Enter Cæsars Ghost.
Gho. Out of the horror of those shady vaultes,
Where Centaurs, Harpies, paynes and furies fell:
And Gods and Ghosts and vgly Gorgons dwell,
My restles soule comes heere to tell his wronges.
Hayle to thy walles, thou pride of all the world,
Thou art the place where whilome in my life.
My seat of mounting honour was erected, 1980
And my proud throane that seem’d to check the heauens:
But now my pompe and I are layd more lowe,
With these asosiates of my ouerthrow,
Here ancient Assur and proud Belus lyes,
Ninus the first that sought a Monarches name.
Atrides fierce with the Æacides,
The Greeke Heros, and the Troian flower,
Blood-thirsting Cyrus and the conquering youth:
That sought to fetch his pedegree from Heauen,
Sterne Romulus and proud Tarquinius, 1990
The mighty Sirians and the Ponticke Kings,
A lcides and the stout, Carthagian Lord,
The fatall enemie to the Roman name.
Ambitious Sylla and fierce Marius,
And both the Pompeyes by me don to death,
I am the last not least of the same crue,
Looke on my deeds and say what Cæsar was,
Thessalia, Ægipt, Pontus, Africa,
Spayne Brittaine, Almany and France,
So many a bloody tryall of my worth. 2000
But why doe I my glory thus restraine,
When all the world was but a Charyot,
Wherein I rode Triumphing in my pride?
But what auaylesthis tale of what I was?
Since in my chefest hight Brutus base hand.
With three and twenty wounds my heart did goare,
Giue me my sword and shild Ile be Reueng’d,
My mortall wounding speare and goulden Crest.
I will dishorse my foemen in the field,
Alasse poore Cæsar thou a shadow art, 2010
An ayery substance wanting force and might,
Then will I goe and crie vpon the world,
Exclame on Anthony and Octauian,
Which seeke through discord and discentions broyles,
T’imbrue their weapons in each others blood,
And leaue to execute my iust reuenge,
I heare the drummes and bloody Trumpets sound,
O how this sight my greeued soule doth wound,
Enter Anthony, at on dore, Octauian at
another with Souldiers. 2020
Anth. Now martiall friends competitors in armes,
You that will follow Anthony to fight,
Whome stately Rome hath oft her Consull seene,
Grac’d with eternall trophes of renowne,
With Libian triumphes and Iiberian spoyles,
Who scorns to haue his honour now distaind,
Or credit blemisht by a Boyes disgrace,
Prepare your dauntles stomakes to the fight,
Where without striking you shall ouer come.
Octa. Fellowes in war-faire which haue often serued, 2030
Vnder great Cæsar my disceased sier,
And haue return’d the conquerors of the world,
Clad in the Spoyles of all the Orient:
That will not brooke that any Roman Lord,
Should iniure mighty Iulius Cæsars sonne,
Recall your wonted vallour and these hearts,
That neuer entertaynd Ignoble thoughts
And make my first warre-faire and fortunate:
Ant. Stike vp drums, and let your banners flie,
Thus will we set vpon the enemy. 2040
Gho. Cease Drums to strike, and fould your banners vp,
Wake not Bellona with your trumpets Clange,
Nor call vnwilling Mars vnto the field:
See Romaines, see my wounds not yet clos’d vp,
The bleeding monuments of Cæsars wronges.
Haue you so soone for got my life and death?
My life wherein I reard your fortunes vp.
My death wherein my reared fortune fell,
My life admir’d and wondred at of men?
My death which seem’d vnworthy to the Gods, 2050
My life which heap’d on you rewards and gifts,
My death now begges one gift; a iust reueng.
Ant. A Chilly cowld possesseth all my Ioyntes,
And pale wan feare doth cease my fainting heart,
Octa. O see how terrible my Fathers lookes?
My haire stands stiffe to see his greisly hue:
Alasse I deare not looke him in the face,
And words do cleaue to my benummed Iawes.
Gho. For shame weake Anthony throw thy weapons downe
Sonne sheath thy sword, not now for to be drawne, 2060
Brutus must feele the heauy stroke thereof:
But if that needes you will into the field,
And that warrs enuie pricks your forward hate.
To slacke your fury with each others blood,
Then forward on to your prepared deaths
Let sad Alecto sound her fearefull trump,
Reueng a rise in lothsome sable weedes,
Light-shining Treasons and vnquenced Hates,
Horror and vgly Murther (nights blacke child,)
Let sterne Mægera on her thundering drumme, 2070
Play gastly musicke to comsort your deathes.
Banner to banner, foote gainst foote opos’d,
Sword against sword, shild gainst shild, and life to life,
Let death goe raginge through your armed rankes,
And load himselfe with heapes of murthered men,
And let Heauens iustice send you all to Hell,
Anth. Shamst thou not Anthony to draw thy sword,
On Cæsars Sonne, for rude rash youth full brawles,
And dost let passe their treason vnrevenged,
That Cæsars life and glory both did end, 2080
Octa. Shame of my selfe, and this intended fight,
Doth make me feare t’ approach his dreadfull sight:
Forgiue my slacknes to reuenge thy wronges,
Pardon my youth that rashly was mislead,
Through vaine ambition for to doe this deed,
Gho. Then ioyne your hands and heare let battle cease,
Chang feare to Ioy, and warre to smooth-fac’t Peace.
Oct. Then Father heere in sight of Heauen and thee,
I giue my hand and heart to Anthony,
Ant. Take likewise mine, the hand that once was vowd’, 2090
To bee imbrued in thy luke-warme bloud,
VVhich now shall strike in yong Octauians rights.
Gho. Now sweare by all the Dieties of Heauen,
All Gods and powers you do adore and serue:
For to returne my murther on their cruell head,
Whose trayterous hands my guiltles bloud haue shed.
Anth. Then by the Gods that through the raging waues,
Brought thee braue Troian to old Latium,
And great Quirinus placed now in Heauen:
By the Gradinus that with shield of Brasse, 2100
Defendest Rome, by the ouerburning flames
Of Vesta and Carpeian Towers of Ioue.
Vowes Anthony to quite thy worthy death,
Or in performance loose his vitall breath.
Octa. The like Octauian vowes to Heauen and thee.
Gho. Then go braue warriors with succesfull hap,
Fortune shall waite vpon your rightfull armes,
And courage sparkell, from your Princely eyes,
Dartes of reuenge to daunt your enemies.
Antho. Now with our armies both conioyned in one, 2110
Weele meete the enemy in Macedon:
Æmathian fieldes shall change her flowry greene,
And die proud Flora in a sadder hew:
Siluer Stremonia, whose faire Christall waues,
Once founded great Alcides echoing fame:
When as he slew that fruitefull headed snake,
Which Lerna long-time fostered in her wombe:
Shall in more tragick accentes and sad tunes,
Eccho the terror of thy dismall sight,
Hemus shall fat his barren fieldes with bloud: 2120
And yellow Ceres spring from woundes of men,
The toyling husband-men in time to come,
Shall with his harrow strike on rusty helmes,
And finde, and wonder, at our swordes and speares,
And with his plowe dig vp braue Romans graues:
Chor. V ACT. 5. SCE 1.
Enter Discord.
Dis. The balefull haruest of my ioy, thy woe
Gins ripen Brutus, Heauens commande it so. 2130
Pale sad Auernus opes his yawning Iawes,
Seeking to swallow vp thy murtherous soule,
The furies haue proclaym’d a festiuall:
And meane to day to banquet with thy bloud,
Now Heauens array you in your clowdy weedes:
Wrap vp the beauty of your glorious lamp,
And dreadfull Chaos, of sad drery night,
Thou Sunne that climest vp to the easterne hill:
And in thy Chariot rides with swift steedes drawne,
In thy proud Iollity and radiant glory: 2140
Go back againe and hide thee in the sea,
Darkenesse to day shall couer all the world:
Let no light shine, but what your swords can strike,
From out their steely helmes, and fiery shildes:
Furies, and Ghosts, with your blue-burning lampes,
In mazing terror ride through Roman rankes:
With dread affrighting those stout Champions hearts,
All stygian fiendes now leaue whereas you dwell:
And come into the world and make it hell.
Act. V sc. i Enter Cassius, Brutus, Titinnius, Cato Iunior,
with an army marching
Casi. Thus far wee march with vnresisted armes, 2152
Subduing all that did our powres with-stand:
Laodicia whose high reared walles,
Faire Lyeas washeth with her siluer waue:
And that braue monument of Perseus fame,
With Tursos vaild to vs her vanting pride,
Faire Rhodes, I weepe to thinke vpon thy fall;
Thou wert to stubberne, else thou still hadst stood,
Inviolate of Cassius hurtles hand, 2160
That was my nurse, where in my youth I drew
The flowing milke of Greekish eloquence:
Proud Capadocia sawe her King captiu’d,
(And Dolabella vanting in the spoyles.
Of slayne Trebonius) fall as springing tree,
Seated in louely Tempes pleasant shades:
Whom beuteous spring with blossoms braue hath deckt,
And sweete Fauonia manteled all in greene,
By winters rage doth loose his flowry pride,
And hath each twigg bar’d by northerne winds. 2170
Thus from the conquest of proud Palestine,
Hether in triumph haue we march’d along,
Making our force-commaunding rule to stretch,
From faire Euphrates christall flowing waues
Vnto the Sea which yet weepes Io’s death,
Slayne by great Hercules repenting hand,
Bru. Of all the places by my sword subdued,
Pitty of thee poore Zanthus moues me most;
Thrise hast thou ben beseeged by thy foe,
And thrise to saue thy liberty hast felt 2180
The fatall flames of thine owne cruell hand.
First being beseeg’d by Harpalus the Mede,
The sterne performer of proud Cyrus wrath:
Next when the Macedonian Phillips sonne,
Did rayse his engines gainst thy battered walls,
Proud Zanthus that did scorne to beare the yoake,
That all the world was forced to sustaine,
Last when that I my selfe did guirt thy walls,
With troopes of high resolued Roman hearts,
Rather then thou wouldest yeeld to Brutus sword, 2190
Or stayne the mayden honour of thy Towne,
Did’st sadly fall as proud Numantia.
Scorning to yeeld to conquering Scipios power.
Cas. And now to thee Phillipi, are wee come,
Whose fields must twise feele Roman cruelty,
And flowing blood like to Dærcean playnes,
When proud Eteocles on his foaming steede,
Rides in his fury through the Argean troopes,
Now making great Ærastus giue him way,
Now beating back Tidæus puissant might: 2200
The ground not dry’d from sad Pharsalian blood,
Will now bee turned to a purple lake:
And bleeding heapes and mangled bodyes slayne,
Shall make such hills as shall surpasse in height
The Snowy Alpes and aery Appenines,
Titi. A Scout brought word but now that he descryd,
Warlike Anthonius and young Cæsars troopes,
Marching in fury ouer Thessalian playnes.
As great Gradinus when in angry moode,
He driues his chariot downe from heauens top, 2210
And in his wheels whirleth reueng and death:
Heere by Phillippi they will pich their tents,
And in these fieldes (fatall to Roman liues.)
Hazard the fortune of the doubtfull fight,
Cat. O welcome thou this long expected day,
On which dependeth Romane liberty,
Now Rome thy freedom hangeth in suspence,
And this the day that must assure thy hopes.
Cassi. Great Ioue, and thou Trytonyan warlike Queene:
Arm’d with thy amazing deadly Gorgons head. 2220
Strenghen our armes that fight for Roman welth:
And thou sterne Mars, and Romulus thy Sonne,
Defend that Citty which your selfe begun.
All heauenly powers assist our rightfull armes,
And send downe siluer winged victory,
To crowne with Lawrells our triumphant Crests.
Bru. My minde thats trobled in my vexed soule,
(Opprest with sorrow and with sad dismay,)
Misgiues me this wilbe a heauy day.
Cassi. Why faynt not now in these our last extremes, 2230
This time craues courage not dispayring feare,
Titin. Fie, twill distayne thy former valiant acts.
To say thou faintest now in this last act,
Bru. My mind is heauy, and I know not why,
But cruell fate doth sommon me to die,
Cato. Sweet Brute, let not thy words be ominous signes,
Of so mis-fortunnate and sad euent,
Heauen and our Vallour shall vs conquerours make.
Cassi. What Bastard feare hath taunted our dead hearts,
Or what vnglorious vnwounted thought, 2240
Hath changed the vallour of our daunted mindes.
What are our armes growne weaker then they were?
Cannot this hand that was proud Cæsars death,
Send all Cæsarians headlong that same path?
Looke how our troups in Sun-bright armes do shine,
With vaunting plumes and dreadfull brauery.
The wrathful steedes do check their iron bits,
And with a well grac’d terror strike the ground,
And keeping times in warres sad harmony.
And then hath Brutus any cause to feare, 2250
My selfe like valiant Peleus worthy Sonne,
The Noblest wight that eur Troy beheld,
Shall of the aduerse troopes such hauock make,
As sad Phillipi shall in blood bewayle,
The cruell massacre of Cassius sword,
And then hath Brutus any cause to feare?
Bru. No outward shewes of puissance or of strength,
Can helpe a minde dismayed inwardly,
Leaue me sweete Lordes a while vnto my selfe.
Cassi. In the meane time take order for the fight, 2260
Drums let your fearefull mazing thunder playe.
And with their sound peirce Heauens brazen Towers,
And all the earth fill with like fearefull noyse,
As when that Boreas from his Iron caue.
With boysterous furyes Striuing in the waues,
Comes swelling forth to meet his blustering foe,
They both doe runne with feerce tempestuous rage,
And heaues vp mountaynes of the watry waues.
The God Oceanus trembles at the stroke,
Bru. What hatefull furyes vex my tortured mind? 2270
What hideous sightes appalle my greeued soule,
As when Orestes after mother slaine.
Not being yet at Scithians Alters purged,
Behould the greesly visages of fiends.
And gastly furies which did haunt his steps,
Cæsar vpbraues my sad ingratitude,
He saued my life in sad Pharsalian fieldes,
That I in Senate house might worke his death.
O this remembrance now doth wound my soule,
More then my poniard did his bleeding heart, 2280
Enter Ghost.