pente, Neuer did to knowledg clime. Wher the _Nile_, our father good, Father-like doth neuer misse Yearely vs to bring such food, As to life required is: Visiting each yeare this plaine, And with fatt slime cou'ring it, Which his seauen mouthes do spitt, As the season comes againe. Making therby greatest growe Busie reapers ioyfull paine, When his flouds do highest flowe. Wandring Prince of riuers thou, Honor of the _Æthiops_ lande, Of a Lord and master now Thou a slaue in awe must stand. Now of _Tiber_ which is spred Lesse in force, and lesse in fame Reuerence thou must the name, Whome all other riuers dread, For his children swolne in pride, Who by conquest seeke to treade Round this earth on euery side. Now thou must begin to sende Tribute of thy watrie store, As Sea pathes thy stepps shall bende, Yearely presents more and more. Thy fatt skumme, our frutefull corne, Pill'd from hence with theeuish hands All vncloth'd shall leaue our lands Into foraine Countrie borne. Which puft vp with such a pray Shall therby the praise adorne Of that scepter _Rome_ doth sway. Nought thee helps thy hornes to hide Farre from hence in vnknowne grounds, That thy waters wander wide, Yearely breaking bankes, and bounds. And that thy Skie-coullor'd brookes Through a hundred peoples passe, Drawing plots for trees and grasse With a thousand turn's and crookes. Whome all weary of their way Thy throats which in widenesse passe Powre into their Mother Sea. Nought so happie haplesse life "In this worlde as freedome findes: "Nought wherin more sparkes are rife "To inflame couragious mindes. "But if force must vs enforce "Nedes a yoke to vndergoe, "Vnder foraine yoke to goe "Still it proues a bondage worse. "And doubled subiection "See we shall, and feele, and knowe "Subiect to a stranger growne. From hence forward for a King, whose first being from this place Should his brest by nature bring Care of Countrie to embrace, We at surly face must quake Of some _Romaine_ madly bent: Who, our terrour to augment, His _Proconsuls_ axe will shake. Driuing with our Kings from hence Our establish'd gouerment, Iustice sworde, and Lawes defence. Nothing worldly of such might But more mightie _Destinie_, By swift _Times_ vnbridled flight, Makes in ende his ende to see. Euery thing _Time_ ouerthrowes, Nought to ende doth stedfast staie: His great sithe mowes all away As the stalke of tender rose. Onlie Immortalitie Of the Heau'ns doth it oppose Gainst his powerfull _Deitie_. One daie there will come a daie Which shall quaile thy fortunes flower, And thee ruinde low shall laie In some barbarous Princes power. When the pittie-wanting fire Shall, O _Rome_, thy beauties burne, And to humble ashes turne Thy proud wealth, and rich attire, Those guilt roofes which turretwise, Iustly making Enuie mourne, Threaten now to pearce Skies. As thy forces fill each land Haruests making here and there, Reaping all with rauening hand They finde growing any where: From each land so to thy fall Multitudes repaire shall make, From the common spoile to take What to each mans share maie fall. Fingred all thou shalt beholde: No iote left for tokens sake That thou wert so great of olde. Like vnto the auncient _Troie_ Whence deriu'de thy founders be, Conqu'ring foe shall thee enioie, And a burning praie in thee. For within this turning ball This we see, and see each daie: All things fixed ends do staie, Ends to first beginnings fall. And that nought, how strong or strange, Chaungles doth endure alwaie, But endureth fatall change.

_M. Antonius._ _Lucilius._

_M. Ant._

_Lucil_, sole comfort of my bitter case, The only trust, the only hope I haue, In last despaire: Ah! is not this the daie That death should me of life and loue bereaue? What waite I for that haue no refuge left, But am sole remnant of my fortune left? All leaue me, flie me: none, no not of them Which of my greatnes greatest good receiu'd, Stands with my fall: they seeme as now asham'de That heretofore they did me ought regarde: They draw them back, shewing they folow'd me, Not to partake my harm's, but coozen me.

_Lu._ In this our world nothing is stedfast found, In vaine he hopes, who here his hopes doth gro[un]d.