Chapter III: Part 3

_Titin._ 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.
_Cassi._ 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_ massaker,
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_.
_Titin._ 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 Noble thought,
And blesse the Heauens for fauoring my attempts:
For Noble _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.
_Cassi._ 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 Gods 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 _Assur_ 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 bloody 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 shild Ile be Reueng'd,
My mortall wounding speare and goulden Crest.
I will dishorse my foemen in the field,
Alasse 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 bloody 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 competitors 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 Ignoble 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 Gods, 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:
Alasse 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 pricks 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-shining 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, shild gainst shild, 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 Hell,
_Anth._ Shamst thou not _Anthony_ to draw thy sword,
On _Caesars_ Sonne, for rude rash youth full brawles,
And dost let passe 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 Gods 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 Gods that through the raging waues,
Brought thee braue _Troian_ to old _Latium_,
And great _Quirinus_ placed now in Heauen:
By the _Gradinus_ that with shield of Brasse, 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:

ACT. 5. SCE 1. {SN _Chor. V_}

_Enter Discord._

_Dis._ The balefull haruest of my ioy, thy woe
Gins ripen _Brutus_, Heauens commande it so. 2130
Pale sad _Auernus_ opes his yawning Iawes,
Seeking to swallow vp thy murtherous soule,
The furies haue proclaym'd a festiuall:
And meane to day to banquet with thy bloud,
Now Heauens array you in your clowdy weedes:
Wrap vp the beauty of your glorious lamp,
And dreadfull _Chaos_, of sad drery night,
Thou Sunne that climest vp to the easterne hill:
And in thy Chariot rides with swift steedes drawne,
In thy proud Iollity and radiant glory: 2140
Go back againe and hide thee in the sea,
Darkenesse to day shall couer all the world:
Let no light shine, but what your swords can strike,
From out their steely helmes, and fiery shildes:
Furies, and Ghosts, with your blue-burning lampes,
In mazing terror ride through _Roman_ rankes:
With dread affrighting those stout Champions hearts,
All stygian fiendes now leaue whereas you dwell:
And come into the world and make it hell.

{SN _Act. V sc. i_}

_Enter Cassius, Brutus, Titinnius, Cato Iunior,
with an army marching_

_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 _Daercean_ playnes,
When proud _Eteocles_ on his foaming steede,
Rides in his fury through the _Argean_ troopes,
Now making great _AErastus_ giue him way,
Now beating back _Tidaeus_ 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 _Caesars_ 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 _Caesars_ death,
Send all _Caesarians_ 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,
_Caesar_ 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 _Caesar_ stay, protract my greife no longer,
Rip vp my bowells glut thy thirsting throte,
With pleasing blood of _Caesars_ 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 _AEmathian_ playnes,
VVhere great _Domitius_ fell by _Caesars_ 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._ _Caesar_ 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