bestow Cornelia T' is true the Heauens at least-wise if they please May giue poore Rome her former libertie But though they would I know they cannot giue A second life to Pompey that is slaine Cicero Mourne not for Pompey Pompey could not die A better death then for his Countries weale For oft he search't amongst the fierce allarms But wishing could not find so faire an end Till fraught with yeeres and honor both at once Hee gaue his bodie as a Barricade For Romes defence by Tyrants ouer-laide Brauely he died and haplie takes it ill That enuious we repine at heauens will Cornelia Alas my sorrow would be so much lesse If he had died his fauchin in his fist Had hee amidst huge troopes of Armed men Beene wounded by another any waie It would haue calmed many of my sighes For why t' haue seene his noble Roman blood Mixt with his enemies had done him good But hee is dead O heauens not dead in fight With pike in hand vpon a Forte besieg'd Defending of a breach but basely slaine Slaine trayterouslie without assault in warre Yea slaine he is and bitter chaunce decreed To haue me there to see this bloody deed I saw him I was there and in mine armes He almost felt the poygnard when he fell Whereat my blood stopt in my stragling vaines Mine haire grew bristled like a thornie groue My voyce lay hid halfe dead within my throate My frightfull hart stund in my stone-cold breast Faintlie redoubled eu'ry feeble stroke My spirite chained with impatient rage Did rauing striue to breake the prison ope Enlarg'd to drowne the payne it did abide In solitary Lethes sleepie tyde Thrice to absent me from thys hatefull light I would haue plund'd my body in the Sea And thrice detaind with dolefull shreeks and cryes With armes to heauen vprea'd I gan exclaime And bellow forth against the Gods themselues A bedroll of outragious blasphemies Till griefe to heare and hell for me to speake My woes waxt stronger and my selfe grew weake Thus day and night I toyle in discontent And sleeping wake when sleepe it selfe that rydes Vpon the mysts scarce moysteneth mine eyes Sorrow consumes mee and in steed of rest With folded armes I sadly sitte and weepe And if I winck it is for feare to see The fearefull dreames effects that trouble mee O heauens what shall I doe alas must I Must I my selfe be murderer of my selfe Must I my selfe be forc'd to ope the way Whereat my soule in wounds may sally forth Cicero Madam you must not thus transpose your selfe VVe see your sorrow but who sorrowes not The griefe is common And I muse besides The seruitude that causeth all our cares Besides the basenes wherein we are yoked Besides the losse of good men dead and gone What one he is that in this broile hath bin And mourneth not for some man of his kin Cornelia If all the world were in the like distresse My sorrow yet would neuer seeme the lesse Cicero O but men beare mis-fortunes with more ease The more indifferently that they fall And nothing more in vprores men can please Then when they see their woes not worst of all Cornelia Our friendes mis-fortune dooth increase our owne Cicero But ours of others will not be acknowne Cornelia Yet one mans sorrow will another tutch Cicero I when himselfe will entertaine none such Cornelia Anothers teares draw teares fro forth our eyes Cicero And choyce of streames the greatest Riuer dryes Cornelia VVhen sand within a VVhirle-poole lyes vnwet My teares shall dry and I my griefe forget Cicero What boote your teares or what auailes your sorrow Against th' ineuitable dart of Death Thinke you to moue with lamentable plaints Persiphone or Plutos gastlie spirits To make him liue that 's locked in his tombe And wandreth in the Center of the earth No no Cornelia Caron takes not paine To ferry those that must be fetcht againe Cornelia Proserpina indeed neglects my plaints And hell it selfe is deafe to my laments Vnprofitably should I waste my teares If ouer Pompey I should weepe to death With hope to haue him be reuiu'd by them Weeping auailes not therefore doe I weepe Great losses greatly are to be deplor'd The losse is great that cannot be restor'd Cicero Nought is immortall vnderneath the Sunne All things are subiect to Deaths tiranny Both Clownes Kings one selfe-same course must run And what-soeuer liues is sure to die Then wherefore mourne you for your husbands death Sith being a man he was ordain'd to die Sith Ioues ownes sonnes retaining humane shape No more then wretched we their death could scape Braue Scipio your famous auncestor That Romes high worth to Affrique did extend And those two Scipios that in person fought Before the fearefull Carthagenian walls Both brothers and both warrs fierce lightning fiers Are they not dead Yes and their death our dearth Hath hid them both embowel'd in the earth And those great Citties whose foundations reacht From deepest hell and with their tops tucht heauen Whose loftie Towers like thorny-pointed speares Whose Temples Pallaces and walls embost In power and force and fiercenes seem'd to threat The tyred world that trembled with their waight In one daies space to our eternall mones Haue we not seene them turn'd to heapes of stones Carthage can witnes and thou heauens hand-work Faire Ilium razed by the conquering Greekes Whose auncient beautie worth and weapons seem'd Sufficient t' haue tam'd the Mermidons But whatso'ere hath been begun must end Death haply that our willingnes doth see With brandisht dart doth make the passage free And timeles doth our soules to Pluto send Cornelia Would Death had steept his date in Lerna-s blood That I were drown'd in the Tartarean deepes I am an offring fit for Acheron A match more equall neuer could be made Then I and Pompey in th' Elisian shade Cicero Death 's alwaies ready and our time is knowne To be at heauens dispose and not our owne Cornelia Can wee be ouer-hastie to good hap Cicero What good expect wee in a fiery gap Cornelia To scape the feares that followes Fortunes glaunces Cicero A noble minde doth neuer feare mischaunces Cornelia A noble minde disdaineth seruitude Cicero Can bondage true nobility exclude Cornelia How if I doe or suffer that I would not Cicero True noblesse neuer doth the thing it should not Cornelia Then must I dye Cicero Yet dying thinke this stil No feare of death should force vs to doe ill Cornelia If death be such why is your feare so rife Cicero My works will shew I neuer feard my life Cornelia And yet you will not that in our distresse We aske Deaths ayde to end lifes wretchednes Cicero We neither ought to vrge nor aske a thing VVherein we see so much assuraunce lyes But if perhaps some fierce offended King To fright vs sette pale death before our eyes To force vs doe that goes against our hart T' were more then base in vs to dread his dart But when
eternall teares O eyes and will yee cause I cannot dry Your ceaselesse springs not suffer me to die Then make the blood fro forth my branch-like vaines Lyke weeping Riuers trickle by your vaults And spunge my bodies heate of moisture so As my displeased soule may shunne my hart Heauens let me dye and let the Destinies Admit me passage to th' infernall Lake That my poore ghost may rest where powerfull fate In Deaths sad kingdom hath my husband lodg'd Fayne would I die but darksome vgly Death With-holds his darte and in disdaine doth flye me Malitiously knowing that hels horror Is mylder then mine endles discontent And that if Death vpon my life should seaze The payne supposed would procure mine ease But yee sad Powers that rule the silent deepes Of dead-sad Night where sinnes doe maske vnseene You that amongst the darksome mansions Of pyning ghosts twixt sighes and sobs and teares Do exercise your mirthlesse Empory Yee gods at whose arbitrament all stand Dislodge my soule and keepe it with your selues For I am more then halfe your prysoner My noble husbands more then noble soules Already wander vnder your commaunds O then shall wretched I that am but one Yet once both theyrs suruiue now they are gone Alas thou shouldst thou shouldst Cornelia Haue broke the sacred thred that tyde thee heere When as thy husband Crassus in his flowre Did first beare Armes and bare away my loue And not as thou hast done goe break the bands By calling Hymen once more back againe Lesse haples and more worthily thou might'st Haue made thine auncesters and thee renound If like a royall Dame with faith fast kept Thou with thy former husbands death hadst slept But partiall Fortune and the powerful Fates That at their pleasures wield our purposes Bewitcht my life and did beguile my loue Pompey the fame that ranne of thy frayle honors Made me thy wife thy loue and like a thiefe From my first husband stole my faithles griefe But if as some belieue in heauen or hell Be heauenly powers or infernall spirits That care to be aueng'd of Louers othes Oathes made in marriage and after broke Those powers those spirits mou'd with my light faith Are now displeas'd with Pompey and my selfe And doe with ciuill discord furthering it Vntye the bands that sacred Hymen knyt Els onely I am cause of both theyr wraths And of the sinne that ceeleth vp thine eyes Thyne eyes O deplorable Pompey I am shee I am that plague that sacks thy house and thee For t' is not heauen nor Crassus cause hee sees That I am thine in iealosie pursues vs No t' is a secrete crosse an vnknowne thing That I receiu'd from heauen at my birth That I should heape misfortunes on theyr head Whom once I had receiu'd in marriage bed Then yee the noble Romulists that rest Hence-forth forbeare to seeke my murdring loue And let theyr double losse that held me deere Byd you beware for feare you be beguild Ye may be ritch and great in Fortunes grace And all your hopes with hap may be effected But if yee once be wedded to my loue Clowdes of aduersitie will couer you So pestilently fraught with change of plagues Is mine infected bosome from my youth Like poyson that once lighting in the body No sooner tutcheth then it taints the blood One while the hart another while the liuer According to th' encountring passages Nor spareth it what purely feeds the hart More then the most infected filthiest part Pompey what holpe it thee say deerest life Tell mee what holpe thy warlike valiant minde T' encounter with the least of my mishaps What holpe it thee that vnder thy commaund Thou saw'st the trembling earth with horror mazed Or where the sunne forsakes th' Ocean sea Or watereth his Coursers in the West T' haue made thy name be farre more fam'd and feard Then Summers thunder to the silly Heard What holpe it that thou saw'st when thou wert young Thy Helmet deckt with coronets of Bayes So many enemies in battaile ranged Beate backe like flyes before a storme of hayle T' haue lookt a-skance and see so many Kings To lay their Crownes and Scepters at thy feete T' embrace thy knees and humbled by theyr fate T' attend thy mercy in this morneful state Alas and here-withall what holpe it thee That euen in all the corners of the earth Thy wandring glory was so greatly knowne And that Rome saw thee while thou tryumph'dst thrice O're three parts of the world that thou hadst yok'd That Neptune weltring on the windie playnes Escapt not free fro thy victorious hands Since thy hard hap since thy fierce destinie Enuious of all thine honors gaue thee mee By whom the former course of thy faire deeds Might with a byting brydle bee restraind By whom the glorie of thy conquests got Might die disgrac'd with mine vnhappines O haples wife thus ominous to all Worse then Megera worse then any plague What foule infernall or what stranger hell Hence-forth wilt thou inhabite where thy hap None others hopes with mischiefe may entrap Cicero What end O race of Scipio will the Fates Afford your teares Will that day neuer come That your desastrous griefes shall turne to ioy And we haue time to burie our annoy Cornelia Ne're shall I see that day for Heauen and Time Haue faild in power to calme my passion Nor can they should they pittie my complaints Once ease my life but with the pangs of death Cicero The wide worlds accidents are apt to change And tickle Fortune staies not in a place But like the Clowdes continuallie doth range Or like the Sunne that hath the Night in chace Then as the Heauens by whom our hopes are guided Doe coast the Earth with an eternall course We must not thinke a miserie betided Will neuer cease but still grow worse and worse When Isie Winter 's past then comes the spring Whom Sommers pride with sultrie heate pursues To whom mylde Autumne doth earths treasure bring The sweetest season that the wise can chuse Heauens influence was nere so constant yet In good or bad as to continue it When I was young I saw against poore Sylla Proud Cynna Marius and Carbo flesh'd So long till they gan tiranize the Towne And spilt such store of blood in euery street As there were none but dead-men to be seene Within a while I saw how Fortune plaid And wound those Tyrants vnderneath her wheele Who lost theyr liues and power at once by one That to reuenge himselfe did with his blade Commit more murther then Rome euer made Yet Sylla shaking tyrannie aside Return'd due honors to our Common-wealth Which peaceably retain'd her auncient state Growne great without the strife of Cittizens Till thys ambitious Tyrants time that toyld To stoope the world and Rome to his desires But flattring Chaunce that trayn'd his first designes May change her lookes and giue the Tyrant ouer Leauing our Cittie where so long agoe Heauens did theyr fauors lauishly
least in this That I haue kept my Maister company Both in his life and at hys latest houre Pompey the great whom I haue honored With true deuotion both aliue and dead One selfe-same shyp containd vs when I saw The murdring Egiptians bereaue his lyfe And when the man that had afright the earth Did homage to it with his deerest blood O're whom I shed full many a bitter teare And did performe hys obsequies with sighes And on the strond vpon the Riuer side Where to my sighes the waters seem'd to turne I weave a Coffyn for his corse of Seggs That with the winde dyd waue like bannerets And layd his body to be burn'd thereon Which when it was consum'd I kindly tooke And sadly cloz'd within an earthen Vrne The ashie reliques of his haples bones Which hauing scapt the rage of wind and Sea I bring to faire Cornelia to interr Within his Elders Tombe that honoured her Cornelia Ayh-me what see I Phil. Pompeys tender bones which in extreames an earthen Vrne containeth Corn. O sweet deere deplorable cynders O myserable woman lyuing dying O poore Cornelia borne to be distrest Why liu'st thou toyl'd that dead mightst lye at rest O faithles hands that vnder cloake of loue Did entertaine him to torment him so O barbarous inhumaine hatefull traytors Thys your disloyall dealing hath defam'd Your King and his inhospitable seate Of the extreamest and most odious cryme That gainst the heauens might bee imagined For yee haue basely broke the Law of Armes And out-rag'd ouer an afflicted soule Murdred a man that did submit himselfe And iniur'd him that euer vs'd you kindly For which misdeed be Egipt pestered With battaile famine and perpetuall plagues Let Aspies Serpents Snakes and Lybian Beares Tygers and Lyons breed with you for euer And let fayre Nylus wont to nurse your Corne Couer your Land with Toades and Crocadils That may infect deuoure and murder you Els earth make way and hell receiue them quicke A hatefull race mongst whom there dooth abide All treason luxurie and homicide Phillip Cease these laments Corn. I doe but what I ought to mourne his death Phil. Alas that profits nought Cor. Will heauen let treason be vnpunished Phil. Heauens will performe what they haue promised Cor. I feare the heauens will not heare our prayer Phil. The plaints of men opprest doe pierce the ayre Cor. Yet Caesar liueth still Phil. Due punishment Succeedes not alwaies after an offence For oftentimes t' is for our chastisement That heauen doth with wicked men dispence That when they list they may with vsurie For all misdeeds pay home the penaltie Cor. This is the hope that feeds my haples daies Els had my life beene long agoe expired I trust the gods that see our hourely wrongs Will fire his shamefull bodie with their flames Except some man resolued shall conclude With Caesars death to end our seruitude Els god to fore my selfe may liue to see His tired corse lye toyling in his blood Gor'd with a thousand stabs and round about The wronged people leape for inward ioy And then come Murder then come vglie Death Then Lethe open thine infernall Lake I le downe with ioy because before I died Mine eyes haue seene what I in hart desir'd Pompey may not reuiue and Pompey dead Let me but see the murdrer murdered Phil. Caesar bewail'd his death Corn. His death hee mournd whom while hee lyu'd to lyue lyke him hee scorne Phil. Hee punished his murdrers Corn. Who murdred hym but hee that followd Pompey with the sword He murdred Pompey that pursu'd his death And cast the plot to catch him in the trap He that of his departure tooke the spoyle Whose fell ambition founded first in blood By nought but Pompeys lyfe could be with-stood Phil. Photis and false Achillas he beheadded Corn. That was because that Pompey being theyr freend they had determin'd once of Caesars end Phil. What got he by his death Cor. Supremacie Phil. Yet Caesar speakes of Pompey honourablie Corn. Words are but winde nor meant he what he spoke Phil. He will not let his statues be broke Cor. By which disguise what ere he doth pretend His owne from beeing broke he doth defend And by the traynes where-with he vs allures His owne estate more firmely he assures Phil. He tooke no pleasure in his death you see Corn. Because hymselfe of life did not bereaue him Phil. Nay he was mou'd with former amitie Corn. He neuer trusted him but to deceiue him But had he lou'd him with a loue vnfained Yet had it beene a vaine and trustlesse league For there is nothing in the soule of man So firmely grounded as can qualifie Th' inextinguible thyrst of signiorie Not heauens feare nor Countries sacred loue Not auncient lawes nor nuptiall chast desire Respect of blood or that which most should moue The inward zeale that Nature doth require All these nor any thing we can deuise Can stoope the hart resolu'd to tyrannize Phil. I feare your griefes increase with thys discourse Corn. My griefes are such as hardly can be worse Phil. Tyme calmeth all things Corn. No tyme quallifies my dolefull spyrits endles myseries My griefe is lyke a Rock whence ceaseles strayne Fresh springs of water at my weeping eyes Still fed by thoughts lyke floods with winters rayne For when to ease th' oppression of my hart I breathe an Autumne forth of fiery sighes Yet herewithall my passion neither dyes Nor dryes the heate the moysture of mine eyes Phil. Can nothing then recure these endlesse teares Corn. Yes newes of Caesars death that medcyn beares Phil. Madam beware for should hee heare of thys his wrath against you t' will exasperate Corn. I neither stand in feare of him nor his Phil. T' is pollicie to feare a powrefull hate Corn. What can he doe Phil. Madam what cannot men that haue the powre to doe what pleaseth them Corn. He can doe mee no mischiefe that I dread Phil. Yes cause your death Corn. Thrise happy were I dead Phil. With rigorous torments Corn. Let him torture mee Pull me in peeces famish fire mee vp Fling mee aliue into a Lyons denn There is no death so hard torments mee so As his extreame tryumphing in our woe But if he will torment me let him then Depriue me wholy of the hope of death For I had died before the fall of Rome And slept with Pompey in the peacefull deepes Saue that I lyue in hope to see ere long That Caesars death shall satisfie his wrong CHORVS FOrtune in powre imperious Vs'd ore the world and worldlings thus to tirannize VVhen shee hath heap't her gifts on vs away shee flies Her feete more swift then is the winde Are more inconstant in their kinde then Autumne blasts A womans shape a womans minde that sildom lasts One while shee bends her angry browe And of no labour will allow Another while She fleres againe I know not how still to beguile Fickle in our aduersities And fickle when our fortunes
true borne Martialists Beheld the swift Rheyn vnder-run mine Ensignes The Brittaines lockt within a watry Realme And wald by Neptune stoopt to mee at last The faithles Moore the fierce Numidian Th' earth that the Euxine sea makes somtymes marsh The stony-harted people that inhabite Where seau'nfold Nilus doth disgorge it selfe Haue all been vrg'd to yeeld to my commaund Yea euen this Cittie that hath almost made An vniuersall conquest of the world And that braue warrier my brother in law That ill aduis'd repined at my glory Pompey that second Mars whose haught renowne And noble deeds were greater then his fortunes Proou'd to his losse but euen in one assault My hand my hap my hart exceeded his When the Thessalian fields were purpled ore With eyther Armies murdred souldiers goe When hee to conquering accustomed Did conquered flie his troopes discomforted Now Scipio that long'd to shew himselfe Discent of Affrican so fam'd for Armes He durst affront me and my warlike bands Vpon the Coastes of Lybia till he lost His scattred Armie and to shun the scorne Of being taken captiue kild himselfe Now therefore let vs tryumph Anthony And rendring thanks to heauen as we goe For brideling those that dyd maligne our glory Le ts to the Capitoll Anth. Come on braue Caesar And crowne thy head and mount thy Chariot Th' impatient people runne along the streets And in a route against thy gates they rushe To see theyr Caesar after dangers past Made Conqueror and Emperor at last Caesar I call to witnes heauens great Thunderer That gainst my will I haue maintaind this warre Nor thirsted I for conquests bought with blood I ioy not in the death of Cittizens But through my selfe-wild enemies despight And Romains wrong was I constraind to fight Anth. They sought t' eclipse thy fame but destinie Reuers'd th' effect of theyr ambition And Caesars prayse increasd by theyr disgrace That reckt not of his vertuous deeds But thus We see it fareth with the enuious Caesar I neuer had the thought to iniure them Howbeit I neuer meant my greatnes should By any others greatnes be o're-ruld For as I am inferior to none So can I suffer no Superiors Anth. Well Caesar now they are discomfited And Crowes are feasted with theyr carcases And yet I feare you haue too kindly sau'd Those that your kindnes hardly will requite Caes. Why Anthony what would you wish mee doe Now shall you see that they will pack to Spaine And ioyned with the Exiles there encampt Vntill th' ill spyrit that doth them defend Doe bring their treasons to a bloody end Anth. I feare not those that to theyr weapons flye And keepe theyr state in Spaine in Spaine to die Caes. VVhom fear'st thou then Mark Anthony Anth. The hatefull crue That wanting powre in fielde to conquer you Haue in theyr coward soules deuised snares To murder thee and take thee at vnwares Caesar VVill those conspire my death that liue by mee Anth. In conquered foes what credite can there be Caesar Besides theyr liues I did theyr goods restore Anth. O but theyr Countries good concerns them more Caesar What thinke they mee to be their Countries foe Anth. No but that thou vsurp'st the right they owe Caesar To Rome haue I submitted mighty things Anth. Yet Rome endures not the commaund of Kings Caes. Who dares to contradict our empery Anth. Those whom thy rule hath rob'd of liberty Caes. I feare them not whose death is but deferd Anth. I feare my foe vntill he be interd Caes. A man may make his foe his friend you know Anth. A man may easier make his friend his foe Caes. Good deeds the cruelst hart to kindnes bring Anth. But resolution is a deadly thing Caes. If Cittizens my kindnes haue forgot whom shall I then not feare Anth. Those that are not Caes. What shall I slay them all that I suspect Anth. Els cannot Caesars empery endure Caes. Rather I will my lyfe and all neglect Nor labour I my vaine life to assure But so to die as dying I may liue And leauing off this earthly Tombe of myne Ascend to heauen vpon my winged deeds And shall I not haue liued long enough That in so short a time am so much fam'd Can I too-soone goe taste Cocytus flood No Anthony Death cannot iniure vs For he liues long that dyes victorious Anthony Thy prayses show thy life is long enough But for thy friends and Country all too-short Should Caesar lyue as long as Nestor dyd Yet Rome may wish his life eternized Caesar Heauen sets our time with heauen may nought dispence Anth. But we may shorten time with negligence Caes. But Fortune and the heauens haue care of vs Anth. Fortune is fickle Heauen imperious Caes. VVhat shall I then doe Anth. As befits your state Maintaine a watchfull guard about your gate Caes. VVhat more assurance may our state defend Then loue of those that doe on vs attend Anth. There is no hatred more if it be mou'd Then theirs whom we offend and once belou'd Caes. Better it is to die then be suspitious Anth. T' is wisdom yet not to be credulous Caesar The quiet life that carelesly is ledd Is not alonely happy in this world But Death it selfe doth sometime pleasure vs That death that comes vnsent for or vnseene And suddainly doth take vs at vnware Mee thinks is sweetest And if heauen were pleas'd I could desire that I might die so well The feare of euill doth afflict vs more Then th' euill it selfe though it be nere so sore A Chorus of Caesars friends O Faire Sunne that gentlie smiles From the Orient-pearled Iles Guilding these our gladsome daies VVith the beautie of thy rayes Free fro rage of ciuill strife Long preserue our Caesars life That from sable Affrique brings Conquests whereof Europe rings And faire Venus thou of whom The Eneades are come Henceforth vary not thy grace From Iulus happy race Rather cause thy deerest sonne By his tryumphs new begun To expell fro forth the Land Firce warrs quenchles fire-brand That of care acquitting vs VVho at last adore him thus He a peacefull starre appeare From our walls all woes to cleere And so let his warlike browes Still be deckt with Lawrel boughes And his statues new set VVith many a fresh-flowrd Coronet So in euery place let be Feasts and Masks and mirthfull glee Strewing Roses in the streete VVhen their Emperor they meete He his foes hath conquered Neuer leauing till they fled And abhorring blood at last Pardon'd all offences past For high Ioue the heauens among Their support that suffer wrong Doth oppose himselfe agen Bloody minded cruell men For he shortneth their dayes Or prolongs them with dispraise Or his greater wrath to show Giues them ouer to their foe Caesar a Cittizen so wrong'd Of the honor him belong'd To defend himselfe from harmes VVas enforc'd to take vp Armes For he saw that Enuies dart Pricking still their poysoned hart For his suddaine glory got Made his
enuious foe so hote VVicked Enuie feeding still Foolish those that doe thy will For thy poysons in them poure Sundry passions euery boure And to choller doth conuart Purest blood about the hart VVhich ore-flowing of their brest Suffreth nothing to digest Other mens prosperitie Is their infelicitie And their choller then is rais'd VVhen they heare another prais'd Neither Phoebus fairest eye Feasts nor friendly company Mirth or what so-e're it be VVith their humor can agree Day or night they neuer rest Spightfull hate so pecks their brest Pinching their perplexed lunges VVith her fiery poysoned tongues Fire-brands in their brests they beare As if Tesiphon were there And their soules are pierc'd as sore As Prometheus ghost and more VVretches they are woe-begone For their wound is alwaies one Nor hath Chyron powre or skill To recure them of their ill ACTVS QVINTVS The Messenger Cornelia Chorus Messenger VNhappy man amongst so many wracks As I haue suffred both by Land and Sea That scorneful destinie denyes my death Oft haue I seene the ends of mightier men Whose coates of steele base Death hath stolne into And in thys direful warre before mine eyes Beheld theyr corses scattred on the plaines And endles numbers killing by my side Nor those ignoble but the noblest Lords Mongst whom aboue the rest that moues me most Scipio my deerest Maister is deceas'd And Death that sees the Nobles blood so rife Full-gorged triumphes and disdaines my lyfe Corn. We are vndone Chor. Scipio hath lost the day But hope the best and harken to his newes Corn. O cruell fortune Mess. These misfortunes yet must I report to sad Cornelia Whose cease les griefe which I am sorry for Will agrauate my former misery Corn. Wretch that I am why leaue I not the world Or wherefore am I not already dead O world O wretch Chor. Is this th' vndaunted hart that is required in extremities Be more confirmd And Madam let not griefe abuse your wisdom lyke a vulgar wit Haply the newes is better then the noyse Let 's heare him speake Corn. O no for all is lost Farwell deere Father Chor. Hee is sau'd perhaps Mess. Me thinks I heare my Maisters daughter speake What sighes what sobs what plaints what passions haue we endurde Cornelia for your sake Corn. Where is thine Emperor Mess. Where our Captaines are Where are our Legions Where our men at Armes Or where so many of our Romaine soules The earth the sea the vultures and the Crowes Lyons and Beares are theyr best Sepulchers Corn. O miserable Chor. Now I see the heauens are heapt with rage and horror gainst this house Corn. O earth why op'st thou not Chor. Why waile you so Assure your selfe that Scipio brauely dyed And such a death excels a seruile life Say Messenger The manner of his end will haply comfort this your discontent Corn. Discourse the manner of his hard mishap And what disastrous accident did breake So many people bent so much to fight Messenger Caesar that wisely knewe his souldiers harts And their desire to be approou'd in Armes Sought nothing more then to encounter vs And therefore faintly skyrmishing in craft Lamely they fought to draw vs further on Oft to prouoke our warie wel-taught troopes He would attempt the entrance on our barrs Nay euen our Trenches to our great disgrace And call our souldiers cowards to theyr face But when he saw his wiles nor bitter words Could draw our Captaines to endanger vs Coasting along and following by the foote He thought to tyre and wearie vs fro thence And got hys willing hosts to march by night With heauy Armor on theyr hardned backs Downe to the Sea-side Where before faire Tapsus He made his Pyoners poore weary soules The selfe-same day to dig and cast new Trenches And plant strong Barricades Where he encampt Resolu'd by force to hold vs hard at work Scipio no sooner heard of his designes But being afeard to loose so fit a place Marcht on the suddaine to the selfe-same Cittie Where few men might doe much which made him see Of what importance such a Towne would be The fields are spred and as a houshold Campe Of creeping Emmets in a Countrey Farme That come to forrage when the cold begins Leauing theyr crannyes to goe search about Couer the earth so thicke as scarce we tread But we shall see a thousand of them dead Euen so our battails scattred on the sands Dyd scoure the plaines in pursuite of the foe One while at Tapsus we begin t' entrench To ease our Army if it should retyre Another while we softly sally foorth And wakefull Caesar that doth watch our being When he perceiues vs marching o're the plaine Doth leape for gladnes And to murder vow'd Runnes to the Tent for feare we should be gone And quickly claps his rustie Armour on For true it is that Caesar brought at first An hoste of men to Affrique meanely Arm'd But such as had braue spirits and combatting Had powre and wit to make a wretch a King Well forth to field they marched all at once Except some fewe that stayd to guard the Trench Them Caesar soone and subt'ly sets in ranke And euery Regiment warn'd with a worde Brauely to fight for honor of the day He showes that auncient souldiers need not feare Them that they had so oft disordered Them that already dream'd of death or flight That tyer'd would nere hold out if once they see That they o're-layd them in the first assault Meane-while our Emperor at all poynts arm'd Whose siluer hayres and honorable front Were warlike lockt within a plumed caske In one hand held his Targe of steele embost And in the other graspt his Coutelas And with a cheerefull looke surueigh'd the Campe Exhorting them to charge and fight like men And to endure what ere betyded them For now quoth he is come that happie day Wherein our Countrey shall approue our loue Braue Romains know this is the day and houre That we must all liue free or friendly die For my part being an auncient Senator An Emperor and Consul I disdaine The world should see me to become a slaue I 'le eyther conquer or this sword you see Which brightly shone shall make an end of me We fight not we like thieues for others wealth We fight not we t' enlarge our skant confines To purchase fame to our posterities By stuffing of our tropheies in their houses But t' is for publique freedom that we fight For Rome we fight and those that fled for feare Nay more we fight for safetie of our lyues Our goods our honors and our auncient lawes As for the Empire and the Romaine state Due to the victor thereon ruminate Thinke how this day the honorable Dames With blubbred eyes and handes to heauen vprear'd Sit inuocating for vs to the Gods That they will blesse our holy purposes Me thinks I see poore Rome in horror clad And aged Senators in sad discourse Mourne for our sorrowes and theyr seruitude Me thinks I see them
another on A suddaine tempest takes him by the way And casts him vp neere to the Coasts of Hyppon Where th' aduerse Nauie sent to scoure the seas Did hourely keepe their ordinary course Where seeing himselfe at anchor slightly shipt Besieg'd betraide by winde by land by sea All raging mad to rig his better Vessels The little while this naual conflict lasted Behold his owne was fiercely set vpon Which being sore beaten till it brake agen Ended the liues of his best fighting men There did the remnant of our Romaine nobles Before the foe and in theyr Captaines presence Dye brauely with their fauchins in their fists Then Scipio that saw his ships through-galled And by the foe fulfild with fire and blood His people put to sword Sea Earth and Hell And Heauen it selfe coniur'd to iniure him Stepts to the Poope and with a princely visage Looking vpon his weapon dide with blood Sighing he sets it to his brest and said Since all our hopes are by the Gods beguil'd What refuge now remaines for my distresse But thee my deerest nere-deceiuing sword Yea thee my latest fortunes firmest hope By whom I am assurde this hap to haue That being free borne I shall not die a slaue Scarce had he said but cruelly resolu'd He wrencht it to the pommel through his sides That fro the wound the smoky blood ran bubling VVhere-with he staggred And I stept to him To haue embrac'd him But he beeing afraid T' attend the mercy of his murdring foe That stil pursued him and opprest his ships Crawld to the Deck and lyfe with death to ease Headlong he threw himselfe into the seas CORNELIA O cruell Gods O heauen O direfull Fates O radiant Sunne that slightly guildst our dayes O night starrs full of infelicities O triple titled Heccat Queene and Goddesse Bereaue my lyfe or lyuing strangle me Confound me quick or let me sinck to hell Thrust me fro forth the world that mongst the spirits Th' infernall Lakes may ring with my laments O miserable desolate distresful wretch Worne with mishaps yet in mishaps abounding What shall I doe or whether shall I flye To venge this out-rage or reuenge my wrongs Come wrathfull Furies with your Ebon locks And feede your selues with mine enflamed blood Ixions torment Sysiph's roling stone And th' Eagle tyering on Prometheus Be my eternall tasks That th' extreame fire Within my hart may from my hart retyre I suffer more more sorrowes I endure Then all the Captiues in th' infernall Court O troubled Fate O fatall misery That vnprouoked deal'st so partiallie Say freatfull heauens what fault haue I committed Or wherein could mine innocence offend you When being but young I lost my first loue Crassus Or wherein did I merrite so much wrong To see my second husband Pompey slayne But mongst the rest what horrible offence What hatefull thing vnthought of haue I done That in the midst of this my mournfull state Nought but my Fathers death could expiate shy death deere Scipio Romes eternall losse Whose hopefull life preseru'd our happines Whose siluer haires encouraged the weake Whose resolutions did confirme the rest Whose ende sith it hath ended all my ioyes O heauens at least permit of all these plagues That I may finish the Catastrophe Sith in this widdow-hood of all my hopes I cannot looke for further happines For both my husbands and my Father gone VVhat haue I els to wreak your wrath vpon Now as for happy thee to whom sweet Death Hath giuen blessed rest for lifes bereauing O enuious Iulia in thy iealous hart Venge not thy wrong vpon Cornelia But sacred ghost appease thine ire and see My hard mishap in marrying after thee O see mine anguish Haplie seeing it T' will moue compassion in thee of my paines And vrge thee if thy hart be not of flynt Or drunck with rigor to repent thy selfe That thou enflam'dst so cruell a reuenge In Caesars hart vpon so slight a cause And mad'st him raise so many mournfull Tombes Because thy husband did reuiue the lights Of thy forsaken bed Vnworthely Opposing of thy freatfull ielosie Gainst his mishap as it my helpe had bin Or as if second marriage were a sin VVas neuer Citty where calamitie Hath soiour'd with such sorrow as in this VVas neuer state wherein the people stood So careles of their conquered libertie And careful of anothers tiranny O Gods that earst of Carthage tooke some care Which by our Fathers pittiles was spoyl'd When thwarting Destinie at Affrique walls Did topside turuey turne their Common-wealth VVhen forcefull weapons fiercely tooke away Their souldiers sent to nourish vp those warrs VVhen fierd their golden Pallaces fell downe When through the slaughter th' Afrique seas were dide And sacred Temples quenchlesly enflam'd Now is our haples time of hopes expired Then satis-fie your selues with this reuenge Content to count the ghosts of those great Captains Which conquered perisht by the Romaine swords The Hannons the Amilcars Asdrubals Especially that proudest Hanniball That made the fayre Thrasymene so dezart For euen those fields that mour'd to beare their bodies Now loaden groane to feele the Romaine corses Theyr earth we purple ore and on theyr Tombes We heape our bodies equalling theyr ruine And as a Scipio did reuerse theyr powre They haue a Scipio to reuenge them on Weepe therefore Roman Dames and from henceforth Valing your Cristall eyes to your faire bosoms Raine showres of greefe vpon your Rose-like cheeks And dewe your selues with springtides of your teares Weepe Ladies weepe and with your reeking sighes Thicken the passage of the purest clowdes And presse the ayre with your continuall plaints Beate at your Iuorie breasts and let your robes Defac'd and rent be witnes of your sorrowes And let your haire that wont be wreath'd in tresses Now hang neglectly dangling downe your sholders Careles of Arte or rich accoustrements That with the gold and pearle we vs'd before Our mournfull habits may be deckt no more Alas what shall I doe O deere companions Shall I O shall I liue in these laments Widdowed of all my hopes my haps my husbands And last not least bereft of my best Father And of the ioyes mine auncestors enioy'd When they enioy'd their liues and libertie And must I liue to see great Pompeys house A house of honour and antiquitie Vsurpt in wrong by lawlesse Anthony Shall I behold the sumptuous ornaments Which both the world and Fortune heapt on him Adorne and grace his graceles Enemy Or see the wealth that Pompey gain'd in warre Sold at a pike and borne away by strangers Dye rather die Cornelia And to spare Thy worthles life that yet must one day perrish Let not those Captains vainlie lie inter'd Or Caesar triumph in thine infamie That wert the wife to th' one and th' others daughter But if I die before I haue entomb'd My drowned Father in some Sepulcher VVho will performe that care in kindnes for me Shall his poore wandring lymbs lie stil tormented Tost with the salte waues of the wasteful Seas No louely Father and my deerest husband Cornelia must liue though life she hateth To make your Tombes mourne vpon your hearses VVhere languishing my famous faithful teares May trickling bathe your generous sweet cynders And afterward both wanting strength and moysture Fulfilling with my latest sighes and gasps The happie vessels that enclose your bones I will surrender my surcharged life And when my soule Earths pryson shall forgoe Encrease the number of the ghosts be-low Non prosunt Domino quae prosunt omnibus Artes Tho: Kyd.