Chapter 7

_Casi._ Thus far wee march with vnresisted armes, 2152 Subduing all that did our powres with-stand: _Laodicia_ whose high reared walles, Faire _Lyeas_ washeth with her siluer waue: And that braue monument of _Perseus_ fame, With _Tursos_ vaild to vs her vanting pride, Faire _Rhodes_, I weepe to thinke vpon thy fall; Thou wert to stubberne, else thou still hadst stood, Inviolate of _Cassius_ hurtles hand, 2160 That was my nurse, where in my youth I drew The flowing milke of Greekish eloquence: Proud _Capadocia_ sawe her King captiu'd, (And _Dolabella_ vanting in the spoyles. Of slayne _Trebonius_) fall as springing tree, Seated in louely _Tempes_ pleasant shades: Whom beuteous spring with blossoms braue hath deckt, And sweete _Fauonia_ manteled all in greene, By winters rage doth loose his flowry pride, And hath each twigg bar'd by northerne winds. 2170 Thus from the conquest of proud _Palestine_, Hether in triumph haue we march'd along, Making our force-commaunding rule to stretch, From faire _Euphrates_ christall flowing waues Vnto the Sea which yet weepes _Io's_ death, Slayne by great _Hercules_ repenting hand, _Bru._ Of all the places by my sword subdued, Pitty of thee poore _Zanthus_ moues me most; Thrise hast thou ben beseeged by thy foe, And thrise to saue thy liberty hast felt 2180 The fatall flames of thine owne cruell hand. First being beseeg'd by _Harpalus_ the _Mede_, The sterne performer of proud _Cyrus_ wrath: Next when the _Macedonian Phillips_ sonne, Did rayse his engines gainst thy battered walls, Proud _Zanthus_ that did scorne to beare the yoake, That all the world was forced to sustaine, Last when that I my selfe did guirt thy walls, With troopes of high resolued _Roman_ hearts, Rather then thou wouldest yeeld to _Brutus_ sword, 2190 Or stayne the mayden honour of thy Towne, Did'st sadly fall as proud _Numantia_. Scorning to yeeld to conquering _Scipios_ power. _Cas._ And now to thee _Phillipi_, are wee come, Whose fields must twise feele _Roman_ cruelty, And flowing blood like to _Dærcean_ playnes, When proud _Eteocles_ on his foaming steede, Rides in his fury through the _Argean_ troopes, Now making great _Ærastus_ giue him way, Now beating back _Tidæus_ puissant might: 2200 The ground not dry'd from sad _Pharsalian_ blood, Will now bee turned to a purple lake: And bleeding heapes and mangled bodyes slayne, Shall make such hills as shall surpasse in height The Snowy Alpes and aery _Appenines_, _Titi._ A Scout brought word but now that he descryd, Warlike _Anthonius_ and young _Cæsars_ troopes, Marching in fury ouer _Thessalian_ playnes. As great _Gradinus_ when in angry moode, He driues his chariot downe from heauens top, 2210 And in his wheels whirleth reueng and death: Heere by _Phillippi_ they will pich their tents, And in these fieldes (fatall to _Roman_ liues.) Hazard the fortune of the doubtfull fight, _Cat._ O welcome thou this long expected day, On which dependeth _Romane_ liberty, Now _Rome_ thy freedom hangeth in suspence, And this the day that must assure thy hopes. _Cassi._ Great _Ioue_, and thou _Trytonyan_ warlike Queene: Arm'd with thy amazing deadly _Gorgons_ head. 2220 Strenghen our armes that fight for _Roman_ welth: And thou sterne _Mars_, and _Romulus_ thy Sonne, Defend that Citty which your selfe begun. All heauenly powers assist our rightfull armes, And send downe siluer winged victory, To crowne with Lawrells our triumphant Crests. _Bru._ My minde thats trobled in my vexed soule, (Opprest with sorrow and with sad dismay,) Misgiues me this wilbe a heauy day. _Cassi._ Why faynt not now in these our last extremes, 2230 This time craues courage not dispayring feare, _Titin._ Fie, twill distayne thy former valiant acts. To say thou faintest now in this last act, _Bru._ My mind is heauy, and I know not why, But cruell fate doth sommon me to die, _Cato._ Sweet _Brute_, let not thy words be ominous signes, Of so mis-fortunnate and sad euent, Heauen and our Vallour shall vs conquerours make. _Cassi._ What Bastard feare hath taunted our dead hearts, Or what vnglorious vnwounted thought, 2240 Hath changed the vallour of our daunted mindes. What are our armes growne weaker then they were? Cannot this hand that was proud _Cæsars_ death, Send all _Cæsarians_ headlong that same path? Looke how our troups in Sun-bright armes do shine, With vaunting plumes and dreadfull brauery. The wrathful steedes do check their iron bits, And with a well grac'd terror strike the ground, And keeping times in warres sad harmony. And then hath _Brutus_ any cause to feare, 2250 My selfe like valiant _Peleus_ worthy Sonne, The Noblest wight that eur _Troy_ beheld, Shall of the aduerse troopes such hauock make, As sad _Phillipi_ shall in blood bewayle, The cruell massacre of _Cassius_ sword, And then hath _Brutus_ any cause to feare? _Bru._ No outward shewes of puissance or of strength, Can helpe a minde dismayed inwardly, Leaue me sweete Lordes a while vnto my selfe. _Cassi._ In the meane time take order for the fight, 2260 Drums let your fearefull mazing thunder playe. And with their sound peirce Heauens brazen Towers, And all the earth fill with like fearefull noyse, As when that _Boreas_ from his Iron caue. With boysterous furyes Striuing in the waues, Comes swelling forth to meet his blustering foe, They both doe runne with feerce tempestuous rage, And heaues vp mountaynes of the watry waues. The God _Oceanus_ trembles at the stroke, _Bru._ What hatefull furyes vex my tortured mind? 2270 What hideous sightes appalle my greeued soule, As when _Orestes_ after mother slaine. Not being yet at _Scithians_ Alters purged, Behould the greesly visages of fiends. And gastly furies which did haunt his steps, _Cæsar_ vpbraues my sad ingratitude, He saued my life in sad _Pharsalian_ fieldes, That I in _Senate_ house might worke his death. O this remembrance now doth wound my soule, More then my poniard did his bleeding heart, 2280

_Enter Ghost._

_Gho._ _Brutus_, ingratefull _Brutus_ seest thou mee: Anon In field againe thou shalt me see, _Bru._ Stay what so ere thou art, or fiend below, Rays'd from the deepe by inchanters bloody call, Or fury sent from _Phlegitonticke_ flames, Or from _Cocytus_ for to end my life, Be then _Megera_ or _Tysiphone_, Or of _Eumenides_ ill boading crue. Fly me not now, but end my wretched life, 2290 Comegreesly messenger of sad mishap, Trample in blood of him that hates to liue, And end my life and sorrow all at once. _Gho._ Accursed traytor damned _Homicide_, Knowest thou not me, to whome for forty honors: Thou three and twenty Gastly wounds didst giue? Now dare no more for to behould the Heauens, For they to Day haue destyned thine end: Nor lift thy eyes vnto the rising sunne, That nere shall liue for to behould it set, 2300 Nor looke not downe vnto the Hellish shades, There stand the furyes thursting for thy blood, Flie to the field but if thou thither go'st, There _Anthonyes_ sword will peirce thy trayterous heart. _Brutus_ to daie my blood shalbe reuenged, And for my wrong and vndeserued death, Thy life to thee a torture shall become, And thou shalt oft amongest the dying grones, Of slaughtered men that bite the bleeding earth. Wish that like balefull cheere might thee befall, 2310 And seeke for death that flies so wretched wight, Vntill to shunne the honour of the fight, And dreadfull vengeance of supernall ire. Thine owne right hand shall worke my wish'd reueng, And so Fare ill, hated of Heauen and Men. _Bru._ Stay _Cæsar_ stay, protract my greife no longer, Rip vp my bowells glut thy thirsting throte, With pleasing blood of _Cæsars_ guilty heart: But see hee's gon, and yonder Murther stands: See how he poynts his knife vnto my hart. 2320 _Althea_ raueth for her murthered Sonne, And weepes the deed that she her-selfe hath done: And _Meleager_ would thou liuedst againe, But death must expiate. _Altheas_ come. I, death the guerdon that my deeds deserue: The drums do thunder forth dismay and feare, And dismall triumphes found my fatall knell, Furyes I come to meete you all in Hell,

{SN _Act V sc. ii_}

_Enter Cato wounded._

_Cato._ Bloodles and faynt; _Cato_ yeelde vp thy breath; While strength and vigour in these armes remaynd, 2331 And made me able for to wield my sword, So long I fought; and sweet _Rome_ for thy sake Fear'd not effusion of my blood to make. But now my strength and life doth fayle at once, My vigor leaues my could and feeble Ioynts, And I my sad soule, must power forth in blood. O vertue whome _Phylosophy_ extols. Thou art no essence but a naked name, Bond-slaue to Fortune, weake, and of no power, 2340 To succor them which alwaies honourd thee: Witnesse my Fathers and mine owne sad death, Who for our country spent our latest breath: But oh the chaines of death do hold my toung, Mine eyes wax dim I faynt, I faynt, I die. O Heauens help _Rome_ in this extremity.

{SN _Act V sc. iii_}

_Cass._ Where shall I goe to tell the saddest tale, That ere the _Romane_ toung was forc'd to speake, _Rome_ is ouerthrowne, and all that for her fought: This Sunne that now hath seen so many deaths, 2350 When from the Sea he heaued his cloudy head, Then both the armes full of hope and feare, Did waite the dreadfull trumpets fatall sound, And straight Reuenge from _Stygian_ bands let loose, Possessed had all hearts and banished thence, Feare of their children, wife and little home. Countryes remembrance, and had quite expeld, With last departed care of life it selfe: Anger did sparkell from our beautious eyes, Our trembling feare did make our helmes to shake, 2360 The horse had now put on the riders wrath, And with his hoofes did strike the trembling earth, When _Echalarian_ soundes then both gin meete: Both like enraged, and now the dust gins rise, And Earth doth emulate the Heauens cloudes, Then yet beutyous was the face of cruell war: And goodly terror it might seeme to be, Faire shieldes, gay swords, and goulden crests did shine. Their spangled plumes did dance for Iolity, As nothing priuy to their Masters feare, 2370 But quickly rage and cruell _Mars_ had staynd, This shining glory with a sadder hew, A cloud of dartes that darkened Heauens light, Horror insteed of beauty did suceede. And her bright armes with dust and blood were foyld: Now _Lucius_ fals, heare _Drusus_ takes his end, Here lies _Hortensius_, weltring in his goare. Here, there, and euery where men fall and die, Yet _Cassius_ shew not that thy heart doth faynt: But to the last gasp for _Romains_ freedom fight, 2380 And when sad death shall be thy labors end, Yet boast thy life thou didst for Country spend.

{SN _Act V sc. iv_}

_Enter Anthony._

_Ant._ Queene of Reuenge imperious _Nemesis_, That in the wrinkels of thine angry browes, Wrapst dreadfull vengance and pale fright-full death: Raine downe the bloudy showers of thy reuenge, And make our swordes the fatall instruments, To execute thy furious bale-full Ire, Let grim death seate her on my Lances point, 2390 Which percing the weake armour of my foes, Shall lodge her there within there coward brestes, Dread, horror, vengance, death, and bloudy hate: In this sad fight my murthering sworde awaite. _Exit_

{SN _Act V sc. v_}

_Enter Titinnius._

_Titin._ Where may I flie from this accursed soyle, Or shunne the horror of this dismall day: The Heauens are colour'd in mourning sable weedes, The Sunne doth hide his face, and feares to see, This bloudy conflict; sad _Catastrophe_, 2400 Nothing but grones of dying men are heard: Nothing but bloud and slaughter may bee seene And death, the same in sundry shapes araied.

_Enter Cassius._

_Casi._ In vaine, in vaine, O _Cassius_ all in vaine, Tis Heauen and destiny thou striuest against. _Titin._ VVhat better hope or more accepted tydinges, Ist Noble _Cassius_ from the Battell bringes? _Cassi._ This haples hope that fates decreed haue, _Philippi_ field must bee our haples graue. 2410 _Titin._ And then must this accurs'd and fatall day, End both our liues and _Romane_ liberty: Must now the name of freedome bee forgot, And all _Romes_ glory in _Thessalia_ end? _Casi._ As those that lost in boysterous troublous seas, Beaten with rage of Billowes stormy strife: And without starres do sayle 'gainst starres and winde. In drery darkenesse and in chereles night, Without or hope or comfort endles are: So are my thoughts deiected with dismay, 2420 Which can nought looke for but poore _Romes_ decay. But yet did _Brutus_ liue, did hee but breath? Or lay not slumbering in eternall night, His welfare might infuse some hope, or life: Or at the least bring death with more content: Weried I am through labour of the fight: Then sweete _Titinnius_, range thou through the fielde, And either glad me with my friends successe, Or quickly tell mee what my care doth feare: How breathles hee vpon the ground doth lie, 2430 That at thy words, I may fall downe and die. _Titin._ _Cassius_, I goe to seeke thy Noble friend, Heauen grant my goings haue a prosperous end. _Cassi._ O go _Titinnius_, and till thy returne, Heere will I sit disconsolate alone, _Romes_ sad mishap, and mine owne woes to moone: O ten times treble fortunate were you, VVhich in _Pharsalias_ bloudy conflict dyed, VVith those braue Lords, now layed in bed of fame: VVhich neere protected their most blessed dayes, 2440 To see the horror of this dismall fight, VVhy died I not in those _Æmathian_ playnes, VVhere great _Domitius_ fell by _Cæsars_ hand? And swift _Eurypus_ downe his bloudy streame Bare shieldes and helmes and traines of slaughter'd men, But Heauens reserud mee to this luckles day, To see my Countries fall and friends decay. But why doth not _Titinnius_ yet returne? My trembling heart misgiues me what's befalne, _Brutus_ is dead: I: herke how willingly 2450 The Ecco itterates those deadly words, The whisling windes with their mourning sound Do fill mine eares with noyse of _Brutus_ death, The birdes now chanting a more cheerles lay, In dolefull notes recorde my friends decay. And _Philomela_ now forgets old wronges, And onely _Brutus_ wayleth in her songes. I heare some noyse, O tis _Titinnius_, No tis not hee, for hee doth feare to wound, My greeued eares with that hearts-thrilling sound. 2460 Why dost thou feed my thoughts with lingering hope? Why dost thou then prolong my life in vayne? Tell me my sentence and so end my payne: He comes not yet, nor yet, nor will at all, Linger not _Cassius_ for to heare reply, What if he come and tels me hee is slayne? That only will increase my dying paine, _Brutus_ I come to company thy soule, Which by _Cocytus_ wandreth all alone. _Brutus_ I come prepare to meete thy friend 2470 Thy Brothers fall procures this balefull end.

_Enter Titinius._

_Titi._ _Brutus_ doth liue and like a second _Mars_, Rageth in heate of fury mongest his foes, Then cheere thee _Cassius_, loe I bring releefe. And news of power to ease thy stormy greefe, But see where _Cassius_ weltreth in his blood, Doth beate the Earth, and yet not fully dead. O _Cassius_ speake, O speake to me sweet friend, _Brutus_ doth liue; open thy dying eyes, 2480 And looke on him that hope and comfort rings. O noe, hee will not looke on mee but cryes, That by my long delayes he haples dies: Accursed villaine murtherer of thy friend, Why hath thy lingering thus wrought _Cassius_ end, How cold thy care was to preuent this deed, How slow thy loue that made no greater speed, Care winged is, and burning loue can flye, My care was feareles, loue but flattery, But sithence in my life my loue was neuer shewne, 2490 Now in my death Ile make it to be knowne. Accursed weapon that such blood could spil, Nay cursed then the author of this deed, Yet both offended, both shall punished be, Ile take reueng of the knife, the knife of me, It shall make a passage for my life to passe, Cause through my life his master murthered was. And I on it againe will venged bee. Cause it did worke my _Cassius_ tragedy. Then this reueng shalbe to end my life. 2500 Mine to distayne with baser blood the knife.

_Enter Brutus the Ghost following him._

_Bru._ What doest thou still persue me vgly fend, Is this it that thou thirsted for so much? Come with thy tearing clawes and rend it out, Would thy appeaseles rage be slacked with blood, This sword to day hath crimsen channels made, But heare's the blood that thou woulds drinke so fayne, Then take this percer, broch this trayterous heart. Or if thou thinkest death to small a payne, 2510 Drag downe this body to proud _Erebus_, Through black _Cocytus_ and infernall _Styx_, _Lethean_ waues, and fiers of _Phlegeton_, Boyle me or burne, teare my hatefull flesh, Deuoure, consume, pull, pinch, plague, paine this hart, Hell craues her right, and heere the furyes stand, And all the hell-hounds compasse me a round Each seeking for a parte of this same prey, Alasse this body is leane, thin, pale and wan, Nor can it all your hungery mouthes suffice, 2520 O tis the soule that they stand gaping for, And cndlesse matter for to prey vpon. Renewed still as _Titius_ pricked heart. Then clap your hands, let Hell with Ioy resound? Here it comes flying through this aery round. _Gho._ Hell take their hearts, that this ill deed haue done And vengeance follow till they be ouercome: Nor liue t'applaud the iustice of this deed. Murther by her owne guilty hand doth bleed.

_Enter Discord._

_Dis._ I, now my longing hopes haue their desire, 2531 The world is nothing but a massie heape: Of bodys slayne, The Sea a lake of blood, The Furies that for slaughter only thirst, Are with these Massakers and slaughters cloyde, _Tysiphones_ pale, and _Megeras_ thin face, Is now puft vp, and swolne with quaffing blood, _Caron_ that vsed but an old rotten boate Must nowe a nauie rigg for to transport, The howling soules, vnto the _Stigian_ stronde. 2540 Hell and _Elisium_ must be digd in one, And both will be to litle to contayne, Numberles numbers of afflicted ghostes, That I my selfe haue tumbling thither sent. _Gho._ Now nights pale daughter since thy bloody ioyes, And my reuengfull thirst fulfilled are, Doe thou applaud what iustly heauens haue wrought, While murther on the murtherers head is brought. _Dis._ _Cæsar_ I pitied not thy Tragick end: Nor tyrants daggers sticking in thy heart, 2550 Nor doe I that thy deaths with like repayd, But that thy death so many deaths hath made: Now cloyde with blood, Ile hye me downe below, And laugh to thinke I caused such endlesse woe. _Gho._ Sith my reueng is full accomplished, And my deaths causers by them selues are slaine, I will descend to mine eternall home, Where euerlastingly my quiet soule, The sweete _Elysium_ pleasure shall inioy, And walke those fragrant flowry fields at rest: 2560 To which nor fayre _Adonis_ bower so rare, Nor old _Alcinous_ gardens may compare. There that same gentle father of the spring, Mild _Zephirus_ doth _Odours_ breath diuine: Clothing the earth in painted brauery, The which nor winters rage, nor Scorching heate, Or Summers sunne can make it fall or fade, There with the mighty champions of old time, And great _Heroes_ of the Goulden age, My dateles houres Ile spend in lasting ioy.

FINIS.

End of Project Gutenberg's The Tragedy Of Caesar's Revenge, by Anonymous