Classic Poem

ACT V. SCENE I.

Marcus Brutus, Chorus, Antonius, Caius Cassius, Marcus Tullius Cicero.

Brut. Are generous Romans so degener'd now,
That they from honour have estrang'd their hands?
And, us'd with burdens, do not blush to bow,
Yea (even though broken) shake not off their bands;
This glorious worke was worthy of your paine,
Which now ye may by others dangers have;
But what enchaunts you thus, that ye abstaine
That which ye should have taken, to receive?
Where be those inundations of delight,
Which should burst out from thoughts o'reflow'd with joy,
Whil'st emulous vertue may your mindes incite,
That which we give you bravely to enjoy;
Or quite conform'd unto your former state,
Do still your mindes of servitude allow,
As broken by adversitie of late,
Not capable of better fortune now?
Loe, we who by the tyrants favour stood,
And griev'd but at the yoke which you outrag'd,
Have our advancement, riches, rest, and bloud,
All liberally for liberty engag'd.
Chor. Thou like thy great progenitour in this,
Hast glory to thy selfe, t' us freedome brought;
" Then liberty what greater treasure is?
" Ought with it much, without it much seemes nought: "
But pardon us (heroicke man) though we
To high perfection hardly can aspire,
Though every man cannot a Brutus be,
" What none can imitate, all must admire. "
At this strange course (with too much light made blinde)
We our opinions must suspend a space,
" When sudden chances do dismay the minde,
" The iudgement to the passion first gives place. "
Ant. What wonder now though this most barbarous deed
Have with amazement clos'd your judgement in,
Which O (I feare) shall great confusion breed?
When Caesars toyls did end, Romes did begin:
The most suspitious mindes had not beleev'd,
That Romans reverenc'd for their worth by us,
Would have presum'd to kill, or to have griev'd
An hallow'd body inhumanely thus;
Who would have once but dream'd of such despight?
What strange hostilitie! in time of peace
To kill, though not accus'd, against all right,
A sacred man, and in a sacred place?
Cass. If Caesar as a citizen had liv'd,
And had by law decided every strife,
Then I would grant those treason had contriv'd,
Who went without a law to take his life;
But to pervert the laws, subvert the state,
If all his travels did directly tend,
Then I must say, we did no wrong of late:
" Why should not tyrants make a tragicke end? "
Cho. Since destinies did Caesars soule enlarge,
What course can we for his recovery take?
Ah! th' unrelenting Charons restlesse barge
Stands to transport all o're, but brings none back:
" Of lifes fraile glasse (when broken) with vaine grones.
" What earthly power the ruines can repaire;
" Or who can gather up, when scattred once,
" Ones bloud from th' earth, or yet his breath from th' ayre? "
Let us of those who passe oblivions floud
Oblivious be, since hope of help is gone,
And spend our cares where cares may do most good,
Lest Rome waile many, where she wailes but one.
Ant. Still concord for the common-weale were best,
To reconcile divided thoughts againe:
" Then discord to great townes, no greater pest, "
Whose violence no reverence can restraine.
Yet often-times those warie wits have err'd,
Who would buy wealth and ease at any cost:
" Let honesty to profit be preferr'd,
" And to vile peace warre when it wounds us most; "
But seeking peace, what surety can we finde?
Can faithlesse men give faith, just feares to stay?
" No sacred band impiety can binde,
" Which sweares for trust, seeks trust but to betray; "
What help'd it Caesar , that we all had sworne
His body still from dangers to redeeme?
" Those who are once perjur'd, hold oaths in scorne?
" All are most franke of what they least esteeme.
Brut. None needs in states which are from tyrants free,
Loath'd execrations to confirme his will,
Where willingly men would with good agree,
And without danger might despise all ill;
All odious oaths by those are onely crav'd,
Whose suit from reason doth a warrant want,
Whil'st who deceive (affraid to be deceiv'd)
Seek of men thrall'd, what none whil'st free would grant.
When Caesar had prevail'd in France and Spaine ,
His fortune building on his countries wracke,
(Of liberty a shadow to retaine)
We gave him all that he was bent to take.
The Senate had reserv'd nought but a show
Whose course to it by Caesar was impos'd,
Who lifted up, by bringing others low,
Of offices, and provinces dispos'd:
Then that our faded hopes might never spring,
When bent to try the Parthians wooden showre,
He for five yeares dispos'd of every thing,
Even in his absence leaving us no pow'r.
O how some aggravate our deed with hate!
Who durst his body wound, or with bloud staine,
Though consecrated by constraint of late,
Yea, but reputed holy, yet prophaine,
And did forget how he (a wondrous case)
The tribuneship did violate with scorne,
Which our fore-fathers (free) in time of peace.
Advis'dly had inviolable sworne.
Did he not once appropriate (swolne with wrath)
The publike treasure to his private use?
And to the tribune boldly threatned death,
Who did resist, griev'd at that great abuse.
Twixt Romans and a tyrant what availes
A covenant whil'st right rests trod on thus?
" Who can build further when the ground once fails? "
Could we save him who sought to ruine us?
Cic. So absolutely good no man remaines,
Whose naturall weaknesse may not him o're-come;
" Even vertues dye from vice may take some staines,
" And worthy minds may of grosse faults have some:
" As in fine fruits, or weeds, fat earth abounds,
" Even as the labourers spend, or spaire their paine,
" The greatest sprits (disdaining vulgar bounds)
" Of what they seek the highest height must gaine;
" They (that bright glory may be so enjoy'd)
" As onely borne to be in action still,
" Had rather be (then idle) ill imploy'd:
" Great sprits must do great good, or then great ill, "
The worlds chiefe treasure which bright rayes do arme,
Huge evill procur'd (though onely fram'd for good)
Till that fond youth whom his owne wish did harme,
Was kill'd by fire, and buried in a floud.
By rules of reason whil'st he rightly liv'd,
When lawfully elected by the state,
What glorious deeds by Caesar were atchiev'd,
Which all the world as wonders must relate?
But when of right he buried all respects,
(As blinde ambition had bewitch'd his minde)
What harme ensu'd, by pitifull effects,
We at the first, he at the last did finde;
Whil'st like Narcissus with himselfe in love,
He with our bondage banqueted his sight,
And for a while (uncertaine joyes to prove)
With all our woes would sweeten his delight;
How could brave men (with vertuous mindes) as those
Who of their countries weale are jealous still,
But stoutly to all stormes their states expose,
The states destroyer resolute to kill?
But since our freedome flows from Caesars bloud,
Let us embrace that which too long we lack:
" Peace gives to justice pow'r, it, to all good,
" Where warre breeds wrong, and wrong all kinde of wracke. "
This citie hath experienc'd with great paine,
What guilty troubles rise from civill strife,
Which by her ruines registred remaine,
Since first the Gracchi gave contention life.
When Scilla once, and Marius (mad through pride)
Did strive who should the most tyrannicke prove,
What memorable miseries were try'd,
From Romans mindes no time can e're remove?
Then last by Caesar , and his sonne in law,
What thousands ghosts to Pluto were dispatch'd?
Ah! that the world those hosts divided saw,
Which, joyn'd in one, no world of worlds had match'd:
Yet with this wit which we have dearly bought,
Let us abhorre all that may breed such broils,
Lest when we have our selves to ruine brought,
In end Barbarians beare away our spoyls.
Cho. Rome to those great men hardly can afford
A recompence, according to their worth,
Who (by a tyrants o're-throw) have restor'd
The light of liberty which was put forth;
Yet (by due praises with their merits even)
Let us acknowledge their illustrious mindes;
And to their charge let provinces be given:
" Still vertue grows, when it preferrement findes. "
Ant. Those barbarous realms by whose respective will,
Of Caesars conquests monuments are showne:
As if they held them highly honour'd still,
Who warr'd with Caesar though they were o'erthrown,
Can this disgrace by their proud mindes be borne,
Whil'st we dishonour, whom they honour thus?
And shall we not (whil'st as a tyrant torne)
Give him a tombe, who gave the world to us?
Must his decrees be all reduc'd againe,
And those degraded whom he grac'd of late,
As worthy men unworthily did gaine
Their roomes of reputation in the state?
As if a tyrant we him damne so soone,
And for his murd'rers do rewards devise,
Then what he did, must likewise be undone,
For which I feare, a foule confusion rise.
Cho. Ah! (brave Antonius ) sow not seeds of warre,
And if thou alwayes do'st delight in armes,
The haughty Parthians yet undaunted are,
Which may give thee great praise, and us no harmes.
Detest in time th' abhominable broils,
For which no conquerour to triumph hath com'd,
Whil'st this wretch'd towne (which still some party spoils)
Must loath the victor, and lament th' o're-com'd:
And shall we still contend against all good,
To make the yoke where we should bound abide?
Must still the commons sacrifize their bloud,
As onely borne to serve the great mens pride?
Ant. Whil'st I the depths of my affection sound,
And reade but th' obligations which I owe,
I finde my selfe by oaths, and duty bound,
All Caesars foes, or then my selfe t'ore-throw.
But when I weigh what to the state belongs,
The which to plague no passion shall get place,
Then I with griefe digesting private wrongs,
Warre with my selfe to give my countrey peace.
Yet whil'st my thoughts of this last purpose muse,
I altogether dis-assent from this,
That Caesars fame, or body we abuse,
To deale with tyrants as the custome is.
Lest guilty of ingratitude we seeme,
(If guerdoning our benefactors thus)
Great Caesars body from disgrace redeeme,
And let his acts be ratified by us.
Then for the publike-weale which makes us pause,
Towards those that have him kill'd t'extend regard,
Let them be pardon'd for their kinsmens cause:
" Remission given for evill is a reward. "
Cass. We stand not vex'd like malefactors here,
With a dejected and remorsefull minde,
So in your presence supplicants t'appeare,
As who themselves of death do guilty finde;
But looking boldly with a loftie brow,
Through a delight of our designe conceiv'd,
We come to challenge gratefulnesse of you,
That have of us so great a good receiv'd.
But if you will suspend your thoughts a space,
Though not the givers, entertaine the gift;
Do us reject, yet liberty embrace:
To have you free (loe) that was all our drift.
So Rome her ancient liberties enjoy,
Let Brutus and let Cassius banish'st live;
Thus banishment would breed us greater joy,
Then what at home a tyrants wealth could give.
Though some misconstrue may this course of ours,
By ignorance, or then by hate deceiv'd;
" The truth depends not on opinions pow'rs,
" But is it selfe, how ever misconceiv'd. "
Though to acknowledge us, not one would daigne,
Our merit of it selfe is a reward,
" Of doing good none should repent their paine,
" Though they get no reward, nor yet regard. "
I 'le venture yet my fortune in the field,
With every one that Rome to bondage draws;
And as for me, how ever others yeeld,
I 'le nought obey, but reason, and the laws.
Cic. What fools are those who further travell take,
For that which they even past recovery know?
Who can revive the dead, or bring time back?
That can no creature who doth live below.
Great Pompey (now) for whom the world still weeps,
Lyes low, neglected on a barbarous shore;
Selfe-slaughtered Scipio flotes amidst the deeps,
Whom, it may be, sea-monsters do devoure.
Of Libyan wolves grave Cato feasts the wombes,
Whose death, of worth the world defrauded leaves;
Thus some that did deserve Mausolean tombes,
Have not a title grav'd upon their graves.
And yet may Caesar who procur'd their death,
By brave men slaine be buried with his race;
All civill warre quite banish'd with his breath,
Let him now dead, and us alive have peace.
" We should desist our thoughts on things to set,
" Which may harme some, and can give help to none,
" Learne to forget that which we cannot get,
" And let our cares be gone of all things gone.
" Those who would strive all crosses to o're-come,
" To present times must still conforme their course,
" And making way for that which is to come,
" Not medle with things past, but by discourse.
" Let none seek that which doth no good when found; "
Since Caesar now is dead, how ever dead;
Let all our griefe go with him to the ground,
For, sorrow best becomes a lightlesse shade;
It were the best, that joyn'd in mutuall love,
We physicke for this wounded state prepare:
" Neglecting those who from the world remove,
" All men on earth for earthly things must care. "
Cho. O how those great men friendship can pretend,
By soothing others thus with painted windes;
And seeme to trust, where treason they attend,
Whilst love their mouth, and malice fills their mindes;
Those but to them poore simple soules appeare,
Whose count'nance doth discover what they thinke,
Who make their words, as is their meaning, cleare,
And from themselves can never seeme to shrinke.
Loe, how Antonius faines to quench all jarres,
And whom he hates with kindnesse doth embrace,
But as he further'd first the former warres,
Some feare he still will prove a foe to peace.
Now where Calphurnia stayes our steppes addresse,
Since by this sudden chance her losse was chiefe.
" All visite should their neighbours in distresse,
" To give some comfort, or to share in griefe. "

ACT V. SCENE II .

Calphurnia, Nuntius, Chorus.

Cal. When darkenesse last imprisoned had myne eyes,
Such monstrous visions did my heart affright,
That (quite dejected) it as stupid dies
Through terrours then contracted in the night;
A melancholy cloud so dimmes my brest,
That it my mind fit for misfortune makes,
A lodging well dispos'd for such a guest,
Where nought of sorrow but th' impression lackes;
And I imagine every man I see
(My senses so corrupted are by feares)
A herauld to denounce mishaps to me,
Who should infuse confusion in my eares.
O! there he comes to violate my peace,
In whom the object of my thoughts I see;
Thy message is charactred in thy face,
And by thy lookes directed is to me:
Thy troubled eyes rest rowling for reliefe,
As lately frighted by some uglie sight;
Thy breath doth pant as if growne big with griefe,
And straight to bring some monstrous birth to light.
Nun. The man of whom the world in doubt remain'd,
If that his minde or fortune was more great,
Whose valour conquer'd, clemencie retain'd
All nations subject to the Romane State;
Fraud harm'd him more then force, friends more then foes;
Ah! must this sad discourse by me be made?
Cal. Stay, ere thou further goe defray my woes,
How doth my love? where is my life?
Nun. Dead.
Cal. Dead?
Cho. Though apprehending horrours in her minde,
Now since she hath a certaintie receiv'd,
She by experience greater griefe doth finde:
" Till borne, the passions cannot be conceav'd. "
When as a high disaster force affords,
O how that tyrant whom affliction bears,
Barres th' eares from comfort, and the mouth from words,
And when obdur'd scornes to dissolve in teares!
Cal. Ah! since the lights of that great light are set,
Why doth not darknesse spread it selfe o're all?
At least what further comfort can I get,
Whose pleasures had no period but his fall?
O would the gods I always might confine
Flames in my brest, and floods within my eyes,
To entertaine so great a griefe as mine,
That thence there might fit furniture arise;
Yet I disdaine (though by distresse o'rethrowne)
By such externall meanes to seeke reliefe:
" The greatest sorrowes are by silence showne,
" Whilst all the senses are shut up with griefe: "
But miserie doth so tyrannick grow
That it of sighes and teares a tribute claimes;
" Ah! when the cup is full, it must o'reflow,
" And fires which burne must offer up some flames; "
Yet though what thou hast sayd my death shall be,
(Since sunke so deeply in a melted heart)
Of my lives death report each point to mee,
For every circumstance that I may smart.
Nun. What fatall warnings did foregoe his end,
Which by his stay to frustrate some did try?
But he who scorn'd excuses to pretend,
Was by the destinies drawne forth to die.
Whilst by the way he chanc'd to meet with one,
Who had his deaths-day nam'd, he to him said;
The Ides of March be come; but yet not gone
The other answer'd, and still constant stayd:
Another brought a letter with great speed,
Which the conspiracie at length did touch,
And gave it Caesar in his hand to reade,
Protesting that it did import him much.
Yet did he lay it up where still it rests,
As doe the great whom blest the world reputes,
Who (griev'd to be importun'd by requests)
Of simple supplicants neglect the suites:
Or he of it the reading did deferre,
Still troubled by attendants at the gate,
Whilst some to show their credit would conferre,
To flatter some, some something to entreate.
Not onely did the gods by divers signes
Give Caesar warning of his threatned harmes;
But did of foes disturbe the rash designes,
And to their troubled thoughts gave strange alarmes;
A senator who by some words we find,
To the conspirators (though none of theirs)
Had showne himselfe familiar with their minde,
Then chanc'd to deale with Caesar in affaires.
That sight their soules did with confusion fill,
For, thinking that he told their purpos'd deeds,
They straight themselves, or Caesar thought to kill:
" A guiltie conscience no accuser needs; "
But marking that he us'd (when taking leave)
A suters gesture when affording thankes,
They of their course did greater hopes conceave,
And rang'd them seven according to their rankes.
Then Caesar march'd forth to the fatall place;
Neere Pompeys theater where the senate was,
Where (when he had remain'd a litle space)
All the confederats flock'd about.
Cal. Alas.
Nun. First for the forme, Metellus Cimber crav'd
To have his brother from exile restor'd,
Yet with the rest a rude repulse receiv'd,
Whilst it they all too earnestly implor'd:
Bold Cimber who in strife with him did stand,
Did strive to cover with his gowne his head:
Then was the first blow given by Casca's hand,
Which on his necke a litle wound but made.
And Caesar (starting whilst the stroke he spi'd)
By strength from further striking Casca stai'd,
Whilst both the two burst out at once, and cry'd:
He traitour Casca , and he, brother aide;
Then all the rest against him did arise
Like desp'rat men, whose furie force affords,
That Caesar on no side could set his eyes,
But every looke encountred with some swords;
Yet, as a lyon (when by nets surpris'd)
Stands strugling still so long as he hath strength,
So Caesar (as he had their pow'r despis'd)
Did with great rage resist, till at the length
He thus cri'd out (when spying Brutus come)
And thou my sonne! then griefe did back rebound:
" Nought but unkindnesse Caesar could o'recome,
" That, of all things, doth give the deepest wound. "
Cho. " Ah! when unkindnesse is, where love was thought,
" A tender passion breakes the strongest heart:
" For, of all those who give offence in ought,
" Men, others hate, but for unkinde men, smart. "
Nun. Ah! taking then no more delight in light,
As who disdainfullie the world disclaim'd,
Of if from Brutus blow to hold his sight,
As of so great ingratitude asham'd,
He with his gowne when cover'd first o're all,
As one who neither fought, nor wish'd reliefe,
Not wronging majestie, in state did fall,
No sigh consenting to betray his griefe.
Yet (if by chance or force I cannot tell)
Even at the place, where Pompey's statue stood,
(As if to crave him pardon,) Caesar fell,
That in revenge it might exhaust his blood;
But when his corpes abandon'd quite by breath,
Did fortunes frailties monument remaine,
That all might have like int'rest in his death,
And by the same, looke for like praise or paine:
Then Cassius, Brutus , and the rest began
With that great emperours blood to die their hands;
" What beast in th' earth more cruel is then man,
" When o're his reason passion once commands? "
Cal. Whilst brutish Brutus , and proud Cassius thus
Romes greatest captaine under trust deceiv'd,
Where was Antonius (since a friend to us)
That he not lost himselfe, or Caesar sav'd?
Nun. The whole conspiratours remain'd in doubt,
Had he and Caesar joyn'd, to be undone,
And so caus'd one to talke with him without,
Who fain'd a conference till the fact was done.
Then knowing well in such tumultuous broiles,
That the first danger alwayes is the worst,
He fled in hast, disguis'd with borrow'd spoiles,
For rage and for disdaine even like to burst.
Cal. The senatours which were assembled there,
When they beheld that great man brought to end,
What was their part? to what inclin'd their care?
I fear affliction could not finde a friend.
Nun. Of those who in the senate-house did sit
(So sad an object sorrie to behold,
Or fearing what bould hands might more commit)
Each to his house a severall way did hold;
This act with horrour did confound their sight,
And unawares their judgement did surprise:
" When any hastie harmes un-lookt-for light,
" The resolution hath not time to rise: "
That man on whom the world did once rely,
By all long reverenc'd, and ador'd by some,
None to attend him had but two and I.
Cho. " To what an ebbe may fortunes flowing come? "
Why should men following on the smoake of pride,
Leave certaine ease to seeke a dream'd delight,
Which when they have by many dangers tri'd,
They neither can with safety keepe nor quite?
" The people who by force subdu'd remaine,
" May pitty those by whom opprest they rest;
" They but one tyrant have, whereas there raigne "
A thousand tyrants in one tyrants brest;
What though great Caesar once commanded kings,
Whose onely name whole nations did appall?
Yet now (let no man trust in worldly things)
A little earth holds him who held it all.
Cal. Ah! had he but beleev'd my faithfull cares,
His state to stablish who have alwayes striv'd,
Then (scaping this conspiracie of theirs)
He, honour'd still, and I had happy liv'd.
Did I not spend of supplications store,
That he within his house, this day would waste,
As I by dreames advertis'd was before,
Which shew'd what was to come, and now is past;
Whilst the sooth-sayers sacrific'd did finde
A beast without a heart, their altars staine,
By that presage my soule might have divin'd,
That I without my heart would soone remaine;
But all those terrours could no terrour give
To that great minde, whose thoughts too high still aym'd;
He by his fortune confident did live,
As, if the heavens, for him had all things fram'd;
Yet though he ended have his fatall race,
To bragge for this, let not his murtherers strive:
For, O! I hope to see within short space,
Him dead ador'd, and them abhorr'd alive.
Though now his name the multitude respects,
Since murdering one who him had held so deare,
Whil'st inward thoughts each outward thing reflects,
Some monstrous shape to Brutus must appeare.
Iust Nemesis must plague proud Cassius soone,
And make him kill himselfe, from hopes estrang'd;
Once all the wrongs by foes to Caesar done,
May by themselves be on themselves reveng'd.
Cho. " Some, soveraigne of the earth, would fortune prove,
" As if, confus'dly, gods did men advance;
" Nought comes to men below, but from above,
" By Providence, not by a staggering chance:
" Though to the cause that last forgoes the end,
" Some attribute the course of every thing,
" That cause, on other causes doth depend,
" Which chain'd 'twixt heaven and earth due ends forth bring;
" Of those decrees the heavens for us appoint,
" (Who ever them approves, or doth disprove)
" No mortall man can disappoint a point,
" But as they please here moves, or doth remove;
" We, when once come the worlds vaine pompe to try,
" (Led by the fates) to end our journey haste:
" For, when first borne, we straight begin to dye,
" Lifes first day is a step unto the last.
" And is there ought more swift then dayes, and years,
" Which weare away this breath of ours so soone,
" Whil'st Lachesis to no request gives eares,
" But spinnes the threeds of life till they be done?
" Yet foolish worldlings following that which flies,
" As if they had assurance of their breath,
" To fraile preferrement fondly strive to rise,
" Which (but a burden) weighs them downe to death. "
Nun. There's none of us but must remember still,
How that the gods by many a wondrous signe,
Did show (it seem'd) how that against their will,
The destinies would Caesar's dayes confine.
A monstrous starre amidst the heaven hath beene,
Still since they first against him did conspire,
The solitary birds at noone were seene,
And men to walke environ'd all with fire:
What wonder though the heavens at such a time,
Do brave the earth with apparitions strange,
Then whil'st intending such a monstrous crime,
" Unnaturall men make Natures course to change? "
Cho. Though all such things seeme wonderfull to some,
They may by reason comprehended be,
For, what, beyond what usuall is, doth come,
The ignorant with wondring eyes do see.
Those bastard starres, not heritours of th'ayre,
Are first conceiv'd below, then borne above,
And when fore-knowing things, sprits take most care,
And by illusion, superstition move.
Yet this, no doubt, a great regard should breed,
When Nature hath brought forth a monstrous birth,
In secret characters where men may reade
The wrath of heaven, and wickednesse of th' earth.
The naturallists, and th' astrologians skill
May oft, encountring, manifest like care:
Since th' one looks back, the other forward still,
One may tell what, the other why things are.
Nun. Shall sorrow through the waves of woes to saile,
Have still your teares for seas, your sighs for winds;
To miserie what do base plaints availe?
A course more high becomes heroicke mindes.
" None are o're-come, save onely those who yeeld, "
From froward fortune though some blows be borne,
Let vertue serve adversity for shield:
" No greater griefe to griefe then th' enemies scorne; "
This makes your foes but laugh to see you weep,
At least these teares but for your selfe bestow,
And not for that great sprit, whose spoyls heavens keep;
For, he no doubt, rests deified ere now.
Cal. I onely waile my life, and not his death;
Who now amongst th' immortals doth repose,
And shall so long as I have bloud or breath,
To furnish forth the elements of woes.
I care not who rejoyce, so I lament,
Who do to darknesse dedicate my dayes,
And since the light of my delight is spent,
Shall have in horrour all Apollo's rayes.
(I will retyre my selfe to waile alone,
As trustie turtles mourning for their mates)
And (my misfortune alwayes bent to mone).
Will spurne at pleasures as empoyson'd baits;
No second guest shall presse great Caesars bed,
Warm'd by the flames to which he first gave life;
I thinke there may be greater honour had,
When Caesars widow, then anothers wife.
This had afforded comfort for my harmes,
If I (ere chanc'd abandon'd thus to be)
Had had a little Caesar in mine armes,
The living picture of his syre to me.
Yet doth that idoll which my thoughts adore,
With me of late most strictly match'd remaine,
For, where my armes him sometimes held before,
Now in my heart I shall him still retaine.
That (though I may no pretious things impart)
Thy deitie may be me be honour'd oft,
Still offring up my thoughts upon my heart,
My sacred flame shall alwayes mount aloft.

Chorus .

What fools are those who do repose their trust
On what this masse of misery affords?
And (bragging but of th' excrements of dust)
Of life-lesse treasures labour to be lords:
Which like the sirens songs, or Circes charmes,
With shadows of delight hide certaine harmes.
Ah! whil'st they sport on pleasures ycie grounds,
Oft poyson'd by prosperitie with pride,
A sudden storme their floting joyes confounds,
Whose course is ordred by the eyelesse guide,
Who so inconstantly her selfe doth beare
Th' unhappie men may hope, the happy feare.
The fortunate who bathe in flouds of joyes,
To perish oft amidst their pleasures chance,
And mirthlesse wretches wallowing in annoyes,
Oft by adversitie themselves advance;
Whil'st fortune bent to mock vaine worldlings cares,
Doth change despaires in hopes, hopes in despaires.
That gallant Grecian whose great wit so soone,
Whom others could not number, did o're-come,
Had he not beene undone, had beene undone,
And if not banish'd, had not had a home;
To him feare courage gave (what wondrous change!
And many doubts are solution strange.
He who told one who then was fortunes childe,
As if with horrour to congeale his bloud:
That Caius Marius farre from Rome exil'd,
Wretch'd on the ruines of great Carthage stood;
Though long both plagu'd by griefe, and by disgrace,
The consul-ship regain'd, and dy'd in peace.
And that great Pompey (all the worlds delight)
Whom of his theater then th' applauses pleas'd,
Whil'st praise-transported eyes endeer'd his sight,
Who by youths toyles should have his age then eas'd,
He by one blow of fortune lost farre more
Then many battels gayned had before.
Such sudden changes so disturbe the soule,
That still the judgement ballanc'd is by doubt;
But, on a round, what wonder though things roule?
And since within a circle, turne about?
Whil'st heaven on earth strange alterations brings,
To scorne our confidence in worldly things.
And chanc'd there ever accidents more strange,
Then in these stormy bounds where we remaine?
One did a sheep-hooke to a scepter change,
The nurceling of a wolfe o're men did raigne;
A little village grew a mighty towne,
Which whil'st it had no king, held many a crowne.
Then by how many sundry sorts of men,
Hath this great state beene rul'd? though now by none,
Which first obey'd but one, then two, then ten,
Then by degrees return'd to two, and one;
Of which three states, their ruine did abide,
Two by two's lusts, and one by two mens pride.
What revolutions huge have hapned thus,
By secret fates all violently led,
Though seeming but by accident to us,
Yet in the depths of heavenly breasts first bred,
As arguments demonstrative to prove
That weaknesse dwels below, and pow'r above.
Loe, prosprous Caesar charged for a space,
Both with strange nations, and his countreys spoyls,
Even when he seem'd by warre to purchase peace,
And roses of sweet rest, from thornes of toils;
Then whil'st his minde and fortune swell'd most high,
Hath beene constrain'd the last distresse to trie.
What warnings large were in a time so short,
Of that darke course which by his death now shines?
It, speechlesse wonders plainly did report,
It, men reveal'd by words, and gods by signes,
Yet by the chaynes of destinies whil'st bound,
He saw the sword, but could not scape the wound.
What curtaine o're our knowledge errour brings,
Now drawn, now open'd, by the heavenly host,
Which makes us sometimes sharpe to see small things,
And yet quite blinde when as we should see most,
That curious braines may rest amaz'd at it,
Whose ignorance makes them presume of wit;
Then let us live, since all things change below,
When rais'd most high, as those who once may fall,
And hold when by disasters brought more low,
The minde still free, what ever else be thrall:
" Those (lords of fortune) sweeten every state,
" Who can command themselves, though not their fate. "