Gho. Brutus, ingratefull Brutus seest thou mee:
Anon In field againe thou shalt me see,
Bru. Stay what so ere thou art, or fiend below,
Rays’d from the deepe by inchanters bloody call,
Or fury sent from Phlegitonticke flames,
Or from Cocytus for to end my life,
Be then Megera or Tysiphone,
Or of Eumenides ill boading crue.
Fly me not now, but end my wretched life, 2290
Comegreesly messenger of sad mishap,
Trample in blood of him that hates to liue,
And end my life and sorrow all at once.
Gho. Accursed traytor damned Homicide,
Knowest thou not me, to whome for forty honors:
Thou three and twenty Gastly wounds didst giue?
Now dare no more for to behould the Heauens,
For they to Day haue destyned thine end:
Nor lift thy eyes vnto the rising sunne,
That nere shall liue for to behould it set, 2300
Nor looke not downe vnto the Hellish shades,
There stand the furyes thursting for thy blood,
Flie to the field but if thou thither go’st,
There Anthonyes sword will peirce thy trayterous heart.
Brutus to daie my blood shalbe reuenged,
And for my wrong and vndeserued death,
Thy life to thee a torture shall become,
And thou shalt oft amongest the dying grones,
Of slaughtered men that bite the bleeding earth.
Wish that like balefull cheere might thee befall, 2310
And seeke for death that flies so wretched wight,
Vntill to shunne the honour of the fight,
And dreadfull vengeance of supernall ire.
Thine owne right hand shall worke my wish’d reueng,
And so Fare ill, hated of Heauen and Men.
Bru. Stay Cæsar stay, protract my greife no longer,
Rip vp my bowells glut thy thirsting throte,
With pleasing blood of Cæsars guilty heart:
But see hee’s gon, and yonder Murther stands:
See how he poynts his knife vnto my hart. 2320
Althea raueth for her murthered Sonne,
And weepes the deed that she her-selfe hath done:
And Meleager would thou liuedst againe,
But death must expiate. Altheas come.
I, death the guerdon that my deeds deserue:
The drums do thunder forth dismay and feare,
And dismall triumphes found my fatall knell,
Furyes I come to meete you all in Hell,
Act V sc. ii Enter Cato wounded.
Cato. Bloodles and faynt; Cato yeelde vp thy breath;
While strength and vigour in these armes remaynd, 2331
And made me able for to wield my sword,
So long I fought; and sweet Rome for thy sake
Fear’d not effusion of my blood to make.
But now my strength and life doth fayle at once,
My vigor leaues my could and feeble Ioynts,
And I my sad soule, must power forth in blood.
O vertue whome Phylosophy extols.
Thou art no essence but a naked name,
Bond-slaue to Fortune, weake, and of no power, 2340
To succor them which alwaies honourd thee:
Witnesse my Fathers and mine owne sad death,
Who for our country spent our latest breath:
But oh the chaines of death do hold my toung,
Mine eyes wax dim I faynt, I faynt, I die.
O Heauens help Rome in this extremity.
Act V sc. iii Cass. Where shall I goe to tell the saddest tale,
That ere the Romane toung was forc’d to speake,
Rome is ouerthrowne, and all that for her fought:
This Sunne that now hath seen so many deaths, 2350
When from the Sea he heaued his cloudy head,
Then both the armes full of hope and feare,
Did waite the dreadfull trumpets fatall sound,
And straight Reuenge from Stygian bands let loose,
Possessed had all hearts and banished thence,
Feare of their children, wife and little home.
Countryes remembrance, and had quite expeld,
With last departed care of life it selfe:
Anger did sparkell from our beautious eyes,
Our trembling feare did make our helmes to shake, 2360
The horse had now put on the riders wrath,
And with his hoofes did strike the trembling earth,
When Echalarian soundes then both gin meete:
Both like enraged, and now the dust gins rise,
And Earth doth emulate the Heauens cloudes,
Then yet beutyous was the face of cruell war:
And goodly terror it might seeme to be,
Faire shieldes, gay swords, and goulden crests did shine.
Their spangled plumes did dance for Iolity,
As nothing priuy to their Masters feare, 2370
But quickly rage and cruell Mars had staynd,
This shining glory with a sadder hew,
A cloud of dartes that darkened Heauens light,
Horror insteed of beauty did suceede.
And her bright armes with dust and blood were foyld:
Now Lucius fals, heare Drusus takes his end,
Here lies Hortensius, weltring in his goare.
Here, there, and euery where men fall and die,
Yet Cassius shew not that thy heart doth faynt:
But to the last gasp for Romains freedom fight, 2380
And when sad death shall be thy labors end,
Yet boast thy life thou didst for Country spend.
Act V sc. iv Enter Anthony.
Ant. Queene of Reuenge imperious Nemesis,
That in the wrinkels of thine angry browes,
Wrapst dreadfull vengance and pale fright-full death:
Raine downe the bloudy showers of thy reuenge,
And make our swordes the fatall instruments,
To execute thy furious bale-full Ire,
Let grim death seate her on my Lances point, 2390
Which percing the weake armour of my foes,
Shall lodge her there within there coward brestes,
Dread, horror, vengance, death, and bloudy hate:
In this sad fight my murthering sworde awaite. Exit
Act V sc. v Enter Titinnius.
Titin. Where may I flie from this accursed soyle,
Or shunne the horror of this dismall day:
The Heauens are colour’d in mourning sable weedes,
The Sunne doth hide his face, and feares to see,
This bloudy conflict; sad Catastrophe, 2400
Nothing but grones of dying men are heard:
Nothing but bloud and slaughter may bee seene
And death, the same in sundry shapes araied.
Enter Cassius.
Casi. In vaine, in vaine, O Cassius all in vaine,
Tis Heauen and destiny thou striuest against.
Titin. VVhat better hope or more accepted tydinges,
Ist Noble Cassius from the Battell bringes?
Cassi. This haples hope that fates decreed haue,
Philippi field must bee our haples graue. 2410
Titin. And then must this accurs’d and fatall day,
End both our liues and Romane liberty:
Must now the name of freedome bee forgot,
And all Romes glory in Thessalia end?
Casi. As those that lost in boysterous troublous seas,
Beaten with rage of Billowes stormy strife:
And without starres do sayle ’gainst starres and winde.
In drery darkenesse and in chereles night,
Without or hope or comfort endles are:
So are my thoughts deiected with dismay, 2420
Which can nought looke for but poore Romes decay.
But yet did Brutus liue, did hee but breath?
Or lay not slumbering in eternall night,
His welfare might infuse some hope, or life:
Or at the least bring death with more content:
Weried I am through labour of the fight:
Then sweete Titinnius, range thou through the fielde,
And either glad me with my friends successe,
Or quickly tell mee what my care doth feare:
How breathles hee vpon the ground doth lie, 2430
That at thy words, I may fall downe and die.
Titin. Cassius, I goe to seeke thy Noble friend,
Heauen grant my goings haue a prosperous end.
Cassi. O go Titinnius, and till thy returne,
Heere will I sit disconsolate alone,
Romes sad mishap, and mine owne woes to moone:
O ten times treble fortunate were you,
VVhich in Pharsalias bloudy conflict dyed,
VVith those braue Lords, now layed in bed of fame:
VVhich neere protected their most blessed dayes, 2440
To see the horror of this dismall fight,
VVhy died I not in those Æmathian playnes,
VVhere great Domitius fell by Cæsars hand?
And swift Eurypus downe his bloudy streame
Bare shieldes and helmes and traines of slaughter’d men,
But Heauens reserud mee to this luckles day,
To see my Countries fall and friends decay.
But why doth not Titinnius yet returne?
My trembling heart misgiues me what’s befalne,
Brutus is dead: I: herke how willingly 2450
The Ecco itterates those deadly words,
The whisling windes with their mourning sound
Do fill mine eares with noyse of Brutus death,
The birdes now chanting a more cheerles lay,
In dolefull notes recorde my friends decay.
And Philomela now forgets old wronges,
And onely Brutus wayleth in her songes.
I heare some noyse, O tis Titinnius,
No tis not hee, for hee doth feare to wound,
My greeued eares with that hearts-thrilling sound. 2460
Why dost thou feed my thoughts with lingering hope?
Why dost thou then prolong my life in vayne?
Tell me my sentence and so end my payne:
He comes not yet, nor yet, nor will at all,
Linger not Cassius for to heare reply,
What if he come and tels me hee is slayne?
That only will increase my dying paine,
Brutus I come to company thy soule,
Which by Cocytus wandreth all alone.
Brutus I come prepare to meete thy friend 2470
Thy Brothers fall procures this balefull end.