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diff --git a/21789.txt b/21789.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e6545df --- /dev/null +++ b/21789.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4032 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Discourse of Life and Death, by Mornay; +and Antonius by Garnier, by Philippe de Mornay and Robert Garnier + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Discourse of Life and Death, by Mornay; and Antonius by Garnier + +Author: Philippe de Mornay + Robert Garnier + +Translator: Mary Sidney Herbert + +Release Date: June 10, 2007 [EBook #21789] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A DISCOURSE OF LIFE *** + + + + +Produced by Louise Hope, David Starner and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + [Transcriber's Note: + + This text is intended for users whose text readers cannot use the + "real" (unicode/utf-8) version of the file. Characters that could not + be fully displayed have been "unpacked" and shown in brackets: + + [em], [en], [om], [on], [un] + vowel with overline (for following nasal) + + The "oe" character is shown as two separate letters.] + + + + + A + Discourse of Life + _and Death_. + + Written in French by _Ph. + Mornay_. + + Antonius, + _A Tragoedie written also in French_ + by _Ro. Garnier_. + + Both done in English by the + _Countesse of Pembroke_. + +[Illustration: publisher's device] + +AT LONDON, + +Printed for _William Ponsonby_. + +1592. + + + + +[Illustration: Emblem] + + + + +[Decoration] + +A Discourse of Life and Death, + +Written in French by _Ph. Mornay_. + +_Sieur du Plessis Marly_. + + +It seemes to mee strange, and a thing much to be marueiled, that +the laborer to repose himselfe hasteneth as it were the course +of the Sunne: that the Mariner rowes with all force to attayne +the porte, and with a ioyfull crye salutes the descryed land: +that the traueiler is neuer quiet nor content till he be at the +ende of his voyage: and that wee in the meane while tied in this +world to a perpetuall taske, tossed with continuall tempest, +tyred with a rough and combersome way, cannot yet see the ende +of our labour but with griefe, nor behold our porte but with +teares, nor approch our home and quiet abode but with horrour +and trembling. This life is but a _Penelopes_ web, wherein we +are alwayes doing and vndoing: a sea open to all windes, which +sometime within, sometime without neuer cease to torment vs: +a weary iorney through extreame heates, and coldes, ouer high +mountaynes, steepe rockes, and theeuish deserts. And so we terme +it in weauing at this web, in rowing at this oare, in passing +this miserable way. Yet loe when death comes to ende our worke, +when she stretcheth out her armes to pull vs into the porte, +when after so many dangerous passages, and lothsome lodgings she +would conduct vs to our true home and resting place: in steede +of reioycing at the ende of our labour, of taking comfort at the +sight of our land, of singing at the approch of our happie +mansion, we would faine, (who would beleeue it?) retake our +worke in hand, we would againe hoise saile to the winde, and +willinglie vndertake our iourney anew. No more then remember we +our paines, our shipwracks and dangers are forgotten: we feare +no more the trauailes nor the theeues. Contrarywise, we +apprehende death as an extreame payne, we doubt it as a rocke, +we flye it as a theefe. We doe as litle children, who all the +day complayne, and when the medicine is brought them, are no +longer sicke: as they who all the weeke long runne vp and downe +the streetes with payne of the teeth, and seeing the Barber +comming to pull them out, feele no more payne: as those tender +and delicate bodyes, who in a pricking pleurisie complaine, crie +out, and cannot stay for a Surgion, and when they see him +whetting his Launcet to cut the throate of the disease, pull in +their armes, and hide them in the bed, as, if he were come to +kill them. We feare more the cure then the disease, the surgion +then the paine, the stroke then the impostume. We haue more +sence of the medicins bitternes soone gone, then of a bitter +languishing long continued: more feeling of death the end of our +miseries, then the endlesse misery of our life. And whence +proceedeth this folly and simplicitie? we neyther knowe life, +nor death. We feare that we ought to hope for, and wish for that +we ought to feare. We call life a continuall death: and death +the issue of a liuing death, and the entrance of a neuer dying +life. Now what good, I pray you, is there in life, that we +should so much pursue it? or what euill is there in death, that +we should so much eschue it? Nay what euill is there not in +life? and what good is there not in death? Consider all the +periods of this life. We enter it in teares; we passe it in +sweate, we ende it in sorow. Great and litle, ritch and poore, +not one in the whole world, that can pleade immunitie from this +condition. Man in this point worse then all other creatures, is +borne vnable to support himselfe: neither receyuing in his first +yeeres any pleasure, nor giuing to others but annoy and +displeasure, and before the age of discretion passing infinite +dangers. Only herein lesse vnhappy then in other ages, that he +hath no sence nor apprehension of his vnhappines. Now is there +any so weake minded, that if it were graunted him to liue +alwayes a childe, would make accompt of such a life? So then it +is euident that not simplie to liue is a good, but well and +happilie to liue. But proceede. Growes he? with him growe his +trauailes. Scarcely is he come out of his nurses hands, scarcely +knowes he what it is to play, but he falleth into the subiection +of some Schoolemaister: I speake but of those which are best and +most precisely brought vp. Studies he? it is euer with repining. +Playes he? neuer but with feare. This whole age while he is +vnder the charge of an other, is vnto him but as a prison. He +only thinks, and only aspires to that time when freed from the +mastership of another, he may become maister of himselfe: +pushing onward (as much as in him lies) his age with his +shoulder, that soone he may enioy his hoped libertie. In short, +he desires nothing more then the ende of this base age, and the +beginning of his youth. And what else I pray you is the +beginning of youth, but the death of infancy? the beginning of +manhood, but the death of youth? the beginning of to morow, but +the death of to day? In this sort then desires he his death, and +iudgeth his life miserable: and so cannot be reputed in any +happines or contentment. Behold him now, according to his wish, +at libertie: in that age, wherein _Hercules_ had the choise, to +take the way of vertue or of vice, reason or passion for his +guide, and of these two must take one. His passion entertains +him with a thousand delights, prepares for him a thousand +baites, presents him with a thousand worldly pleasures to +surprize him: and fewe there are that are not beguiled. But at +the reconings ende what pleasures are they? pleasures full of +vice which hold him still in a restles feauer: pleasures subiect +to repentance, like sweete meates of hard disgestion: pleasures +bought with paine and perill, spent and past in a moment, and +followed with a long and lothsome remorse of conscience. And +this is the very nature (if they be well examined) of all the +pleasures of this world. There is in none so much sweetenes, but +there is more bitternes: none so pleasant to the mouth, but +leaues an vnsauery after taste and lothsome disdaine: none +(which is worse) so moderated but hath his corosiue, and caries +his punishment in it selfe. I will not heere speake of the +displeasures confessed by all, as quarells, debates, woundes, +murthers, banishments, sicknes, perils, whereinto sometimes the +incontinencie, sometimes the insolencie of this ill guided age +conductes him. But if those that seem pleasures, be nothing else +but displeasures: if the sweetnes thereof be as an infusion of +wormewood: it is plaine enough what the displeasure is they +feele, and how great the bitternes that they taste. Behold in +summe the life of a yong man, who rid of the gouernment of his +parents and maisters, abandons himselfe to all libertie or +rather bondage of his passion: which right like an vncleane +spirit possessing him, casts him now into the water, now into +the fire: sometimes caries him cleane ouer a rocke, and sometime +flings him headlong to the bottome. Now if he take and followe +reason for his guide, beholde on the other part wonderfull +difficulties: he must resolue to fight in euery part of the +field: at euery step to be in conflict, and at handstrokes, as +hauing his enemy in front, in flanke, and on the reareward, +neuer leauing to assaile him. And what enemy? all that can +delight him, all that he sees neere, or farre off: briefly the +greatest enemy of the world, the world it selfe. But which is +worse, a thousand treacherous and dangerous intelligences among +his owne forces, and his passion within himselfe desperate: +which in that age growne to the highest, awaits but time, houre, +and occasion to surprize him, and cast him into all viciousnes. +God only and none other, can make him choose this way: God only +can hold him in it to the ende: God only can make him victorious +in all his combats. And well we see how fewe they are that enter +into it, and of those fewe, how many that retire againe. Follow +the one way, or follow the other, he must either subiect +himselfe to a tyrannicall passion, or vndertake a weery and +continuall combate, willingly cast himselfe to destruction, or +fetter himselfe as it were in stockes, easily sincke with the +course of the water, or painefully swimme against the streame. +Loe here the young man, who in his youth hath drunke his full +draught of the worlds vaine and deceiuable pleasures, ouertaken +by them with such a dull heauines, and astonishment, as +drunkards the morow after a feast: either so out of taste, that +he will no more, or so glutted, that he can no more: not able +without griefe to speake, or thinke of them. Loe him that +stoutly hath made resistance: he feeles himselfe so weery, and +with this continuall conflict so brused and broken, that either +he is vpon the point to yeeld himselfe, or content to dye, and +so acquit himselfe. And this is all the good, all the +contentment of this florishing age, by children so earnestlie +desired, and by old folkes so hartely lamented. Now commeth that +which is called perfit age, in the which men haue no other +thoughts, but to purchase themselues wisedome and rest. Perfit +in deede, but herein only perfit, that all imperfections of +humane nature, hidden before vnder the simplicitie of childhood, +or the lightnes of youth, appeere at this age in their +perfection. We speake of none in this place but such as are +esteemed the wisest, and most happie in the conceit of the +world. We played as you haue seene in feare: our short pleasures +were attended on with long repentance. Behold, now present +themselues to vs auarice, and ambition, promising if wee will +adore them, perfect contentm[en]t of the goods and honors of this +world. And surely there are none, but the true children of the +Lord, who by the faire illusions of the one or the other cast +not themselues headlong from the top of the pinnacle. But in the +ende, what is all this contentment? The couetous man makes a +thousand voiages by sea and by lande: runnes a thousand +fortunes: escapes a thousand shipwrackes in perpetuall feare and +trauell: and many times he either looseth his time, or gaineth +nothing but sicknesses, goutes, and oppilations for the time to +come. In the purchase of this goodly repose, he bestoweth his +true rest: and to gaine wealth looseth his life. Suppose he hath +gained in good quantitie: that he hath spoiled the whole East of +pearles, and drawen dry all the mines of the West: will he +therefore be setled in quiet? can he say that he is content? All +charges and iourneys past, by his passed paines he heapeth vp +but future disquietnes both of minde and body: from one trauell +falling into another, neuer ending, but changing his miseries. +He desired to haue them, and now feares to loose them: he got +them with burning ardour, and possesseth in trembling colde: he +aduentured among theeues to seeke them, and hauing found them, +theeues and robbers on all sides, runne mainely on him: he +laboured to dig them out of the earth, and now is enforced to +redig, and rehide them. Finally comming from all his voiages he +comes into a prison: and for an ende of his bodely trauels, is +taken with endlesse trauails of the minde. And what at length +hath this poore soule attained after so many miseries? This +Deuill of couetise by his illusions, and enchantments, beares +him in hand that he hath some rare and singuler thing: and so it +fareth with him, as with those seely creatures, whome the Deuill +seduceth vnder couler of releeuing their pouertie, who finde +their hands full of leaues, supposing to finde them full of +crownes. He possesseth or rather is possessed by a thing, +wherein is neither force nor vertue: more vnprofitable, and more +base, then the least hearbe of the earth. Yet hath he heaped +togither this vile excrement, and so brutish is growne, as +therewith to crowne his head, which naturally he should tread +vnder his feete. But howsoeuer it be, is he therewith content? +Nay contrarywise lesse now, then euer. We commend most those +drinks that breede an alteration, and soonest extinguish thyrst: +and those meates, which in least quantitie do longest resist +hunger. Now hereof the more a man drinkes, the more he is a +thirst, the more he eates, the more an hungred: It is a dropsie, +(and as they tearme it) the dogs hunger: sooner may he burst +then be satisfied. And which is worse, so strange in some is +this thyrst, that it maketh them dig the pits, and painefully +drawe the water, and after will not suffer them to drinke. In +the middest of a riuer they are dry with thirst: and on a heape +of corne cry out of famine: they haue goodes and dare not vse +them: they haue ioyes it seemes, and do not enioy them: they +neither haue for themselues, nor for another: but of all they +haue, they haue nothing: and yet haue want of all they haue not. +Let vs then returne to that, that the attaining of all these +deceiuable goods is nothing else but weerines of body, and the +possession for the most part, but weerines of the minde: which +certenly is so much the greater, as is more sensible, more +subtile, and more tender the soule then the body. But the heape +of all misery is when they come to loose them: when either +shipwracke, or sacking, or inuasion, or fire, or such like +calamities, to which these fraile things are subiect, doth take +and cary them from them. Then fall they to cry, to weepe, and to +torment themselues, as little children that haue lost their +play-game, which notwithstanding is nothing worth. One cannot +perswade them, that mortall men haue any other good in this +world, but that which is mortall. They are in their owne +conceits not only spoyled, but altogither flayed. And for asmuch +as in these vaine things they haue fixed all their hope, hauing +lost them, they fall into despaire, out of the which commonly +they cannot be withdrawen. And which is more, all that they haue +not gained according to the accompts they made, they esteeme +lost: all that which turnes them not to great and extraordinary +profit, they accompt as damage: whereby we see some fall into +such despaire, as they cast away themselues. In short, the +recompence that Couetise yeelds those that haue serued it all +their life, is oftentimes like that of the Deuill: whereof the +ende is, that after a small time hauing gratified his disciples, +either he giues them ouer to a hangman, or himselfe breakes +their neckes. I will not heere discourse of the wickednes and +mischiefes wherevnto the couetous men subiect themselues to +attaine to these goodes, whereby their conscience is filled with +a perpetuall remorse, which neuer leaues them in quiet: +sufficeth that in this ouer vehement exercise, which busieth and +abuseth the greatest part of the world, the body is slaine, the +minde is weakened, the soule is lost without any pleasure or +contentment. + +Come we to ambition, which by a greedines of honor fondly +holdeth occupied the greatest persons. Thinke we there to finde +more? nay rather lesse. As the one deceiueth vs, geuing vs for +all our trauaile, but a vile excrement of the earth: so the +other repayes vs, but with smoke and winde: the rewards of this +being as vaine, as those of that were grosse. Both in the one +and the other, we fall into a bottomles pit; but into this the +fall by so much the more dangerous, as at the first shewe, the +water is more pleasant and cleare. Of those that geue themselues +to courte ambition, some are great about Princes, others +commanders of Armies: both sorts according to their degree, you +see saluted, reuerenced, and adored of those that are vnder +them. You see them appareled in purple, in scarlet, and in cloth +of gould: it seemes at first sight there is no contentment in +the world but theirs. But men knowe not how heauy an ounce of +that vaine honor weighes, what those reuerences cost them, and +how dearely they pay for an ell of those rich stuffes: who knewe +them well, would neuer buy them at the price. The one hath +attained to this degree, after a long and painefull seruice +hazarding his life vpon euery occasion, with losse ofttimes of a +legge or an arme, and that at the pleasure of a Prince, that +more regards a hundred perches of ground on his neighbours +frontiers, then the liues of a hundred thousand such as he: +vnfortunate to serue who loues him not: and foolish to thinke +himselfe in honor with him, that makes so litle reckening to +loose him for a thing of no worth. Others growe vp by flattering +a Prince, and long submitting their toongs and hands to say and +doe without difference whatsoeuer they will haue them: wherevnto +a good minde can neuer commaund it selfe. They shall haue +indured a thousand iniuries, receiued a thousand disgraces, and +as neere as they seeme about the Prince, they are neuertheles +alwayes as the Lions keeper, who by long patience, a thousand +feedings and a thousand clawings hath made a fierce Lion +familiar, yet geues him neuer meate, but with pulling backe his +hand, alwayes in feare least he should catch him: and if once in +a yere he bites him, he sets it so close, that he is paid for a +long time after. Such is the ende of all princes fauorites. When +a Prince after long breathings hath raised a man to great +height, he makes it his pastime, at what time he seemes to be at +the top of his trauaile, to cast him downe at an instant: when +he hath filled him with all wealth, he wrings him after as a +sponge: louing none but himself, and thinking euery one made, +but to serue, and please him. These blinde courtiers make +themselues beleeue, that they haue freends, and many that honor +them: neuer considering that as they make semblance to loue, and +honor euery body, so others do by them. Their superiors disdaine +them, and neuer but with scorne do so much as salute them. Their +inferiors salute them because they haue neede of them (I meane +of their fortune, of their foode, of their apparell, not of +their person) and for their equalls betweene whome commonly +friendship consistes, they enuy each other, accuse each other, +crosse each other; continually greeued either at their owne +harme, or at others good. Nowe what greater hell is there, what +greater torment, then enuie? which in truth is nought else but a +feauer _Hectique_ of the mind: so they are vtterly frustrate of +all frendship, euer iudged by the wisest the chiefe and +soueraigne good among men. Will you see it more clearely? Let +but fortune turne her backe, euery man turnes from them: let her +frowne; euery man lookes aside on them: let them once be +disroabed of their triumphall garment, no body will any more +knowe them. Againe, let there be apparelled in it the most +vnworthie, and infamous whatsoeuer: euen he without difficultie +by vertue of his robe, shall inherit all the honours the other +had done him. In the meane time they are puffed vp, and growe +proude, as the Asse which caried the image of _Isis_ was for the +honors done to the Goddesse, and regard not that it is the +fortune they carry which is honored, not themselues, on whome as +on Asses, many times she will be caried. But you will say: At +least so long as that fortune endured, they were at ease, and +had their contentment, and who hath three or foure or more +yeeres of happy time, hath not bin all his life vnhappie. True, +if this be to be at ease continually to feare to be cast downe +from that degree, wherevnto they are raised: and dayly to desire +with great trauaile to clime yet higher. Those (my friend) whome +thou takest so well at their ease, because thou seest them but +without, are within farre otherwise. They are faire built +prisons, full within of deepe ditches, and dungeons: full of +darkenes, serpents and torments. Thou supposest them lodged at +large, and they thinke their lodgings straite. Thou thinkest +them very high, and they thinke themselues very lowe. Now as +sicke is he, and many times more sicke, who thinkes himselfe so, +then who in deed is. Suppose them to be Kings: if they thinke +themselues slaues, they are no better: for what are we but by +opinion? you see them well followed and attended: and euen those +whome they haue chosen for their guard, they distrust. Alone or +in company euer they are in feare. Alone they looke behinde +them: in company they haue an eye on euery side of them. They +drinke in gould and siluer; but in those, not in earth or glasse +is poison prepared and dronke. They haue their beds soft and +well made: when they lay them to sleepe you shall not heare a +mouse stur in the chamber: not so much as a flie shall come +neere their faces. Yet neuertheles, where the countreyman +sleepes at the fall of a great riuer, at the noise of a market, +hauing no other bed but the earth, nor couering but the heauens, +these in the middest of all this silence and delicacie, do +nothing but turne from side to side, it seemes still that they +heare some body, there rest it selfe is without rest. Lastly, +will you knowe what the diuersitie is betwene the most hardly +intreated prisoners and them? both are inchained, both loaden +with fetters, but that the one hath them of iron, the other of +gould, and that the one is tied but by the body, the other by +the mind. The prisoner drawes his fetters after him, the +courtier weareth his vpon him. The prisoners minde sometimes +comforts the paine of his body, and sings in the midst of his +miseries: the courtier tormented in minde weerieth incessantly +his body, and can neuer giue it rest. And as for the contentment +you imagine they haue, you are therein yet more deceiued. You +iudge and esteeme them great, because they are raised high: but +as fondly, as who should iudge a dwarfe great, for being set on +a tower, or on the top of a mountaine. You measure (so good a +Geometrician you are) the image with his base, which were +conuenient, to knowe his true height, to be measured by itselfe: +whereas you regard not the height of the image, but the height +of the place it stands vpon. You deeme them great (if in this +earth there can be greatnes, which in respect of the whole +heauens is but a point.) But could you enter into their mindes, +you would iudge, that neither they are great, true greatnes +consisting in contempt of those vaine greatnesses, wherevnto +they are slaues: nor seeme vnto themselues so, seeing dayly they +are aspiring higher, and neuer where they would be. Some one +sets downe a bound in his minde. Could I attaine to such a +degree, loe, I were content: I would then rest my selfe. Hath he +attained it? he geues himselfe not so much as a breathing: he +would yet ascend higher. That which is beneath he counts a toy: +it is in his opinion but one step. He reputes himselfe lowe, +because there is some one higher, in stead of reputing himselfe +high, because there are a million lower. And so high he climes +at last, that either his breath failes him by the way, or he +slides from the top to the bottome. Or if he get vp by all his +trauaile, it is but as to finde himselfe on the top of the +Alpes: not aboue the cloudes, windes and stormes: but rather at +the deuotion of lightnings, and tempests, and whatsoeuer else +horrible, and dangerous is engendred, and conceiued in the aire: +which most commonly taketh pleasure to thunderbolt and dash into +pouder that proude height of theirs. It may be herein you will +agree with me, by reason of the examples wherewith both +histories, and mens memories are full. But say you, such at +least whome nature hath sent into the world with crownes on +their heads, and scepters in their hands: such as from their +birth she hath set in that height, as they neede take no paine +to ascend: seeme without controuersie exempt from all these +iniuries, and by consequence may call themselues happie. It may +be in deed they feele lesse such incommodities, hauing bene +borne, bred and brought vp among them: as one borne neere the +downfalls of _Nilus_ becomes deafe to the sound: in prison, +laments not the want of libertie: among the _Cimmerians_ in +perpetuall night, wisheth not for day: on the top of the Alpes, +thinks not straunge of the mistes, the tempests, the snowes, and +the stormes. Yet free doubtles they are not wh[en] the lightening +often blasteth a flowre of their crownes, or breakes their +scepter in their handes: when a drift of snowe ouerwhelmes them; +when a miste of heauines, and griefe continually blindeth their +wit, and vnderstanding. Crowned they are in deede, but with a +crowne of thornes. They beare a scepter: but it is of a reede, +more then any thing in the world pliable, and obedient to all +windes: it being so far off that such a crowne can cure the +maigrims of the minde, and such a scepter keepe off and fray +away the griefs and cares which houer about them: that it is +contrariwise the crowne that brings them, and the scepter which +from all partes attracts them. O crowne, said the Persian +Monarch, who knewe howe heauy thou sittest on the head, would +not vouchsafe to take thee vp, though he found thee in his way. +This Prince it seemed gaue fortune to the whole world, +distributed vnto men haps and mishaps at his pleasure: could in +show make euery man content: himselfe in the meane while freely +confessing, that in the whole world, which he held in his hand +there was nothing but griefe, and vnhappines. And what will all +the rest tell vs, if they list to vtter what they found? We will +not aske them who haue concluded a miserable life with a +dishonorable death: who haue beheld their kingdomes buried +before them, and haue in great misery long ouerliued their +greatnes. Not of _Dionyse_ of _Sicill_, more content with a +handfull of twigs to whip little children of _Corinth_ in a +schoole, then with the scepter, where with he had beaten all +_Sicill_: nor of _Sylla_, who hauing robbed the whole state of +_Rome_, which had before robbed the whole world, neuer found +meanes of rest in himselfe, but by robbing himselfe of his owne +estate, with incredible hazard both of his power and authoritie. +But demaund we the opinion of King _Salomon_, a man indued with +singuler gifts of God, rich and welthie of all things: who +sought for treasure from the Iles. He will teach vs by a booke +of purpose, that hauing tried all the felicities of the earth, +he found nothing but vanitie, trauaile, and vexation of spirit. +Aske we the Emperour _Augustus_, who peaceably possessed the +whole world. He will bewaile his life past, and among infinite +toiles wish for the rest of the meanest man of the earth: +accounting that day most happy, when he might vnloade himselfe +of this insupportable greatnes to liue quietly among the least. +Of _Tiberius_ his successor, he will confesse vnto vs, that he +holdes the Empire as a wolfe by the eares, and that (if without +danger of biting he might) he would gladly let it goe: +complayning on fortune for lifting him so high, and then taking +away the ladder, that he could not come downe agayne. Of +_Dioclesian_, a Prince of so great wisedome and vertue in the +opinion of the world: he will preferre his voluntary banishment +at _Salona_, before all the Romaine Empire. Finally, the +Emperour Charles the fifth, esteemed by our age the most happy +that hath liued these many ages: he will curse his conquestes, +his victories, his triumphes: and not be ashamed to confesse +that farre more good in comparison he hath felt in one day of +his Monkish solitarines, then in all his triumphant life. Now +shall we thinke those happie in this imaginate greatnes, who +themselues thinke themselues vnhappie? seeking their happines in +lessening themselues, and not finding in the world one place to +rest this greatnes, or one bed quietly to sleepe in? Happie is +he only who in minde liues contented: and he most of all +vnhappie, whome nothing he can haue can content. Then miserable +_Pyrrhus_ King of _Albanie_, who would winne all the world, to +winne (as he sayd) rest: and went so farre to seeke that which +was so neere him. But more miserable _Alexander_, that being +borne King of a great Realme, and Conqueror almost of the earth, +sought for more worlds to satisfye his foolish ambition, within +three dayes content, with sixe foote of grounde. To conclude, +are they borne on the highest Alpes? they seeke to scale heauen. +Haue they subdued all the Kings of the earth? they haue quarels +to pleade with God, and indeuour to treade vnder foote his +kingdome. They haue no end nor limit, till God laughing at their +vaine purposes, when they thinke themselues at the last step, +thunderstriketh all this presumption, breaking in shiuers their +scepters in their hands, and oftentimes intrapping them in their +owne crownes. At a word, whatsoeuer happines can be in that +ambition promiseth, is but suffering much ill, to get ill. Men +thinke by dayly climing higher to plucke themselues out of this +ill, and the height wherevnto they so painefully aspire, is the +height of misery it selfe. I speake not heere of the wretchednes +of them, who all their life haue held out their cap to receiue +the almes of court fortune, and can get nothing, often with +incredible heart griefe, seeing some by lesse paines taken haue +riches fall into their hands: of them, who iustling one an other +to haue it, loose it, and cast it into the hands of a third: Of +those, who holding it in their hands to hold it faster, haue +lost it through their fingers. Such by all men are esteemed +vnhappie, and are indeed so, because they iudge themselues so. +It sufficeth that all these liberalities which the Deuill +casteth vs as out at a windowe, are but baites: all these +pleasures but embushes: and that he doth but make his sport +of vs, who striue one with another for such things, as most +vnhappie is he, that hath best hap to finde them. Well now, you +will say, the Couetouse in all his goodes, hath no good: the +Ambitious at the best he can be, is but ill. But may there not +be some, who supplying the place of Iustice, or being neere +about a Prince, may without following such vnbrideled passions, +pleasantly enioy their goodes, ioyning honor with rest and +contentment of minde? Surely in former ages (there yet remayning +among men some sparkes of sinceritie) in some sort it might +be so: but being of that composition they nowe are, I see not +how it may be in any sorte. For deale you in affayres of estate +in these times, either you shall do well, or you shall do ill. +If ill, you haue God for your enemy, and your owne conscience +for a perpetually tormenting executioner. If well, you haue men +for your enemies, and of men the greatest: whose enuie and +malice will spie you out, and whose crueltie and tyrannie will +euermore threaten you. Please the people you please a beast: and +pleasing such, ought to be displeasing to your selfe. Please +your selfe, you displease God: please him, you incurr a thousand +dangers in the world, with purchase of a thousand displeasures. +Whereof it growes, that if you could heare the talke of the +wisest and least discontent of this kinde of men, whether they +speake aduisedly, or their words passe them by force of truth, +one would gladly change garment with his tenaunt: an other +preacheth how goodly an estate it is to haue nothing: a third +complaining that his braines are broken with the noise of Courte +or Pallace, hath no other thought, but as soone as he may to +retire himself thence. So that you shall not see any but is +displeased with his owne calling, and enuieth that of an other: +readie neuerthelesse to repent him, if a man should take him at +his word. None but is weerie of the bussinesses wherevnto his +age is subiect, and wisheth not to be elder, to free himselfe of +them: albeit otherwise hee keepeth of olde age as much as in him +lyeth. + +What must we then doe in so great a contrarietie and confusion +of mindes? Must wee to fynde true humanitie, flye the societie +of men, and hide vs in forrestes among wilde beastes? to auoyde +these vnrulie passions, eschue the assemblye of creatures +supposed reasonable? to plucke vs out of the euills of the +world, sequester our selues from the world? Coulde wee in so +dooing liue at rest, it were something. + +But alas! men cannot take heerein what parte they woulde: and +euen they which do, finde not there all the rest they sought +for. Some would gladly doo, but shame of the world recalls them. +Fooles to be ashamed of what in their heartes they condemne: and +more fooles to be aduised by the greatest enemye they can or +ought to haue. Others are borne in hande that they ought to +serue the publique, not marking that who counsell them serue +only themselues: and that the more parte would not much seeke +the publique, but that they founde their owne particular. Some +are told, that by their good example they may amende others: and +consider not that a hundred sound men, euen Phisitions +themselues, may sooner catch the plague in an infected towne, +then one be healed: that it is but to tempt God, to enter +therein: that against so contagious an aire there is no +preseruatiue, but in getting farre from it. Finally, that as +litle as the freshe waters falling into the sea, can take from +it his saltnes: so little can one _Lot_ or two, or three, +reforme a court of _Sodome_. And as concerning the wisest, who +no lesse carefull for their soules, then bodies, seeke to bring +them into a sound and wholesome ayre, farre from the infection +of wickednes: and who led by the hande of some Angell of God, +retire themselues in season, as _Lot_ into some little village +of _Segor_, out of the corruption of the world, into some +countrie place from the infected townes, there quietlie +employing the tyme in some knowledge and serious contemplation: +I willinglie yeeld they are in a place of lesse daunger, yet +because they carie the danger, in themselues, not absolutelie +exempt from danger. They flie the court, and a court folowes +them on all sides: they endeuoure to escape the world, and the +world pursues them to death. Hardly in this world can they finde +a place where the world findes them not: so gredelie it seekes +to murther them. And if by some speciall grace of God they seeme +for a while free from these daungers, they haue some pouertie +that troubles them, some domesticall debate that torments them, +or some familiar spirit that tempts them: brieflie the world +dayly in some sorte or other makes it selfe felt of them. But +the worst is, when we are out of these externall warres and +troubles, we finde greater ciuill warre within our selues: the +flesh against the spirite, passion against reason, earth against +heauen, the worlde within vs fighting for the world, euermore so +lodged in the botome of our owne hearts, that on no side we can +flie from it. I will say more: he makes profession to flie the +worlde, who seekes thereby the praise of the worlde: hee faineth +to runne away, who according to the prouerbe, By drawing backe +sets himselfe forward: he refuseth honors, that would thereby be +prayed to take them: and hides him from men to the ende they +shoulde come to seeke him. So the world often harbours in +disguised attire among them that flie the world. This is an +abuse. But follow wee the company of men, the worlde hath his +court among them: seeke we the Deserts, it hath there his dennes +and places of resorte, and in the Desert it selfe tempteth +Christ Iesus. Retire wee our selues into our selues, we find it +there as vncleane as any where. Wee can not make the worlde die +in vs, but by dieng our selues. We are in the world, and the +worlde in vs, and to seperate vs from the worlde, wee must +seperate vs from our selues. Nowe this seperation is called +Death. Wee are, wee thinke, come out of the contagious citie, +but wee are not aduised that we haue sucked the bad aire, that +wee carry the plague with vs, that we so participate with it, +that through rockes, through desarts, through mountaines, it +euer accompanieth vs. Hauing auoyded the contagion of others, +yet we haue it in our selues. We haue withdrawen vs out of men: +but not withdrawen man out of vs. The tempestuous sea +torments vs: we are grieued at the heart, and desirous to vomit: +and to be discharged thereof, we remoue out of one ship into +another, from a greater to a lesse: we promise our selues rest +in vaine: they being always the same winds that blow, the same +waues that swel, the same humors that are stirred. To al no +other port, no other mean of tranquilitie but only death. We +were sicke in a chamber neere the street, or neere the market: +we caused our selues to be carried into some backer closet, +where the noise was not so great. But though there the noise was +lesse: yet was the feauer there neuerthelesse: and thereby lost +nothing of his heate. Change bedde, chamber, house, country, +againe and againe: we shall euery where finde the same vnrest, +because euery where we finde our selues: and seek not so much to +be others, as to be other wheres. We folow solitarines, to flie +carefulnes. We retire vs (so say we) from the wicked: but cary +with vs our auarice, our ambition, our riotousnes, all our +corrupt affecti[on]s: which breed in vs 1000. remorses, & 1000. +times each day bring to our remembrance the garlike & onions of +_Egipt_. Daily they passe the Ferry with vs: so that both on +this side, and beyond the water, we are in continual combat. Now +could we cassere this c[om]pany, which eats and gnaws our mind, +doubtles we should be at rest, not in solitarines onely, but +euen in the thicket of men. For the life of m[an] vpon earth is but +a continual warfare. Are we deliuered from externall practizes? +Wee are to take heed of internall espials. Are the Greekes gone +away? We haue a _Sinon_ within, that wil betray them the place. +Wee must euer be waking, hauing an eie to the watch, and weapons +in our hands, if wee will not euery houre be surprised, & giuen +vp to the wil of our enimies. And how at last can we escape? Not +by the woodes, by the riuers, nor by the mountaines: not by +throwing our selues into a presse, nor by thrusting our selues +into a hole. One only meane there is, which is death: which in +ende seperating our spirite from our flesh, the pure and clean +part of our soule from the vncleane, which within vs euermore +bandeth it selfe for the worlde, appeaseth by this seperation +that, which conioyned in one and the same person coulde not, +without vtter choaking of the spirit, but be in perpetuall +contention. + +And as touching the contentment that may be in the exercises of +the wisest men in their solitarinesse, as reading diuine or +prophane Bookes, with all other knowledges and learnings: I hold +well that it is indeed a far other thing, then are those madde +huntings, which make sauage a multitude of men possessed with +these or the like diseases of the minde. Yet must they all abide +the iudgement pronounced by the wisest among the wise, +_Salomon_, that all this neuerthelesse applied to mans naturall +disposition, is to him but vanitie and vexation of minde. Some +are euer learning to correct their speach, and neuer thinke of +correcting their life. Others dispute in their Logique of +reason, and the Arte of reason: and loose thereby many times +their naturall reason. One learnes by Arithmetike to diuide to +the smallest fractions, and hath not skill to part one shilling +with his brother. Another by Geometry can measure fields, and +townes, and countries: but can not measure himselfe. The +Musitian can accord his voyces, and soundes, and times togither: +hauing nothing in his heart but discordes, nor one passion in +his soule in good tune. The Astrologer lookes vp on high, and +falles in the next ditch: fore-knowes the future, and forgoes +the present: hath often his eie on the heauens, his heart long +before buried in the earth. The Philosopher discourseth of the +nature of all other things: and knowes not himselfe. The +Historian can tell of the warres of _Thebes_ and of _Troy_: but +what is doone in his owne house can tell nothing. The Lawyer +will make lawes for all the world, and not one for himselfe. The +Physition will cure others, and be blinde in his owne disease: +finde the least alteration in his pulse, and not marke the +burning feauers of his minde. Lastlie, the Diuine will spend the +greatest parte of his time in disputing of faith and cares not +to heare of charity: wil talke of God, and not regard to succor +men. These knowledges bring on the mind an endlesse labour, but +no contentment: for the more one knowes, the more he would know. + +They pacify not the debates a man feeles in himselfe, they cure +not the diseases of his minde. They make him learned, but they +make not him good: cunning, but not wise. I say more. The more a +man knowes, the more knowes he that he knowes not: the fuller +the minde is, the emptier it findes it selfe: forasmuch as +whatsoeuer a man can knowe of any science in this worlde is but +the least part of what he is ignorant: all his knowledge +consisting in knowing his ignorance, al his perfection in noting +his imperfections, which who best knowes and notes, is in truth +among men the most wise, and perfect. In short we must conclude +with _Salomon_, that the beginning and end of wisedome is the +feare of God: that this wisedome neuerthelesse is taken of the +world for meere folly, and persecuted by the world as a deadly +enemy: and that as who feareth God, ought to feare no euill, for +that all his euils are conuerted to his good: so neither ought +he to hope for good in the worlde, hauing there the deuil his +professed enemy, whom the Scripture termeth Prince of the world. + +But with what exercise soeuer we passe the time, behold old age +vnwares to vs coms vpon vs: which whether we thrust our selues +into the prease of men, or hide vs somewhere out of the way, +neuer failes to find vs out. Euery man makes accompt in that age +to rest himselfe of all his trauailes without further care, but +to keepe himselfe at ease and in health. And see contrariwise in +this age, there is nothing but an after taste of all the fore +going euils: and most commonly a plentifull haruest of all such +vices as in the whole course of their life, hath held and +possessed them. There you haue the vnabilitie and weakenesse of +infancie, and (which is worse) many times accompanied with +authoritie: there you are payed for the excesse and riotousnes +of youth, with gowts, palsies, and such like diseases, which +take from you limme after limme with extreame paine and torment. +There you are recompenced for the trauailes of mind, the +watchings and cares of manhoode, with losse of sight, losse of +hearing, and all the sences one after another, except onely the +sence of paine. Not one parte in vs but death takes in gage to +be assured of vs, as of bad pay-maisters, which infinitely feare +their dayes of payment. Nothing in vs which will not by and by +bee dead: and neuerthelesse our vices yet liue in vs, and not +onely liue, but in despite of nature daily growe yoong againe. +The couetous man hath one foote in his graue, and is yet burieng +his money: meaning belike to finde it againe another day. The +ambitious in his will ordaineth vnprofitable pompes for his +funeralles, making his vice to liue and triumph after his death. +The riotous no longer able to daunce on his feete, daunceth with +his shoulders, all vices hauing lefte him, and hee not yet able +to leaue them. The childe wisheth for youth: and this man +laments it. The yong man liueth in hope of the future, and this +feeles the euill present, laments the false pleasures past, and +sees for the time to come nothing to hope for. More foolish then +the childe, in bewailing the time he cannot recall, and not +remembring the euill hee had therein: and more wretched then the +yongman, in that after a wretched life not able, but wretchedly +to die, he sees on all sides but matter of dispaire. As for him, +who from his youth hath vndertaken to combate against the flesh, +and against the world: who hath taken so great paines to +mortifie himselfe and leaue the worlde before his time: who +besides those ordinarie euilles findes himselfe vexed with this +great and incurable disease of olde age, and feeles +notwithstanding his flesh howe weake soeuer, stronger oftentimes +then his spirite: what good I pray can hee haue but onlie +herein: that hee sees his death at hand, that hee sees his +combate finished, that he sees himselfe readie to departe by +death out of this loathsome prison, wherein all his life time +hee hath beene racked and tormented? I will not heere speake of +the infinite euilles wherewith men in all ages are annoyed, as +losse of friendes and parents, banishments, exiles, disgraces, +and such others, common and ordinarie in the world: one +complayning of loosing his children, an other of hauing them: +one making sorrow for his wifes death, an other for her life, +one finding faulte, that hee is too high in Courte, an other, +that hee is not high enough. The worlde is so full of euilles, +that to write them all, woulde require an other worlde as great +as it selfe. Sufficeth, that if the most happie in mens opinions +doe counterpoize his happs with his mishaps, he shall iudge +himselfe vnhappy: and hee iudge him happy, who had he beene set +three dayes in his place, would giue it ouer to him that came +next: yea, sooner then hee, who shall consider in all the goodes +that euer hee hath had the euilles hee hath endured to get them, +and hauing them to retaine and keepe them (I speake of the +pleasures that may be kept, and not of those that wither in a +moment) wil iudge of himselfe, and by himselfe, that the keeping +it selfe of the greatest felicitie in this worlde, is full of +vnhappinesse and infelicitie. Conclude then, that Childhoode is +but a foolish simplicitie, Youth, a vaine heate, Manhoode, +a painefull carefulnesse, and Olde-age, a noysome languishing: +that our playes are but teares, our pleasures, feuers of the +minde, our goodes, rackes, and torments, our honors, heauy +vanities, our rest, vnrest: that passing from age to age is but +passing from euill to euill, and from the lesse vnto the +greater: and that alwayes it is but one waue driuing on an +other, vntill we be arriued at the Hauen of death. Conclude I +say, that life is but a wishing for the future, and a bewailing +of the past: a loathing of what wee haue tasted, and a longing +for that wee haue not tasted, a vaine memorie of the state past, +and a doubtfull expectation of the state to come: finally, that +in all our life there is nothing certaine, nothing assured, but +the certaintie and vncertaintie of death. Behold, now comes +Death vnto vs: Behold her, whose approch we so much feare. We +are now to c[on]sider whether she be such as wee are made beleeue: +and whether we ought so greatly to flie her, as commonly wee do. +Wee are afraide of her: but like little children of a vizarde, +or of the Images of _Hecate_. Wee haue her in horror: but +because wee conceiue her not such as she is, but ougly, +terrible, and hideous: such as it pleaseth the Painters to +represent vnto vs on a wall. Wee flie before her: but it is +because foretaken with such vaine imaginations, wee giue not our +selues leisure to marke her. But staie wee, stande wee stedfast, +looke wee her in the face: wee shall finde her quite other then +shee is painted vs: and altogether of other countenaunce then +our miserable life. Death makes an ende of this life. This life +is a perpetuall misery and tempest: Death then is the issue of +our miseries and entraunce of the porte where wee shall ride in +safetie from all windes. And shoulde wee feare that which +withdraweth vs from misery, or which drawes vs into our Hauen? +Yea but you will say, it is a payne to die. Admit it bee: so is +there in curing of a wounde. Such is the worlde, that one euill +can not bee cured but by an other, to heale a contusion, must +bee made an incision. You will say, there is difficultie in the +passage: So is there no Hauen, no Porte, whereinto the entraunce +is not straite and combersome. No good thing is to be bought in +this worlde with other then the coyne of labour and paine. The +entraunce indeede is hard, if our selues make it harde, comming +thither with a tormented spirite, a troubled minde, a wauering +and irresolute thought. But bring wee quietnesse of mind, +constancie, and full resolution, wee shall not finde anie +daunger or difficultie at all. Yet what is the paine that death +brings vs? Nay, what can shee doe with those paines wee feele? +Wee accuse her of all the euilles wee abide in ending our life, +and consider not howe manie more greeuous woundes or sickenesses +wee haue endured without death: or howe many more vehement +paines wee haue suffered in this life, in the which wee called +euen her to our succour. All the paines our life yeeldes vs at +the last houre wee impute to Death: not marking that life +begunne and continued in all sortes of paine, must also +necessarily ende in paine. Not marking (I saie) that it is the +remainder of our life, not death, that tormenteth vs: the ende +of our nauigation that paines vs, not the Hauen wee are to +enter: which is nothing else but a safegarde against all windes. +Wee complayne of Death, where wee shoulde complayne of life: as +if one hauyng beene long sicke, and beginning to bee well, +shoulde accuse his health of his last paynes, and not the +reliques of his disease. Tell mee, what is it else to bee dead, +but to bee no more liuing in the worlde? Absolutelie and simplie +not to bee in the worlde, is it anie payne? Did wee then feele +any paine, when as yet wee were not? Haue wee euer more +resemblaunce of Death, then when wee sleepe? Or euer more rest +then at that time? Now if this be no paine, why accuse we Death +of the paines our life giues vs at our departure? Vnlesse also +we wil fondly accuse the time when as yet we were not, of the +paines we felt at our birth? If the comming in be with teares, +is it wonder that such be the going out? If the beginning of our +being, be the beginning of our paine, is it maruell that such be +the ending? But if our not being in times past hath bene without +payne, and all this being contrarywise full of paine: whome +should we by reason accuse of the last paines, the not being to +come, or the remnant of this present being? We thinke we dye +not, but when we yeeld vp our last gaspe. But if we marke well, +we dye euery day, euery houre, euery moment. We apprehend death +as a thing vnvsuall to vs: and yet haue nothing so common in vs. +Our liuing is but continuall dyeng: looke how much we liue, we +dye: how much we encrease, our life decreases. We enter not a +step into life, but we enter a step into death. Who hath liued a +third part of his yeares, hath a third part of himselfe dead. +Who halfe his yeares, is already half dead. Of our life, all the +time past is dead, the present liues and dies at once, and the +future likewise shall dye. The past is no more, the future is +not yet, the present is, and no more is. Briefely, this whole +life is but a death: it is as a candle lighted in our bodies: in +one the winde makes it melt away, in an other blowes it cleane +out, many times ere it be halfe burned: in others it endureth to +the ende. Howsoeuer it be, looke how much it shineth, so much it +burneth: her shining is her burning: her light a vanishing +smoke: her last fire, hir last wike, and her last drop of +moisture. So is it in the life of man, life and death in man is +all one. If we call the last breath death, so must we all the +rest: all proceeding from one place, and all in one manner. One +only difference there is betweene this life, and that we call +death: that during the one, we haue alwayes wherof to dye: and +after the other, there remaineth only wherof to liue. In summe, +euen he that thinketh death simply to be the ende of man, ought +not to feare it: in asmuch as who desireth to liue longer, +desireth to die longer: and who feareth soone to die, feareth +(to speake properlie) lest he may not longer die. + +But vnto vs brought vp in a more holy schoole, death is a farre +other thing: neither neede we as the Pagans of consolations +against death: but that death serue vs, as a consolation against +all sorts of affliction: so that we must not only strengthen our +selues, as they, not to feare it, but accustome ourselues to +hope for it. For vnto vs it is not a departing fr[om] pain & euil, +but an accesse vnto all good: not the end of life, but the end +of death, & the beginning of life. Better, saith _Salomon_, is +the day of death, then the day of birth, and why? because it is +not to vs a last day, but the dawning of an euerlasting day. No +more shall we haue in that glorious light, either sorow for the +past, or expectation of the future: for all shall be there +present vnto vs, and that present shall neuer more passe. No +more shal we powre out our selues in vaine & painfull pleasures: +for we shal be filled with true & substantiall pleasures. No +more shal we paine our selues in heaping togither these +exhalati[on]s of the earth: for the heauens shall be ours, and this +masse of earth, which euer drawes vs towards the earth, shalbe +buried in the earth. No more shal we ouerwearie our selues with +mounting from degree to degree, and from honor to honor: for we +shall highlie be raysed aboue all heights of the world; and from +on high laugh at the folly of all those we once admired, who +fight together for a point, and as litle childr[en] for lesse then +an apple. No more to be brief shal we haue combates in our +selues: for our flesh shall be dead, and our spirit in full +life: our passion buried, and our reason in perfect libertie. +Our soule deliuered out of this foule & filthie prison, where, +by long continuing it is growen into an habite of crookednes, +shall againe draw her owne breath, recognize her ancient +dwelling, and againe remember her former glory & dignity. This +flesh my frend which thou feelest, this body which thou touchest +is not man: Man is from heauen: heauen is his countrie and his +aire. That he is in his body, is but by way of exile & +confinement. Man in deed is soule and spirit: Man is rather of +celestiall and diuine qualitie, wherin is nothing grosse nor +materiall. This body such as now it is, is but the barke & shell +of the soule: which must necessarily be broken, if we will be +hatched: if we will indeed liue & see the light. We haue it +semes, some life, and some sence in vs: but are so croked and +contracted, that we cannot so much as stretch out our wings, +much lesse take our flight towards heauen, vntill we be +disburthened of this earthlie burthen. We looke, but through +false spectacles: we haue eyes but ouergrowen with pearles: we +thinke we see, but it is in a dreame, wherin we see nothing but +deceit. All that we haue, and all that we know is but abuse and +vanitie. Death only can restore vs both life and light: and we +thinke (so blockish we are) that she comes to robbe vs of them. +We say we are Christians: that we beleeue after this mortall, +a life immortall: that death is but a separation of the body and +soule: and that the soule returnes to his happie abode, there to +ioy in God, who only is all good: that at the last day it shall +againe take the body, which shal no more be subiect to +corrupti[on]. With these goodly discourses we fill all our bookes: +and in the meane while, wh[en] it comes to the point, the very name +of death as the horriblest thing in the world makes vs quake & +tremble. If we beleue as we speak, what is that we feare? to be +happy? to be at our ease? to be more content in a mom[en]t, then we +might be in the longest mortal life that might be? or must not +we of force confesse, that we beleue it but in part? that all we +haue is but words? that all our discourses, as of these hardie +trencher knights, are but vaunting and vanitie? Some you shall +see, that wil say: I know well that I passe out of this life +into a better: I make no doubt of it: only I feare the midway +step, that I am to step ouer. Weak harted creatures! they wil +kill th[em]selues to get their miserable liuing: suffer infinite +paines, and infinite wounds at another mans pleasure: passe +infinit deaths without dying, for things of nought, for things +that perish, and perchance make them perish with them. But when +they haue but one pace to passe to be at rest, not for a day, +but for euer: not an indifferent rest, but such as mans minde +cannot comprehende: they tremble, their harts faile them, they +are affrayde: and yet the ground of their harme is nothing but +feare. Let them neuer tell me, they apprehend the paine: it is +but an abuse: a purpose to conceale the litle faith they haue. +No, no, they would rather languish of the goute, the sciatica, +any disease whatsoeuer: then dye one sweete death with the least +paine possible: rather pininglie dye limme after limme, +outliuing as it were, all their sences, motions, and actions, +then speedily dye, immediatly to liue for euer. Let them tell me +no more that they would in this world learne to liue: for euery +one is therevnto sufficiently instructed in himselfe, and not +one but is cunning in the trade. Nay rather they should learne +in this world to dye: and once to dye well, dye dayly in +themselues: so prepared, as if the ende of euery dayes worke, +were the ende of our life. Now contrarywise there is nothing to +their eares more offensiue, then to heare of death. Senseless +people! we abandon our life to the ordinarie hazards of warre, +for seauen franks pay: are formost in an assault, for a litle +bootie: goe into places, whence there is no hope of returning, +with danger many times both of bodies and soules. But to free vs +from all hazards, to winne things inestimable, to enter an +eternall life, we faint in the passage of one pace, wherein is +no difficultie, but in opinion: yea we so faint, that were it +not of force we must passe, and that God in despite of vs will +doe vs a good turne, hardly should we finde in all the world +one, how vnhappy or wretched soeuer, that would euer passe. +Another will say, had I liued till 50. or 60. yeares, I should +haue bin contented: I should not haue cared to liue longer: but +to dye so yong is no reason, I should haue knowen the world +before I had left it. Simple soule! in this world there is +neither young nor olde. The longest age in comparison of all +that is past, or all that is to come, is nothing: and when thou +hast liued to the age thou now desirest, all the past will be +nothing: thou wilt still gape, for that is to come. The past +will yeeld thee but sorrowe, the future but expectation, the +present no contentment. As ready thou wilt then be to redemaund +longer respite, as before. Thou fliest thy creditor from moneth +to moneth, and time to time, as readie to pay the last daye, as +the first: thou seekest but to be acquitted. Thou hast tasted +all which the world esteemeth pleasures: not one of them is new +vnto thee. By drinking oftener, thou shalt be neuer awhit the +more satisfyed: for the body thou cariest, like the bored paile +of _Danaus_ daughters, will neuer be full. Thou mayst sooner +weare it out, then weary thy selfe with vsing, or rather +abusing it. Thou crauest long life to cast it away, to spend it +on worthles delights, to mispend it on vanities. Thou art +couetous in desiring, and prodigall in spending. Say not thou +findest fault with the Court, or the Pallace: but that thou +desirest longer to serue the commonwealth, to serue thy +countrie, to serue God. He that set thee on worke knowes vntill +what day, and what houre, thou shouldest be at it: he well +knowes how to direct his worke. Should he leaue thee there +longer, perchance thou wouldest marre all. But if he will pay +thee liberally for thy labour, as much for halfe a dayes worke, +as for a whole: as much for hauing wrought till noone, as for +hauing borne all the heate of the day: art thou not so much the +more to thanke and prayse him? but if thou examine thine owne +conscience, thou lamentest not the cause of the widdow, and the +orphan, which thou hast left depending in iudgement: not the +dutie of a sonne, of a father, or of a frend, which thou +pretendest thou wouldest performe: not the ambassage for the +common wealth, which thou wert euen ready to vndertake: not the +seruice thou desirest to doe vnto God, who knowes much better +howe to serue himselfe of thee, then thou of thy selfe. It is +thy houses and gardens thou lamentest, thy imperfect plottes and +purposes, thy life (as thou thinkest) imperfect: which by no +dayes, nor yeares, nor ages, might be perfected: and yet thy +selfe mightst perfect in a moment, couldest thou but thinke in +good earnest, that where it ende it skilles not, so that it end +well. + +Now to end well this life, is onely to ende it willingly: +following with full consent the will and direction of God, and +not suffering vs to be drawen by the necessetie of destenie. To +end it willingly, we must hope, and not feare death. To hope +for it, we must certainely looke after this life, for a better +life. To looke for that, wee must feare God: whome whoso well +feareth, feareth indeede nothing in this worlde, and hopes for +all things in the other. To one well resolued in these points +death can be but sweete and agreeable: knowing that through it +hee is to enter into a place of all ioyes. The griefe that may +be therein shall bee allaied with sweetnes: the sufferance of +ill, swallowed in the confidence of good: the sting of Death it +selfe shall bee dead, which is nothing else but Feare. Nay, +I wil say more, not onely all the euilles conceiued in death +shall be to him nothing: but he shall euen scorne all the +mishappes men redoubt in this life, and laugh at all these +terrors. For I pray what can he feare, whose death is his hope? +Thinke we to banish him his country? He knows he hath a country +other-where, whence wee cannot banish him: and that all these +countries are but Innes, out of which he must part at the wil of +his hoste. To put him in prison? a more straite prison he cannot +haue, then his owne body, more filthy, more darke, more full of +rackes and torments. To kill him and take him out of the worlde? +that is it he hopes for: that is it with all his heart he +aspires vnto. By fire, by sworde, by famine, by sickenesse: +within three yeeres, within three dayes, within three houres, +all is one to him: all is one at what gate, or at what time he +passe out of this miserable life. For his businesses are euer +ended, his affaires all dispatched, and by what way he shall go +out, by the same hee shall enter into a most happie and +euerlasting life. Men can threaten him but death, and death is +all he promiseth himselfe: the worst they can doe, is, to make +him die, and that is the best hee hopes for. The threatnings of +tyrants are to him promises, the swordes of his greatest enemies +drawne in his fauor: forasmuch as he knowes that threatning him +death, they threaten him life: and the most mortall woundes can +make him but immortall. Who feares God, feares not death: and +who feares it not, feares not the worst of this life. + +By this reckoning, you will tell me death is a thing to be +wished for: and to passe from so much euill, to so much good, +a man shoulde as it seemeth cast away his life. Surely, I feare +not, that for any good wee expect, we will hasten one step the +faster: though the spirite aspire, the body it drawes with it, +withdrawes it euer sufficiently towardes the earth. Yet is it +not that I conclude. We must seeke to mortifie our flesh in vs, +and to cast the world out of vs: but to cast our selues out of +the world is in no sort permitted vs. The Christian ought +willingly to depart out of this life but not cowardly to runne +away. The Christian is ordained by God to fight therein: and +cannot leaue his place without incurring reproch and infamie. +But if it please the grand Captaine to recall him, let him take +the retrait in good part, and with good will obey it. For hee is +not borne for himselfe, but for God: of whome he holdes his life +at farme, as his tenant at will, to yield him the profites. It +is in the landlord to take it from him, not in him to +surrender it, when a conceit takes him. Diest thou yong? praise +God as the mariner that hath had a good winde, soone to bring +him to the Porte. Diest thou olde? praise him likewise, for if +thou hast had lesse winde, it may be thou hast also had lesse +waues. But thinke not at thy pleasure to go faster or softer: +for the winde is not in thy power, and in steede of taking the +shortest way to the Hauen, thou maiest happily suffer +shipwracke. God calleth home from his worke, one in the morning, +an other at noone, and an other at night. One he exerciseth til +the first sweate, another he sunne-burneth, another he rosteth +and drieth throughly. But of all his he leaues not one without, +but brings them all to rest, and giues them all their hire, +euery one in his time. Who leaues his worke before God call him, +looses it: and who importunes him before the time, looses his +reward. We must rest vs in his will, who in the middest of our +troubles sets vs at rest. + +To ende, we ought neither to hate this life for the toiles +therein, for it is slouth and cowardise: nor loue it for the +delights, which is follie and vanitie: but serue vs of it, to +serue God in it, who after it shall place vs in true quietnesse, +and replenish vs with pleasures whiche shall neuer more perish. +Neyther ought we to flye death, for it is childish to feare it: +and in flieng from it, wee meete it. Much lesse to seeke it, for +that is temeritie: nor euery one that would die, can die. As +much despaire in the one, as cowardise in the other: in neither +any kinde of magnanimitie. It is enough that we constantly and +continually waite for her comming, that shee may neuer finde vs + vnprouided. For as there is nothing more certaine then + death, so is there nothing more vncertaine then + the houre of death, knowen onlie to God, + the onlie Author of life and death, + to whom wee all ought endeuour + both to liue and die. + + _Die to liue,_ + _Liue to die._ + + +The 13. of May 1590. + +At Wilton. + + * * * * * + * * * * + + [Transcriber's Note: + + The play was printed in Italic type, with Roman for emphasis. + For this e-text, only the _emphasis_ is shown. + + Acts 1 and 3 are unlabeled in the text. Act 1 can only be Antony's + soliloquy, with following Chorus, but Act 3 is ambiguous. Between + Act 2 and Act 4 are: + (scene) Cleopatra. Eras. Charmion. Diomede. + (soliloquy): Diomed. + Chorus + (scene) M. Antonius. Lucilius. + Chorus + Structurally the play seems to have six Acts, but Act 4 and Act 5 are + each labeled as such.] + + +[Decoration] + +The Argument. + + +After the ouerthrowe of _Brutus_ and _Cassius_, the libertie of +_Rome_ being now vtterly oppressed, and the Empire setled in the +hands of _Octauius Caesar_ and _Marcus Antonius_, (who for knitting a +straiter bonde of amitie betweene them, had taken to wife _Octauia_ +the sister of _Caesar_) _Antonius_ vndertooke a iourney against the +Parthians, with intent to regaine on them the honor wonne by them +from the Romains, at the discomfiture and slaughter of _Crassus_. +But comming in his iourney into Siria, the places renewed in his +remembrance the long intermitted loue of _Cleopatra_ Queene of +Aegipt: who before time had both in Cilicia and at Alexandria, +entertained him with all the exquisite delightes and sumptuous +pleasures, which a great Prince and voluptuous Louer could to the +vttermost desire. Whereupon omitting his enterprice, he made his +returne to Alexandria, againe falling to his former loues, without +any regard of his vertuous wife _Octauia_, by whom neuertheles he +had excellent Children. This occasion _Octauius_ tooke of taking +armes against him: and preparing a mighty fleet, encountred him at +Actium, who also had assembled to that place a great number of +Gallies of his own, besides 60. which _Cleopatra_ brought with her +from Aegipt. But at the very beginning of the battell _Cleopatra_ +with all her Gallies betooke her to flight, which _Antony_ seeing +could not but follow; by his departure leauing to _Octauius_ the +greatest victorye which in any Sea Battell hath beene heard off. +Which he not negligent to pursue, followes them the next spring, and +besiedgeth them within Alexandria, where _Antony_ finding all that +he trusted to faile him, beginneth to growe iealouse and to suspect +_Cleopatra_. She thereupon enclosed her selfe with two of her women +in a monument she had before caused to be built, thence sends him +woord she was dead: which he beleeuing for truth, gaue himselfe with +his Swoord a deadly wound: but died not vntill a messenger came from +_Cleopatra_ to haue him brought to her to the tombe. Which she not +daring to open least she should be made a prisoner to the +_Romaines_, and carried in _Caesars_ triumph, cast downe a corde from +an high window, by the which (her women helping her) she trussed vp +_Antonius_ halfe dead, and so got him into the monument. The Stage +supposed Alexandria: the Chorus, first Egiptians, and after Romane +Souldiors. The Historie to be read at large in _Plutarch_ in the +life of _Antonius_. + + +The Actors. + + _Antonius_. + _Cleopatra_. + _Eras_ and } _Cleopatras_ women. + _Charmion_. } + _Philostratus_ a Philosopher. + _Lucilius_. + _Diomede_ Secretary to _Cleopatra_. + _Octauius Caesar._ + _Agrippa_. + _Euphron_, teacher of _Cleopatras_ children. + _Children_ of _Cleopatra_. + _Dircetus_ the Messenger. + + + + +[Decoration] + + + _Antonius._ + + Since cruell Heau'ns against me obstinate, + Since all mishappes of the round engin doe + Conspire my harme: since men, since powers diuine, + Aire, earth, and Sea are all iniurious: + And that my Queene her self, in whome I liu'd, + The Idoll of my hart, doth me pursue; + It's meete I dye. For her haue I forgone + My Country, _Caesar_ vnto warre prouok'd + (For iust reuenge of Sisters wrong my wife, + Who mou'de my Queene (ay me!) to iealousie) + For loue of her, in her allurements caught + Abandon'd life, I honor haue despisde, + Disdain'd my freends, and of the statelye Rome + Despoilde the Empire of her best attire, + Contemn'd that power that made me so much fear'd, + A slaue become vnto her feeble face. + O cruell, traitres, woman most vnkinde, + Thou dost, forsworne, my loue and life betraie: + And giu'st me vp to ragefull enemie, + Which soone (o foole!) will plague thy periurye. + Yelded _Pelusium_ on this Countries shore, + Yelded thou hast my Shippes and men of warre, + That nought remaines (so destitute am I) + But these same armes which on my back I weare. + Thou should'st haue had them too, and me vnarm'de + Yeelded to _Caesar_ naked of defence. + Which while I beare let _Caesar_ neuer thinke + Triumph of me shall his proud chariot grace + Not think with me his glory to adorne, + On me aliue to vse his victorie. + Thou only _Cleopatra_ triumph hast, + Thou only hast my freedome seruile made, + Thou only hast me vanquisht: not by force + (For forste I cannot be) but by sweete baites + Of thy eyes graces, which did gaine so fast + vpon my libertie, that nought remain'd. + None els hencefoorth, but thou my dearest Queene, + Shall glorie in commaunding _Antonie_. + Haue _Caesar_ fortune and the Gods his freends, + To him haue Ioue and fatall sisters giuen + The Scepter of the earth: he neuer shall + Subiect my life to his obedience. + But when that Death, my glad refuge, shall haue + Bounded the course of my vnstedfast life, + And frosen corps vnder a marble colde + Within tombes bosome widdowe of my soule: + Then at his will let him it subiect make: + Then what he will let _Caesar_ doo with me: + Make me limme after limme be rent: make me + My buriall take in sides of _Thracian_ wolfe. + Poore _Antonie_! alas what was the day, + The daies of losse that gained thee thy loue! + Wretch _Antony_! since then _Maegaera_ pale + With Snakie haires enchain'd thy miserie. + The fire thee burnt was neuer _Cupids_ fire + (For Cupid beares not such a mortall brand) + It was some furies torch, _Orestes_ torche, + which sometimes burnt his mother-murdering soule + (When wandring madde, rage boiling in his bloud, + He fled his fault which folow'd as he fled) + kindled within his bones by shadow pale + Of mother slaine return'd from Stygian lake. + _Antony_, poore _Antony_! since that daie + Thy olde good hap did farre from thee retire. + Thy vertue dead: thy glory made aliue + So ofte by martiall deeds is gone in smoke: + Since then the _Baies_ so well thy forehead knewe + To Venus mirtles yeelded haue their place: + Trumpets to pipes: field tents to courtly bowers: + Launces and Pikes to daunces and to feastes. + Since then, o wretch! in stead of bloudy warres + Thou shouldst haue made vpon the Parthian Kings + For Romain honor filde by _Crassus_ foile, + Thou threw'st thy Curiace off, and fearfull healme, + With coward courage vnto _AEgipts_ Queen + In haste to runne, about her necke to hang + Languishing in her armes thy Idoll made: + In summe giuen vp to _Cleopatras_ eies. + Thou breakest at length from thence, as one encharm'd + Breakes from th'enchaunter that him strongly helde. + For thy first reason (spoyling of their force + the poisned cuppes of thy faire Sorceres) + Recur'd thy sprite: and then on euery side + Thou mad'st againe the earth with Souldiours swarme. + All Asia hidde: Euphrates bankes do tremble + To see at once so many Romanes there + Breath horror, rage, and with a threatning eye + In mighty squadrons crosse his swelling streames. + Nought seene but horse, and fier sparkling armes: + Nought heard but hideous noise of muttring troupes. + The _Parth_, the _Mede_, abandoning their goods + Hide them for feare in hilles of _Hircanie_, + Redoubting thee. Then willing to besiege + The great _Phraate_ head of _Media_, + Thou campedst at her walles with vaine assault, + Thy engins fit (mishap!) not thither brought. + So long thou stai'st, so long thou doost thee rest, + So long thy loue with such things nourished + Reframes, reformes it selfe and stealingly + Retakes his force and rebecomes more great. + For of thy Queene the lookes, the grace, the woords, + Sweetenes, alurements, amorous delights, + Entred againe thy soule, and day and night, + In watch, in sleepe, her Image follow'd thee: + Not dreaming but of her, repenting still + That thou for warre hadst such a Goddes left. + Thou car'st no more for _Parth_, nor _Parthian_ bow, + Sallies, assaults, encounters, shocks, alarmes, + For diches, rampiers, wards, entrenched grounds: + Thy only care is sight of _Nilus_ streames, + Sight of that face whose guilefull semblant doth + (Wandring in thee) infect thy tainted hart. + Her absence thee besottes: each hower, each hower + Of staie, to thee impatient seemes an age. + Enough of conquest, praise thou deem'st enough, + If soone enough the bristled fieldes thou see + Of fruitfull _AEgipt_, and the stranger floud + Thy Queenes faire eyes (another _Pharos_) lights. + Returned loe, dishonoured, despisde, + In wanton loue a woman thee misleades + Sunke in foule sinke: meane while respecting nought + Thy wife _Octauia_ and her tender babes, + Of whom the long contempt against thee whets + The sword of _Caesar_ now thy Lord become. + Lost thy great Empire, all those goodly townes + Reuerenc'd thy name as rebells now thee leaue: + Rise against thee, and to the ensignes flocke + Of conqu'ring _Caesar_, who enwalles thee round + Cag'd in thy holde, scarse maister of thy selfe, + Late maister of so many nations. + Yet, yet, which is of grief extreamest grief, + Which is yet of mischiefe highest mischiefe, + It's _Cleopatra_ alas! alas, it's she, + It's she augments the torment of thy paine, + Betraies thy loue, thy life alas! betraies, + _Caesar_ to please, whose grace she seekes to gaine: + With thought her Crowne to saue, and fortune make + Onely thy foe which common ought haue beene. + If her I alwaies lou'd, and the first flame + Of her heart-killing loue shall burne me last: + Iustly complaine I she disloyall is, + Nor constant is, euen as I constant am, + To comfort my mishap, despising me + No more, then when the heauens fauour'd me. + _But ah! by nature women wau'ring are,_ + _Each moment changing and rechanging mindes._ + _Vnwise, who blinde in them, thinkes loyaltie_ + _Euer to finde in beauties company._ + + + Chorus. + + The boyling tempest still + Makes not Sea waters fome: + Nor still the Northern blast + Disquiets quiet streames: + Nor who his chest to fill + Sayles to the morning beames, + On waues winde tosseth fast + Still kepes his Ship from home. + Nor _Ioue_ still downe doth cast + Inflam'd with bloudie ire + On man, on tree, on hill, + His darts of thundring fire: + Nor still the heat doth last + On face of parched plaine: + Nor wrinkled colde doth still + On frozen furrowes raigne. + But still as long as we + In this low world remaine, + Mishapps our dayly mates + Our liues do entertaine: + And woes which beare no dates + Still pearch vpon our heads, + None go, but streight will be + Some greater in their Steads. + Nature made vs not free + When first she made vs liue: + When we began to be, + To be began our woe: + Which growing euermore + As dying life dooth growe + Do more and more vs greeue, + And tire vs more and more. + No stay in fading states, + For more to height they retch, + Their fellow miseries + The more to height do stretch. + They clinge euen to the crowne, + And threatning furious wise + From tirannizing pates + Do often pull it downe. + In vaine on waues vntride + to shunne them go we should + To _Scythes_ and _Massagetes_ + Who neare the Pole reside: + In vaine to boiling sandes + Which _Phaebus_ battry beates, + For with vs still they would + Cut seas and compasse landes. + The darknes no more sure + To ioyne with heauy night: + The light which guildes the dayes + To follow _Titan_ pure: + No more the shadow light + The body to ensue: + Then wretchednes alwaies + Vs wretches to pursue. + O blest who neuer breath'd, + Or whome with pittie mou'de, + _Death_ from his cradle reau'de, + And swadled in his graue: + And blessed also he + (As curse may blessing haue) + Who low and liuing free + No princes charge hath prou'de. + By stealing sacred fire + _Prometheus_ then vnwise, + Prouoking Gods to ire, + The heape of ills did sturre, + And sicknes pale and colde + Our ende which onward spurre, + To plague our hands too bolde + To filch the wealth of Skies. + In heauens hate since then + Of ill with ill enchain'd + We race of mortall men + full fraught our breasts haue borne: + And thousand thousand woes + Our heau'nly soules now thorne, + Which free before from those + No! earthly passion pain'd. + Warre and warres bitter cheare + Now long time with vs staie, + And feare of hated foe + Still still encreaseth sore: + Our harmes worse dayly growe, + Lesse yesterdaye they were + Then now, and will be more + To morowe then to daye. + + + + + Act. 2. + + + _Philostratus._ + + What horrible furie, what cruell rage, + O _AEgipt_ so extremely thee torments? + Hast thou the Gods so angred by thy fault? + Hast thou against them some such crime conceiu'd, + That their engrained hand lift vp in threats + They should desire in thy hard bloud to bathe? + And that their burning wrath which nought can quench + Should pittiles on vs still lighten downe? + We are not hew'n out of the monst'rous masse + Of _Giantes_ those, which heauens wrack conspir'd: + _Ixions_ race, false prater of his loues: + Nor yet of him who fained lightnings found: + Nor cruell _Tantalus_, nor bloudie _Atreus_, + Whose cursed banquet for _Thyestes_ plague + Made the beholding Sunne for horrour turne + His backe, and backward from his course returne: + And hastning his wing-footed horses race + Plunge him in sea for shame to hide his face: + While sulleine night vpon the wondring world + For mid-daies light her starrie mantle cast, + But what we be, what euer wickednes + By vs is done, Alas! with what more plagues, + More eager torments could the Gods declare + To heauen and earth that vs they hatefull holde? + With Souldiors, strangers, horrible in armes + Our land is hidde, our people drown'd in teares. + But terror here and horror, nought is seene: + And present death prizing our life each hower. + Hard at our ports and at our porches waites + Our conquering foe: harts faile vs, hopes are dead: + Our Queene laments: and this great Emperour + Sometime (would now they did) whom worlds did feare, + Abandoned, betraid, now mindes no more + But from his euils by hast'ned death to passe. + Come you poore people tir'de with ceasles plaints + With teares and sighes make mournfull sacrifice + On _Isis_ altars: not our selues to saue, + But soften _Caesar_ and him piteous make + To vs, his pray: that so his lenitie + May change our death into captiuitie. + Strange are the euils the fates on vs haue brought, + O but alas! how farre more strange the cause! + Loue, loue (alas, who euer would haue thought?) + Hath lost this Realme inflamed with his fire. + Loue, playing loue, which men say kindles not + But in soft harts, hath ashes made our townes. + And his sweet shafts, with whose shot none are kill'd, + Which vlcer not, with deaths our lands haue fill'd, + Such was the bloudie, murdring, hellish loue + Possest thy hart faire false guest _Priams_ Sonne, + Fi'ring a brand which after made to burne + The _Troian_ towers by _Graecians_ ruinate. + By this loue, _Priam_, _Hector_, _Troilus_, + _Memnon_, _Deiphobus_, _Glaucus_, thousands mo, + Whome redd _Scamanders_ armor clogged streames + Roll'd into Seas, before their dates are dead. + So plaguie he, so many tempests raiseth + So murdring he, so many Cities raiseth, + When insolent, blinde, lawles, orderles, + With madd delights our sence he entertaines. + All knowing Gods our wracks did vs foretell + By signes in earth, by signes in starry Sphaeres: + Which should haue mou'd vs, had not destinie + With too strong hand warped our miserie. + The _Comets_ flaming through the scat'red clouds + With fiery beames, most like vnbroaded haires: + The fearefull dragon whistling at the bankes, + And holie _Apis_ ceaseles bellowing + (As neuer erst) and shedding endles teares: + Bloud raining downe from heau'n in vnknow'n showers: + Our Gods darke faces ouercast with woe, + And dead mens Ghosts appearing in the night. + Yea euen this night while all the Cittie stoode + Opprest with terror, horror, seruile feare, + Deepe silence ouer all: the sounds were heard + Of diuerse songs, and diuers instruments, + Within the voide of aire: and howling noise, + Such as madde _Bacchus_ priests in _Bacchus_ feasts + On _Nisa_ make: and (seem'd) the company, + Our Cittie lost, went to the enemie. + So we forsaken both of Gods and men, + So are we in the mercy of our foes: + And we hencefoorth obedient must become + To lawes of them who haue vs ouercome. + + + Chorus. + + Lament we our mishaps, + Drowne we with teares our woe: + For Lamentable happes + Lamented easie growe: + And much lesse torment bring + Then when they first did spring. + We want that wofull song, + Wherwith wood-musiques Queene + Doth ease her woes, among, + fresh springtimes bushes greene, + On pleasant branche alone + Renewing auntient mone. + We want that monefull sounde, + That pratling _Progne_ makes + On fieldes of _Thracian_ ground, + Or streames of _Thracian_ lakes: + To empt her brest of paine + For _Itys_ by her slaine. + Though _Halcyons_ doo still, + Bewailing _Ceyx_ lot, + The Seas with plainings fill + Which his dead limmes haue got, + Not euer other graue + Then tombe of waues to haue: + And though the birde in death + That most _Meander_ loues + So swetely sighes his breath + When death his fury proues,_ + _As almost softs his heart, + And almost blunts his dart: + Yet all the plaints of those, + Nor all their tearfull larmes, + Cannot content our woes, + Nor serue to waile the harmes, + In soule which we, poore we, + To feele enforced be. + Nor they of _Phaebus_ bredd + In teares can doo so well, + They for their brother shedd, + Who into _Padus_ fell, + Rash guide of chariot cleare + Surueiour of the yeare. + Nor she whom heau'nly powers + To weping rocke did turne, + Whose teares distill in showers, + And shew she yet doth mourne. + Where with his toppe to Skies + Mount _Sipylus_ doth rise. + Nor weping drops which flowe + From barke of wounded tree, + That _Myrrhas_ shame do showe + With ours compar'd may be, + To quench her louing fire + Who durst embrace her sire. + Nor all the howlings made + On _Cybels_ sacred hill + By Eunukes of her trade, + Who _Atys_, _Atys_ still + With doubled cries resound,_ + _Which _Echo_ makes rebound. + Our plaints no limits stay, + Nor more then doo our woes: + Both infinitely straie + And neither measure knowes. + _In measure let them plaine:_ + _Who measur'd griefes sustaine._ + + + _Cleopatra._ _Eras._ _Charmion._ _Diomede._ + + _Cleopatra._ + + That I haue thee betraid, deare _Antonie_, + My life, my soule, my Sunne? I had such thought? + That I haue thee betraide my Lord, my King? + That I would breake my vowed faith to thee? + Leaue thee? deceiue thee? yeelde thee to the rage + Of mightie foe? I euer had that hart? + Rather sharpe lightning lighten on my head: + Rather may I to deepest mischiefe fall: + Rather the opened earth deuower me: + Rather fierce _Tigers_ feed them on my flesh: + Rather, o rather let our _Nilus_ send, + To swallow me quicke, some weeping _Crocodile_. + And didst thou then suppose my royall hart + Had hatcht, thee to ensnare, a faithles loue? + And changing minde, as Fortune changed cheare, + I would weake thee, to winne the stronger, loose? + O wretch! o caitiue! o too cruell happe! + And did not I sufficient losse sustaine + Loosing my Realme, loosing my liberty, + My tender of-spring, and the ioyfull light + Of beamy Sunne, and yet, yet loosing more + Thee _Antony_ my care, if I loose not + What yet remain'd? thy loue alas! thy loue, + More deare then Scepter, children, freedome, light. + So ready I to row in _Charons_ barge, + Shall leese the ioy of dying in thy loue: + So the sole comfort of my miserie + To haue one tombe with thee is me bereft. + So I in shady plaines shall plaine alone, + Not (as I hop'd) companion of thy mone, + O height of griefe! _Eras_ why with continuall cries + Your griefull harmes doo you exasperate? + Torment your selfe with murthering complaints? + Straine your weake breast so oft, so vehemently? + Water with teares this faire alablaster? + With sorrowes sting so many beauties wound? + Come of so many Kings want you the hart + Brauely, stoutly, this tempest to resist? + + _Cl._ My eu'lls are wholy vsupportable, + No humain force can them withstand, but death. + + _Eras._ To him that striues nought is impossible. + + _Cl._ In striuing lyes no hope of my mishapps. + + _Eras._ All things do yeelde to force of louely face. + + _Cl._ My face too louely caus'd my wretched case. + My face hath so entrap'd, so cast vs downe, + That for his conquest _Caesar_ may it thanke, + Causing that _Antony_ one army lost + The other wholy did to _Caesar_ yeld. + For not induring (so his amorouse sprite + Was with my beautie fir'de) my shamefull flight, + Soone as he saw from ranke wherein he stoode + In hottest fight, my Gallies making saile: + Forgetfull of his charge (as if his soule + Vnto his Ladies soule had bene enchain'd) + He left his men, who so couragiouslie + Did leaue their liues to gaine him victorie. + And carelesse both of fame and armies losse + My oared Gallies follow'd with his Ships + Companion of my flight, by this base parte + Blasting his former flourishing renowne. + + _Eras._ Are you therefore cause of his ouerthrowe? + + _Cl._ I am sole cause: I did it, only I. + + _Er._ Feare of a woman troubled so his sprite? + + _Cl._ Fire of his loue was by my feare enflam'd. + + _Er._ And should he then to warre haue ledd a Queene? + + _Cl._ Alas! this was not his offence, but mine. + _Antony_ (ay me! who else so braue a chiefe!) + Would not I should haue taken Seas with him: + But would haue left me fearfull woman farre + From common hazard of the doubtfull warre. + O that I had beleu'd! now, now of _Rome_ + All the great Empire at our beck should bende. + All should obey, the vagabonding _Scythes_, + The feared _Germains_, back-shooting _Parthians_, + Wandring _Numidians_, _Brittons_ farre remoou'd, + And tawny nations scorched with the Sunne. + But I car'd not: so was my soule possest, + (To my great harme) with burning iealousie: + Fearing least in my absence _Antony_ + Should leauing me retake _Octauia_. + + _Char._ Such was the rigour of your destinie. + + _Cl._ Such was my errour and obstinacie. + + _Ch._ But since Gods would not, could you doe withall? + + _Cl._ Alwaies from Gods good happs, not harms, do fall. + + _Ch._ And haue they not all power on mens affaires? + + _Cl._ They neuer bow so lowe, as worldly cares. + But leaue to mortall men to be dispos'd + Freelie on earth what euer mortall is. + If we therin sometimes some faultes commit, + We may them not to their high maiesties, + But to our selues impute; whose passions + Plunge vs each day in all afflictions. + Wherwith when we our soules do thorned feele, + Flatt'ring our selues we say they dest'nies are: + That Gods would haue it so, and that our care + Could not empeach but that it must be so. + + _Char._ Things here belowe are in the heau'ns begot, + Before they be in this our worlde borne: + And neuer can our weaknes turne awry + The stailes course of powerfull destenie. + Nought here force, reason, humaine prouidence, + Holie deuotion, noble bloud preuailes: + And Ioue himselfe whose hand doth heauens rule, + Who both to Gods and men as King commaunds, + Who earth (our firme support) with plenty stores, + Moues aire and sea with twinckling of his eie, + Who all can doe, yet neuer can vndoe + What once hath been by their hard laws decreed. + When _Troian_ walles, great _Neptunes_ workmanship, + Enuiron'd were with _Greekes_, and Fortunes whele + Doubtfull ten yeares now to the campe did turne, + And now againe towards the towne return'd: + How many times did force and fury swell + In _Hectors_ veines egging him to the spoile + Of conquer'd foes, which at his blowes did flie, + As fearfull shepe at feared wolues approche: + To saue (in vaine: for why? it would not be) + Pore walles of _Troie_ from aduersaries rage, + Who died them in bloud, and cast to ground + Heap'd them with bloudie burning carcases. + No, Madame, thinke, that if the ancient crowne + Of your progenitors that _Nilus_ rul'd, + Force take from you; the Gods haue will'd it so, + To whome oft times Princes are odiouse. + They haue to euery thing an end ordain'd; + All worldly greatnes by them bounded is; + Some sooner, later some, as they think best: + None their decree is able to infringe. + But, which is more, to vs disastred men + Which subiect are in all things to their will, + Their will is hidd: nor while we liue, we know + How, or how long we must in life remaine. + Yet must we not for that feede on dispaire, + And make vs wretched ere we wretched bee: + But alwaies hope the best, euen to the last, + That from our selues the mischief may not growe. + Then, Madame, helpe your selfe, leaue of in time + _Antonies_ wracke, lest it your wracke procure: + Retire you from him, saue frrom wrathfull rage + Of angry _Caesar_ both your Realme and you. + You see him lost, so as your amitie + Vnto his euills can yelde no more reliefe. + You see him ruin'd, so as your support + No more hencefourth can him with comfort raise. + With-draw you from the storme: persist not still + To loose your selfe: this royal diademe + Regaine of _Caesar_. + + _Cl._ Soner shining light + Shall leaue the daie, and darknes leaue the night: + Sooner moist currents of tempestuous seas + Shall waue in heauen, and the nightlie troopes + Of starres shall shine within the foming waues, + Then I thee, _Antonie_, Leaue in depe distres. + I am with thee, be it thy worthy soule + Lodge in thy brest, or from that lodging parte + Crossing the ioyles lake to take hir place + In place prepared for men Demy-gods. + Liue, if thee please, if life be lothsome die: + Dead and aliue, _Antonie_, thou shalt see + Thy princesse follow thee, folow, and lament, + Thy wrack, no lesse her owne then was thy weale. + + _Char._ What helps his wrack this euer-lasting loue? + + _Cl._ Help, or help not, such must, such ought I proue. + + _Char._ Ill done to loose your selfe, and to no ende. + + _Cl._ How ill thinke you to follow such a frende? + + _Char._ But this your loue nought mitigates his paine. + + _Cl._ Without this loue I should be inhumaine. + + _Char._ Inhumaine he, who his owne death pursues. + + _Cl._ Not inhumaine who miseries eschues. + + _Ch._ Liue for your sonnes. + + _Cl._ Nay for their father die. + + _Cha._ Hardhearted mother! + + _Cl._ Wife kindhearted I. + + _Ch._ Then will you them depriue of royall right? + + _Cl._ Do I depriue them? no, it's dest'nies might. + + _Ch._ Do you not them not depriue of heritage, + That giue them vp to aduersaries handes, + A man forsaken fearing to forsake, + Whome such huge numbers hold enuironned? + T' abandon one gainst whome the frowning world + Banded with _Caesar_ makes conspiring warre. + + _Cl._ The lesse ought I to leaue him lest of all. + _A frend in most distresse should most assist._ + If that when _Antonie_ great and glorious + His legions led to drinke _Euphrates_ streames, + So many Kings in traine redoubting him; + In triumph rais'd as high as highest heaun; + Lord-like disposing as him pleased best, + The wealth of _Greece_, the wealth of_Asia_: + In that faire fortune had I him exchaung'd + For _Caesar_, then, men would haue counted me + Faithles, vnconstant, light: but now the storme, + And blustring tempest driuing on his face, + Readie to drowne, _Alas_! what would they saie? + What would himselfe in _Plutos_ mansion saie? + If I, whome alwaies more then life he lou'de, + If I, who am his heart, who was his hope, + Leaue him, forsake him (and perhaps in vaine) + Weakly to please who him hath ouerthrowne? + Not light, vnconstant, faithlesse should I be, + But vile, forsworne, of treachrous crueltie. + + _Ch._ Crueltie to shunne, you selfe-cruell are. + + _Cl._ Selfe-cruell him from crueltie to spare. + + _Ch._ Our first affection to our selfe is due. + + _Cl._ He is my selfe. + + _Ch._ Next it extendes vnto + Our children, frends, and to our countrie soile. + And you for some respect of wiuelie loue, + (Albee scarce wiuelie) loose your natiue land, + Your children, frends, and (which is more) your life, + With so strong charmes doth loue bewitch our witts: + So fast in vs this fire once kindled flames. + Yet if his harme by yours redresse might haue, + + _Cl._ With mine it may be clos'de in darksome graue. + + _Ch._ And that, as _Alcest_ to hir selfe vnkinde, + You might exempt him from the lawes of death. + But he is sure to die: and now his sworde + Alreadie moisted is in his warme bloude, + Helples for any succour you can bring + Against deaths stinge, which he must shortlie feele. + Then let your loue be like the loue of olde + Which _Carian_ Queene did nourish in hir heart + Of hir Mausolus: builde for him a tombe + Whose statelinesse a wonder new may make. + Let him, let him haue sumtuouse funeralles: + Let graue thereon the horror of his fights: + Let earth be buri'd with vnburied heaps. + Frame ther _Pharsaly_, and discoulour'd stream's + Of depe _Enipeus_: frame the grassie plaine, + Which lodg'd his campe at siege of _Mutina_. + Make all his combats, and couragiouse acts: + And yearly plaies to his praise institute: + Honor his memorie: with doubled care + Breed and bring vp the children of you both + In _Caesars_ grace: who as a noble Prince + Will leaue them Lords of this most gloriouse realme. + + _Cl._ What shame were that? ah Gods! what infamie! + With _Antonie_ in his good happs to share, + And ouerliue him dead: deeming enough + To shed some teares vpon a widdowe tombe? + The after-liuers iustly might report + That I him onlie for his empire lou'd, + And high estate: and that in hard estate + I for another did him lewdlie leaue? + Like to those birds wafted with wandring wings + From foraine lands in spring-time here arriue: + And liue with vs so long as Somers heate, + And their foode lasts, then seke another soile. + And as we see with ceaslesse fluttering + Flocking of seelly flies a brownish cloud + To vintag'd wine yet working in the tonne, + Not parting thence while they swete liquor taste: + After, as smoke, all vanish in the aire, + And of the swarme not one so much appeare. + + _Eras._ By this sharp death what profit can you winne? + + _Cl._ I neither gaine, nor profit seke therein. + + _Er._ What praise shall you of after-ages gett? + + _Cl._ Nor praise, nor glory in my cares are sett. + + _Er._ What other end ought you respect, then this? + + _Cl._ My only ende my onely dutie is. + + _Er._ your dutie must vpon some good be founded. + + _Cl._ On vertue it, the onlie good, is grounded. + + _Er._ What is that _vertue_? + + _Cl._ That which vs beseemes. + + _Er._ Outrage our selues? who that beseeming deemes? + + _Cl._ Finish I will my sorowes dieng thus. + + _Er._ Minish you will your glories doing thus. + + _Cl._ Good frends I praie you seeke not to reuoke + My fix'd intent of folowing _Antonie_. + I will die. I will die: must not his life, + His life and death by mine be folowed? + Meane while, deare sisters, liue: and while you liue, + Doe often honor to our loued Tombes. + Straw them with flowrs: and sometimes happelie + The tender thought of _Antonie_ your Lorde + And me poore soule to teares shall you inuite, + And our true loues your dolefull voice commend. + + _Ch._ And thinke you Madame, we from you will part? + Thinke you alone to feele deaths ougly darte? + Thinke you to leaue vs? and that the same sunne + Shall see at once you dead, and vs aliue? + Weele die with you: and _Clotho_ pittilesse + Shall vs with you in hellish boate imbarque. + + _Cl._ Ah liue, I praie you: this disastred woe + Which racks my heart, alone to me belonges: + My lott longs not to you: seruants to be + No shame, no harme to you, as is to me. + Liue sisters, liue, and seing his suspect + Hath causlesse me in sea of sorowes drown'd, + And that I can not liue, if so I would, + Nor yet would leaue this life, if so I could, + Without, his loue: procure me, _Diomed_, + That gainst poore me he be no more incensd. + Wrest out of his conceit that harmfull doubt, + That since his wracke he hath of me conceiu'd + Though wrong conceiu'd: witnesse you reuerent Gods, + Barking _Anubis_, _Apis_ bellowing. + Tell him, my soule burning, impatient, + Forlorne with loue of him, for certaine seale + Of her true loialtie my corpse hath left, + T' encrease of dead the number numberlesse. + Go then, and if as yet he me bewaile, + If yet for me his heart one sign fourth breathe + Blest shall I be: and farre with more content + Depart this world, where so I me torment. + Meane season vs let this sadd tombe enclose, + Attending here till death conclude our woes. + + _Diom._ I will obey your will. + + _Cl._ So the desert + The Gods repay of thy true faithfull heart. + + + _Diomed._ + + And is't not pittie, Gods, ah Gods of heau'n! + To see from loue such hatefull frutes to spring? + And is't not pittie that this firebrand so + Laies waste the trophes of _Philippi_ fieldes? + Where are those swete allurements, those swete lookes, + Which Gods themselues right hart-sicke would haue made? + What doth that beautie, rarest guift of heau'n, + Wonder of earth? Alas! what doe those eies? + And that swete voice all _Asia_ vnderstoode, + And sunburnt _Afrike_ wide in deserts spred? + Is their force dead? haue they no further power? + Can not by them _Octauius_ be supriz'd? + Alas! if _Ioue_ in middst of all his ire, + With thunderbolt in hand some land to plague, + Had cast his eies on my Queene, out of hande + His plaguing bolte had falne out of his hande: + Fire of his wrathe into vaine smoke should turne, + And other fire within his brest should burne. + Nought liues so faire. Nature by such a worke + Her selfe, should seme, in workmanship hath past. + She is all heau'nlie: neuer any man + But seing hir was rauish'd with her sight. + The Allablaster couering of hir face, + The corall coullor hir two lipps engraines, + Her beamie eies, two Sunnes of this our world, + Of hir faire haire the fine and flaming golde, + Her braue streight stature, and hir winning partes + Are nothing else but fiers, fetters, dartes. + Yet this is nothing th'e'nchaunting skilles + Of her celestiall Sp'rite, hir training speache, + Her grace, hir Maiestie, and forcing voice, + Whither she it with fingers speach consorte, + Or hearing sceptred kings embassadors + Answer to eache in his owne language make. + Yet now at nede she aides hir not at all + With all these beauties, so hir sorowe stings. + Darkned with woe hir only studie is + To wepe, to sigh, to seke for lonelines. + Careles of all, hir haire disordred hangs: + Hir charming eies whence murthring looks did flie, + Now riuers grown', whose wellspring anguish is, + Do trickling wash the marble of hir face. + Hir faire discouer'd brest with sobbing swolne + Selfe cruell she still martireth with blowes, + Alas! It's our ill happ, for if hir teares + She would conuert into hir louing charmes, + To make a conquest of the conqueror, + (As well shee might, would she hir force imploie) + She should vs saftie from these ills procure, + Hir crowne to hir, and to hir race assure. + _Vnhappy he, in whome selfe-succour lies,_ + _Yet self-forsaken wanting succour dies._ + + + Chorus. + + O swete fertile land, wherin + _Phaebus_ did with breath inspire + Man who men did first begin, + Formed first of _Nilus_ mire. + Whence of _Artes_ the eldest kindes, + Earthes most heauenly ornament, + Were as from their fountaine sent, + To enlight our mistie mindes. + Whose grosse sprite from endles time, + As in darkned prison pente, + Neuer did to knowledg clime. + Wher the _Nile_, our father good, + Father-like doth neuer misse + Yearely vs to bring such food, + As to life required is: + Visiting each yeare this plaine, + And with fatt slime cou'ring it, + Which his seauen mouthes do spitt, + As the season comes againe. + Making therby greatest growe + Busie reapers ioyfull paine, + When his flouds do highest flowe. + Wandring Prince of riuers thou, + Honor of the _AEthiops_ lande, + Of a Lord and master now + Thou a slaue in awe must stand. + Now of _Tiber_ which is spred + Lesse in force, and lesse in fame + Reuerence thou must the name, + Whome all other riuers dread, + For his children swolne in pride, + Who by conquest seeke to treade + Round this earth on euery side. + Now thou must begin to sende + Tribute of thy watrie store, + As Sea pathes thy stepps shall bende, + Yearely presents more and more. + Thy fatt skumme, our frutefull corne, + Pill'd from hence with theeuish hands + All vncloth'd shall leaue our lands + Into foraine Countrie borne. + Which puft vp with such a pray + Shall therby the praise adorne + Of that scepter _Rome_ doth sway. + Nought thee helps thy hornes to hide + Farre from hence in vnknowne grounds, + That thy waters wander wide, + Yearely breaking bankes, and bounds. + And that thy Skie-coullor'd brookes + Through a hundred peoples passe, + Drawing plots for trees and grasse + With a thousand turn's and crookes. + Whome all weary of their way + Thy throats which in widenesse passe + Powre into their Mother Sea. + Nought so happie haplesse life + "In this worlde as freedome findes: + "Nought wherin more sparkes are rife + "To inflame couragious mindes. + "But if force must vs enforce + "Nedes a yoke to vndergoe, + "Vnder foraine yoke to goe + "Still it proues a bondage worse. + "And doubled subiection + "See we shall, and feele, and knowe + "Subiect to a stranger growne. + From hence forward for a King, + whose first being from this place + Should his brest by nature bring + Care of Countrie to embrace, + We at surly face must quake + Of some _Romaine_ madly bent: + Who, our terrour to augment, + His _Proconsuls_ axe will shake. + Driuing with our Kings from hence + Our establish'd gouerment, + Iustice sworde, and Lawes defence. + Nothing worldly of such might + But more mightie _Destinie_, + By swift _Times_ vnbridled flight, + Makes in ende his ende to see. + Euery thing _Time_ ouerthrowes, + Nought to ende doth stedfast staie: + His great sithe mowes all away + As the stalke of tender rose. + Onlie Immortalitie + Of the Heau'ns doth it oppose + Gainst his powerfull _Deitie_. + One daie there will come a daie + Which shall quaile thy fortunes flower, + And thee ruinde low shall laie + In some barbarous Princes power. + When the pittie-wanting fire + Shall, O _Rome_, thy beauties burne, + And to humble ashes turne + Thy proud wealth, and rich attire, + Those guilt roofes which turretwise, + Iustly making Enuie mourne, + Threaten now to pearce Skies. + As thy forces fill each land + Haruests making here and there, + Reaping all with rauening hand + They finde growing any where: + From each land so to thy fall + Multitudes repaire shall make, + From the common spoile to take + What to each mans share maie fall. + Fingred all thou shalt beholde: + No iote left for tokens sake + That thou wert so great of olde. + Like vnto the auncient _Troie_ + Whence deriu'de thy founders be, + Conqu'ring foe shall thee enioie, + And a burning praie in thee. + For within this turning ball + This we see, and see each daie: + All things fixed ends do staie, + Ends to first beginnings fall. + And that nought, how strong or strange, + Chaungles doth endure alwaie, + But endureth fatall change. + + + _M. Antonius._ _Lucilius._ + + _M. Ant._ + + _Lucil_, sole comfort of my bitter case, + The only trust, the only hope I haue, + In last despaire: Ah! is not this the daie + That death should me of life and loue bereaue? + What waite I for that haue no refuge left, + But am sole remnant of my fortune left? + All leaue me, flie me: none, no not of them + Which of my greatnes greatest good receiu'd, + Stands with my fall: they seeme as now asham'de + That heretofore they did me ought regarde: + They draw them back, shewing they folow'd me, + Not to partake my harm's, but coozen me. + + _Lu._ In this our world nothing is stedfast found, + In vaine he hopes, who here his hopes doth gro[un]d. + + _Ant._ Yet nought afflicts me, nothing killes me so, + As that I so my _Cleopatra_ see + Practize with _Caesar_, and to him transport + My flame, her loue, more deare then life to me. + + _Lu._ Beleeue it not: Too high a heart she beares, + Too Princelie thoughts. + + _Ant._ Too wise a head she weare + Too much enflam'd with greatnes, euermore + Gaping for our great Empires gouerment. + + _Lu._ So long time you her constant loue haue tri'de. + + _Ant._ But still with me good fortune did abide. + + _Lu._ Her changed loue what token makes you know? + + _An._ _Pelusium_ lost, and _Actian_ ouerthrow, + Both by her fraud: my well appointed fleet, + And trustie Souldiors in my quarell arm'd, + Whom she, false she, in stede of my defence, + Came to persuade, to yelde them to my foe: + Such honor _Thyre_ done, such welcome giuen, + Their long close talkes I neither knew, nor would, + And treacherouse wrong _Alexas_ hath me done, + Witnes too well her periur'd loue to me. + But you O Gods (if any faith regarde) + With sharpe reuenge her faithles change reward. + + _Lu._ The dole she made vpon our ouerthrow, + Her Realme giuen vp for refuge to our men, + Her poore attire when she deuoutly kept + The solemne day of her natiuitie, + Againe the cost, and prodigall expence + Shew'd when she did your birth day celebrate, + Do plaine enough her heart vnfained proue, + Equally toucht, you louing, as you loue. + + _Ant._ Well; be her loue to me or false, or true, + Once in my soule a cureles wound I feele. + I loue, nay burne in fire of her loue: + Each day, each night her Image haunts my minde, + Her selfe my dreams: and still I tired am, + And still I am with burning pincers nipt. + Extreame my harme: yet sweeter to my sence + Then boiling Torch of iealouse torments fire: + This grief, nay rage, in me such sturre doth kepe, + And thornes me still, both when I wake and slepe. + Take _Caesar_ conquest, take my goods, take he + Th'onor to be Lord of the earth alone, + My Sonnes, my life bent headlong to mishapps: + No force, so not my _Cleopatra_ take. + So foolish I, I can not her forget, + Though better were I banisht her my thought. + Like to the sicke, whose throte the feauers fire + Hath vehemently with thirstie drouth enflam'd, + Drinkes still, albee the drinke he still desires + Be nothing else but fewell to his flame: + He can not rule himselfe: his health's respect + Yeldeth to his distempred stomackes heate. + + _Lu._ Leaue of this loue, that thus renewes your woe. + + _Ant._ I do my best, but ah! can not do so. + + _Lu._ Thinke how you haue so braue a captaine bene, + And now are by this vaine affection falne. + + _Ant._ The ceasles thought of my felicitie + Plunges me more in this aduersitie._ + For nothing so a man in ill torments, + As who to him his good state represents. + _This makes my rack, my anguish, and my woe + Equall vnto the hellish passions growe, + When I to minde my happie puisance call + Which erst I had by warlike conquest wonne, + And that good fortune which me neuer left, + Which hard disastre now hath me bereft. + With terror tremble all the world I made + At my sole worde, as Rushes in the streames + At waters will: I conquer'd Italie, + I conquer'd _Rome_, that Nations so redoubt. + I bare (meane while besieging _Mutina_) + Two Consuls armies for my ruine brought, + Bath'd in their bloud, by their deaths witnessing + My force and skill in matters Martiall. + To wreake thy vnkle, vnkinde _Caesar_, I + With bloud of enemies the bankes embru'd + Of stain'd _Enipeus_, hindering his course + Stopped with heapes of piled carcases: + When _Cassius_ and _Brutus_ ill betide + Marcht against vs, by vs twise put to flight, + But by my sole conduct: for all the time + _Caesar_ heart-sicke with feare and feauer laie. + Who knowes it not? and how by euery one + Fame of the fact was giu'n to me alone. + There sprang the loue, the neuer changing loue, + Wherein my hart hath since to yours bene bound: + There was it, my _Lucil_, you _Brutus_ sau'de, + And for your _Brutus_ _Antonie_ you found. + Better my happ in gaining such a frende, + Then in subduing such an enemie. + Now former vertue dead doth me forsake, + Fortune engulfes me in extreame distresse: + She turnes from me her smiling countenance, + Casting on me mishapp vpon mishapp, + Left and betraide of thousand thousand frends, + Once of my sute, but you _Lucil_ are left, + Remaining to me stedfast as a tower + In holy loue, in spite of fortunes blastes. + But if of any God my voice be heard, + And be not vainely scatt'red in the heau'ns, + Such goodnes shall not glorilesse be loste, + But comming ages still therof shall boste. + + _Lu._ Men in their frendship euer should be one, + And neuer ought with fickle Fortune shake, + Which still remoues, nor will, nor knowes the way, + Her rowling bowle in one sure state to staie. + Wherfore we ought as borrow'd things receiue + The goods light she lends vs to pay againe: + Not holde them sure, nor on them builde our hopes + As one such goods as cannot faile, and fall: + But thinke againe, nothing is dureable, + Vertue except, our neuer failing hoste: + So bearing saile when fauouring windes do blowe, + As frowning Tempests may vs least dismaie + When they on vs do fall: not ouer-glad + With good estate, nor ouer-grieu'd with bad. + Resist mishap. + + _Ant._ Alas! it is too stronge. + Mishappes oft times are by some comfort borne: + But these, ay me! whose weights oppresse my hart, + Too heauie lie, no hope can them relieue. + There rests no more, but that with cruell blade + For lingring death a hastie waie be made. + + _Lu._ _Caesar_, as heire vnto his Fathers state: + So will his Fathers goodnes imitate, + To you warde: whome he know's allied in bloud, + Allied in mariage, ruling equallie + Th' Empire with him, and with him making warre + Haue purg'd the earth of _Caesars_ murtherers. + You into portions parted haue the world + Euen like coheir's their heritages parte: + And now with one accord so many yeares + In quiet peace both haue your charges rul'd. + + _Ant._ Bloud and alliance nothing do preuaile + To coole the thirst of hote ambitious breasts: + The sonne his Father hardly can endure, + Brother his brother, in one common Realme. + So feruent this desier to commaund: + Such iealousie it kindleth in our hearts._ + Sooner will men permit another should + Loue her they loue, then weare the Crowne they weare. + _All lawes it breakes, turns all things vpside downe: + Amitie, kindred, nought so holie is + But it defiles. A monarchie to gaine + None cares which way, so he maie it obtaine. + + _Lu._ Suppose he Monarch be and that this world + No more acknowledg sundrie Emperours. + That _Rome_ him onelie feare, and that he ioyne + The East with west, and both at once do rule: + Why should he not permitt you peaceablie + Discharg'd of charge and Empires dignitie, + Priuate to liue reading _Philosophie_, + In learned _Greece_, _Spaine_, _Asia_, anie lande? + + _Ant._ Neuer will he his Empire thinke assur'de + While in this world _Marke Antonie_ shall liue._ + Sleeples Suspicion, Pale distrust, colde feare + Alwaies to princes companie do beare + Bred of Reports: reports which night and day + Perpetuall guests from Court go not away. + + _Lu._ He hath not slaine your brother _Lucius_, + Nor shortned hath the age of _Lepidus_, + Albeit both into his hands were falne, + And he with wrath against them both enflam'd. + Yet one, as Lord in quiet rest doth beare + The greatest sway in great _Iberia_. + The other with his gentle Prince retaines + Of highest Priest the sacred dignitie. + + _Ant._ He feares not them, their feeble force he knowes. + + _Lu._ He feares no vanquisht ouerfill'd with woes. + + _Ant._ Fortune may chaunge againe, + + _L._ A down-cast foe + Can hardlie rise, which once is brought so lowe. + + _Ant._ All that I can, is done: for last assay + (When all means fail'd) I to entreatie fell, + (Ah coward creature!) whence againe repulst + Of combate I vnto him proffer made: + Though he in prime, and I by feeble age + Mightily weakned both in force and skill. + Yet could not he his coward heart aduaunce + Baselie affraid to trie so praisefull chaunce. + This makes me plaine, makes me my selfe accuse, + Fortune in this hir spitefull force doth vse + 'Gainst my gray hayres: in this vnhappie I + Repine at heau'ns in my happes pittiles. + A man, a woman both in might and minde, + In _Marses_ schole who neuer lesson learn'd, + Should me repulse, chase, ouerthrow, destroie, + Me of such fame, bring to so lowe an ebbe? + _Alcides_ bloud, who from my infancie + With happie prowesse crowned haue my praise. + Witnesse thou _Gaule_ vnus'd to seruile yoke, + Thou valiant _Spaine_, you fields of _Thessalie_ + With millions of mourning cries bewail'd, + Twise watred now with bloude of _Italie_. + + _Lu._ witnesse may _Afrique_, and of conquer'd world + All fower quarters witnesses may be. + For in what part of earth inhabited, + Hungrie of praise haue you not ensignes spredd? + + _An._ Thou know'st rich _AEgypt_ (_AEgypt_ of my deeds + Faire and foule subiect) _AEgypt_ ah! thou know'st + How I behau'd me fighting for thy kinge, + When I regainde him his rebellious Realme. + Against his foes in battaile shewing force, + And after fight in victorie remorse. + Yet if to bring my glorie to the ground, + Fortune had made me ouerthrowne by one + Of greater force, of better skill then I; + One of those Captaines feared so of olde, + _Camill_, _Marcellus_, worthy _Scipio_, + This late great _Caesar_, honor of our state, + Or that great _Pompei_ aged growne in armes; + That after haruest of a world of men + Made in a hundred battailes, fights, assaults, + My bodie thorow pearst with push of pike + Had vomited my bloud, in bloud my life, + In midd'st of millions felowes in my fall: + The lesse hir wrong, the lesse should my woe: + Nor she should paine, nor I complain me so. + No, no, wheras I should haue died in armes, + And vanquisht oft new armies should haue arm'd, + New battailes giuen, and rather lost with me + All this whole world submitted vnto me: + A man who neuer saw enlaced pikes + With bristled pointes against his stomake bent, + Who feares the field, and hides him cowardly + Dead at the verie noise the souldiors make. + His vertue, fraude, deceit, malicious guile, + His armes the arts that false _Vlisses_ vs'de, + Knowne at Modena, wher the _Consuls_ both + Death-wounded were, and wounded by his men + To gett their armie, warre with it to make + Against his faith, against his countrie soile. + Of _Lepidus_, which to his succours came, + To honor whome he was by dutie bounde; + The Empire he vsurpt: corrupting first + With baites and bribes the most part of his men. + Yet me hath ouercome, and made his pray, + And state of _Rome_, with me hath ouercome. + Strange! one disordred act at _Actium_ + The earth subdu'de, my glorie hath obscur'd. + For since, as one whome heauens wrath attaints, + With furie caught, and more then furious + Vex'd with my euills, I neuer more had care + My armies lost, or lost name to repaire: + I did no more resist. + + _Lu._ All warres affaires, + But battailes most, daily haue their successe + Now good, now ill: and though that fortune haue + Great force and power in euery worldlie thing, + Rule all, do all, haue all things fast enchaind + Vnto the circle of hir turning wheele: + Yet seemes it more then any practise else + She doth frequent _Ballonas_ bloudie trade: + And that hir fauour, wauering as the wind, + Hir greatest power therin doth oftnest shewe. + Whence growes, we dailie see, who in their youth + Gatt honor ther, do loose it in their age, + Vanquisht by some lesse warlike then themselues: + Whome yet a meaner man shall ouerthrowe. + Hir vse is not to lende vs still her hande, + But sometimes headlong back a gaine to throwe, + When by hir fauor she hath vs extolld + Vnto the topp of highest happines. + + _Ant._ well ought I curse within my grieued soule, + Lamenting daie and night, this sencelesse loue, + Whereby my faire entising foe entrap'd + My hedelesse _Reason_, could no more escape. + It was not fortunes euer chaunging face, + It was not Dest'nies chaungles violence + Forg'd my mishap. Alas! who doth not know + They make, nor marre, nor any thing can doe. + Fortune, which men so feare, adore, detest, + Is but a chaunce whose cause vnknow'n doth rest. + Although oft times the cause is well perceiu'd, + But not th'effect the fame that was conceiu'd. + _Pleasure_, nought else, the plague of this our life, + Our life which still a thousand plagues pursue, + Alone hath me this strange disastre spunne, + Falne from a souldior to a Chamberer, + Careles of vertue, careles of all praise. + Nay, as the fatted swine in filthy mire + With glutted heart I wallow'd in delights, + All thoughts of honor troden vnder foote. + So I me lost: for finding this swete cupp + Pleasing my tast, vnwise I drunke my fill, + And through the swetenes of that poisons power + By stepps I draue my former witts astraie. + I made my frends, offended me forsake, + I holpe my foes against my selfe to rise. + I robd my subiects, and for followers + I saw my selfe besett with flatterers. + Mine idle armes faire wrought with spiders worke, + My scattred men without their ensignes strai'd: + _Caesar_ meane while who neuer would haue dar'de + To cope with me, me sodainlie despis'de, + Tooke hart to fight, and hop'de for victorie + On one so gone, who glorie had forgone. + + _Lu._ Enchaunting pleasure; _Venus_ swete delights + Weaken our bodies, ouer-cloud our sprights, + Trouble our reason, from our harts out chase + All holie vertues lodging in their place. + Like as the cunning fisher takes the fishe + By traitor baite wherby the hooke is hidde: + So _Pleasure_ serues to vice in steede of foode + To baite our soules theron too licourishe. + This poison deadlie is alike to all, + But on great kings doth greatest outrage worke, + Taking the Roiall scepters from their hands, + Thenceforward to be by some straunger borne: + While that their people charg'd with heauy loades + Their flatt'rers pill, and suck their mary drie, + Not ru'lde but left to great men as a pray, + While this fonde Prince himselfe in pleasur's drowns: + Who heares nought, sees nought, doth nought of a king, + Seming himselfe against himselfe conspirde. + Then equall Iustice wandreth banished, + And in hir seat sitts greedie Tyrannie. + Confus'd disorder troubleth all estates, + Crimes without feare and outrages are done. + Then mutinous _Rebellion_ shewes hir face, + Now hid with this, and now with that pretence, + Prouoking enimies, which on each side + Enter at ease, and make them Lords of all. + The hurtfull workes of pleasure here behold. + + _An._ The wolfe is not so hurtfull to the folde, + Frost to the grapes, to ripened fruits the raine: + As pleasure is to Princes full of paine. + + _Lu._ Ther nedes no proofe, but by th' _Assirian_ kinge, + On whome that Monster woefull wrack did bring. + + _An._ Ther nedes no proofe, but by vnhappie I, + Who lost my empire, honor, life therby. + + _Lu._ Yet hath this ill so much the greater force, + As scarcelie anie do against it stand: + No, not the Demy-gods the olde world knew, + Who all subdu'de, could _Pleasures_ power subdue. + Great _Hercules_, _Hercules_ once that was + Wonder of earth and heau'n, matchles in might, + Who _Anteus_, _Lycus_, _Geryon_ ouercame, + Who drew from hell the triple-headed dogg, + Who _Hydra_ kill'd, vanquishd _Achelous_, + Who heauens weight on his strong shoulders bare: + Did he not vnder _Pleasures_ burthen bow? + Did he not Captiue to this passion yelde, + When by his Captiue, so he was enflam'de, + As now your selfe in _Cleopatra_ burne? + Slept in hir lapp, hir bosome kist and kiste, + With base vnsemelie seruice bought her loue, + Spinning at distaffe, and with sinewy hand + Winding on spindles threde, in maides attire? + His conqu'ring clubbe at rest on wal did hang: + His bow vnstringd he bent not as he vs'de: + Vpon his shafts the weauing spiders spunne: + And his hard cloake the freating mothes did pierce. + The monsters free and fearles all the time + Throughout the world the people did torment, + And more and more encreasing daie by day + Scorn'd his weake heart become a mistresse plaie. + + _An._ In onelie this like _Hercules_ am I, + In this I proue me of his lignage right: + In this himselfe, his deedes I shew in this, + In this, nought else, my ancestor he is. + But go we: die I must, and with braue ende + Conclusion make of all foregoing harmes: + Die, die I must: I must a noble death, + A glorious death vnto my succor call: + I must deface the shame of time abus'd, + I must adorne the wanton loues I vs'de + With some couragiouse act: that my last daie + By mine owne hand my spotts may wash away. + Come deare _Lucill_: alas! why wepe you thus! + This mortall lot is common to vs all. + We must all die, each doth in homage owe + Vnto that God that shar'd the Realmes belowe. + Ah sigh no more: alas: appeace your woes, + For by your griefe my griefe more eager growes. + + + Chorus. + + Alas, with what tormenting fire. + Vs martireth this blinde desire + To staie our life from flieng! + How ceasleslie our minds doth rack, + How heauie lies vpon our back + This dastard feare of dieng! + _Death_ rather healthfull succor giues, + _Death_ rather all mishappes relieues + That life vpon vs throweth: + And euer to vs doth vnclose + The doore, wherby from curelesse woes + Our wearie soule out goeth. + What Goddesse else more milde then shee + To burie all our paine can be, + What remedie more pleasing? + Our pained hearts when dolor stings, + And nothing rest, or respite brings, + What help haue we more easing? + _Hope_ which to vs doth comfort giue, + And doth or fainting hearts reuiue, + Hath not such force in anguish: + For promising a vaine reliefe + She oft vs failes in midst of griefe, + And helples letts vs languish. + But Death who call on her at nede + Doth neuer with vaine semblant feed, + But when them sorow paineth, + So riddes their soules of all distresse + Whose heauie weight did them oppresse, + That not one griefe remaineth. + Who feareles and with courage bolde + Can _Acherons_ black face beholde, + Which muddie water beareth: + And crossing ouer, in the way + Is not amaz'd at Perruque gray + Olde rustie _Charon_ weareth: + Who voide of dread can looke vpon + The dreadfull shades that rome alone, + On bankes where sound no voices: + Whom with her fire-brands and her Snakes + No whit afraide _Alecto_ makes, + Nor triple-barking noyses: + Who freely can himselfe dispose + Of that last hower which all must close, + And leaue this life at pleasure: + This noble freedome more esteemes, + And in his hart more precious deemes, + Then Crowne and kingly treasure. + The waues which _Boreas_ blasts turmoile + And cause with foaming furie boile, + Make not his heart to tremble: + Nor brutish broile, when with strong head + A rebell people madly ledde + Against their Lords assemble: + Nor fearfull face of Tirant wood, + Who breaths but threats, and drinks but bloud, + No, nor the hand which thunder, + The hand of _Ioue_ which thunder beares, + And ribbs of rocks in sunder teares, + Teares mountains sides in sunder: + Nor bloudie _Marses_ butchering bands, + Whose lightnings desert laie the lands + whome dustie cloudes do couer: + From of whose armour sun-beames flie, + And vnder them make quaking lie + The plaines wheron they houer: + Nor yet the cruell murth'ring blade + Warme in the moistie bowells made + of people pell mell dieng + In some great Cittie put to sack + By sauage Tirant brought to wrack, + At his colde mercie lieng. + How abiect him, how base think I, + Who wanting courage can not dye + When need him therto calleth? + From whom the dagger drawne to kill + The curelesse griefes that vexe him still + For feare and faintnes falleth? + O _Antonie_ with thy deare mate + Both in misfortunes fortunate! + Whose thoughts to death aspiring + Shall you protect from victors rage, + Who on each side doth you encage, + To triumph much desiring. + That _Caesar_ may you not offend + Nought else but Death can you defend, + which his weake force derideth, + And all in this round earth containd, + Powr'les on them whom once enchaind + _Auernus_ prison hideth: + Where great _Psammetiques_ ghost doth rest, + Not with infernall paine possest, + But in swete fields detained: + And olde _Amasis_ soule likewise, + And all our famous _Ptolemies_ + That whilome on vs raigned. + + + + + _Act. 4._ + + + _Caesar._ _Agrippa._ _Dircetus_ the Messenger. + + _Caesar._ + + _You euer-liuing Gods which all things holde + Within the power of your celestiall hands, + By whom heate, colde, the thunder, and the winde, + The properties of enterchaunging mon'ths + Their course and being haue, which do set downe + Of Empires by your destinied decree + The force, age, time, and subiect to no chaunge + Chaunge all, reseruing nothing in one state: + You haue aduaunst, as high as thundring heau'n + The _Romains_ greatnes by _Bellonas_ might: + Mastring the world with fearfull violence, + Making the world widow of libertie. + Yet at this daie this proud exalted _Rome_ + Despoil'd, captiu'd, at one mans will doth bende: + Her Empire mine, her life is in my hand, + As Monarch I both world and _Rome_ commaund; + Do all, can all; fourth my commaund'ment cast + Like thundring fire from one to other Pole + Equall to Ioue: bestowing by my worde + Happes and mishappes, as Fortunes King and Lord. + No Towne there is, but vp my Image settes, + But sacrifice to me doth dayly make: + Whither where _Phaebus_ ioyne his morning steedes, + Or where the night them weary entertaines, + Or where the heat the _Garamants_ doth scorche, + Or where the colde from _Boreas_ breast is blowne: + All _Caesar_ do both awe and honor beare, + And crowned Kings his verie name do feare. + _Antonie_ knowes it well, for whom not one + Of all the Princes all this earth do rule, + Armes against me: for all redoubt the power + Which heau'nly powers on earth haue made me beare. + _Antonie_, he poore man with fire enflam'de + A womans beauties kindled in his heart, + Rose against me, who longer could not beare + My sisters wrong he did so ill entreat: + Seing her left while that his leud delights + Her husband with his _Cleopatra_ tooke + In _Alexandrie_, where both nights and daies + Their time they pass'd in nought but loues and plaies. + All _Asias_ forces into one he drewe, + And forth he sett vpon the azur'd waues + A thousand and a thousand Shipps, which fill'd + With Souldiors, pikes, with targets, arrowes, darts, + Made _Neptune_ quake, and all the watrie troupes + Of _Glauques_, and _Tritons_ lodg'd at _Actium_. + But mightie Gods, who still the force withstand + Of him, who causles doth another wrong, + In lesse then moments space redus'd to nought + All that proud power by Sea or land he brought. + + _Agr._ Presumptuouse pride of high and hawtie sprite, + Voluptuouse care of fonde and foolish loue, + Haue iustly wrought his wrack: who thought he helde + (By ouerweening) Fortune in his hand. + Of vs he made no count, but as to play, + So fearles came our forces to assay. + So sometimes fell to Sonnes of Mother Earth, + Which crawl'd to heau'n warre on the Gods to make, + _Olymp_ on _Pelion_, _Ossa_on _Olymp_, + _Pindus_ on _Ossa_ loading by degrees: + That at hand strokes with mightie clubbes they might + On mossie rocks the Gods make tumble downe: + When mightie _Ioue_ with burning anger chaf'd, + Disbraind with him _Gyges_ and _Briareus_, + Blunting his darts vpon their brused bones. + For no one thing the Gods can lesse abide + In dedes of men, then Arrogance and Pride. + And still the proud, which too much takes in hand, + Shall fowlest fall, where best he thinks to stand. + + _Caes._ Right as some Pallace, or some stately tower, + Which ouer-lookes the neighbour buildings round + In scorning wise, and to the Starres vp growes, + Which in short time his owne weight ouerthrowes. + What monstrous pride, nay what impietie + Incen'st him onward to the Gods disgrace? + When his two children, _Cleopatras_ bratts, + To _Phaebe_ and her brother he compar'd, + _Latonas_ race, causing them to be call'd + The Sunne and Moone? Is not this folie right? + And is not this the Gods to make his foes? + And is not this himself to worke his woes? + + _Agr._ In like proud sort he caus'd his head to leese + The Iewish king _Antigonus_, to haue + His Realme for balme, that _Cleopatra_ lou'd, + As though on him he had some treason prou'd. + + _Caes._ _Lydia_ to her, and _Siria_ he gaue, + _Cyprus_ of golde, _Arabia_ rich of smelles: + And to his children more _Cilicia_, + _Parth's_, _Medes_, _Armenia_, _Phaenicia_: + The kings of kings proclaiming them to be, + By his owne worde, as by a sound decree. + + _Agr._ What? Robbing his owne countrie of her due + Triumph'd he not in _Alexandria_, + Of _Artabasus_ the _Armenian_ King, + Who yelded on his periur'd word to him? + + _Caes._ Nay, neuer _Rome_ more iniuries receiu'd, + Since thou, o _Romulus_, by flight of birds + with happy hand the _Romain_ walles did'st build, + Then _Antonies_ fond loues to it hath done. + Nor euer warre more holie, nor more iust, + Nor vndertaken with more hard constraint, + Then is this warre: which were it not, our state + Within small time all dignitie should loose: + Though I lament (thou Sunne my witnes art; + And thou great _Ioue_) that it so deadly proues: + That _Romain_ bloud should in such plentie flowe, + Watring the fields and pastures where we goe. + What _Carthage_ in olde hatred obstinate, + What _Gaule_ still barking at our rising state, + What rebell _Samnite_, what fierce _Pyrrhus_ power, + What cruell _Mithridate_, what _Parth_ hath wrought + Such woe to _Rome_: whose common wealth he had, + (Had he bene victor) into _Egipt_ brought. + + _Agr._ Surely the Gods, which haue this Cittie built + Stedfast to stand as long as time endures, + Which kepe the Capitoll, of vs take care, + And care will take of those shall after come, + Haue made you victor, that you might redresse + Their honor growne by passed mischieues lesse. + + _Caes._ The seelie man when all the Greekish Sea + His fleete had hidd, in hope me sure to drowne, + Me battaile gaue: where fortune, in my stede, + Repulsing him his forces disaraied. + Him selfe tooke flight, soone as his loue he saw + All wanne through feare with full sailes flie away. + His men, though lost, whome none did now direct, + With courage fought fast grappled shipp with shipp, + Charging, resisting, as their oares would serue, + With darts, with swords, with Pikes, with fierie flames. + So that the darkned night her starrie vaile + Vpon the bloudie sea had ouer-spred, + Whilst yet they held: and hardlie, hardlie then + They fell to flieng on the wauie plaine. + All full of Souldiors ouerwhelm'd with waues: + The aire throughout with cries and grones did sound: + The Sea did blush with bloud: the neighbor shores + Groned, so they with shipwracks pestred were, + And floting bodies left for pleasing foode + To birds, and beasts, and fishes of the sea. + You know it well _Agrippa_. + + _Ag._ Mete it was + The _Romain_ Empire so should ruled be, + As heau'n is rul'd: which turning ouer vs, + All vnder things by his example turnes. + Now as of heau'n one onely Lord we know: + One onely Lord should rule this earth below. + When one self pow're is common made to two, + Their duties they nor suffer will, nor doe. + In quarell still, in doubt, in hate, in feare; + Meane while the people all the smart do beare. + + _Caes._ Then to the ende none, while my daies endure, + Seeking to raise himselfe may succours finde, + We must with bloud marke this our victorie, + For iust example to all memorie. + Murther we must, vntill not one we leaue, + Which may hereafter vs of rest bereaue. + + _Ag._ Marke it with murthers? who of that can like? + + _Cae._ Murthers must vse, who doth assurance seeke. + + _Ag._ Assurance call you enemies to make? + + _Caes._ I make no such, but such away I take. + + _Ag._ Nothing so much as rigour doth displease. + + _Caes._ Nothing so much doth make me liue at ease. + + _Ag._ What ease to him that feared is of all? + + _Cae._ Feared to be, and see his foes to fall. + + _Ag._ Commonly feare doth brede and nourish hate. + + _Cae._ Hate without pow'r comes comonly too late. + + _Ag._ A feared Prince hath oft his death desir'd. + + _Cae._ A Prince not fear'd hath oft his wrong conspir'de. + + _Ag._ No guard so sure, no forte so strong doth proue, + No such defence, as is the peoples loue. + + _Caes._ Nought more vnsure more weak, more like the winde, + Then _Peoples_ fauor still to chaunge enclinde. + + _Ag._ Good Gods! what loue to gracious Prince men beare! + + _Caes._ What honor to the Prince that is seuere! + + _Ag._ Nought more diuine then is _Benignitie_. + + _Cae._ Nought likes the _Gods_ as doth _Seueritie_. + + _Ag._ _Gods_ all forgiue. + + _Cae._ On faults they paines do laie. + + _Ag._ And giue their goods. + + _Cae._ Oft times they take away. + + _Ag._ They wreake them not, o _Caesar_, at each time + That by our sinnes they are to wrathe prouok'd. + Neither must you (beleue, I humblie praie) + Your victorie with crueltie defile. + The Gods it gaue, it must not be abus'd, + But to the good of all men mildlie vs'd, + And they be thank'd: that hauing giu'n you grace + To raigne alone, and rule this earthlie masse, + They may hence-forward hold it still in rest, + All scattred power vnited in one brest. + + _Cae._ But what is he, that breathles comes so fast, + Approaching vs, and going in such hast? + + _Ag._ He semes affraid: and vnder his arme I + (But much I erre) a bloudie sworde espie. + + _Caes._ I long to vnderstand what it may be. + + _Ag._ He hither comes: it's best we stay and see. + + _Dirce._ What good God now my voice will reenforce, + That tell I may to rocks, and hilles, and woods, + To waues of sea, which dash vpon the shore, + To earth, to heau'n, the woefull newes I bring? + + _Ag._ What sodaine chaunce thee towards vs hath brought? + + _Dir._ A lamentable chance. O wrath of heau'ns! + O Gods too pittiles! + + _Caes._ What monstrous happ + Wilt thou recount? + + _Dir._ Alas too hard mishapp! + When I but dreame of what mine eies beheld, + My hart doth freeze, my limmes do quiuering quake, + I senceles stand, my brest with tempest tost + Killes in my throte my wordes, ere fully borne. + Dead, dead he is: be sure of what I say, + This murthering sword hath made the man away. + + _Caes._ Alas my heart doth cleaue, pittie me rackes, + My breast doth pant to heare this dolefull tale. + Is _Antonie_ then dead? To death, alas! + I am the cause despaire him so compelld. + But souldiour of his death the maner showe, + And how he did this liuing light forgoe. + + _Dir._ When _Antonie_ no hope remaining saw + How warre he might, or how agreement make, + Saw him betraid by all his men of warre + In euery fight as well by sea, as lande; + That not content to yeld them to their foes + They also came against himselfe to fight: + Alone in Court he gan himself torment, + Accuse the Queene, himselfe of hir lament, + Call'd hir vntrue and traytresse, as who fought + To yeld him vp she could no more defend: + That in the harmes which for hir sake he bare, + As in his blisfull state, she might not share. + But she againe, who much his furie fear'd, + Gatt to the Tombes, darke horrors dwelling place: + Made lock the doores, and pull the hearses downe. + Then fell shee wretched, with hir selfe to fight. + A thousand plaints, a thousand sobbes she cast + From hir weake brest which to the bones was torne, + Of women hir the most vnhappie call'd, + Who by hir loue, hir woefull loue, had lost + Hir realme, hir life, and more, the loue of him, + Who while he was, was all hir woes support. + But that she faultles was she did inuoke + For witnes heau'n, and aire, and earth, and sea. + Then sent him worde, she was no more aliue, + But lay inclosed dead within hir Tombe. + This he beleeu'd; and fell to sigh and grone, + And crost his armes, then thus began to mone. + + _Caes._ Poore hopeles man! + + _Dir._ What dost thou more attend? + Ah _Antonie_! why dost thou death deferre? + Since _Fortune_ thy professed enimie, + Hath made to die, who only made thee liue? + Sone as with sighes he had these words vp clos'd, + His armor he vnlaste, and cast it of, + Then all disarm'd he thus againe did say: + My Queene, my heart, the grief that now I feele, + Is not that I your eies, my Sunne, do loose, + For soone againe one Tombe shal vs conioyne: + I grieue, whom men so valorouse did deeme, + Should now, then you, of lesser valor seeme. + So said, forthwith he _Eros_ to him call'd, + _Eros_ his man; summond him on his faith + To kill him at his nede. He tooke the sworde, + And at that instant stab'd therwith his breast, + And ending life fell dead before his fete. + O _Eros_ thankes (quoth _Antonie_) for this + Most noble acte, who pow'rles me to kill, + On thee hast done, what I on mee should doe. + Of speaking thus he scarce had made an ende, + And taken vp the bloudie sword from ground, + But he his bodie piers'd; and of redd bloud + A gushing fountaine all the chamber fill'd. + He staggred at the blowe, his face grew pale, + And on a couche all feeble downe he fell, + Swounding with anguish: deadly cold him tooke, + As if his soule had then his lodging left. + But he reuiu'd, and marking all our eies + Bathed in teares, and how our breasts we beatt + For pittie, anguish, and for bitter griefe, + To see him plong'd in extreame wretchednes: + He prai'd vs all to haste his lingr'ing death: + But no man willing, each himselfe withdrew. + Then fell he new to crie and vexe himselfe, + Vntill a man from _Cleopatra_ came, + Who said from hir he had commaundement + To bring him to hir to the monument. + The poore soule at these words euen rapt with Ioy + Knowing she liu'd, prai'd vs him to conuey + Vnto his Ladie. Then vpon our armes + We bare him to the Tombe, but entred not. + For she, who feared captiue to be made, + And that she should to _Rome_ in triumph goe, + Kept close the gate: but from a window high + Cast downe a corde, wherin he was impackt. + Then by hir womens helpt the corps she rais'd, + And by strong armes into hir windowe drew. + So pittifull a sight was neuer sene. + Little and little _Antonie_ was pull'd, + Now breathing death: his beard was all vnkempt, + His face and brest all bathed in his bloud. + So hideous yet, and dieng as he was, + His eies half-clos'd vppon the Queene he cast: + Held vp his hands, and holpe himself to raise, + But still with weakenes back his bodie fell. + The miserable ladie with moist eies, + With haire which careles on hir forhead hong, + With brest which blowes had bloudilie benumb'd, + With stooping head, and bodie down-ward bent, + Enlast hir in the corde, and with all force + This life-dead man couragiously vprais'de. + The bloud with paine into hir face did flowe, + Hir sinewes stiff, her selfe did breathles growe. + The people which beneath in flocks beheld, + Assisted her with gesture, speech, desire: + Cri'de and incourag'd her, and in their soules + Did sweate, and labor, no white lesse then shee. + Who neuer tir'd in labor, held so long + Helpt by hir women, and hir constant heart, + That _Antonie_ was drawne into the tombe, + And ther (I thinke) of dead augments the summe. + The Cittie all to teares and sighes is turn'd, + To plaints and outcries horrible to heare: + Men, women, children, hoary-headed age + Do all pell mell in house and strete lament, + Scratching their faces, tearing of their haire, + Wringing their hands, and martyring their brests. + Extreame their dole: and greater misery + In sacked townes can hardlie euer be. + Not if the fire had scal'de the highest towers: + That all things were of force and murther full; + That in the streets the bloud in riuers stream'd; + That sonne his sire saw in his bosome slaine, + The sire his sonne: the husband reft of breath + In his wiues armes, who furious runnes to death. + Now my brest wounded with their piteouse plaints + I left their towne, and tooke with me this sworde, + Which I tooke vp at what time _Antonie_ + Was from his chamber caried to the tombe: + And brought it you, to make his death more plaine, + And that therby my words may credite gaine. + + _Caes._ Ah Gods what cruell happ! poore _Antonie_, + Alas hast thou this sword so long time borne + Against thy foe, that in the ende it should + Of thee his Lord the cursed murthr'er be? + _O Death_ how I bewaile thee! we (alas!) + So many warres haue ended, brothers, frends, + Companions, coozens, equalls in estate: + And must it now to kill thee be my fate? + + _Ag._ Why trouble you your selfe with bootles griefe? + For _Antonie_ why spend you teares in vaine? + Why darken you with dole your victorie? + Me seemes your self your glorie do enuie. + Enter the towne, giue thankes vnto the Gods. + + _Caes._ I cannot but his tearefull chaunce lament, + Although not I, but his owne pride the cause, + And vnchaste loue of this _AEgyptian_. + + _Agr._ But best we sought into the tombe to gett, + Lest shee consume in this amazed case + So much rich treasure, with which happelie + Despaire in death may make hir feed the fire: + Suffring the flames hir Iewells to deface, + You to defraud, hir funerall to grace. + Sende then to hir, and let some meane be vs'd + With some deuise so holde hir still aliue, + Some faire large promises: and let them marke + Whither they may by some fine conning slight + Enter the tombes. + + _Caesar._ Let _Proculeius_ goe, + And fede with hope hir soule disconsolate. + Assure hir so, that we may wholie gett + Into our hands hir treasure and hir selfe. + For this of all things most I doe desire + To kepe hir safe vntill our going hence: + That by hir presence beautified may be + The glorious triumph _Rome_ prepares for me. + + + Chorus of Romaine _Souldiors_. + + Shall euer ciuile hate + gnaw and deuour our state? + Shall neuer we this blade, + Our bloud hath bloudie made, + Lay downe? these armes downe lay + As robes we weare alway? + But as from age to age, + So passe from rage to rage? + Our hands shall we not rest + To bath in our owne brest? + And shall thick in each land + Our wretched trophees stand, + To tell posteritie, + What madd Impietie + Our stonie stomakes ledd + Against the place vs bredd? + Then still must heauen view + The plagues that vs pursue: + And euery where descrie + Heaps of vs scattred lie, + Making the straunger plaines + Fatt with our bleeding raines, + Proud that on them their graue + So manie legions haue. + And with our fleshes still + _Neptune_ his fishes fill + And dronke with bloud from blue + The sea take blushing hue: + As iuice of _Tyrian_ shell, + When clarified well + To wolle of finest fields + A purple glosse it yelds. + But since the rule of _Rome_, + To one mans hand is come, + Who gouernes without mate + Hir now vnited state, + Late iointlie rulde by three + Enuieng mutuallie, + Whose triple yoke much woe + On _Latines_ necks did throwe: + I hope the cause of iarre, + And of this bloudie warre, + And deadlie discord gone + By what we last haue done: + Our banks shall cherish now + The branchie pale-hew'd bow + Of _Oliue_, _Pallas_ praise, + In stede of barraine bayes. + And that his temple dore, + Which bloudie _Mars_ before + Held open, now at last + Olde _Ianus_ shall make fast: + And rust the sword consume, + And spoild of wauing plume, + The vseles morion shall + On crooke hang by the wall. + At least if warre returne + It shall not here soiourne, + To kill vs with those armes + Were forg'd for others harmes: + But haue their pointes addrest, + Against the _Germaines_ brest, + The _Parthians_ fayned flight, + The _Biscaines_ martiall might. + Olde Memorie doth there + Painted on forhead weare + Our Fathers praise: thence torne + Our triumphes baies haue worne: + Therby our matchles _Rome_ + Whilome of Shepeheards come + Rais'd to this greatnes stands, + The Queene of forraine lands. + Which now euen seemes to face + The heau'ns, her glories place: + Nought resting vnder Skies + That dares affront her eies. + So that she needes but feare + The weapons _Ioue_ doth beare, + Who angrie at one blowe + May her quite ouerthrowe. + + + + + Act. 5. + + + _Cleopatra._ _Euphron._ _Children of Cleopatra._ + _Charmion._ _Eras._ + + _Cleop._ + + O cruell Fortune! o accursed lott! + O plaguy loue! o most detested brand! + O wretched ioyes! o beauties miserable! + O deadlie state! o deadly roialtie! + O hatefull life! o Queene most lamentable! + O _Antonie_ by my fault buriable! + O hellish worke of heau'n! alas! the wrath + Of all the Gods at once on vs is falne. + Vnhappie Queene! o would I in this world + The wandring light of day had neuer sene? + Alas! of mine the plague and poison I + The crowne haue lost my ancestors me left, + This Realme I haue to straungers subiect made, + And robd my children of their heritage. + Yet this is nought (alas!) vnto the price + Of you deare husband, whome my snares entrap'd: + Of you, whom I haue plagu'd, whom I haue made + With bloudie hand a guest of mouldie Tombe: + Of you, whome I destroid, of you, deare Lord, + Whome I of Empire, honor, life haue spoil'd. + O hurtfull woman! and can I yet liue, + Yet longer liue in this Ghost-haunted tombe? + Can I yet breathe! can yet in such annoy, + Yet can my Soule within this bodie dwell? + O Sisters you that spinne the thredes of death! + O _Styx_! o _Phlegethon_! you brookes of hell! + O Impes of _Night_! + + _Euph._ Liue for your childrens sake: + Let not your death of kingdome them depriue. + Alas what shall they do? who will haue care? + Who will preserue this royall race of yours? + Who pittie take? euen now me seemes I see + These little soules to seruile bondage falne, + And borne in triumph. + + _Cl._ Ah most miserable! + + _Euph._ Their tender armes with cursed corde fast bound + At their weake backs. + + _Cl._ Ah Gods what pittie more! + + _Eph._ Their seelie necks to ground with weaknesse bend. + + _Cl._ Neuer on vs, good Gods, such mischiefe sende. + + _Euph._ And pointed at with fingers as they go. + + _Cl._ Rather a thousand deaths. + + _Euph._ Lastly his knife + Some cruell caytiue in their bloud embrue. + + _Cl._ Ah my heart breaks. By shadie bankes of hell, + By fieldes wheron the lonely Ghosts do treade, + By my soule, and the soule of _Antonie_ + I you beseche, _Euphron_, of them haue care. + Be their good Father, let your wisedome lett + That they fall not into this Tyrants handes. + Rather conduct them where their freezed locks + Black _AEthiopes_ to neighbour Sunne do shewe; + On wauie _Ocean_ at the waters will; + On barraine cliffes of snowie _Caucasus_; + To Tigers swift, to Lions, and to Beares; + And rather, rather vnto euery coaste, + To eu'rie land and sea: for nought I feare + As rage of him, whose thirst no bloud can quench. + Adieu deare children, children deare adieu: + Good _Isis_ you to place of safetie guide, + Farre from our foes, where you your liues may leade + In free estate deuoid of seruile dread. + Remember not, my children, you were borne + Of such a Princelie race: remember not + So manie braue Kings which haue _Egipt_ rul'de + In right descent your ancestors haue bene: + That this great _Antonie_ your Father was, + _Hercules_ bloud, and more then he in praise. + For your high courage such remembrance will, + Seing your fall with burning rages fill. + Who knowes if that your hands false _Destinie_ + The Scepters promis'd of imperiouse _Rome_, + In stede of them shall crooked shepehookes beare, + Needles or forkes, or guide the carte, or plough? + Ah learne t' endure: your birth and high estate + Forget, my babes, and bend to force of fate. + Farwell, my babes, farwell, my hart is clos'de + With pitie and paine, my self with death enclos'de, + My breath doth faile. Farwell for euermore, + Your Sire and me you shall see neuer more. + Farwell swete care, farwell. + + _Chil._ Madame Adieu. + + _Cl._ Ah this voice killes me. Ah good Gods! I swounde. + I can no more, I die. + + _Eras._ Madame, alas! + And will you yeld to woe? Ah speake to vs. + + _Eup._ Come children. + + _Chil._ We come. + + _Eup._ Follow we our chaunce. + The Gods shall guide vs. + + _Char._ O too cruell lott! + O too hard chaunce! Sister what shall we do, + What shall we do, alas! if murthring darte + Of death arriue while that in slumbring swound + Half dead she lie with anguish ouergone? + + _Er._ Her face is frozen. + + _Ch._ Madame for Gods loue + Leaue vs not thus: bidd vs yet first farwell. + Alas! wepe ouer _Antonie_: Let not + His bodie be without due rites entomb'de. + + _Cl._ Ah, ah. + + _Char._ Madame. + + _Cle._ Ay me! + + _Cl._ How fainte she is? + + _Cl._ My Sisters, holde me vp. How wretched I, + How cursed am! and was ther euer one + By Fortunes hate into more dolours throwne? + Ah, weeping _Niobe_, although thy hart + Beholdes itselfe enwrap'd in causefull woe + For thy dead children, that a senceless rocke + With griefe become, on _Sipylus_ thou stand'st + In endles teares: yet didst thou neuer feele + The weights of griefe that on my heart do lie. + Thy Children thou, mine I poore soule haue lost, + And lost their Father, more then them I waile, + Lost this faire realme; yet me the heauens wrathe + Into a Stone not yet transformed hath. + _Phaetons_ sisters, daughters of the Sunne, + Which waile your brother falne into the streames + Of stately _Po_: the Gods vpon the bankes + Your bodies to banke-louing Alders turn'd. + For me, I sigh, I ceasles wepe, and waile, + And heauen pittiles laughes at my woe, + Reuiues, renewes it still: and in the ende + (Oh crueltie!) doth death for comfort lende. + Die _Cleopatra_ then, no longer stay + From _Antonie_, who thee at _Styx_ attends: + Goe ioine thy Ghost with his, and sobbe no more + Without his loue within these tombes enclos'd. + + _Eras._ Alas! yet let vs wepe, lest sodaine death + From him our teares, and those last duties take + Vnto his tombe we owe. _Ch._ Ah let vs wepe + While moisture lasts, then die before his feete. + + _Cl._ who furnish will mine eies with streaming teares + My boiling anguish worthilie to waile, + Waile thee _Antonie_, _Antonie_ my heart? + Alas, how much I weeping liquor want! + Yet haue mine eies quite drawne their Conduits drie + By long beweeping my disastred harmes. + Now reason is that from my side they sucke + First vitall moisture, then the vitall bloud. + Then let the bloud from my sad eies out flowe, + And smoking yet with thine in mixture growe. + Moist it, and heate it newe, and neuer stopp, + All watring thee, while yet remaines one dropp. + + _Cha._ _Antonie_ take our teares: this is the last + Of all the duties we to thee can yelde, + Before we die. + + _Er._ These sacred obsequies + Take _Antony_, and take them in good parte. + + _Cl._ O Goddesse thou whom _Cyprus_ doth adore, + _Venus_ of _Paphos_, bent to worke vs harme + For olde _Iulus_ broode, if thou take care + Of _Caesar_, why of vs tak'st thou no care? + _Antonie_ did descend, as well as he, + From thine own Sonne by long enchained line: + And might haue rul'd by one and self same fate, + True _Troian_ bloud, the statelie _Romain_ state. + _Antonie_, poore _Antonie_, my deare soule, + Now but a blocke, the bootie of a tombe, + Thy life, thy heate is lost, thy coullor gone, + And hideous palenes on thy face hath seaz'd. + Thy eies, two Sunnes, the lodging place of loue, + Which yet for tents to warlike _Mars_ did serue, + Lock'd vp in lidds (as faire daies cherefull light + Which darknesse flies) do winking hide in night. + _Antonie_ by our true loues I thee beseche, + And by our hearts swete sparks haue sett on fire, + Our holy mariage, and the tender ruthe + Of our deare babes, knot of our amitie: + My dolefull voice thy eare let entertaine, + And take me with thee to the hellish plaine, + Thy wife, thy frend: heare _Antonie_, o heare + My sobbing sighes, if here thou be, or there. + Liued thus long, the winged race of yeares + Ended I haue as _Destinie_ decreed, + Flourish'd and raign'd, and taken iust reuenge + Of him who me both hated and despisde. + Happie, alas too happie! if of _Rome_ + Only the fleete had hither neuer come. + And now of me an Image great shall goe + Vnder the earth to bury there my woe. + What say I? where am I? o _Cleopatra_, + Poore _Cleopatra_, griefe thy reason reaues. + No, no, most happie in this happles case, + To die with thee, and dieng thee embrace: + My bodie ioynde with thine, my mouth with thine, + My mouth, whose moisture burning sighes haue dried: + To be in one selfe tombe, and one selfe chest, + And wrapt with thee in one selfe sheete to rest. + The sharpest torment in my heart I feele + Is that I staie from thee, my heart, this while. + Die will I straight now, now streight will I die, + And streight with thee a wandring shade will be, + Vnder the _Cypres_ trees thou haunt'st alone, + Where brookes of hell do falling seeme to mone. + But yet I stay, and yet thee ouerliue, + That ere I die due rites I may thee giue. + A thousand sobbes I from my brest will teare, + With thousand plaints thy funeralles adorne: + My haire shall serue for thy oblations, + My boiling teares for thy effusions, + Mine eies thy fire: for out of them the flame + (Which burnt thy heart on me enamour'd) came. + Wepe my companions, wepe, and from your eies + Raine downe on him of teares a brinish streame. + Mine can no more, consumed by the coales + Which from my breast, as from a furnace, rise. + Martir your breasts with multiplied blowes, + With violent hands teare of your hanging haire, + Outrage your face: alas! why should we seeke + (Since now we die) our beawties more to kepe? + I spent in teares, not able more to spende, + But kisse him now, what rests me more to doe? + Then lett me kisse you, you faire eies, my light, + Front seate of honor, face most fierce, most faire! + O neck, o armes, o hands, o breast where death + (Oh mischief) comes to choake vp vitall breath. + A thousand kisses, thousand thousand more + Let you my mouth for honors farewell giue: + That in this office weake my limmes may growe, + Fainting on you, and fourth my soule may flowe. + + + + +At Ramsburie. 26. of Nouember. + +1590. + + + * * * * * + * * * * + * * * * * + +ERRATA + +_Discourse_ + +C2v +so gredelie it seekes to murther them. + _formatting ambiguous: short line, but following word not indented_ +C3 +not withdrawen + _no space in printed text_ +C3v +We folow solitarines, to flie carefulnes. + _text reads "carefulues"_ +C4 +applied to mans naturall disposition + _text reads "to / to" at line break_ +D +and this feeles the euill present + _text unchanged: error for "thus"?_ +this great and incurable disease of olde age + _text reads "iucurable"_ +Dv +what good I pray can hee haue but onlie + _text reads "bnt"_ +D2v +of the paines we felt at our birth? + _question mark printed upside-down) + +_Antonius_ + +Spelling and capitalization are unchanged. Forms such as "Phaebus" and +"Phaenician" (for "Phoebus" and "Phoenician") are used consistently; +since names are in Roman type, there is no chance of error or ambiguity. + +F2v +Yelded _Pelusium_ on this Countries shore + _text reads "_Pelusuim_"_ +F3v +To see at once so many Romanes there + _text reads "Komanes"_ +F4 +Betraies thy loue, thy life alas! betraies + _text reads "alas!)"_ +Gv +(As curse may blessing haue) + _text reads ") As"_ +G2v +Fi'ring a brand + _text unchanged_ +H +No humain force can them withstand, but death. + _text reads "bnt"_ +Hv +_Er._ Feare of a woman troubled so his sprite? + _comma for period_ +H2 +If we therin sometimes some faultes commit + _no space in printed text_ +Before they be in this our worlde borne: + _text reads "wordle"_ +H3 +That giue them vp to aduersaries handes + _text reads "adnersaries"_ +H3v +His legions led to drinke _Euphrates_ streames + _text reads "legious"_ +_Ch._ Our first affection to our selfe is due. + _second "e" in "selfe" invisible_ +H4 +Yet if his harme by yours redresse might haue, + _punctuation unchanged_ +H4v +And high st ate: + _text unchanged: error for "high estate"?_ +I2 +The Allablaster couering of hir face + _common variant spelling_ +Yet this is nothing th'e'nchaunting skilles + _text unchanged_ +I4v +Which of my greatnes greatest good receiu'd + _text reads "Wbich"_ +_Lu._ So long time you her constant loue haue tri'de. + _text reads "Li."_ +K3 +Fortune may chaunge againe, + _punctuation unchanged_ +K4v +She doth frequent _Ballonas_ bloudie trade: + _text unchanged: normal spelling "Bellona" occurs later_ +Mv +_Agr._ What? Robbing his owne countrie of her due + _flyspeck or ambiguous punctuation at end of line_ +M3 +_Ag._ What sodaine chaunce thee towards vs hath brought? + _text reads "towar ds"_ +M3v +Accuse the Queene, himselfe of hir lament + _text reads "Qneene"_ +M4 [consecutive lines] +_Dir._ What dost thou more attend? + _punctuation at end of line unclear_ +Ah _Antonie_! why dost thou death deferre? + _question mark unclear_ +Nv +_Agr._ But best we sought into the tombe to gett + _comma for period_ +N2 +The glorious triumph _Rome_ prepares for me._ + _invisible period_ +Shall ever civile hate + _text reads "bate"_ +N3 +The _Parthians_ fayned flight, + _text reads "fligbt"_ +Therby our matchles _Rome_ + _letter "m" in "Rome" italicized_ +O2v +That in this office weake my limmes may growe, + _initial "T" in "that" not italicized_ + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Discourse of Life and Death, by +Mornay; and Antonius by Garnier, by Philippe de Mornay and Robert Garnier + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A DISCOURSE OF LIFE *** + +***** This file should be named 21789.txt or 21789.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/1/7/8/21789/ + +Produced by Louise Hope, David Starner and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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