A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 07

by Unknown

ACTUS QUARTUS, SCENA PRIMA.

Enter MARK ANTHONY, LEPIDUS, OCTAVIUS, FLACCUS, Senators.

OCTAVIUS. What helps, my lords, to overhale these cares?
What means or motions may these mischiefs end?
You see how Cinna, that should succour Rome
Hath levied arms to bring a traitor in.
O worthless traitor, woe to thine and thee,
That thus disquieteth both Rome and us?

ANTHONY. Octavius, these are scourges for our sins;
These are but ministers to heap our plague.
These mutinies are gentle means and ways,
Whereby the heavens our heavy errors charm.
Then with content and humbled eyes behold
The crystal shining globe of glorious Jove;
And, since we perish through our own misdeeds,
Go let us flourish in our fruitful prayers.

LEPIDUS. 'Midst these confusions, mighty men of Rome,
Why waste we out these troubles all in words?
Weep not your harms, but wend we straight to arms,
Lo, Ostia[132] spoil'd, see Marius at our gate!
And shall we die like milksops, dreaming thus?

OCTAVIUS. A bootless war to see our country spoil'd.

LEPIDUS. Fruitless is dalliance, whereas dangers be.

ANTHONY. My lord, may courage wait on conquer'd men?

LEPIDUS. Ay, even in death most courage doth appear.

OCTAVIUS. Then, waiting death, I mean to seat me here;
Hoping that consuls' name and fear of laws
Shall justify my conscience and my cause.

Enter a MESSENGER.

Now, sirrah, what confused looks are these?
What tidings bringest thou of dreariment?[133]

MESSENGER. My lords, the Consul Cinna, with his friends,
Have let in Marius by Via Appia,
Whose soldiers waste and murder all they meet;
Who, with the consul and his other friends,
With expedition hasteth to this place.

ANTHONY. Then to the downfal of my happiness,
Then to the ruin of this city Rome.
But if mine inward ruth were laid in sight,
My streams of tears should drown my foes' despite.

OCTAVIUS. Courage, Lord Anthony: if fortune please,
She will and can these troubles soon appease;
But if her backward frowns approach us nigh,
Resolve with us with honour for to die.

LEPIDUS. No storm of fate shall bring my sorrows down;
But if that fortune list, why, let her frown.

ANTHONY. Where states oppress'd by cruel tyrants be,
Old Anthony, there is no place for thee.
[Drum strikes within.
Hark, by this thundering noise of threatening drums,
Marius with all his faction hither comes.

OCTAVIUS. Then like a traitor he shall know, ere long,
In levying arms he doth his country wrong.

Enter MARIUS, his Son, CINNA, CETHEGUS, LECTORIUS, with
Soldiers: upon sight of whom MARK ANTHONY presently flies.

MARIUS. And have we got the goal of honour now,
And in despite of consuls enter'd Rome?
Then rouse thee, Marius. leave thy ruthful thoughts;
And for thy many cares and toils sustain'd,
Afflict thy foes with quite as many pains.
Go, soldiers, seek out Bebius and his friends,
Attilius, Munitorius, with the rest;
Cut off their heads, for they did cross me once;
And if your care can compass my decree,
Remember that same fugitive Mark Anthony,
Whose fatal end shall be my fruitful peace.
I tell thee, Cinna, nature armeth beasts
With just revenge, and lendeth in their kinds
Sufficient warlike weapons of defence;
If then by nature beasts revenge their wrong,
Both heavens and nature grant me vengeance now.
Yet whilst I live and suck this subtle air,
That lendeth breathing coolness to my lights,
The register of all thy righteous acts,
Thy pains, thy toils, thy travails for my sake,
Shall dwell by kind impressions in my heart,
And I with links of true, unfeigned love
Will lock these Roman favourites in my breast,
And live to hazard life for their relief.

CINNA. My lord, your safe and swift return to Rome
Makes Cinna fortunate and well a-paid;
Who, through the false suggestions of my foes,
Was made a cypher[134] of a consul here:
Lo, where he sits commanding in his throne,
That wronged Marius, me, and all these lords.

YOUNG MARIUS. To 'quite his love, Cinna, let me alone.
How fare these lords that, lumping, pouting, proud,
Imagine now to quell me with their looks?
Now welcome, sirs, is Marius thought so base?
Why stand you looking babies in my face?
Who welcomes me, him Marius makes his friend;
Who lowers on me, him Marius means to end.

FLACCUS. Happy and fortunate thy return to Rome.

LEPIDUS. And long live Marius[135] with fame in Rome.

MARIUS. I thank you, courteous lords, that are so kind.

YOUNG MARIUS. But why endures your grace that braving mate,
To sit and face us in his robes of state?

MARIUS. My son, he is a consul at the least,
And gravity becomes Octavius best,
But, Cinna, would in yonder empty seat
You would for Marius' freedom once entreat.

CINNA presseth up, and OCTAVIUS stayeth him.

OCTAVIUS. Avaunt, thou traitor, proud and insolent!
How dar'st thou press near civil government.

MARIUS. Why, Master Consul, are you grown so hot?
I'll have a present cooling card for you.
Be therefore well advis'd, and move me not:
For though by you I was exil'd from Rome,
And in the desert from a prince's seat
Left to bewail ingratitudes of Rome;
Though I have known your thirsty throats have long'd
To bathe themselves in my distilling blood,
Yet Marius, sirs, hath pity join'd with power.
Lo, here the imperial ensign which I wield,
That waveth mercy to my wishers-well:
And more: see here the dangerous trote of war,
That at the point is steel'd with ghastly death.

OCTAVIUS. Thou exile, threaten'st thou a consul then?
Lictors, go draw him hence! such braving mates
Are not to boast their arms in quiet states.

MARIUS. Go draw me hence! What! no relent, Octavius?

YOUNG MARIUS. My lord, what heart indurate with revenge
Could leave this lozel[136], threat'ning murder thus?
Vouchsafe me leave to taint that traitor seat
With flowing streams of his contagious blood.

OCTAVIUS. The father's son, I know him by his talk,
That scolds in words, when fingers cannot walk.
But Jove, I hope, will one day send to Rome
The blessed patron of this monarchy,
Who will revenge injustice by his sword.

CINNA. Such braving hopes, such cursed arguments:
So strict command, such arrogant controls!
Suffer me, Marius, that am consul now,
To do thee justice, and confound the wretch.

MARIUS. Cinna, you know I am a private man,
That still submit my censures to your will.

CINNA. Then, soldiers, draw this traitor from the throne,
And let him die, for Cinna wills it so.

YOUNG MARIUS. Ay, now, my Cinna, noble consul, speaks.
Octavius, your checks shall cost you dear.

OCTAVIUS. And let me die, for Cinna wills it so!
Is then the reverence of this robe contemn'd?
Are these associates of so small regard?
Why then, Octavius willingly consents
To entertain the sentence of his death.
But let the proudest traitor work his will;
I fear no strokes, but here will sit me still.
Since justice sleeps, since tyrants reign in Rome,
Octavius longs for death to die in Rome.

CINNA. Then strike him where he sits; then hale him hence.

OCTAVIUS. Heavens punish Cinna's pride and thy offence.

[A Soldier stabs him; he is carried away.

CINNA. Now is he fallen that threaten'd Marius;
Now will I sit and plead for Marius.

MARIUS. Thou dost me justice, Cinna, for you see
These peers of Rome of[137] late exiled me.

LEPIDUS. Your lordship doth injustice to accuse
Those, who in your behalf did not offend.

FLACCUS. We grieve to see the aged Marius
Stand like a private man in view of Rome.

CINNA. Then bid him sit; and lo, an empty place:
Revoke his exile from his government,
And so prevent your farther detriment.

LEPIDUS. We will account both Marius and his friends,
His son and all his followers, free in Rome:
And since we see the dangerous times at hand,
And hear of Sylla's confidence and haste,
And know his hate and rancour to these lords,
We[138] him create for consul, to prevent
The policies of Sylla and his friends.

CINNA. Then, both confirm'd by state and full consent,
The rods and axe to Marius I present,
And here invest thee with the consul's pall.

FLACCUS. Long, fortunate, and happy life betide
Old Marius in his sevenfold consulship.

YOUNG MARIUS. And so let Marius live and govern Rome,
As cursed Sylla never look on Rome.

MARIUS. Then plac'd in consul's throne, you Roman states,
[He takes his seat.
Recall'd from banishment by your decrees,
Install'd in this imperial seat to rule,
Old Marius thanks his friends and favourites,
From whom this final favour he requires:
That, seeing Sylla by his murderous blade
Brought fierce seditions first to head in Rome,
And forced laws to banish innocents,
I crave by course of reason and desert,
That he may be proclaimed, as erst was I,
A traitor and an enemy of Rome.
Let all his friends be banish'd out of town;
Then, cutting off the branch where troubles spring,
Rome shall have peace and plenty in her walls.

CINNA. In equity it needs must be, my friends,
That one be guilty of our common harms:
And since that Marius is accounted free,
Sylla with all his friends must traitors be.

YOUNG MARIUS. My father's reasons, Romans, are of force;
For if you see, and live not to secure,
You know that, in so great a state as this,
Two mighty foes can never well agree.

LEPIDUS. Then let us seek to please our consul first,
And then prepare to keep the exile out.
Cinna, as Marius and these lords agree,
Firm this edict, and let it pass for me.

CINNA. Then, Romans, in the name of all this state,
I here proclaim and publish this decree;
That Sylla with his friends, allies, and all,
Are banish'd exiles, traitors unto Rome:
And to extinguish both his name and state,
We will his house be razed to the ground,
His goods confiscate: this our censure is.
Lictor, proclaim this in the market-place,
And see it executed out of hand.
[Exit Lictor.

MARIUS. Now see I, senators, the thought, the care,
The virtuous zeal that leads your toward minds
To love your friends, and watch your common good:
And now, establish'd consul in this place,
Old Marius will foresee advenient harms.
Sylla, the scourge of Asia, as we hear,
Is press'd to enter Italy with sword.
He comes in pomp to triumph here in Rome:
But, senators, you know the wavering wills
Of foolish men—I mean the common sort—
Who, through report of innovations,
Of flattering humours of well-temper'd tongues,
Will change, and draw a second mischief on.
I like your care, and will myself apply
To aim and level at my country's weal.
To intercept these errors by advice,
My son young Marius, Cethegus, and my friends,
Shall to Praeneste, to prevent and stop
The speedy purpose of our forward foe.
Meanwhile, ourselves will fortify this town,
This beauty of the world, this maiden-town;
Where streaming Tybris, with a pleasant tide,
Leads out the stately buildings of the world.
Marius, my hope, my son, you know your charge:
Take those Iberian legions in your train,
And we will spare some Cymbrians to your use.
Remember thou art Marius' son, and dream
On nought but honour and a happy death!

YOUNG MARIUS. I go, my lord, in hope to make the world
Report my service and my duty too;
And that proud challenger of Asia
Shall find that Marius' son hath force and wit.
[Exit cum CETHEGO.

MARIUS. Go, thou, as fortunate as Greeks to Troy;
As glorious as Alcides in thy toils;
As happy as Sertorius in thy fight;
As valiant as Achilles in thy might:
Go, glorious, valiant, happy, fortunate,
As all those Greeks and him of Roman state!

Enter, led in with Soldiers, CORNELIA and FULVIA.

CORNELIA. Traitors! why drag you thus a prince's wife,
As if that beauty were a thrall to fate?
Are Romans grown more barbarous than Greeks,
That hate more greater than Cassandra now?
The Macedonian monarch was more kind,
That honour'd and reliev'd in warlike camp
Darius' mother, daughters, and his wife.
But you unkind to Roman ladies now,
Perhaps as constant as the ancient queens;
For they, subdu'd, had friendship in disgrace,
Where we, unconquer'd, live in woful case.

MARIUS. What plaintive pleas presents that lady there?
Why, soldiers, make you prisoners here in Rome?

1ST SOLDIER. Dread consul, we have found Cornelia here And Sylla's daughter posting out of town.

MARIUS. Ladies of worth, both beautiful and wise,
But near allied unto my greatest foe:
Yet Marius' mind, that never meant disgrace,
More likes their courage than their comely face.
Are you Cornelia, madam, Sylla's wife?

CORNELIA. I am Cornelia, Sylla's wife; what then?

MARIUS. And is this Fulvia, Sylla's daughter, too?

FULVIA. And this is Fulvia, Sylla's daughter, too.

MARIUS. Two welcome guests, in whom the majesty
Of my conceit and courage must consist.
What think you, senators and countrymen?
See, here are two, the fairest stars of Rome.
The dearest dainties of my warlike foe,
Whose lives upon your censures do subsist.[139]

LEPIDUS. Dread consul, the continuance of their lives
Shall egg on Sylla to a greater haste;
And, in bereaving of their vital breath,
Your grace shall force more fury from your foe.
Of these extremes we leave the choice to you.

MARIUS. Then think that some strange fortune shall ensue.

FULVIA. Poor Fulvia, now thy happy days are done!
Instead of marriage pomp, the fatal lights
Of funerals must masque about thy bed:
Nor shall thy father's arms with kind embrace
Hem in thy shoulders, trembling now for fear.
I see in Marius' looks such tragedies,
As fear my heart; and fountains fill mine eyes.

CORNELIA. Fie, Fulvia! shall thy father's daughter faint,
Before the threats of danger shall approach?
Dry up those tears, and like a Roman maid,
Be bold and silent, till our foe have said.

MARIUS. Cornelia, wife unto my traitor-foe,
What gadding mood hath forc'd thy speedy flight
To leave thy country, and forsake thy friends?

CORNELIA. Accursed Marius, offspring of my pains,
Whose furious wrath hath wrought thy country's woe,
What may remain for me or mine in Rome,
That see the tokens of thy tyrannies?
Vile monster, robb'd of virtue, what revenge
Is this, to wreak thine anger on the walls?
To raze our house, to banish all our friends,
To kill the rest, and captive us at last?
Think'st thou by barbarous deeds to boast thy state,
Or spoiling Sylla, to depress his hate?
No, Marius, but for every drop of blood
And inch of wrong he shall return thee two.

FLACCUS. Madam, in danger wisdom doth advise
In humble terms to reconcile our foes.

MARIUS. She is a woman, Flaccus; let her talk,
That breathes forth bitter words instead of blows.

CORNELIA. And in regard of that, immodest man,
Thou shouldst desist from outrage and revenge.

LECTORIUS. What, can your grace endure these cursed scoffs?

MARIUS. Why, my Lectorius, I have ever learnt
That ladies cannot wrong me with upbraids;
Then let her talk, and my concealed hate
Shall heap revengement upon Sylla's pate.

FULVIA. Let fevers first afflict thy feeble age;
Let palsies make thy stubborn fingers faint;
Let humours, streaming from thy moisten'd brains,
With clouds of dimness choke thy fretful eyes,
Before these monstrous harms assail my sire.

MARIUS. By'r lady,[140] Fulvia, you are gaily read:
Your mother well may boast you for her own;
For both of you have words and scoffs at will.
And since I like the compass of your wit,
Myself will stand, and, ladies, you shall sit.
And, if you please to wade in farther words,
Let's see what brawls your memories affords.

CORNELIA. Your lordship's passing mannerly in jest;
But that you may perceive we smell your drift,
We both will sit, and countenance your shift.

MARIUS. Where constancy and beauty do consort,
There ladies' threatenings turn to merry sport.
How fare these beautiful? what, well at ease?

FULVIA. As ready as at first for to displease;
For, full confirm'd that we shall surely die,
We wait our ends with Roman constancy.

MARIUS. Why, think you Marius hath confirm'd your death?

FULVIA. What other fruit may spring from tyrant's hands?

MARIUS. In faith then, ladies, thus the matter stands:
Since you mistake my love and courtesy,
Prepare yourselves, for you shall surely die.

CORNELIA. Ay, Marius, now I know thou dost not lie;
And that thou mayst, unto thy lasting blame,
Extinguish in our deaths thy wished fame,
Grant us this boon that, making choice of death,
We may be freed from fury of thine ire.

MARIUS. An easy boon; ladies, I condescend.

CORNELIA. Then suffer us in private chamber close
To meditate a day or two alone;
And, tyrant, if thou find us living then,
Commit us straight unto thy slaughtering-men.

MARIUS. Ladies, I grant; for Marius nill deny A suit so easy and of such import; For pity 'twere that dames of constancy Should not be agents of their misery. [Here he whispers LECTORIUS. Lectorius, hark, despatch. [Exit LECTORIUS.

CORNELIA. So, Fulvia, now the latest doom is fix'd,
And nought remains but constant Roman hearts
To bear the brunt of irksome fury's spite.
Rouse thee, my dear, and daunt those faint conceits,
That trembling stand aghast at bitter death.
Bethink thee now that Sylla was thy sire,
Whose courage heaven nor fortune could abate:
Then, like the offspring of fierce Sylla's house,
Pass with the thrice-renowned Phrygian dame,
As to thy marriage, so unto thy death:
For nought to wretches is more sweet than death.

FULVIA. Madam, confirm'd as well to die as live,
Fulvia awaiteth nothing but her death.
Yet had my father known the course of change,
Or seen our loss by lucky augury,
This tyrant nor his followers had liv'd
To 'joy the ruin of fierce Sylla's house.

MARIUS. But, lady, they that dwell on fortune's call
No sooner rise, but subject are to fall.

FULVIA. Marius, I doubt not but our constant ends
Shall make thee wail thy tyrant's government.

MARIUS. When tyrant's rule doth breed my care and woe,
Then will I say two ladies told me so.
But here comes Lectorius. Now, my lord.
Have you brought those things?

Enter LECTORIUS.

LECTORIUS. I have, noble consul.

MARIUS. Now, ladies, you are resolute to die?

CORNELIA. Ay, Marius, for terror cannot daunt us.
Tortures were framed to dread the baser eye,
And not t'appal a princely majesty.

MARIUS. And Marius lives to triumph o'er his foes,
That train their warlike troops amidst the plains,
And are enclos'd and hemm'd with shining arms,
Not to appal such princely majesty.
Virtue, sweet ladies, is of more regard
In Marius' mind, where honour is enthron'd,
Than Rome or rule of Roman empery.
[Here he puts chains about their necks.
The bands, that should combine your snow-white wrists,
Are these which shall adorn your milk-white necks.
The private cells, where you shall end your lives,
Is Italy, is Europe—nay the world.
Th'Euxinian Sea, the fierce Sicilian Gulf,
The river Ganges and Hydaspes' stream
Shall level lie, and smooth as crystal ice,
While Fulvia and Cornelia pass thereon.
The soldiers, that should guard you to your deaths,
Shall be five thousand gallant youths of Rome,
In purple robes cross-barr'd with pales of gold,
Mounted on warlike coursers for the field,
Fet[141] from the mountain-tops of Corsica,
Or bred in hills of bright Sardinia,
Who shall conduct and bring you to your lord.
Ay, unto Sylla, ladies, shall you go,
And tell him Marius holds within his hands
Honour for ladies, for ladies rich reward;
But as for Sylla and for his compeers,
Who dare 'gainst Marius vaunt their golden crests,
Tell him for them old Marius holds revenge,
And in his hands both triumphs life and death.

CORNELIA. Doth Marius use with glorious words to jest,
And mock his captives with these glosing[142] terms?

MARIUS. No, ladies;
Marius hath sought for honour with his sword,
And holds disdain to triumph in your falls.
Live, Cornelia: live, fair and fairest Fulvia!
If you have done or wrought me injury,
Sylla shall pay it through his misery.

FULVIA. So gracious, famous consul, are thy words,
That Rome and we shall celebrate thy worth,
And Sylla shall confess himself o'ercome.

CORNELIA. If ladies' prayers or tears may move the heavens,
Sylla shall vow himself old Marius' friend.

MARIUS. Ladies, for that I nought at all regard:
Sylla's my foe, I'll triumph over him;
For other conquest glory doth not win.
Therefore come on,
That I may send you unto Sylla.

[Exeunt.

Enter a CLOWN, drunk, with a pint of wine in his hand, and two or three SOLDIERS.

1ST SOLDIER. Sirrah, dally not with us; you know where he is.

CLOWN. O, sir, a quart is a quart in any man's purse, and drink is drink, and can my master live without his drink, I pray you?

2D SOLDIER. You have a master then, sirrah?

CLOWN. Have I a master, thou scoundrel? I have an orator to my master, a wise man to my master. But, fellows, I must make a parenthesis of this pint-pot, for words make men dry: now, by my troth, I drink to Lord Anthony.

3D SOLDIER. Fellow-soldiers, the weakness of his brain hath made his tongue walk largely; we shall have some novelties by-and-by.

CLOWN. O most surpassing wine,
Thou marrow of the vine!
More welcome unto me
Than whips to scholars be.
Thou art, and ever was,
A means to mend an ass;
Thou makest some to sleep,
And many mo to weep,
And some be glad and merry,
With heigh down derry, derry.
Thou makest some to stumble,
And many mo to fumble,
And me have pinky neyne.[143]
More brave and jolly wine!
What need I praise thee mo,
For thou art good, with heigh-ho!

3D SOLDIER. If wine then be so good, I prithee, for thy part, Tell us where Lord Anthony is, and thou shalt have a quart.

CLOWN. First shall the snow be black,
And pepper lose his smack,
And stripes forsake my back:
First merry drunk with sack,
I will go boast and track,
And all your costards crack,
Before I do the knack
Shall make me sing alack.
Alack, the old man is weary,
For wine hath made him merry.
With a heigh-ho.

1ST SOLDIER. I prythee leave these rhymes, and tell us where thy master is?

CLOWN. Faith, where you shall not be,
Unless ye go with me.
But shall I tell them so?
O, no, sir, no, no, no.
The man hath many a foe,
As far as I do know:
You do not flout me, I hope.
See how this liquor fumes,
And how my force presumes.
You would know where Lord Anthony is? I perceive you.
Shall I say he is in yond farmhouse? I deceive you.
Shall I tell you this wine is for him? The gods forfend,
And so I end. Go, fellow-fighters, there's a bob for ye.

2D SOLDIER. My masters, let us follow this clown, for questionless this grave orator is in yonder farmhouse[144]. But who cometh yonder?

Enter OLD ANTHONY.

ANTHONY. I wonder why my peasant stays so long,
And with my wonder hasteth on my woe,
And with my woe I am assailed with fear,
And with my fear await with faintful breath
The final period of my pains by death.

1ST SOLDIER. Yond's the man we seek for, soldiers. Unsheathe your swords, and make a riddance of Marius' ancient enemy.

CLOWN. Master, fly, fly,
Or else you shall die!
A plague on this wine,
Hath made me so fine!
And will you not be gone?
Then I'll leave you alone,
And sleep upon your woe,
With a lamentable heigh-ho.
[Exit.

ANTHONY. Betrayed at last by witless oversight!
Now, Anthony, prepare thyself to die.
Lo, where the monstrous ministers of wrath
Menace thy murder with their naked swords.

2D SOLDIER. Anthony, well-met: the consul Marius, with other confederate senators, have adjudged thee death, therefore prepare thyself, and think we favour thee in this little protraction.

ANTHONY. Immortal powers, that know the painful cares
That wait upon my poor distressed heart,
O, bend your brows, and level all your looks
Of dreadful awe upon these daring men!
And thou, sweet niece of Atlas, on whose lips
And tender tongue the pliant muses sit,
Let gentle course of sweet aspiring speech,
Let honey-flowing terms of weary woe,
Let fruitful figures and delightful lines
Enforce a spring of pity from their eyes,
Amaze the murd'rous passions of their minds,
That they may favour woful Anthony.
O countrymen, what shall become of Rome,
When reverend duty droopeth through disgrace?
O countrymen, what shall become of Rome,
When woful nature, widow of her joys,
Weeps on our walls to see her laws depress'd?
O Romans, hath not Anthony's discourse
Seal'd up the mouths of false seditious men,
Assoil'd[145] the doubts and quaint controls of power,
Relieved the mournful matron with his pleas?
And will you seek to murder Anthony?
The lions brook with kindness their relief;
The sheep reward the shepherd with their fleece;
Yet Romans seek to murder Anthony.

1ST SOLDIER. Why, what enchanting terms of art are these, That force my heart to pity his distress?

2D SOLDIER. His action, speech, his favour and his grace, My rancour rage and rigour doth deface.

3D SOLDIER. So sweet his words, that now of late, meseems, His art doth draw my soul from out my lips.

ANTHONY. What envious eyes, reflecting nought but rage,
What barbarous heart, refresh'd with nought but blood,
That rends not to behold the senseless trees
In doly[146] season drooping without leaves?
The shepherd sighs upon the barren hills,
To see his bleating lambs with faintful looks
Behold the valleys robb'd of springing flowers,
That whilom wont to yield them yearly food.
Even meanest things, exchang'd from former state,
The virtuous mind with some remorse doth mate.
Can then your eyes with thundering threats of rage
Cast furious gleams of anger upon age?
Can then your hearts with furies mount so high,
As they should harm the Roman Anthony?
I, far more kind than senseless tree, have lent
A kindly sap to our declining state,
And like a careful shepherd have foreseen
The heavy dangers of this city Rome;
And made the citizens the happy flock,
Whom I have fed with counsels and advice:
But now those locks that, for their reverend white,
Surpass the down on Aesculapius' chin:
But now that tongue, whose terms and fluent style
For number pass'd the hosts of heavenly fires:
But now that head, within whose subtle brains
The queen of flowing eloquence did dwell—

Enter a CAPTAIN.

These locks, this tongue, this head, this life, and all,
To please a tyrant, trait'rously must fall.

CAPTAIN. Why, how now, soldiers, is he living yet?
And will you be bewitched with his words?
Then take this fee, false orator, from me: [Stabs him.
Elysium best beseems thy faintful limbs.

ANTHONY. O blissful pains! now Anthony must die, Which serv'd and lov'd Rome and her empery. [_Moritur[147].

CAPTAIN. Go, curtal off that neck with present stroke,
And straight present it unto Marius.

1ST SOLDIER. Even in this head did all the muses dwell: The bees, that sat upon the Grecian's lips, Distill'd their honey on his temper'd tongue.

2D SOLDIER. The crystal dew of fair Castalian springs
With gentle floatings trickled on his brains:
The graces kissed his kind and courteous brows,
Apollo gave the beauties of his harp,

Enter LECTORIUS pensive.

And melodies unto his pliant speech.

CAPTAIN. Leave these presumptuous praises, countrymen:
And see Lectorius, pensive where he comes.
Lo, here, my lord, the head of Anthony;
See here the guerdon fit for Marius' foe,
Whom dread Apollo prosper in his rule.

LECTORIUS. O Romans, Marius sleeps among the dead,
And Rome laments the loss of such a friend.

CAPTAIN. A sudden and a woful chance, my lord,
Which we intentive[148] fain would understand.

LECTORIUS. Though swoll'n with sighs, my heart for sorrow burst,
And tongue with tears and plaints be choked up,
Yet will I furrow forth with forced breath
A speedy passage to my pensive speech.
Our consul Marius, worthy soldiers,
Of late within a pleasant plot of ground
Sat down for pleasure near a crystal spring,
Accompanied with many lords of Rome.
Bright was the day, and on the spreading trees
The frolic citizens[149] of forest sung
Their lays and merry notes on perching boughs;
When suddenly appeared in the east
Seven mighty eagles with their talons fierce,
Who, waving oft about our consul's head,
At last with hideous cry did soar away.
When suddenly old Marius aghast,
With reverend smile, determin'd with a sigh
The doubtful silence of the standers-by.
Romans, said he, old Marius now must die:
These seven fair eagles, birds of mighty Jove,
That at my birthday on my cradle sat,
Now at my last day warn[150] me to my death,
And lo, I feel the deadly pangs approach.
What should I more? In brief, with many prayers
For Rome, his son—his goods and lands dispos'd—
Our worthy consul to our wonder died.
The city is amaz'd, for Sylla hastes
To enter Rome with fury, sword and fire.
Go place that head upon the capitol,
And to your wards, for dangers are at hand.
[Exit.

CAPTAIN. Had we foreseen this luckless chance before,
Old Anthony had liv'd and breathed yet.

[Exeunt.