Enter Titinius.
Titi. Brutus doth liue and like a second Mars,
Rageth in heate of fury mongest his foes,
Then cheere thee Cassius, loe I bring releefe.
And news of power to ease thy stormy greefe,
But see where Cassius weltreth in his blood,
Doth beate the Earth, and yet not fully dead.
O Cassius speake, O speake to me sweet friend,
Brutus doth liue; open thy dying eyes, 2480
And looke on him that hope and comfort rings.
O noe, hee will not looke on mee but cryes,
That by my long delayes he haples dies:
Accursed villaine murtherer of thy friend,
Why hath thy lingering thus wrought Cassius end,
How cold thy care was to preuent this deed,
How slow thy loue that made no greater speed,
Care winged is, and burning loue can flye,
My care was feareles, loue but flattery,
But sithence in my life my loue was neuer shewne, 2490
Now in my death Ile make it to be knowne.
Accursed weapon that such blood could spil,
Nay cursed then the author of this deed,
Yet both offended, both shall punished be,
Ile take reueng of the knife, the knife of me,
It shall make a passage for my life to passe,
Cause through my life his master murthered was.
And I on it againe will venged bee.
Cause it did worke my Cassius tragedy.
Then this reueng shalbe to end my life. 2500
Mine to distayne with baser blood the knife.
Enter Brutus the Ghost following him.
Bru. What doest thou still persue me vgly fend,
Is this it that thou thirsted for so much?
Come with thy tearing clawes and rend it out,
Would thy appeaseles rage be slacked with blood,
This sword to day hath crimsen channels made,
But heare’s the blood that thou woulds drinke so fayne,
Then take this percer, broch this trayterous heart.
Or if thou thinkest death to small a payne, 2510
Drag downe this body to proud Erebus,
Through black Cocytus and infernall Styx,
Lethean waues, and fiers of Phlegeton,
Boyle me or burne, teare my hatefull flesh,
Deuoure, consume, pull, pinch, plague, paine this hart,
Hell craues her right, and heere the furyes stand,
And all the hell-hounds compasse me a round
Each seeking for a parte of this same prey,
Alasse this body is leane, thin, pale and wan,
Nor can it all your hungery mouthes suffice, 2520
O tis the soule that they stand gaping for,
And cndlesse matter for to prey vpon.
Renewed still as Titius pricked heart.
Then clap your hands, let Hell with Ioy resound?
Here it comes flying through this aery round.
Gho. Hell take their hearts, that this ill deed haue done
And vengeance follow till they be ouercome:
Nor liue t’applaud the iustice of this deed.
Murther by her owne guilty hand doth bleed.
Enter Discord.
Dis. I, now my longing hopes haue their desire, 2531
The world is nothing but a massie heape:
Of bodys slayne, The Sea a lake of blood,
The Furies that for slaughter only thirst,
Are with these Massakers and slaughters cloyde,
Tysiphones pale, and Megeras thin face,
Is now puft vp, and swolne with quaffing blood,
Caron that vsed but an old rotten boate
Must nowe a nauie rigg for to transport,
The howling soules, vnto the Stigian stronde. 2540
Hell and Elisium must be digd in one,
And both will be to litle to contayne,
Numberles numbers of afflicted ghostes,
That I my selfe haue tumbling thither sent.
Gho. Now nights pale daughter since thy bloody ioyes,
And my reuengfull thirst fulfilled are,
Doe thou applaud what iustly heauens haue wrought,
While murther on the murtherers head is brought.
Dis. Cæsar I pitied not thy Tragick end:
Nor tyrants daggers sticking in thy heart, 2550
Nor doe I that thy deaths with like repayd,
But that thy death so many deaths hath made:
Now cloyde with blood, Ile hye me downe below,
And laugh to thinke I caused such endlesse woe.
Gho. Sith my reueng is full accomplished,
And my deaths causers by them selues are slaine,
I will descend to mine eternall home,
Where euerlastingly my quiet soule,
The sweete Elysium pleasure shall inioy,
And walke those fragrant flowry fields at rest: 2560
To which nor fayre Adonis bower so rare,
Nor old Alcinous gardens may compare.
There that same gentle father of the spring,
Mild Zephirus doth Odours breath diuine:
Clothing the earth in painted brauery,
The which nor winters rage, nor Scorching heate,
Or Summers sunne can make it fall or fade,
There with the mighty champions of old time,
And great Heroes of the Goulden age,
My dateles houres Ile spend in lasting ioy.