And thy dismembred body stab'd and torne Dragd through the streets disdained to bee borne Phillip Cornelia Amongst the rest of mine extreame mishaps I finde my fortune not the 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 selfesame 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 woaue 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 asshie 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 worldings 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
our sorrowes to surcease Latium alreadie quaild will be destroyd ACTVS SECVNDVS Cornelia Cicero AND wil ye needs bedew my dead-grown ioyes And nourish sorrow with 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 Thaue made thy name by 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 rang'd Beate backe like flyes before a stome 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 Eates 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 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 forrow 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 depror'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 selfesame 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 etornall 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
silent Night that long had soiurned Now gan to cast her sable mantle off And now the sleepie Waine-man softly droue His slow-pac'd Teeme that long had traueled When like a slumber if you tearme it so A dulnes that disposeth vs to rest Gan close the windowes of my watchfull eyes Already tyerd and loaden with my teares And loe me thought came glyding by my bed The ghost of Pompey with a ghastly looke All pale and brawne-falne not in tryumph borne Amongst the conquering Romans as we vs'de When he enthroniz'd at his feete beheld Great Emperors fast bound in chaynes of brasse But all amaz'd with fearefull hollow eyes Hys hayre and beard deform'd with blood and sweat Casting a thyn course lynsel ore hys shoulders That torne in peeces trayl'd vpon the ground And gnashing of his teeth vnlockt his iawes Which slyghtly couer'd with a scarce-seene skyn Thys solemne tale he sadly did begin Sleep'st thou Cornelia sleepst thou gentle wife And seest thy Fathers misery and mine Wake deerest sweete and ore our Sepulchers In pitty show thy latest loue to vs. Such hap as ours attendeth on my sonnes The selfe-same foe and fortune following them Send Sextus ouer to some forraine Nation Farre from the common hazard of the warrs That being yet sau'd he may attempt no more To venge the valure that is tryde before He sayd And suddainly a trembling horror A chyl-cold shyuering setled in my vaines Brake vp my slumber When I opte my lyps Three times to cry but could nor cry nor speake I mou'd mine head and flonge abroade mine armes To entertaine him but his airie spirit Beguiled mine embrasements and vnkind Left me embracing nothing but the wind O valiant soule when shall this soule of mine Come visite thee in the Elisian shades O deerest life or when shall sweetest death Dissolue the fatall trouble of my daies And blesse me with my Pompeys company But may my father O extreame mishap And such a number of braue regiments Made of so many expert Souldiours That lou'd our liberty and follow'd him Be so discomfited O would it were but an illusion Cho. Madam neuer feare Nor let a senceles Idol of the nyght Encrease a more then needfull feare in you Cor. My feare proceeds not of an idle dreame For t' is a trueth that hath astonisht me I saw great Pompey and I heard hym speake And thinking to embrace him opte mine armes When drousy sleep that wak'd mee at vnwares Dyd with hys flight vnclose my feareful eyes So suddainly that yet mee thinks I see him Howbe-it I cannot tuch him for he slides More swiftly from mee then the Ocean glydes Chorus These are vaine thoughts or melancholie showes That wont to haunt and trace by cloistred tombes Which eath's appeare in sadde and strange disguises To pensiue mindes deceiued wyth theyr shadowes They counterfet the dead in voyce and figure Deuining of our future miseries For when our soule the body hath disgaged It seeks the common passage of the dead Downe by the fearefull gates of Acheron Where when it is by Aeacus adiudg'd It eyther turneth to the Stygian Lake Or staies for euer in th' Elisian fields And ne're returneth to the Corse interd To walke by night or make the wise afeard None but ineuitable conquering Death Descends to hell with hope to rise againe For ghosts of men are lockt in fiery gates Fast-guarded by a fell remorceles Monster And therefore thinke not it was Pompeys spryte But some false Daemon that beguild your sight Cicero Then O worlds Queene O towne that didst extend Thy conquering armes beyond the Ocean And throngdst thy conquests from the Lybian shores Downe to the Scithian swift-foote feareles Porters Thou art embas'd and at this instant yeeld'st Thy proud necke to a miserable yoke Rome thou art tam'd th' earth dewd with thy bloode Doth laugh to see how thou art signiorizd The force of heauen exceeds thy former strength For thou that wont'st to tame and conquer all Art conquer'd now with an eternall fall Now shalt thou march thy hands fast bound behind thee Thy head hung downe thy cheeks with teares besprent Before the victor Whyle thy rebell sonne With crowned front tryumphing followes thee Thy brauest Captaines whose coragious harts Ioyn'd with the right did re-enforce our hopes Now murdred lye for Foule to feede vpon Petreus Cato and Scipio are slaine And Iuba that amongst the Mores did raigne Nowe you whom both the gods and Fortunes grace Hath sau'd from danger in these furious broyles Forbeare to tempt the enemy againe For feare you feele a third calamitie Caesar is like a brightlie flaming blaze That fiercely burnes a house already fired And ceaseles lanching out on euerie side Consumes the more the more you seeke to quench it Still darting sparcles till it finde a trayne To seaze vpon and then it flames amaine The men the Ships wher-with poore Rome affronts him All powreles giue proud Caesars wrath free passage Nought can resist him all the powre we raise Turnes but to our misfortune and his prayse T' is thou O Rome that nurc'd his insolence T' is thou O Rome that gau'st him first the sword Which murdrer-like against thy selfe he drawes And violates both God and Natures lawes Lyke morrall Esops mysled Country swaine That fownd a Serpent pyning in the snowe And full of foolish pitty tooke it vp And kindly layd it by his houshold fire Till waxen warme it nimbly gan to styr And stung to death the foole that fostred her O gods that once had care of these our walls And feareles kept vs from th' assault of foes Great Iupiter to whom our Capitol So many Oxen yeerely sacrafiz'd Minerua Stator and stoute Thracian Mars Father to good Quirinus our first founder To what intent haue ye preseru'd our Towne This statelie Towne so often hazarded Against the Samnites Sabins and fierce Latins Why from once footing in our Fortresses Haue yee repeld the lustie warlike Gaules Why from Molossus and false Hanibal Haue yee reseru'd the noble Romulists Or why from Catlins lewde conspiracies Preseru'd yee Rome by my preuention To cast so soone a state so long defended Into the bondage where enthrald we pine To serue no stranger but amongst vs one That with blind frenzie buildeth vp his throne But if in vs be any vigor resting If yet our harts retaine one drop of blood Caesar thou shalt not vaunt thy conquest long Nor longer hold vs in this seruitude Nor shalt thou bathe thee longer in our blood For I diuine that thou must vomit it Like to a Curre that Carrion hath deuour'd And cannot rest vntill his mawe be scour'd Think'st thou to signiorize or be the King Of such a number nobler then thy selfe Or think'st thou Romains beare such bastard harts To let thy tyrannie be vnreueng'd No for mee thinks I see the shame the griefe The rage the hatred that they haue conceiu'd And many a Romaine sword already drawne T' enlarge the libertie that thou vsurpst