_Enter Cassius, Brutus, Trebonius, Cumber Casca._
_Tre._ Braue Lords whose forward resolution,
Shewes you descended from true _Romaine_ line,
See how old _Rome_ in winter of her age,
Reioyseth in such Princely budding hopes,
No lesse then once she in _Decius_ vertue did,
Or great _Camillus_ bringing back of spoyles.
On then braue Lords of this attempt begun,
The sacred Senate doth commend the deede: 1530
Your Countries loue incites you to the deed,
Vertue her selfe makes warrant of the deed,
Then Noble _Romains_ as you haue begun:
Neuer desist vntill this deede be done.
_Casi._ To thee Reueng doth _Cassius_ kneele him downe.
Thou that brings quiet to perplexed soules,
And borne in Hel, yet harborest heauens ioyes,
Whose fauor slaughter is, and dandling death,
Bloud-thirsty pleasures and mis boding blisse:
Brought forth of Fury, nurse of cankered Hate, 1540
To drowne in woe the pleasures of the world.
Thou shalt no more in duskish _Erebus_:
And dark-some hell obscure thy Deity,
Insteede of _Ioue_ thou shalt my Godesse bee,
To thee faire Temples _Cassius_ will erect:
And on thine alter built of _Parian_ stone
Whole _Hecatombs_ will I offer vp.
Laugh gentle Godesse on my bould attempt,
Yet in thy laughter let pale meager death:
Bee wrapt in wrinkels of thy murthering spoyles. 1550
_Bru._ An other _Tarquin_ is to bee expeld,
An other _Brutus_ liues to act the deede:
Tis not one nation that this _Tarquin_ wronges,
All _Rome_ is stayn'd with his vnrul'd desires,
Shee whose imperiall scepter was invr'd:
To conquer Kings and to controul the world,
Cannot abate the glory of her state,
To yeeld or bowe to one mans proud desires:
Sweete Country _Rome_ here _Brutus_ vowes to thee,
To loose his life or else to set thee free. 1560
_Cas._ Shame bee his share that doth his life so prize,
That to _Romes_ weale it would not sacrifize,
My Poniardes point shall pearce his heart as deepe,
As earst his sworde _Romes_ bleeding side did goare:
And change his garments to the purple die,
With which our bloud had staynd sad _Thessaly_.
_Cam._ Hee doth refuse the title of a King,
But wee do see hee doth vsurp the thing.
_Tre._ Our ancient freedome hee empeacheth more,
Then euer King or Tyrant did before. 1570
_Cas._ The Senators by him are quite disgrac'd,
_Rome_, _Romans_, Citty, Freedome, all defac'd.
_Cassi._ We come not Lords, as vnresolued men,
For to shewe causes of the deed decreed,
This shall dispute for mee and tell him why,
This heart, hand, minde, hath mark'd him out to die:
If it be true that furies quench-les thirst,
Is pleas'd with quaffing of ambitious bloud,
Then all you deuills whet my Poniards point,
And I wil broach you a bloud-sucking heart: 1580
Which full of bloud, must bloud store to you yeeld,
Were it a peerce to flint or marble stone:
Why so it is for _Caesars_ heart's a stone,
Els would bee mooued with my Countries mone.
They say you furies instigate mens mindes,
And push their armes to finnish bloudy deedes:
Prick then mine Elbo: goade my bloudy hand,
That it may goare _Caesars_ ambitious heart. _Exeunt._
ACTVS 3. SCENA 6. {SN _Act III sc. vii_}
_Enter Caesar, Calphurnia._
_Caes._ Why thinkes my loue to fright me with her dreames? 1591
Shall bug-beares feare _Caesars_ vndaunted heart,
Whome _Pompeys_ Fortune neuer could amaze,
Nor the _French_ horse, nor _Mauritanian_ boe,
And now shall vaine illusions mee affright:
Or shadowes daunt, whom substance could not quell?
_Calphur._ O dearest _Caesar_, hast thou seene thy selfe,
(As troubled dreames to me did faine thee seene:)
Torne, Wounded, Maymed, Blod-slaughtered, Slaine,
O thou thy selfe, wouldst then haue dread thy selfe: 1600
And feard to thrust thy life to dangers mouth.
_Caes._ There you bewray the folly of your dreame,
For I am well, aliue, vncaught, vntoucht.
_Calphur._ T'was in the Senate-house I sawe thee so,
And yet thou dreadles thither needes will go.
_Caes._ The Senate is a place of peace, not death,
But these were but deluding visions.
_Calphur._ O do not set so little by the heauens,
Dreames ar diuine, men say they come from _Ioue_,
Beware betimes, and bee not wise to late: 1610
Mens good indeuours change the wills of Fate.
_Caes._ Weepe not faire loue, let not thy wofull teares
Bode mee, I knowe what thou wouldest not haue to hap
It will distaine mine honor wonne in fight
To say a womans dreame could me affright.
_Cal._ O _Caesar_ no dishonour canst thou get,
In seeking to preuent vnlucky chance:
Foole-hardy men do runne vpon their death,
Bec thou in this perswaded by thy wife:
No vallour bids thee cast away thy life. 1620
_Caes._ Tis dastard cowardize and childish feare,
To dread those dangers that do not appeare:
_Cal._ Thou must sad chance by fore-cast, wise resist,
Or being done say boote-les had I wist.
_Caes._ But for to feare wher's no suspition,
Will to my greatnesse be derision.
_Cal._ There lurkes an adder in the greenest grasse,
Daungers of purpose alwayes hide their face:
_Caes._ Perswade no more _Caesar's_ resolu'd to go.
_Cal._ The Heauens resolue that hee may safe returne, 1630
For if ought happen to my loue but well:
His danger shalbe doubled with my death. _Exit._
_Enter Augur._
_Augur._ I, come they are, but yet they are not gon.
_Caes._ What hast thou sacrifiz'd, as custome is,
Before wee enter in the Senat-house.
_Augur._ O stay those steeps that leade thee to thy death,
The angry heauens with threeatning dire aspect,
Boding mischance, and balfull massacers,
Menace the ouerthrowe of _Caesars_ powre: 1640
_Saturne_ sits frowning on the God of Warre,
VVho in their sad coniunction do conspire,
Vniting both their bale full influences,
To heape mischance, and danger to thy life:
The Sacrificing beast is heart-les found:
Sad ghastly sightes, and raysed Ghostes appeare,
Which fill the silent woods, with groning cries:
The hoarse Night-rauen tunes the chearles voyce,
And calls the bale-full Owle, and howling Doge,
To make a consort. In whose sad song is this, 1650
Neere is the ouerthrow of _Caesars_ blisse. _Exit._
_Caesar._ The world is set to fray mee from my wits,
Heers harteles Sacrifice and visions,
Howlinge and cryes, and gastly grones of Ghosts,
Soft _Caesar_ do not make a mockery,
Of these Prodigious signes sent from the Heauens,
_Calphurnias_ Dre ame Iumping which _Augurs_ words,
Shew (if thou markest it _Caesar_) cause to feare:
This day the Senate there shalbe dissolued,
And Ile returne to my _Calphurnia_ home, _One giues him a paper._ 1660
What hast thou heare that thou presents vs with,
_Pre._ A thing my Lord that doth concerne your life.
Which loue to you and hate of such a deed,
Makes me reueale vnto your excellence. _Caesar laughs._
Smilest thou, or think'st thou it some ilde toy,
Thout frowne a non to read so many names.
That haue conspird and sworne thy bloody death, _Exit._
_Enter Cassius._
_Cassius._ Now must I come, and with close subtile girdes,
Deceaue the prey that Ile deuoure anon, 1670
My Lord the Sacred Senate doth expect,
Your royall presence in _Pompeius_ court:
_Caesar._ _Cassius_ they tell me that some daungers nigh.
And death pretended in the Senate house.
_Cassi._ What danger or what wrong can be,
Where harmeles grauitie and vertue sits,
Tis past all daunger present death it is,
Nor is it wrong to render due desert.
To feare the Senators without a cause,
Will bee a cause why theile be to be feared, 1680
_Caesa._ The Senate stayes for me in _Pompeys_ court.
And _Caesars_ heere, and dares not goe to them,
Packe hence all dread of danger and of death,
What must be must be; _Caesars_ prest for all,
_Cassi._ Now haue I sent him headlong to his ende,
Vengance and death awayting at his heeles,
_Caesar_ thy life now hangeth on a twine,
Which by my Poniard must bee cut in twaine,
Thy chaire of state now turn'd is to thy Beere,
Thy Princely robes to make thy winding sheete: 1690
The Senators the Mourners ore the Hearse,
And _Pompeys_ Court, thy dreadfull graue shalbe.
{SN _Act III sc. viii_}
_Senators crie all at once._
_Omnes._ Hold downe the Tyrant stab him to the death:
_Casi._ Now doth the musick play and this the song
That _Cassius_ heart hath thirsted for so long:
And now my Poniard in this mazing sound,
Must strike that touch that must his life confound.
Stab on, stab on, thus should your Poniards play,
Aloud deepe note vpon this trembling Kay. _stab him._ 1700
_Buco._ _Bucolian_ sends thee this. _stab him._
_Cum._ And _Cumber_ this. _stab him._
_Cas._ Take this fro _Casca_ for to quite _Romes_ wronges.
_Caes._ Why murtherous villaines know you who you strike,
Tis _Caesar_, _Caesar_, whom your Poniards pierce:
_Caesar_ whose name might well afright such slaues:
O Heauens that see and hate this haynous guilt,
And thou Immortall _Ioue_ that Idle holdest
Deluding Thunder in thy faynting hand,
Why stay'st thy dreadfull doome, and dost with-hold, 1710
Thy three-fork'd engine to reuenge my death:
But if my plaintes the Heauens cannot mooue,
Then blackest hell and _Pluto_ bee thou iudge:
You greesly daughters of the cheereles night,
Whose hearts, nor praier nor pitty, ere could lend,
Leaue the black dungeon of your _Chaos_ deepe:
Come and with flaming brandes into the world,
Reuenge, and death, bringe seated in yout eyes:
And plauge these villaynes for their trecheries.
_Enter Brutus._ 1720
_Bru._ I haue held _Anthony_ with a vaine discourse,
The whilst the deed's in execution,
But liues hee still, yet doth the Tyrant breath?
Chalinging Heauens with his blasphemies,
Heere _Brutus_ maketh a passage for thy Soule,
To plead thy cause for them whose ayde thou crauest,
_Caes._ What _Brutus_ to? nay nay, then let me die,
Nothing wounds deeper then ingratitude,
_Bru._ I bloody _Caesar_, _Caesar_, _Brutus_ too,
Doth geeue thee this, and this to quite _Romes_ wrongs, 1730
_Cassius._ O had the Tyrant had as many liues.
As that fell _Hydra_ borne in _Lerna lake_,
That heare I still might stab and stabing kill,
Till that more liues might bee extinquished,
Then his ambition, _Romanes_ Slaughtered.
_Tre._ How heauens haue iustly on the authors head,
Returnd the guiltles blood which he hath shed,
And _Pompey_ he who caused thy Tragedy,
Here breathles lies before thy Noble Statue,
_Enter Anthony._ 1740
_Anth._ What cryes of death resound within my eares,
Whome I doe see great _Caesar_ buchered thus?
What said I great? I Caesar thou wast great,
But O that greatnes was that brought thy death:
O vniust Heauens, (if Heauens at all there be,)
Since vertues wronges makes question of your powers,
How could your starry eyes this shame behold,
How could the sunne see this and not eclipze?
Fayre bud of fame ill cropt before thy time:
What _Hyrcan_ tygar, or wild sauage bore, 1750
(For he more heard then Bore or Tyger was,)
Durst do so vile and execrate a deede,
Could not those eyes so full of maiesty,
Nor priesthood (o not thus to bee prophand)
Nor yet the reuerence to this sacred place,
Nor flowing eloquence of thy goulden tounge,
Nor name made famous through immortall merit,
Deter those murtherors from so vild a deed?
Sweete friend accept these obsequies of mine,
Which heare with teares I doe vnto thy hearse, 1760
And thou being placed a mong the shining starrs.
Shalt downe from Heauen behold what deepe reueng,
I will inflict vpon the murtherers, _Exit with Caesar, in his armes._
_FINIS._ Act. 3.
{SN _Chor. IV_}
_Enter Discord._
_Dis._ _Brutus_ thou hast what long desire hath sought,
_Caesar_ Lyes weltring in his purple Goare,
Thou art the author of _Romes_ liberty,
Proud in thy murthering hand and bloody knife. 1770
Yet thinke _Octauian_ and sterne _Anthony_.
Cannot let passe this murther vnreuenged,
_Thessalia_ once againe must see your blood,
And _Romane_ drommes must strike vp new a laromes,
Harke how _Bellona_ shakes her angry lance:
And enuie clothed in her crimson weed,
Me thinkes I see the fiery shields to clash,
Eagle gainst Eagle, _Rome_ gainst _Rome_ to fight,
_Phillipi_, _Caesar_ quittance must thy wronges,
Whereas that hand shall stab that trayterous heart. 1780
That durst encourage it to worke thy death,
Thus from thine ashes _Caesar_ doth arise
As from _Medeas_ haples scatered teeth:
New flames of wars, and new outraigous broyles,
Now smile _AEmathia_ that euen in thy top,
_Romes_ victory and pride shalbe entombd,
And those great conquerors of the vanquished earth,
Shall with their swords come there to dig their graues.
ACTVS. 4. SCENA. 1. {SN _Act IV sc. i_}
_Enter Octauian._
_Octa._ Mourne gentle Heauens for you haue lost your ioy. 1791
Mourne greeued earth thy ornament is gon,
Mourne _Rome_ in great thy Father is deceased:
Mourne thou _Octauian_, thou it is must mourne,
Mourne for thy Vncle who is dead and gon.
Mourne for thy Father to vngently slaine,
Mourne for thy Friend whome thy mishap hath lost,
For Father, Vnkell, Friend, go make thy mone,
Who all did liue, who all did die in one.
But heere I vow these blacke and sable weeds, 1800
The outward signes of inward heauines,
Shall changed be ere long to crimsen hew,
And this soft raiment to a coate of steele,
_Caesar_, no more I heare the mornefull songs.
The tragick pomp of his sad exequies,
And deadly burning torches are at hand,
I must accompany the mornefull troope:
And sacryfice my teares to the Gods below. _Exit._
{SN _Act IV sc. ii_}
_Enter Caesars Hearse Calphurnia Octauian, Anthony,
Cicero, Dolobella, two Romaynes, mourners._
_Calp._ Set downe the hearse and let _Calphurnia_ weepe,
Weepe for her Lord and bath his Wounds in teares: 1812
Feare of the world, and onely hope of _Rome_,
Thou whilest thou liuedst was _Calphurnias_ ioye,
And being dead my ioyes are dead with thee:
Here doth my care and comfort resting lie:
Let them accompany thy mournefull hearse.
_Cice._ This is the hearse of vertue and renowne,
Here stroe red roses and sweete violets:
And lawrell garlands for to crowne his fame, 1820
The Princely weede of mighty conquerors:
These worthles obsequies poore _Rome_ bestowes,
Vpon thy sacred ashes and deare hearse.
_1. Rom._ And as a token of thy liuing praise,
And fame immortall take this laurell wreath,
Which witnesseth thy name shall neuer die:
And with this take the Loue and teares of _Rome_,
For on thy tombe shall still engrauen be,
Thy losse, her griefe, thy deathes, her pittying thee,
_Dolo._ Vnwilling do I come to pay this debt, 1830
Though not vnwilling for to crowne desert,
O how much rather had I this bestowed,
On thee returning from foes ouerthrow,
When liuing vertue did require such meede,
Then for to crowne thy vertue being dead,
_Lord._ Those wreaths that in thy life our conquests crowned
And our fayre triumphes beauty glorified,
Now in thy death do serue thy hearse to adorne,
For _Caesars_ liuing vertues to bee crowned,
Not to be wept as buried vnder grownd, 1840
_2. Ro._ Thou whilest thou liuedst wast faire vertues flowre
Crowned with eternall honor and renowne,
To thee being dead, _Flora_ both crownes and flowers,
(The cheefest vertues of our mother earth,)
Doth giue to gratulate thy noble hearse.
Let then they soule diuine vouchsafe to take,
These worthles obsequies our loue doth make.
_Calp._ All that I am is but despaire and greefe,
This all I giue to Celebrate thy death,
What funerall pomp of riches and of pelfe, 1850
Do you expect? _Calphurnia_ giues her selfe.
_Ant._ You that to _Caesar_ iustly did decree
Honors diuine and sacred reuerence:
And oft him grac'd with titles well deserued,
Of Countries Father, stay of Commonwealth.
And that which neuer any bare before,
Inviolate, Holy, Consecrate, Vntucht.
Doe see this friend of _Rome_, this Contryes Father,
This Sonne of lasting fame and e ndles praise,
And in a mortall trunke, immortall vertue 1860
Slaughtered, profan'd, and bucherd like a beast,
By trayterous handes, and damned Paracides:
Recounte those deedes and see what he hath don,
Subdued those nations which three hundred yeares.
Remaynd vnconquered; still afflicting _Rome_,
And recompensed the firy Capitoll,
With many Citties vnto ashes burnt:
And this reward, these thankes you render him:
Here lyes he dead to whome you owe your liues:
By you this slaughtered body bleedes againe, 1870
Which oft for you hath bled in fearefull fight.
Sweete woundes in which I see distressed _Rome_,
From her pearc'd sides to powre forth streames of bloud,
Bee you a witnesse of my sad Soules griefe:
And of my teares which wounded heart doth bleede,
Not such as vse from womanish eyes proceede.
_Octa._ And were the deede most worthy and vnblamed,
Yet you vnworthely did do the same:
Who being partakers with his enemies,
By _Caesar_ all were saued from death and harme, 1880
And for the punnishment you should haue had,
You were prefer'd to Princely dignities:
Rulers and Lordes of Prouinces were you made,
Thus thanke-les men hee did preferre of nought,
That by their hands his murther might be wrought.
_All at once except Anthony and Octauian._
_Omnes._ Reuenge, Reuenge vpon the murtherers.
_Antho._ Braue Lords this worthy resolution shewes,
Your deerest loue, and great affection
VVhich to this slaughtered Prince you alwaies bare, 1890
And may like bloudy chance befall my life:
If I be slack for to reuenge his death.
_Octa._ Now on my Lords, this body lets inter:
Amongest the monuments of _Roman_ Kinges,
And build a Temple to his memory:
Honoring therein his sacred Deity. _Exeunt omnes._