Of whom the long contempt against thee whets
The sword of Cæsar now thy Lord become.
Lost thy great Empire, all those goodly townes
Reuerenc’d thy name as rebells now thee leaue:
Rise against thee, and to the ensignes flocke
Of conqu’ring Cæsar, who enwalles thee round
Cag’d in thy holde, scarse maister of thy selfe,
Late maister of so many nations.
Yet, yet, which is of grief extreamest grief,
Which is yet of mischiefe highest mischiefe,