CAESAR AND POMPEY: A Roman Tragedy, declaring their Wars.  
Out of whose events is evicted this Proposition.  
Only a just man is a freeman.  
By GEORGE CHAPMAN.  
LONDON: Printed by THOMAS HARPER, and are to be sold by Godfrey Emondson, and Thomas Althorus. M.DC.XXXI.   

TO THE RIGHT Honourable, his exceeding good Lord, the Earl of Middlesex, &c.  
THough (my good Lord) this martial History suffer the division of Acts and Scenes, both for the more perspicuity and height of the celebration, yet never touched it at the Stage; or if it had (though some may perhaps causelessly impair it) yet would it, I hope, fall under no exception in your Lordship's better-judging estimation, since scenical representation is so far from giving just cause of any least diminution; that the personal and exact life it gives to any History, or other such delineation of humane actions, adds to them luster, spirit and apprehension, which the only section of Acts and Scenes makes me stand upon thus much, since that only in some precisianisms will require a little prevention: And the hasty prose the style avoids, obtain to the more temperate and stayed numerous elocution, some assistance to the acceptation and grace of it. Though ingeniously my gratitude confesseth (my Lord) it is not such as hereafter I vow to your honour; being written so long since; and had not the timely ripeness of that age that (I thank God) I yet find no fault withal for any old defects.  
Good my Lord vouchsafe your idle minutes may admit some slight glances at this, till some work of more novelty and fashion may confer this the more liking of your honours more worthy deservings; To which his bounden affection vows all services.  
Ever your Lordship's GEO. CHAPMAN.   

The Argument.  
POmpey and Caesar bring their Armies so near Rome, that the Senate except against them. Caesar unduly and ambitiously commanding his forces. Pompey more for fear of Caesar's violence to the State, then moved with any affectation of his own greatness. Their opposite pleadings, out of which admirable narrations are made, which yet not conducing to their ends, war ends them. In which at first Caesar is forced to fly, whom Pompey not pursuing with such wings as fitted a speeding Conqueror; his victory was prevented, and he unhappily dishonoured. Whose ill fortune his most loving and learned wife Cornelia travailed after, with pains solemn and careful enough; whom the two Lentuli and others attended, till she miserably found him, and saw him monstrously murdered.  
Both the Consuls and Cato are slaughtered with their own invincible hands; and Caesar (in spite of all his fortune) without his victory, victor.   

ONLY A just MAN IS A FREE MAN.  

Act I. Scene I.  Cato, Athenodorus, Porcius, Statilius. Cat. 
NOw will the two Suns of our Roman Heaven  
(Pompey & Caesar) in their tropic burning,  
With their contention, all the clouds assemble  
That threaten tempests to our peace & Empire,  
Which we shall shortly see pour down in blood,  
Civil and natural, wild and barbarous turning.  Ath. 
From whence presage you this?  Cat. 
From both their Armies,  
Now gathered near our italy, contending  
To enter severally: Pompey's brought so near  
By Rome's consent; for fear of tyrannous Caesar,  
Which Caesar fearing to be done in favour  
Of Pompey, and his passage to the Empire,  
Hath brought on his for intervention.  
And such a flock of Puttocks follow Caesar,  
For fall of his ill-disposed Purse  
(That never yet spared Cross to Aquiline virtue)  
As well may make all civil spirits suspicious.  
Look how against great rains, a standing Pool  
Of Paddocks, Toads, and water-Snakes put up  
Their speckled throats above the venomous Lake,  
Croaking and gasping for some fresh fall'n drops  
To quench their poisoned thirst; being near to stifle  
With clottered purgings of their own foul bane;  
So still, where Caesar goes, there thrust up head,  
Impostors, Flatterers, Favourites, and Bawds,  
buffoons, Intelligencers, select wits;  
Close Murderers, mountebanks, and decayed Thieves,  
To gain their baneful lives reliefs from him.  
From Britain, Belgia, France, and germany,  
The scum of either Country, (chused by him,  
To be his black Guard, and red Agents here)  
Swarming about him.  Porc. 
And all these are said  
To be suborned, in chief, against yourself;  
Since Caesar chiefly fears, that you will sit  
This day his opposite; in the cause for which  
Both you were sent for home; and he hath stolen  
Access so soon here; Pompey: whole rest raised  
To his encounter; and on both sides, Rome  
In general uproar.  Stat. 
Which Sir, if you saw,  
And knew, how for the danger, all suspect  
To this your worthiest friend (for that known freedom  
His spirit will use this day, 'gainst both the Rivals,  
His wife and family mourn, no food, no comfort  
Allowed them, for his danger) you would use  
Your utmost powers to stay him from the Senate,  
All this day's Session.  Cat. 
he's too wise, Statilius,  
For all is nothing.  Stat. 
Nothing Sir? I saw  
Castor and Pollux Temple, thrust up full,  
With all the damned crew you have lately named:  
The market place and suburbs swarming with them:  
And where the Senate sit, are Ruffians pointed  
To keep from entering the degrees that go  
Up to the Bench; all other but the Consuls,  
Caesar and Pompey, and the Senators,  
And all for no cause, but to keep out Cato,  
With any violence, any villainy;  
And is this nothing Sir? Is his One life,  
On whom all good lives, and their goods depend,  
In Rome's whole Empire! All the justice there  
That's free, and simple; all such virtues too,  
And all such knowledge; Nothing, nothing, all?  Cat. 
Away Statilius; how long shall thy love  
Exceed thy knowledge of me, and the Gods?  
Whose rights thou wrong'st for my right? have not?  
Their powers to guard me, in a cause of theirs?  
Their justice, and integrity included,  
In what I stand for? he that fears the Gods,  
For guard of any goodness; all things fears;  
Earth, Seas, and Air; Heaven, darkness, broad daylight,  
Rumor, and Silence, and his very shade:  
And what an Aspen soul hath such a creature?  
How dangerous to his soul is such a fear?  
In whose cold fits, is all heaven's justice shaken  
To his faint thoughts; and all the goodness there  
Due to all good men, by the gods own vows,  
Nay, by the firmness of their endless Being,  
All which shall fail as soon as any one  
Good to a good man in them: for his goodness  
Proceeds from them, and is a beam of theirs.  
O never more, Statilius, may this fear  
Taint thy bold bosom, for thyself, or friend.  
More than the gods are fearful to defend.  Athen. 
Come; let him go, Statilius; and your fright;  
This man hath inward guard, past your young sight. Exeunt  Enter Minutius, manet Cato. Cat. 
Welcome; come stand by me in what is fit  
For our poor City's safety; nor respect  
Her proudest foes corruption, or our danger  
Of what seen face soever.  Min. 
I am yours.  
But what alas, Sir, can the weakness do  
Against our whole State of us only two?  
You know our Statists spirits are so corrupt  
And servile to the greatest; that what crosseth  
Them, or their own particular wealth, or honour,  
They will not enterprise to save the Empire.  Cat. 
I know it; yet let us do like ourselves. Exeunt.  Enter some bearing Axes, bundles of rods, bare; before two Consuls, Caesar and Metellus; Anthonius, and Marcellus in couples; Senators, People, Soldiers, &c. following. The Consuls enter the Degrees, with Anthonius, and Marcellus: Caesar staying a while without with Metellus, who hath a paper in his hand. Caes. 
Move you for entering only Pompey's army;  
Which if you gain for him; for me, all justice  
Will join with my request of entering mine.  Met. 
'tis like so, and I purpose to enforce it.  Caes. 
But might we not win Cato to our friendship  
By honouring speeches, nor persuasive gifts?  Met. 
Not possible.  Caes. 
Nor by enforcive usage?  Met. 
Not all the violence that can be used,  
Of power, or set authority can stir him,  
Much less fair words win, or rewards corrupt him;  
And therefore all means we must use to keep him  
From off the Bench.  Caes. 
Give you the course for that,  
And if he offer entry, I have fellows  
Will serve your will on him, at my given signal.  They ascend. Enter Pompey, Gabinius, Vibius, Demetrius, with papers. Enter the Lists, ascend and sit. After whom enter Cato, Minutius, Athenodorus, Statilius, Porcius. Cat. 
He is the man that sits so close to Caesar,  
And holds the law there, whispering; see the Cowherd  
Hath guards of armed men got, against one naked.  
I'll part their whispering virtue.  1 
Hold, keep out.  2 
What? honoured Cato? enter, choose thy place.  Cat. 
Come in;  He draws him in and sits betwixt Caesar and Metelius. 
— Away unworthy grooms.  3 
No more.  Caes. 
What should one say to him?  Met. 
He will be Stoical.  Cat. 
Where fit place is not given, it must be taken.  4 
Do, take it Cato; fear no greatest of them;  
Thou seek'st the people's good; and these their own.  5 
Brave Cato! what a countenance he puts on?  
Let's give his noble will, our utmost power.  6 
Be bold in all thy will; for being just,  
Thou mayst defy the gods.  Cat. 
Said like a God.  Met. 
We must endure these people.  Caes. 
Do; begin.  Met. 
consul's, and reverend Fathers; And ye people,  
Whose voices are the voices of the Gods;  
I here have drawn a law, by good consent,  
For entering into Italy, the army  
Of Rome's great Pompey: that his forces here,  
As well as he, great Rome, may rest secure  
From danger or the yet still smoking fire,  
Of Catiline's abhorred conspiracy:  
Of which the very chief are left alive,  
Only chastised, but with a gentle prison.  Cat. 
Put them to death then, and strike dead our fear,  
That well you urge, by their unfit survival.  
Rather than keep it quick; and two lives give it,  
By entertaining Pompey's army too.  
That gives as great cause of our fear, as they.  
For their conspiracy, only was to make  
One Tyrant over all the State of Rome.  
And Pompey's army, suffered to be entered,  
Is, to make him, or give him means to be so.  Met. 
It follows not.  Cat. 
In purpose; clearly Sir,  
Which I'll illustrate, with a clear example.  
If it be day, the sun's above the earth;  
Which follows not (you'll answer) for 'tis day  
When first the morning breaks; and yet is then  
The body of the Sun beneath the earth;  
But he is virtually above it too,  
Because his beams are there, and who then knows not  
His golden body will soon after mount.  
So Pompey's army entered Italy,  
Yet Pompey's not in Rome; but Pompey's beams  
Who sees not there? and consequently, he  
Is in all means enthroned in th'empery.  Met. 
Examples prove not, we will have the army  
Of Pompey entered.  Cato. 
We? which we intend you?  
Have you already bought the people's voices?  
Or bear our Consul or our Senate here  
So small love to their Country; that their wills  
Beyond their Countries right are so perverse,  
To give a Tyrant here entire command?  
Which I have proved as clear as day, they do,  
If either the Conspirators surviving  
Be let to live; or Pompey's army entered;  
Both which, beat one sole path; and threat one danger.  Caes. 
consul's, and honoured Fathers; The sole entry  
Of Pompey's army, I'll not yet examine:  
But for the great Conspirators yet living,  
(Which Cato will conclude as oneself danger,  
To our dear Country; and deter all therefore  
That love their Country, from their life's defence  
I see no reason why such danger hangs  
On their saved lives; being still safe kept in prison;  
And since close prison, to a Roman freedom,  
Ten fold torments more, than directest death,  
Who can be thought to love the less his Country,  
That seeks to save their lives? And lest myself  
(Thus speaking for them) be unjustly touched  
With any less doubt of my Country's love.  
Why (reverend Fathers) may it be esteemed  
Self praise in me, to prove myself a chief  
Both in my love of her; and in desert  
Of her like love in me? For he that does  
Most honour to his Mistress; well may boast  
(Without least question) that he loves her most.  
And though things long since done, were long since known,  
And so may seem superfluous to repeat;  
Yet being forgotten, as things never done,  
Their repetition needful is, in justice,  
T'inflame the shame of that oblivion:  
For hoping it will seem no less impair  
To others acts, to truly tell mine own;  
Put all together; I have passed them all  
That by their acts can boast themselves to be  
Their country's lovers: first in those wild kingdoms  
Subdued to Rome, by my unwearied toils.  
Which I dissavaged and made nobly civil.  
Next, in the multitude of those rude Realms  
That so I fashioned; and to Rome's young Empire  
Of old have added: Then the battles numbered  
This hand hath fought, and won for her, with all  
Those infinites of dreadful enemies  
(I slew in them: Twice fifteen hundred thousand  
All able Soldiers) I have driven at once  
Before my forces: and in sundry onsets,  
A thousand thousand of them, put to sword:  
Besides, I took in less than ten years' time,  
By strong assault, above eight hundred Cities,  
Three hundred several Nations, in that space,  
Subduing to my Country; all which service,  
I trust, may interest me in her love,  
Public, and general enough, to acquit me  
Of any self-love; past her common good:  
For any motion of particular justice  
(By which her general Empire is maintained)  
That I can make for those accused prisoners,  
Which is but by the way; that so the reason  
Metellus makes for entering Pompey's army,  
May not more weighty seem, than to agree  
With those imprisoned nobles, vital safeties.  
Which granted, or but yielded fit to be,  
May well extenuate the necessity  
Of entering Pompey's army.  Cat. 
All that need  
I took away before; and reasons gave  
For a necessity to keep it out  
Whose entry (I think) he himself affects not.  
Since I as well think he affects not th'Empire,  
And both those thoughts hold; since he loves his Country,  
In my great hopes of him too well to seek  
His sole rule of her, when so many souls,  
So hard a task approve it; nor my hopes  
Of his sincere love to his Country, build  
On sandier grounds than Caesar's; since he can  
As good Cards show for it as Caesar did,  
And quit therein the close aspersion  
Of his ambition, seeking to employ  
His army in the breast of Italy.  Pomp. 
Let me not thus (imperial Bench and Senate)  
Feel myself beat about the ears, and tossed  
With others breathes to any coast they please:  
And not put some stay to my errors in them.  
The gods can witness that not my ambition  
Hath brought to question th'entry of my army;  
And therefore not suspected the effect,  
Of which that entry is supposed the cause:  
Which is a will in me, to give my power  
The rule of Rome's sole Empire; that most strangely  
Would put my will in others powers; and powers  
(Unforfeit by my fault) in others' wills.  
My self-love, out of which all this must rise:  
I will not wrong the known proofs of my love  
To this my native City's public good,  
To quit, or think of; nor repeat those proofs  
Confirmed in those three triumphs I have made;  
For conquest of the whole inhabited world;  
First Afrique, Europe, and then Asia,  
Which never Consul but myself could boast.  
Nor can blind Fortune vaunt her partial hand,  
In any part of all my services,  
Though some have said, she was the page of Caesar,  
Both sailing, marching, fighting, and preparing  
His fights in very order of his battles:  
The parts she played for him inverting nature,  
As giving calmness to th'enraged sea;  
Imposing Summer's weather on stern winter;  
Winging the slowest foot he did command,  
And his most Cowherd making fierce of hand.  
And all this ever when the force of man  
Was quite exceeded in it all; and she  
In th'instant adding her clear deity.  
Yet, her for me, I both disclaim and scorn;  
And where all fortune is renounced, no reason  
Will think one man transferred with affectation  
Of all Rome's Empire; for he must have fortune  
That goes beyond a man; and where so many  
Their handfuls find with it; the one is mad  
That undergoes it: and where that is cleared;  
Th'imputed means to it, which is my suit  
For entry of mine army, I confute.  Cat. 
What rests then, this of all parts being disclaimed?  Met. 
My part, Sir, rests, that let great Pompey bear  
What spirit he lists; 'tis needful yet for Rome,  
That this Law be established for his army.  Caes. 
'tis then as needful to admit in mine;  
Or else let both lay down our arms; for else  
To take my charge off, and leave Pompey his;  
You wrongfully accuse me to intend  
A tyranny amongst ye; and shall give  
Pompey full means to be himself a tyrant.  Anth. 
Can this be answered?  1 Cons. 
Is it then your wills  
That Pompey shall cease arms?  Anth. 
What else?  Omnes. 
No, no.  2 Cons. 
Shall Caesar cease his arms?  Omn. 
ay, I.  Anth. 
For shame  
Then yield to this clear equity, that both  
May leave their arms.  Omn. 
We indifferent stand.  Met. 
Read but this law, and you shall see a difference  
Twixt equity and your indifferency;  
All men's objections answered; Read it Notary.  Cat. 
He shall not read it.  Met. 
I will read it then.  Min. 
Nor thou shalt read it, being a thing so vain,  
Pretending cause for Pompey's armies entry.  
That only by thy Complices and thee;  
'tis forged to set the Senate in an uproar  Met. 
I have it Sir, in memory, and will speak it.  Cat. 
Thou shalt be dumb as soon.  Caes. 
Pull down this Cato,  
Author of factions, and to prison with him.  Gen. 
Come down Sir. He draws, and all draw.  Pom. 
Hence ye mercenary Ruffians.  1 Cons. 
What outrage show you? sheath your insolent swords,  
Or be proclaimed your Countries' foes and traitors.  Pom. 
How insolent a part was this in you,  
To offer the imprisonment of Cato?  
When there is right in him (were form so answered  
With terms and place) to send us both to prison?  
If, of our own ambitions, we should offer  
Th'entry of our armies; for who knows  
That, of us both, the best friend to his Country,  
And freest from his own particular ends;  
(Being in his power) would not assume the Empire,  
And having it, could rule the State so well  
As now 'tis governed, for the common good?  Caes: 
Accuse yourself, Sir, (if your conscience urge it)  
Or of ambition, or corruption,  
Or insufficiency to rule the Empire,  
And sound not me with your Lead.  Pom. 
Lead? 'tis Gold,  
And spirit of Gold too; to the politic dross  
With which false Caesar sounds men; and for which  
His praise and honour crown them; who sounds not  
The inmost sand of Caesar? for but sand  
Is all the rope of your great parts affected.  
You speak well, and are learned; and golden speech  
Did Nature never give man; but to guild  
A copper soul in him; and all that learning  
That heartily is spent in painting speech,  
Is merely painted, and no solid knowledge.  
But y'ave another praise for temperance,  
Which nought commends your free choice to be temperate  
For so you must be; at least in your meals,  
Since y'ave a malady that ties you to it;  
For fear of daily falls in your aspirings.  
And your disease the gods ne'er gave to man;  
But such a one, as had a spirit too great  
For all his bodies passages to serve it,  
Which notes th'excess of your ambition.  
The malady chancing where the pores and passages  
Through which the spirit of a man is borne,  
So narrow are, and straight, that oftentimes  
They intercept it quite, and choke it up.  
And yet because the greatness of it notes  
A heat mere fleshly, and of bloods rank fire,  
Goats are of all beasts subject'st to it most.  Caes. 
yourself might have it then, if those faults cause it;  
But deals this man ingeniously, to tax  
Men with a frailty that the gods inflict?  Pomp. 
The gods inflict on men, diseases never,  
Or other outward maims; but to decipher,  
Correct, and order some rude vice within them:  
And why decipher they it, but to make  
Men note, and shun, and tax it to th'extreme?  
Nor will I see my Country's hopes abused,  
In any man commanding in her Empire;  
If my more trial of him, makes me see more  
Into his intricacies; and my freedom  
Hath spirit to speak more, than observers servile.  Caes. 
Be free, Sir, of your insight and your speech;  
And speak, and see more, than the world beside;  
I must remember I have heard of one,  
That fame gave out, could see thorough Oak and stone:  
And of another set in Sicily,  
That could discern the Carthaginian Navy,  
And number them distinctly, leaving harbour,  
Though full a day and nights fail distant thence:  
But these things (Reverend Fathers) I conceive,  
Hardly appear to you worth grave belief:  
And therefore since such strange things have been seen  
In my so deep and foul detractions,  
By only Lyncean Pompey; who was most  
Loved and believed of Rome's most famous whore,  
Infamous Flora; by so fine a man  
As Galba, or Sarmentus; any jester  
Or flatterer may draw through a Lady's Ring;  
By one that all his Soldiers call in scorn  
Great Agamemnon, or the king of men;  
I rest unmoved with him; and yield to you  
To right my wrongs, or his abuse allow.  Cat. 
My Lords, ye make all Rome amazed to hear.  Pom. 
Away, I'll hear no more; I hear it thunder  
My Lords; All you that love the good of Rome,  
I charge ye, follow me; all such as slay,  
Are friends to Caesar, and their Countries' foes.  Caes. 
Th'event will fall out contrary, my Lords.  1 Cons. 
Go, thou art a thief to Rome, discharge thine army,  
Or be proclaimed, forthwith, her open foe.  2 Cons. 
Pompey, I charge thee, help thy injured Country  
With what powers thou hast armed, and levy more.  The Ruffians. 
War, war, O Caesar.  Sen. and Peop. 
Peace, peace, worthy Pompey.   

Act II. Scene I.  Enter Fronto all ragged, in an over grown red Beard, black head, with a Halter in his hand, looking about. 
wars, wars, and presses, fly in fire about;  
No more can I lurk in my lazy corners,  
Nor shifting courses: and with honest means  
To rack my miserable life out, more,  
The rack is not so fearful; when dishonest  
And villainous fashions fail me; can I hope  
To live with virtuous? or to raise my fortunes  
By creeping up in Soldierly degrees?  
Since villainy varied thorough all his figures,  
Will put no better case on me then this;  
Despair! come seize me: I had able means;  
And spent all in the swinge of lewd affections;  
Plunged in all riot, and the rage of blood;  
In full assurance that being knave enough,  
Barbarous enough, base, ignorant enough,  
I needs must have enough, while this world lasted;  
Yet, since I am a poor, and ragged knave,  
My rags disgrace my knavery so, that none  
Will think I am knave; as if good clothes  
Were knacks to know a knave; when all men know  
He has no living? which knacks since my knavery  
Can show no more; and only show is all  
That this world cares for; I'll stop out of all  
The cares 'tis steeped in. He offers to hang himself.  Thunder, and the Gulf opens, flames issuing; and Ophioneus ascending, with the face, wings, and tail of a Dragon; a skin coat all speckled on the throat. Oph. 
Hold Rascal, hang thyself in these days?  
The only time that ever was for a Rascal to live in?  Fron. 
How chance I cannot live then?  Oph. 
Either thouart not rascal nor villain enough;  
Or else thou dost not pretend honesty  
And piety enough to disguise it.  Fro. 
That's certain, for every ass does that.  
What art thou?  Oph. 
A villain worse than thou.  Fro. 
And dost breathe?  Oph. 
I speak thou hear'st, I move, my pulse beats  
Fast as thine.  Fro. 
And wherefore liv'st thou?  Oph. 
The world's out of frame, a thousand Rulers  
Wresting it this way, and that, with as many  
Religions; when, as heaven's upper Sphere is moved  
Only by one; so should the Sphere of earth be, and  
I'll have it so.  Fro. 
How canst thou? what art thou?  Oph. 
My shape may tell thee.  Fro. 
No man?  Oph. 
Man? no, spawn of a clot, none of that cursed  
Crew, damned in the mass itself; plagued in his birth,  
Confined to creep below, and wrestle with the Elements;  
Teach himself tortures; kill himself, hang himself;  
No such galley slave, but at war with heaven;  
Spurning the power of the gods, command the Elements.  Fro. 
What mayst thou be then?  Oph. 
An endless friend of thine; an immortal devil.  Fro. 
Heaven bless us.  Oph. 
Nay then, forth, go, hang thyself, and thou talk'st  
Of heaven once.  Fro. 
I have done; what devil art thou?  Oph. 
Read the old stoic Pherecides, that tells thee  
Me truly, and says that I Ophioneus (for so is  
My name.)  Fro. 
Ophioneus? what's that?  Oph. 
Devilish Serpent, by interpretation; was general  
Captain of that rebellious host of spirits that  
Waged war with heaven.  Fro. 
And so were hurled down to hell.  Oph. 
We were so; and yet have the rule of earth; and cares  
Any man for the worst of hell then?  Fro. 
Why should he?  Oph. 
Well said; what's thy name now?  Fro. 
My name is Fronto.  Oph. 
Fronto? A good one; and has Fronto lived thus long  
In Rome? lost his state at dice? murdered his  
Brother for his means? spent all? run thorough worse  
Offices since? been a Promoter? a Purveyor? a Pander?  
A Sumner? a Sergeant? an Intelligencer? and at last  
Hang thyself?  Fro. 
How the devil knows he all this?  Oph. 
Why thou art a most green Plover in policy, I  
Perceive; and mayst drink Golte-foote, for all thy  
Horsemane beard: 'Slight, what need hast  
Thou to hang thyself? as if there were a dearth  
Of hangmen in the land? Thou liv'st in a good cheap  
State, a man may be hanged here for a little, or  
Nothing. What's the reason of thy desperation?  Fro. 
My idle dissolute life, is thrust out of all his corners  
By this searching tumult now on foot in Rome.  
— Caesar now and Pompey  
Are both for battle: Pompey (in his fear  
Of Caesar's greater force) is sending hence  
His wife and children, and he bent to fly.  Enter Pompey running over the Stage with his wife and children, Gabinius, Demetrius, Vibius, Pages; other Senators, the Consuls and all following. 
See, all are on their wings; and all the City  
In such an uproar, as if fire and sword  
Were ransacking, and ruining their houses,  
No idle person now can lurk near Rome,  
All must to arms; or shake their heels beneath  
Her martial halters; whose officious pride  
I'll shun, and use mine own swinge: I be forced  
To help my Country, when it forceth me  
To this past-helping pickle?  Oph. 
Go to, thou shalt serve me, choose thy profession;  
And what cloth thou wouldst wish to have thy Coat  
Cut out on.  Fro. 
I can name none.  Oph. 
Shall I be thy learned Counsel?  Fro. 
None better.  Oph. 
Be an Archflamen then, to one of the Gods.  Fro. 
Archflamen? what's that?  Oph. 
A Priest.  Fro. 
A Priest? that ne'er was Clerk?  Oph. 
No Clerk? what then?  
The greatest Clerks are not the wisest men.  
Nor skill it for degrees in a knave, or a fool's preferment,  
Thou shalt rise by fortune: let desert rise leisurely  
Enough, and by degrees; fortune prefers headlong,  
And comes like riches to a man; huge riches being  
Got with little pains; and little with huge pains. And  
For discharge of the Priesthood, what thou want'st  
In learning, thou shalt take out in good-fellowship:  
Thou shalt equivocate with the Sophister, prate with  
The Lawyer, scrape with the Usurer, drink with the  
Dutchman, swear with the French man, cheat  
With the English man, brag with the Scot, and  
Turn all this to Religion, Hoc est regnum  
Deorum Gentibus.  Fro. 
All this I can do to a hair.  Oph. 
Very good, wilt thou show thyself deeply learned too,  
And to live licentiously here, care for nothing hereafter?  Fro. 
Not for hell?  Oph. 
For hell? soft Sir; hop'st thou to purchase hell  
With only dicing or whoring away thy living?  
Murdering thy brother, and so forth? No there  
Remain works of a higher hand and deeper brain,  
To obtain hell. Thinkst thou earth's great  
Potentates have gotten their places there with  
Any single act of murder, poisoning, adultery,  
And the rest? No; 'tis a purchase for all manner  
Of villainy; especially, that may be privileged  
By Authority; coloured with holiness, and enjoyed  
With pleasure.  Fro. 
O this were most honourable and admirable.  Oph. 
Why such an admirable honourable villain shalt  
Thou be.  Fro. 
Is't possible?  Oph. 
Make no doubt on't; I'll inspire thee.  Fro. 
Sacred and puissant. He kneels.  Oph. 
Away; Companion and friend, give me thy  
Hand; say, dost not love me? art not enamoured  
Of my acquaintance?  Fro. 
Protest I am.  Oph. 
Well said, protest and 'tis enough. And know for  
Infallible; I have promotion for thee; both here, and  
Hereafter; which not one great one amongst  
Millions shall ever aspire to. Alexander, nor great  
Cyrus, retain those titles in hell, that they did  
On earth:  Fro. 
No?  Oph. 
No: he that sold seacoal here, shall be  
A Baron there; he that was a cheating  
Rogue here, shall be a justice of peace there;  
A knave here, a knight there. In the mean  
Space, learn what it is to live; and thou shalt  
Have Chopines at commandment to any height  
Of life thou canst wish.  Fro. 
I fear my fall is too low.  Oph. 
Too low fool? hast thou not heard of Vulcan's falling  
Out of heaven? Light a thy legs, and no matter  
Though thou halt'st with thy best friend ever after; 'tis  
The more comely and fashionable. Better go lame  
In the fashion with Pompey, then never so upright,  
Quite out of the fashion with Cato.  Fro. 
Yet you cannot change the old fashion (they say)  
And hide your cloven feet.  Oph. 
No? I can wear Roses that shall spread quite  
Over them.  Fro. 
For love of the fashion do then.  Oph. 
Go to; I will hereafter.  Fro. 
But for the Priesthood you offer me, I affect it not.  Oph. 
No? what sayst thou to a rich office then?  Fro. 
The only second means to raise a rascal  
In the earth.  Oph. 
Go to; I'll help thee to the best i'th' earth then:  
And that's in Sicilia; the very storehouse of the  
Romans, where the Lord chief Censor there  
Lies now a dying; whose soul I will have; and  
Thou shalt have his office.  Fro. 
Excellent; was ever great office better supplied? Exeunt.  Nuntius. 
Now is the mighty Empress of the earth  
(Great Rome) fast locked up in her fancied strength,  
All broke in uproars; fearing the just gods  
In plagues will drown her so abused blessings.  
In which fear, all without her walls, fly in;  
By both their jarring Champions rushing out;  
And those that were within, as fast fly forth;  
The Consuls both are fled without one rite  
Of sacrifice submitted to the gods,  
As ever heretofore their custom was  
When they began the bloody frights of war.  
In which our two great Soldiers now encountering,  
Since both left Rome, opposed in bitter skirmish,  
Pompey (not willing yet to hazard battle,  
By Cato's counsel, urging good cause) fled:  
Which firing Caesar's spirit; he pursued  
So home, and fiercely, that great Pompey scorning  
The heart he took, by his advised flight,  
Despised advice as much as his pursuit.  
And as in Lybia, an aged Lion,  
Urged from his peaceful covert, fears the light  
With his unready and diseased appearance,  
Gives way to chase a while, and coldly hunts,  
Till with the youthful hunter's wanton heat,  
He all his cool wrath frets into a flame:  
And then his sides he swings with his Stern,  
To lash his strength up, let's down all his brows  
About his burning eyes; erects his mane,  
Breaks all his throat in thunders, and to wreak  
His hunter's insolence, his heart even barking;  
He frees his fury, turns, and rushes back  
With such a ghastly horror, that in heaps,  
His proud foes fly, and he that station keeps:  
So Pompey's cool spirits, put to all their heat  
By Caesar's hard pursuit he turned fresh head,  
And flew upon his foe with such a rapture  
As took up into furies, all friends fears;  
Who fired with his first turning, all turned head,  
And gave so fierce a charge, their followers fled,  
Whose instant issue on their both sides, see,  
And after set out such a tragedy,  
As all the Princes of the earth may come  
To take their patterns by the spirits of Rome.  Alarm, after which enter Caesar following Crassinius calling to the Soldiers. Crass. 
Stay cowherd, fly ye Caesar's fortunes?  Caes. 
Forbear foolish Crassinius, we contend in vain  
To stay these vapours, and must raise our Camp.  Crass. 
How shall we rise (my Lord) but all in uproars,  
Being still pursued?  Enter Acilius. 
The pursuit stays, my Lord,  
Pompey hath sounded a retreat, resigning  
His time to you to use, in instant raising  
Your ill-lodged army, pitching now where fortune  
May good amends make for her fault today.  Caes. 
It was not fortune's fault, but mine Acilius,  
To give my foe charge, being so near the sea,  
Where well I knew the eminence of his strength,  
And should have driven th'encounter further off;  
Bearing before me such a goodly Country,  
So plentiful, and rich, in all things fit  
To have supplied my armies want with victuals,  
And th'able Cities too, to strengthen it,  
Of Macedon and Thessaly, where now  
I rather was besieged for want of food,  
Then did assault with fighting force of arms.  Enter Anthony, Vibius, with others. Ant. 
See, Sir, here's one friend of your foes recovered.  Caes. 
Vibius? In happy hour.  Vib. 
For me unhappy.  Caes. 
What? brought against your will?  Vib. 
Else had not come.  Ant. 
Sir, he's your prisoner, but had made you his,  
Had all the rest pursued the chase like him;  
He drove on like a fury; past all friends,  
But we that took him quick in his engagement.  Caes. 
O Vibius, you deserve to pay a ransom  
Of infinite rate, for had your General joined  
In your addression, or known how to conquer;  
This day had proved him the supreme of Caesar.  Vib. 
Known how to conquer? His five hundred Conquests  
Achieved ere this day, make that doubt unfit  
For him that flies him; for, of issues doubtful  
Who can at all times put on for the best?  
If I were mad, must he his army venture  
In my engagement? Nor are Generals ever  
Their powers disposers, by their proper Angels,  
But trust against them, oftentimes, their Counsels,  
Wherein, I doubt not, Caesar's self hath erred  
Sometimes, as well as Pompey.  Caes. 
Or done worse,  
In disobeying my Counsel (Vibius)  
Of which, this days abused light is witness;  
By which I might have seen a course secure  
Of this discomfiture.  Ant. 
Amends sits ever  
Above repentance, what's done, wish not undone;  
But that prepared patience that you know  
Best fits a soldier charged with hardest fortunes;  
Asks still your use, since powers still temperate kept  
open still the clearer eyes by one faults sight  
To place the next act, in the surer right.  Caes. 
You prompt me nobly Sir, repairing in me  
Mine own stays practice, out of whose repose  
The strong convulsions of my spirits forced me  
Thus far beyond my temper; but good Vibius,  
Be ransomed with my love, and haste to Pompey,  
Entreating him from me, that we may meet,  
And for that reason which I know this day  
(Was given by Cato, for his pursuits stay  
Which was prevention of our Roman blood)  
Propose my offer of our hearty peace.  
That being reconciled, and mutual faith  
Given on our either part, not three days' light  
May further show us foes, but (both our armies  
Dispersed in Garrisons) we may return  
Within that time to Italy, such friends  
As in our Country's love, contain our spleens  Vib. 
'tis offered, Sir, 'bove the rate of Caesar  
In other men, but in what I approve  
Beneath his merits: which I will not fail  
T'enforce at full to Pompey, nor forget  
In any time the gratitude of my service. Vi. salutes Ant. and the other, & exit.  Caes. 
Your love, Sir, and your friendship.  Ant. 
This prepares a good induction to the change of fortune,  
In this day's issue, if the pride it kindles  
In Pompey's veins, makes him deny a peace  
So gently offered: for her altered hand  
Works never surer from her ill to good  
On his side she hath hurt, and on the other  
With other changes, then when means are used  
To keep her constant, yet retire refused.  Caes. 
I try no such conclusion, but desire  
Directly peace. In mean space I'll prepare  
For other issue in my utmost means;  
Whose hopes now resting at Brundusium,  
In that part of my army, with Sabinus,  
I wonder he so long delays to bring me,  
And must in person haste him, if this Even  
I hear not from him.  Crass. 
That (I hope) flies far  
Your full intent, my Lord, since Pompey's navy,  
You know, lies hovering all alongst those seas,  
In too much danger, for what aid soever  
You can procure to pass your person safe.  Acil. 
Which doubt may prove the cause that stays Sabinus;  
And, if with shipping fit to pass your army,  
He yet strains time to venture, I presume  
You will not pass your person with such Convoy  
Of those poor vessels, as may serve you here.  Caes. 
How shall I help it? shall I suffer this  
Torment of his delay? and rack suspicions  
Worse than assured destructions through my thoughts.  Anth. 
Past doubt he will be here; I left all ordered,  
And full agreement made with him to make  
All utmost haste, no least let once suspected.  Caes. 
Suspected? what suspection should fear a friend  
In such assured straits from his friend's enlargement.  
If 'twere his soldier's safeties he so tenders,  
Were it not better they should sink by sea,  
Then wrack their number, King and cause ashore?  
Their stay is worth their ruin, should we live,  
If they in fault were? if their leader! he  
sold die the deaths of all; in mean space, I  
That should not, bear all, fly the sight in shame,  
Thou eye of nature, and abortive night  
Fall dead amongst us: with defects, defects  
Must serve proportion; justice never can  
Be else restored, nor right the wrongs of man. Exeunt.  Pompey, Cato, Gabinius, Demetrius, Athenodorus, Porcius, Statilius. Pomp. 
This charge of our fierce foe, the friendly gods  
Have in our stregthened spirits beaten back  
With happy issue, and his forces lessened,  
Of two and thirty Ensigns forced from him,  
Two thousand soldiers slain.  Cat. 
O boast not that,  
Their loss is yours, my Lord.  Pomp. 
I boast it not,  
But only name the number.  Gab. 
Which right well  
You might have raised so high, that on their tops  
Your Throne was offered, ever t'overlook  
Subverted Caesar, had you been so blessed  
To give such honour to your captain's Counsels  
As their alacrities did long to merit  
With proof-ful action.  Dem. 
O 'twas ill neglected.  Stat. 
It was deferred with reason, which not yet  
Th'event so clear is to confute.  Pom. 
If 'twere,  
Our likeliest than was, not to hazard battle,  
Th'adventure being so casual; if compared  
With our more certain means to his subversion?  
For finding now our army amply stored  
With all things fit to tarry surer time,  
Reason thought better to extend to length  
The war betwixt us; that his little strength  
May by degrees prove none; which urged now,  
(Consisting of his best and ablest soldiers)  
We should have found at one direct set battle  
Of matchless valours; their defects of victual  
Not tiring yet enough on their tough nerves,  
Where, on the other part, to put them still  
In motion, and remotion, here and there;  
Enforcing them to fortifying still  
wherever they set down; to siege a wall,  
Keep watch all night in armour: their most part  
Can never bear it, by their years' oppression;  
Spent heretofore too much in those steel toils.  Cat. 
I so advised, and yet repent it not,  
But much rejoice in so much saved blood  
As had been poured out in the stroke of battle,  
Whose fury thus prevented, comprehends  
Your Countries' good, and Empires; in whose care  
Let me beseech you that in all this war,  
You sack no City, subject to our Rule,  
Nor put to sword one Citizen of Rome;  
But when the needful fury of the sword  
Can make no fit distinction in main battle,  
That you will please still to prolong the stroke  
Of absolute decision to these jars,  
Considering you shall strike it with a man  
Of much skill and experience, and one  
That will his Conquest sell at infinite rate,  
If that must end your difference; but I doubt  
There will come humble offer on his part,  
Of honoured peace to you, for whose sweet name  
So cried out to you in our late-met Senate,  
Lost no fit offer of that wished treaty.  
Take pity on your Countries' blood as much  
As possible may stand without the danger  
Of hindering her justice on her foes,  
Which all the gods to your full wish dispose.  Pom. 
Why will you leave us? whither will you go  
To keep your worthiest person in more safety  
Than in my army, so devoted to you?  Cat. 
My person is the least, my Lord, I value;  
I am commanded by our powerful Senate,  
To view the Cities, and the kingdom's situate  
About your either army, that which side  
Soever conquer, no disordered stragglers  
Puffed with the Conquest, or by need impelled,  
May take their swinge more than the care of one  
May curb and order in these neighbour confines  
My chief pass yet resolves for Utica.  Pom. 
Your pass (my truest friend, and worthy Father)  
May all good powers make safe, and always answer  
Your infinite merits, with their like protection.  
In which, I make no doubt but we shall meet  
With mutual greetings, or for absolute conquest  
Or peace preventing that our bloody stroke,  
Nor let our parting be dishonoured so,  
As not to take into our noblest notice  
yourself (most learned and admired Father)  
Whose merits, if I live, shall lack no honour.  
Porcius, Statilius, though your spirits with mine  
Would highly cheer me, yet ye shall bestow them  
In much more worthy conduct; but love me,  
And wish me conquest, for your Countries' sake.  Sta. 
Our lives shall seal our loves, Sir, with worst deaths  
Adventured in your service.  Pom. 
Y'are my friends. Exeunt. Cat. Athen. Por. Sat.  
These friends thus gone, 'tis more than time we minded  
Our lost friend Vibius.  Gab. 
You can want no friends,  
See, our two Consuls, Sir, betwixt them bringing  
The worthy Brutus.  Enter two Consuls leading Brutus betwixt them. 1 Cons. 
We attend (my Lord)  
With no mean friend, to spirit your next encounter,  
Six thousand of our choice Patrician youths  
Brought in his conduct.  2 Cons, 
And though never yet  
He hath saluted you with any word  
Or look of slenderest love in his whole life,  
Since that long time since, of his father's death  
By your hand authored; yet see, at your need  
He comes to serve you freely for his Country.  Pom. 
His friendly presence, making up a third  
With both your persons, I as gladly welcome,  
As if jones triple flame had guilt this field,  
And lightened on my right hand, from his shield.  Bru. 
I well assure myself, Sir, that no thought  
In your ingenious construction, touches  
At the aspersion that my tendred service  
Proceeds from my despair of elsewhere safety  
But that my Countries' safety owning justly  
My whole liabilities of life and fortunes,  
And you the ablest fautor of her safety,  
Her love, and (for your love of her) your own  
Only makes sacred to your use my offering.  Pom. 
Far fly all other thought from my construction,  
And due acceptance of the liberal honour,  
Your love hath done me, which the gods are witness,  
I take as stirred up in you by their favours,  
Nor less esteem it then an offering holy;  
Since, as of all things, man is said the measure,  
So your full merits measure forth a man.  1 Cons. 
See yet, my Lord, more friends.  2 Cons. 
Five Kings, your servants.  Enter five Kings. Hib. 
Conquest and all grace crown the gracious Pompey,  
To serve whom in the sacred Roman safety,  
myself, Iberia's King, present my forces.  Thess. 
And I that hold the tributary Throne  
Of Grecian Thessaly, submit my homage,  
To Rome, and Pompey.  Cil. 
So Cilicia too.  Epir. 
And so Epirus.  Thra. 
Lastly I from Thrace  
Present the duties of my power and service.  Pom. 
Your royal aids deserve of Rome and Pompey  
Our utmost honours. O may now our fortune  
Not balance her broad breast 'twixt two light wings,  
Nor on a slippery globe sustain her steps,  
But as the Spartans say, the Paphian Queen  
(The flood Eurotas passing) laid aside  
Her Glass, her Ceston, and her amorous graces,  
And in Lycurgus' favour; armed her beauties  
With Shield and javelin, so may fortune now,  
The flood of all our enemies forces passing  
With her fair Ensigns, and arrived as ours,  
Displume her shoulders, cast off her winged shoes,  
Her faithless, and still-rolling stone spurn from her,  
And enter our powers as she may remain  
Our firm assistant: that the general aids,  
Favours, and honours you perform to Rome,  
May make her build with you her endless home.  Omn. 
The gods vouchsafe it; and our causes right  Dem. 
What sudden Shade is this? observe my Lords,  
The night, methinks, comes on before her hour.  Thunder and lightning. Gab. 
Nor trust me if my thoughts conceive not so.  Bru. 
What thin clouds fly the winds, like swiftest shafts  
Along airs middle region.  1 Cons. 
They presage  
Unusual tempests.  2 Cons. 
And 'tis their repair,  
That timeless darken thus the gloomy air.  Pom. 
Let's force no omen from it, but avoid  
The vapours furies now by jove employed.  Thunder continued, and Caesar enters disguised. 
The wrathful tempest of the angry night,  
Where hell flies muffled up in clouds of pitch,  
Mingled with Sulphur, and those dreadful bolts,  
The Cyclops Ram in jove's Artillery,  
Hath roused the furies, armed in all their horrors,  
Up to the envious seas, in spite of Caesar.  
O night, O jealous night, of all the noblest  
Beauties, and glories, where the gods have stroke  
Their four digestions, from thy ghastly Chaos,  
Blush thus to drown them all in this hour signed  
By the necessity of fate for Caesar.  
I that have ransacked all the world for worth,  
To form in man the image of the gods,  
Must like them have the power to check the worst  
Of all things under their celestial Empire,  
Stoop it, and burst it, or break through it all,  
With use and safety, till the Crown be set  
On all my actions; that the hand of nature  
In all her worst works aiming at an end,  
May in a masterpiece of hers be served  
With tops, and state fit for his virtuous Crown:  
Not lift arts thus far up in glorious frame,  
To let them vanish thus in smoke and shame.  
This river Anius (in whose mouth now lies  
A pinnace I would pass in, to fetch on  
My armies dull rest from Brundusium)  
That is at all times else exceeding calm,  
(By reason of a purling wind that flies  
Off from the shore each morning, driving up  
The billows far to sea) in this night yet,  
Bears such a terrible gale; put off from sea,  
As beats the land wind back, and thrusts the flood  
Up in such uproar, that no boat dare stir  
And on it is dispersed all Pompey's navy  
To make my peril yet more envious.  
Shall I yet shrink for all? were all, yet more?  
There is a certain need that I must give  
Way to my pass; none, known, that I must live.  Enter Master of a ship with Sailors Mast. 
What battle is there sought now in the air.  
That threats the wrack of nature?  Caes. 
Master? come.  
Shall we thrust through it all?  Mast. 
What lost man,  
Art thou in hopes and fortunes, that dar'st make  
So desperate a motion.  Caes. 
Launch man, and all thy fears freight disavow,  
Thou carriest Caesar and his fortunes now.   

Act III. Scene I.  Pompey, two Consuls, five Kings, Brutus, Gabinitis, Demetrius. 
NOw to Pharsalia, where the smarting strokes  
Of our resolved contention must resound,  
(My Lords and friends of Rome) I give you all  
Such welcome as the spirit of all my fortunes,  
Conquests, and triumphs (now come for their crown)  
Can crown your favours with, and serve the hopes  
Of my dear Country, to her utmost wish;  
I can but set up all my being to give  
So good an end to my forerunning Acts;  
The powers in me that formed them having lost  
No least time since, in gathering skill to better;  
But like so many Bees have brought me home,  
The sweet of whatsoever flowers have grown  
In all the meads, and gardens of the world.  
All which hath grown still, as the time increase  
In which 'twas gathered, and with which it stemmed.  
That what decay soever blood inferred,  
Might with my mind's store, be supplied, and cheered,  
All which, in one fire of this instant fight  
I'll burn, and sacrifice to every cinder  
In sacred offering to my Countries' love,  
And therefore what event soever sort,  
As I no praise will look for, but the good  
Freely bestow on all; (if good succeed)  
So if adverse fate fall, I wish no blame,  
But th'ill befallen me, made my fortune's shame,  
Not mine, nor my fault.  1 Cons. 
We too well love Pompey,  
To do him that injustice.  Bru. 
Who more thirsts  
The Conquest, then resolves to bear the foil?  Pom. 
Said Brutus-like, give several witness all,  
That you acquit me whatsoever fall.  2 Cons. 
Particular men particular fates must bear,  
Who feels his own wounds less, to wound another?  Thess. 
Leave him the worst whose best is left undone,  
He only conquers whose mind still is one.  Epir. 
Free minds, like dice, fall square, whate'er the cast.  Ibir. 
Who on himself sole stands, stands solely fast.  Thra. 
He's never down, whose mind fights still aloft.  Cil. 
Who cares for up or down, when all's but thought.  Gab. 
To things events doth no man's power extend.  Dem. 
Since gods rule all, who any thing would mend.  Pom. 
Ye sweetly ease my charge, yourselves unburdening.  
Returned not yet our trumpet, sent to know  
Of Vibius' certain state?  Gab. 
Not yet, my Lord.  Pomp. 
Too long protract we all means to recover  
His person quick or dead, for I still think  
His loss served fate, before we blew retreat;  
Though some affirm him seen, soon after fighting.  Dem. 
Not after, Sir, (I heard) but ere it ended.  Gab 
He bore a great mind to extend our pursuit  
Much further than it was; and served that day  
(When you had, like the true head of a battle,  
Led all the body in that glorious turn)  
Upon a far-off Squadron that stood fast  
In conduct of the great Marc Anthony,  
When all the rest were fled, so past a man  
That in their tough receipt of him, I saw him  
Thrice break thorough all with ease, and pass as fair  
As he had all been fire, and they but air.  Pom. 
He stuck at last yet, in their midst, it seemed.  Gab. 
So have I seen a fire drake glide at midnight  
Before a dying man to point his grave,  
And in it stick and hide.  Dem. 
He comes yet safe.  A Trumpet sounds, and enters before Vibius, with others. Pom. 
O Vibius, welcome, what a prisoner?  
With mighty Caesar, and so quickly ransomed?  Vib. 
I Sir, my ransom, needed little time,  
Either to gain agreement for the value,  
Or the disbursement, since in Caesar's grace  
We both concluded.  Pom. 
Was his grace so free  Vib. 
For your respect, Sir.  Pom. 
Nay, Sir, for his glory.  
That the main Conquest he so surely builds on,  
(Which ever is forerun with petty fortunes)  
Take not effect, by taking any friend  
From all the most, my poor defence can make,  
But must be complete, by his perfect own.  Vib. 
I know, Sir, you more nobly rate the freedom  
He freely gave your friend; then to pervert it  
So past his wisdom: that knows much too well  
Th'uncertain state of Conquest; to raise frames  
Of such presumption on her fickle wings,  
And chiefly in a loss so late, and grievous.  
Besides, your forces far exceeding his,  
His whole powers being but two and twenty thousand:  
And yours full four and forty thousand strong:  
For all which yet, he stood as far from fear  
In my enlargement, as the confident glory  
You please to put on him; and had this end  
In my so kind dismission, that as kindly  
I might solicit a sure peace betwixt you.  Pom. 
A peace? Is't possible?  Vib. 
Come, do not show this wanton incredulity too much.  Pom. 
Believe me I was far from such a thought  
In his high stomach: Cato prophesied then.  
What think my Lords our Consuls, and friend Brutus?  Omn. 
An offer happy.  Bru. 
Were it plain and hearty.  Pom. 
ay, there's the true inspection to his prospect.  Bru 
This straight of his perhaps may need a sleight  
O some hid stratagem, to bring him off.  Pom. 
Devices of a new forge to entrap me?  
I rest in Caesar's shades? walk his strow'd paths?  
Sleep in his quiet waves? I'll sooner trust  
Hibernian Bogs, and quicksands; and hell mouth  
Take for my sanctuary: in bad parts  
That no extremes will better, nature's finger  
Hath marked him to me, to take heed of him.  
What thinks my Brutus?  Bru. 
'tis your best and safest.  Pom. 
This offered peace of his is sure a snare  
To make our war the bloodier, whose fit fear  
Makes me I dare not now (in thoughts maturer  
Then late inclined me) put in use the Counsel  
Your noble father Cato (parting) gave me,  
Whose much too tender shunning innocent blood,  
This battle hazards now, that must cost more.  1 Cons. 
It does, and therefore now no more defer it.  Pom. 
Say all men so?  Omn. 
We do.  Pom. 
I grieve ye do,  
Because I rather wish to err with Cato  
Then with the truth go of the world beside;  
But since it shall abide this other stroke.  
Ye gods that our great Roman Genius  
Have made, not give us one day's conquest only,  
Nor grow in conquests for some little time,  
As did the Genius of the Macedons;  
Nor be by land great only, like Laconians;  
Nor yet by sea alone, as was th'Athenians;  
Nor slowly stirred up, like the Persian Angel;  
Nor rocked asleep soon, like the Ionian spirit.  
But made our Roman Genius, fiery, watchful,  
And even from Rome's prime, joined his youth with hers,  
Grow as she grew, and firm as earth abide,  
By her increasing pomp, at sea, and shore,  
In peace, in battle; against Greece as well  
As our Barbarian foes; command yet further  
Ye firm and just gods, our assistful Angel  
For Rome, and Pompey, who now fights for Rome;  
That all these royal Laws, to us, and justice  
Of common safety, may the self-love drown  
Of tyrannous Caesar; and my care for all  
Your Altars crowned with endless festival. Exeunt.  Caesar, Anthony, a Soothsayer, Crassinius, Acilius, with others. Caes. 
Say (sacred Soothsayer) and inform the truth,  
What liking hast thou of our sacrifice?  Sooth. 
Imperial Caesar, at your sacred charge,  
I drew a milk white Ox into the Temple,  
And turning there his face into the east,  
(Fearfully shaking at the shining light)  
Down fell his horned forehead to his hoof,  
When I began to greet him with the stroke,  
That should prepare him for the holy rites,  
With hideous roars he laid out such a throat  
As made the secret lurkings of the god  
To answer echo-like, in threatning sounds:  
I stroke again at him, and then he slept,  
His life-blood boiling out at every wound  
In streams as clear as any liquid Ruby,  
And there began to alter my presage,  
The other ill signs showing th'other fortune,  
Of your last skirmish, which far opposite now  
Proves, ill beginnings good events foreshow.  
For now the beast cut up, and laid on th'Altar,  
His limbs were all licked up with instant flames,  
Not like the Elemental fire that burns  
In household uses, lamely struggling up,  
This way and that way winding as it rises,  
But (right and upright) reached his proper sphere  
Where burns the fire eternal and sincere.  Caes. 
And what may that presage?  Sooth. 
That even the spirit  
Of heaven's pure flame flew down and ravished up  
Your offerings blaze in that religious instant,  
Which shows th'alacrity and cheerful virtue  
Of heaven's free bounty, doing good in time,  
And with what swiftness true devotions climb.  Omn. 
The gods be honoured.  Sooth. 
O behold with wonder,  
The sacred blaze is like a torch enlightened,  
Directly burning just above your camp!  Omn. 
Miraculous.  Sooth. 
Believe it, with all thanks:  
The Roman Genius is altered now,  
And arms for Caesar.  Caes. 
Soothsayer be for ever  
Reverenced of Caesar. O Marc Anthony,  
I thought to raise my camp, and all my tents,  
Took down for swift remotion to Scotussa.  
Shall now our purpose hold?  Anth. 
Against the gods?  
They grace in th'instant, and in th'instant we  
Must add our parts, and be in th'use as free.  Crass. 
See Sir, the scouts return. Enter two scouts.  Caes. 
What news, my friends?  1 Scou. 
Arm, arm, my Lord; the vanguard of the foe  
Is ranged already:  2 Scou. 
Answer them, and arm:  
You cannot set your rest of battle up  
In happier hour; for I this night beheld  
A strange confusion in your enemy's camp,  
The soldiers taking arms in all dismay,  
And hurling them again as fast to earth.  
Every way routing; as th'alarm were then  
Given to their army. A most causeless fear  
Dispersed quite through them.  Caes. 
Then 'twas jove himself  
That with his secret finger stirred in them.  Crass. 
Other presages of success (my Lord)  
Have strangely happened in th'adjacent Cities,  
To this your army: for in Tralleis,  
Within a Temple, built to Victory,  
There stands a statue of your form and name,  
Near whose firm base, even from the marble pavement,  
There sprang a Palm tree up, in this last night,  
That seems to crown your statue with his boughs,  
Spread in wrapped shadows round about your brows.  Caes. 
The sign, Crassinius, is most strange and graceful,  
Nor could get issue, but by power divine;  
Yet will not that, nor all abodes beside  
(Of never such kind promise of success)  
Perform it without tough acts of our own.  
No care, no nerve the less to be employed;  
No offering to the gods, no vows, no prayers:  
Secure and idle spirits never thrive  
When most the gods for their advancements strive.  
And therefore tell me what abodes thou buildest on  
In an spirit to act, inflamed in thee,  
Or in our Soldiers seen resolved addresses?  Crass. 
Great and fiery virtue. And this day  
Be sure (great Caesar) of effects as great  
In absolute conquest; to which are prepared  
Enforcements resolute, from this armed hand,  
Which thou shalt praise me for alive or dead.  Caes. 
Alive (ye gods vouchsafe) and my true vows  
For life in him (great heaven) for all my foes  
(Being natural Romans) so far jointly hear  
As may not hurt our Conquest; as with fear  
Which thou already strangely hast diffused  
Through all their army; which extend to flight  
Without one bloody stroke of force and fight.  Anth. 
'tis time, my Lord, you put in form your battle.  Caes. 
Since we must fight then, and no offered peace  
Will take with Pompey: I rejoice to see  
This long-time looked for, and most happy day,  
In which we now shall fight, with men, not hunger,  
With toils, not sweats of blood through years extended,  
This one day serving to decide all jars  
Twixt me and Pompey. Hang out of my tent  
My crimson coat of arms, to give my soldiers  
That ever-sure sign of resolved-for fight.  Crass. 
These hands shall give that sign to all their longings.  Exit Crass. Caes. 
My Lord, my army, I think best to order  
In three full Squadrons: of which let me pray  
yourself would take on you the left wings charge;  
myself will lead the right wing, and my place  
Of fight elect in my tenth legion:  
My battle by Domitius Calvinus  
Shall take direction.  The Coat of Arms is hung out, and the soldier's shout within. An. 
Hark, your soldier's shout  
For joy to see your bloody Coat of Arms  
Assure their fight this morning.  Caes. 
A blessed Even  
Bring on them worthy comforts. And ye gods  
Perform your good presages in events  
Of fit crown for our discipline, and deeds  
Wrought up by conquest; that my use of it  
May wipe the hateful and unworthy slain  
Of Tyrant from my Temples, and exchange it  
For fautor of my Country, ye have given  
That title to those poor and fearful souls  
That every sound puts up, in frights and cries;  
Even then, when all Rome's powers were weak and heartless,  
When traitorous fires, and fierce Barbarian swords,  
Rapines, and soul-expiring slaughters filled  
Her houses, Temples, all her air, and earth.  
To me then (whom your bounties have informed  
With such a spirit as despiseth fear;  
Commands in either fortune, knows, and arms  
Against the worst of fate; and therefore can  
Dispose blessed means, encouraged to the best)  
Much more vouchsafe that honour; chiefly now,  
When Rome wants only this day's conquest given me  
To make her happy, to confirm the brightness  
That yet she shines in over all the world;  
In Empire, riches, strife of all the Arts,  
In gifts of Cities, and of kingdoms sent her;  
In Crowns laid at her feet, in every grace  
That shores, and seas, floods, Islands, Continents,  
Groves, fields, hills, mines, and metals can produce;  
All which I (victor) will increase, I vow  
By all my good, acknowledged given by you.   

Act IIII Scene I.  Pompey in haste, Brutus, Gabinius, Vibius following. 
THe poison steeped in every vain of Empire,  
In all the world, meet now in only me,  
Thunder and lighten me to death; and make  
My senses feed the flame, my soul the crack.  
Was ever sovereign Captain of so many  
Armies and Nations, so oppressed as I,  
With one hosts headstrong outrage? urging fight,  
Yet fly about my camp in panic terrors;  
No reason under heaven suggesting cause.  
And what is this but even the gods deterring  
My judgement from enforcing fight this morn?  
The new-fled night made day with Meteors,  
Fired over Caesar's camp, and fall'n in mine,  
As pointing out the terrible events  
Yet in suspense; but where they threat their fall  
Speak not these prodigies with fiery tongues,  
And eloquence that should not move but ravish  
All sound minds, from thus tempting the just gods,  
And spitting out their fair premonishing flames  
With brackish rheums of ruder and brainsick number,  
What's infinitely more, thus wild, thus mad  
For one poor fortune of a beaten few;  
To half so many stayed, and dreadful soldiers?  
Long trained, long foughten? able, nimble, perfect  
To turn and wind advantage every way?  
Increase with little, and enforce with none?  
Made bold as lions, gaunt as famished wolves,  
With still-served slaughters, and continual toils.  Bru. 
You should not, Sir, forsake your own wise Counsel,  
Your own experienced discipline, own practice,  
Own god inspired insight to all changes,  
Of Protean fortune, and her zany, war,  
For hosts, and hells of such; What man will think  
The best of them, not mad; to see them range  
So up and down your camp, already suing  
For offices fall'n, by Caesars built on fall,  
Before one stroke be struck? Domitius, Spinther,  
Your father Scipio new preparing friends  
For Caesar's place of universal Bishop?  
Are you th' observed rule, and vouched example;  
whoever would commend Physicians,  
That would not follow the diseased desires  
Of their sick patients? yet incur yourself  
The faults that you so much abhor in others.  Pom. 
I cannot, Sir, abide men's open mouths,  
Nor be ill spoken of; nor have my counsels  
And circumspections, turned on me for fears,  
With mocks and scandals that would make a man  
Of lead, a lightning; in the desperat'st onset  
That ever trampled under death, his life.  
I bear the touch of fear for all their safeties.  
Or for mine own? enlarge with twice as many  
Self-lives, self-fortunes? they shall sink beneath  
Their own credulities, before I cross them.  
Come, haste, dispose our battle.  Vib. 
Good my Lord,  
Against your Genius war not for the world.  Pom. 
By all worlds he that moves me next to bear  
Their scoffs and imputations of my fear  
For any cause, shall bear this sword to hell.  
Away, to battle; good my Lord lead you  
The whole six thousand of our young Patricians,  
Placed in the left wing to environ Caesar.  
My father Scipio shall lead the battle;  
Domitius the left wing; I the right  
Against Marc Anthony. Take now your fills  
Ye beastly doters on your barbarous wills. Exeunt.  Alarm, excursions, of all: The five Kings driven over the Stage, Crassinius chiefly pursuing: At the door enter again the five Kings. The battle continued within. Epir. 
Fly, fly, the day was lost before 'twas fought.  Thess. 
The Romans feared their shadows.  Cil. 
Were there ever  
Such monstrous confidences, as last night  
Their Cups and music showed? Before the morning  
Made such amazes ere one stroke was struck?  Iber. 
It made great Pompey mad, which who could mend?  
The gods had hand in it.  Tra. 
It made the Consuls  
Run on their swords to see't. The brave Patricians  
Fled with their spoiled faces, arrows sticking  
As shot from heaven at them.  Thess. 
'twas the charge  
That Caesar gave against them.  Epir. 
Come, away,  
Leave all, and wonder at this fatal day. Exeunt.  The fight nearer; and enter, Crassineus, a sword, as thrust through his face; he falls. To him Pompey and Caesar fighting: Pompey gives way, Caesar follows, and enters at another door. Caes. 
Pursue, pursue; the gods foreshowed their powers,  
Which we gave issue, and the day is ours.  
Crassineus? O look up: he does, and shows  
Death in his broken eyes; which Caesar's hands  
Shall do the honour of eternal closure.  
Too well thou keptst thy word, that thou this day  
Wouldst do me service to our victory.  
Which in thy life or death I should behold,  
And praise thee for; I do, and must admire  
Thy matchless valour; ever ever rest  
Thy manly lineaments, which in a tomb  
Erected to thy noble name and virtues,  
I'll curiously preserve with balms, and spices,  
In eminent place of these Pharsalian fields,  
Inscribed with this true soul of funeral,  

Epitaphi  
Crassineus fought for fame, and died for Rome,  
Whose public weal springs from this private tomb.   Enter some taking him off, whom Caesar helps. Enter Pompey, Demetrius, with black robes in their hands, broad hats, &c. Pom. 
Thus have the gods their justice, men their wills,  
And I, by men's wills ruled; myself renouncing,  
Am by my Angel and the gods abhorred;  
Who drew me, like a vapour, up to heaven  
To dash me like a tempest 'gainst the earth:  
O the deserved terrors that attend  
On humane confidence! had ever men  
Such outrage of presumption to be victors  
Before they armed? To send to Rome before  
For houses near the market place, their tents  
Strewed all with flowers, and nosegays; tables covered  
With cups and banquets; bays and myrtle garlands,  
As ready to do sacrifice for conquest  
Rather than arm them for fit fight t'enforce it;  
Which when I saw, I knew as well th'event  
As now I feel it, and because I raged  
In that presage, my Genius showing me clearly  
(As in a mirror) all this cursed issue;  
And therefore urged all means to put it off  
For this day, or from these fields to some other,  
Or from this ominous confidence, till I saw  
Their spirits settled in some graver knowledge  
Of what belonged to such a dear decision;  
They spotted me with fear, with love of glory,  
To keep in my command so many Kings,  
So great an army; all the hellish blastings  
That could be breathed on me, to strike me blind  
Of honour, spirit and soul: And should I then  
Save them that would in spite of heaven be ruined?  
And, in their safeties ruin me and mine  
In everlasting rage of their detraction.  Dem. 
Your safety and own honour did deserve  
Respect past all their values; O my Lord  
Would you?  Pom. 
Upbraid me not; go to, go on.  Dem. 
No; I'll not rub the wound. The misery is,  
The gods for any error in a man  
(Which they might rectify, and should; because  
That man maintained the right) should suffer wrong  
To be thus insolent, thus graced, thus blessed?  Pom. 
O the strange carriage of their acts, by which  
Men order theirs; and their devotions in them;  
Much rather striving to entangle men  
In pathless error, then with regular right  
Confirm their reasons, and their piety's light.  
For now Sir, whatsoever was foreshown  
By heaven, or prodigy; ten parts more for us,  
Forewarning us, deterring us, and all  
Our blind and brainless frenzies, then for Caesar;  
All yet will be ascribed to his regard  
Given by the gods for his good parts, preferring  
Their gloss (being stark impostures) to the justice,  
Love, honour, piety, of our laws and Country.  
Though I think these are arguments enough  
For my acquittal, that for all these fought.  Dem. 
Y'are clear, my Lord.  Pom. 
Gods help me, as I am;  
whatever my untouched command of millions  
Through all my eight and fifty years, hath won,  
This one day (in the world's esteem) hath lost.  
So vile is praise and dispraise by event.  
For I am still myself in every worth  
The world could grace me with, had this days Even  
In one blaze joined, with all my other Conquests.  
And shall my comforts in my well-known self  
Fail me for their false fires, Demetrius?  Dem. 
O no, my Lord.  Pom. 
Take grief for them, as if  
The rotten-hearted world could steep my soul  
In filthy putrefaction of their own?  
Since their applauses fail me? that are hisses  
To every sound acceptance? I confess,  
That till th'affair was past, my passions flamed,  
But now 'tis helpless, and no cause in me,  
Rest in these embers my unmoved soul,  
With any outward change, this distich minding;  
No man should more allow his own loss, woes,  
(Being past his fault) then any stranger does.  
And for the world's false loves, and airy honours,  
What soul that ever loved them most in life,  
(Once severed from this breathing sepulchre)  
Again came and appeared in any kind  
Their kind admirer still, or did the state  
Of any best man here, associate?  
And every true soul should be here so severed  
From love of such men, as here drown their souls  
As all the world does? Cato sole accepted,  
To whom I'll fly now, and my wife in way  
(Poor Lady, and poor children, worse than fatherless)  
Visit, and comfort. Come Demetrius, They disguise themselves.  
We now must suit our habits to our fortunes  
And since these changes ever chance to greatest.  
Nor desire to be  
(Do fortune, to exceed it, what she can)  
A Pompey, or a Caesar, but a man. Exeunt.  Enter Caesar, Anthony, Acilius, with soldiers. Caes. 
O We have slain, not conquered, Roman blood  
Perverts th'event, and desperate blood let out  
With their own swords. Did ever men before  
Envy their own lives, since another lived  
Whom they would wilfully conceive their foe,  
And forge a Tyrant merely in their fears  
To justify their slaughters? consul's? furies.  Ant. 
Be, Sir, their faults their griefs! The greater number  
Were only slaves, that left their bloods to ruth,  
And altogether, but six thousand slain.  Caes. 
however many; gods and men can witness  
Themselves enforced it, much against the most  
I could enforce on Pompey for our peace.  
Of all slain, yet, if Brutus only lived,  
I should be comforted, for his life saved  
Would weigh the whole six thousand that are lost.  
But much I fear his death, because the battle  
Full stricken now, he yet abides unfound.  Acil. 
I saw him fighting near the battles end,  
But suddenly give off, as bent to fly.  Enter Brutus. Anth. 
He comes here, see Sir.  Bru. 
I submit to Caesar  
My life and fortunes.  Caes. 
A more welcome fortune  
Is Brutus, than my conquest.  Bru. 
Sir, I fought  
Against your conquest, and yourself; and merit  
(I must acknowledge) a much sterner welcome.  Caes. 
You fought with me, Sir, for I know your arms  
Were taken for your Country, not for Pompey:  
And for my Country I fought, nothing less  
Than he, or both the mighty-stomached Consuls;  
Both whom (I hear) have slain themselves before  
They would enjoy life in the good of Caesar.  
But I am nothing worse, how ill soever  
They, and the great authority of Rome  
Would fain enforce me by their mere suspicions.  
Loved they their Country better than her Brutus?  
Or knew what fitted noblesse, and a Roman  
With freer souls than Brutus. Those that live  
Shall see in Caesar's justice. and whatever  
Might make me worthy both their lives and loves,  
That I have lost the one without my merit,  
And they the other with no Roman spirit.  
Are you impaired to live, and joy my love?  
Only requite me, Brutus, love but Caesar,  
And be in all the powers of Caesar, Caesar.  
In which free wish, I join your father Cato;  
For whom I'll haste to Utica, and pray  
His love may strengthen my success today. Exeunt.  Porcius in haste, Marcillius bore, following. Porcius discovers a bed, and a sword hanging by it, which he takes down. Mar. 
To what use take you that (my Lord?)  Por. 
Take you  
No note that I take it, nor let any servant,  
Besides yourself, of all my father's nearest,  
Serve any mood he serves, with any knowledge  
Of this or any other, Caesar comes  
And gives his army wings to reach this town.  
Not for the town's sake, but to save my father.  
Whom justly he suspects to be resolved  
Of any violence to his life, before  
He will preserve it by a tyrant's favour.  
For Pompey hath miscarried, and is fled.  
Be true to me, and to my father's life;  
And do not tell him; nor his fury serve  
With any other.  Mar. 
I will die, my Lord,  
Ere I observe it.  Por. 
O my Lord and father.  Cato, Athenodorus, Statilius. Cato with a book in his hand. Cat. 
What fears fly here on all sides? what wild looks  
Are squinted at me from men's mere suspicions  
That I am wild myself, and would enforce  
What will be taken from me by the Tyrant.  Ath. 
No: Would you only ask life, he would think  
His own life given more strength in giving yours  Cat. 
I ask my life of him?  Stat. 
Ask what's his own?  
Of him he scorns should have the least drop in it  
At his disposure.  Cat. 
No, Statilius.  
Men that have forfeit lives by breaking laws,  
Or have been overcome, may beg their lives,  
But I have ever been in every justice  
Better than Caesar, and was never conquered,  
Or made to fly for life, as Caesar was.  
But have been victor ever, to my wish,  
'Gainst whomsoever ever hath opposed;  
Where Caesar now is conquered in his Conquest,  
In the ambition, he till now denied;  
Taking upon him to give life, when death  
Is tenfold due to his most tyrannous self.  
No right, no power given him to raise an army,  
Which in despite of Rome he leads about  
Slaughtering her loyal subjects, like an outlaw,  
Nor is he better. Tongue, show, falsehood are,  
To bloodiest deaths his parts so much admired,  
Vainglory, villainy; and at best you can,  
Fed with the parings of a worthy man.  
My fame affirm my life received from him?  
I'll rather make a beast my second father.  Stat. 
The gods avert from every Roman mind  
The name of slave to any tyrant's power.  
Why was man ever just, but to be free,  
'Gainst all injustice? and to bear about him  
As well all means to freedom every hour,  
As every hour he should be armed for death,  
Which only is his freedom?  Ath. 
But Statilius'  
Death is not free for any man's election,  
Till nature, or the law, impose it on him.  Cat. 
Must a man go to law then, when he may  
Enjoy his own in peace? If I can use  
Mine own myself, must I of force, reserve it  
To serve a Tyrant with it? All just men  
Not only may enlarge their lives, but must,  
From all rule tyrannous, or live unjust.  Ath. 
By death must they enlarge their lives?  Cat. 
By death.  Ath. 
A man's not bound to that.  Cat. 
I'll prove he is.  
Are not the lives of all men bound to justice?  Ath. 
They are.  Cat. 
And therefore not to serve injustice:  
justice itself ought ever to be free,  
And therefore every just man being a part  
Of that free justice, should be free as it.  Ath. 
Then wherefore is there law for death?  Cat. 
That all  
That know not what law is, nor freely can  
Perform the fitting justice of a man  
In kingdom's common good, may been forced.  
But is not every just man to himself  
The perfectest law?  Ath. 
Suppose.  Cat. 
Then to himself  
Is every just man's life subordinate.  
Again, Sir; Is not our free soul infused  
To everybody in her absolute end  
To rule that body? in which absolute rule  
Is she not absolutely Empress of it?  
And being Empress, may she not dispose  
It, and the life in it, at her just pleasure?  Ath. 
Not to destroy it.  Cat. 
No; she not destroys it  
When she dislives it; that their freedoms may  
Go firm together, like their powers and organs,  
Rather than let it live a rebel to her,  
Profaning that divine conjunction  
Twixt her and it; nay, a disjunction making  
Betwixt them worse than death; in killing quick  
That which in just death lives: being dead to her  
If to her rule dead; and to her alive,  
If dying in her just rule.  Ath. 
The body lives not  
When death hath rest it.  Cat. 
Yet 'tis free, and kept  
Fit for rejunction in man's second life;  
Which dying rebel to the soul, is far  
Unfit to join with her in perfect life.  Ath. 
It shall not join with her again.  Cat. 
It shall.  Ath. 
In reason shall it?  Cat. 
In apparent reason;  
Which I'll prove clearly.  Stat. 
Hear, and judge it Sir.  Cat. 
As nature works in all things to an end,  
So in th'appropriate honour of that end,  
All things precedent have their natural frame;  
And therefore is there a proportion  
Betwixt the ends of those things and their primes:  
For else there could not be in their creation,  
Always, or for the most part, that firm form  
In their still like existence; that we see  
In each full creature. What proportion then  
Hath an immortal with a mortal substance?  
And therefore the mortality to which  
A man is subject; rather is asleep,  
Then bestial death; since sleep and death are called  
The twins of nature. For if absolute death  
And bestial seize the body of a man,  
Then is there no proportion in his parts,  
His soul being free from death, which otherwise  
Retains divine proportion For as sleep  
No disproportion holds with humane souls,  
But aptly quickens the proportion  
Twixt them and bodies, making bodies fitter  
To give up forms to souls, which is their end:  
So death (twin-born of sleep) resolving all  
Man's bodies heavy parts; in lighter nature  
Makes a reunion with the sprightly soul;  
When in a second life their beings given,  
Holds their proportion firm, in highest heaven.  Ath. 
Hold you our bodies shall revive, resuming  
Our souls again to heaven?  Cat. 
Past doubt, though others  
Think heaven a world too high for our low reaches.  
Not knowing the sacred sense of him that sings,  
jove can let down a golden chain from heaven,  
Which tied to earth, shall fetch up earth and seas;  
And what's that golden chain, but our pure souls,  
A golden beam of him, let down by him,  
That governed with his grace, and drawn by him,  
Can hoist this earthy body up to him,  
The sea, and air, and all the elements  
Compressed in it: not while 'tis thus concrete,  
But fined by death, and then given heavenly heat.  Ath. 
Your happy exposition of that place  
(Whose sacred depth I never heard so sounded)  
evicts glad grant from me you hold a truth.  Stat. 
Is't not a manly truth, and mere divine?  Cat. 
'tis a good cheerful doctrine for good men.  
But (son and servants) this is only argued  
To spend our dear time well, and no life urgeth  
To any violence further than his owner  
And graver men hold fit. let's talk of Caesar,  
He's the great subject of all talk, and he  
Is hotly hasting on. Is supper ready?  Mar. 
It is, my Lord.  Cat. 
Why then let's in and eat;  
Our cool submission will quench Caesar's heat.  Sta. 
Submission? here's for him.  Cat. 
Statilus,  
My reasons must not strengthen you in error,  
Nor learned Athenodorus gentle yielding.  
Talk with some other deep Philosophers.  
Or some divine Priest of the knowing gods,  
And hear their reasons; in mean time come sup. Exeunt.  Cato going out arm in arm betwixt Athen. and Statilius.  

Act V. Scene I.  Enter Ushers, with the two Lentuli, and Septimius before Cornelia; Cyris, Telesilla, Lelia, Drusus, with others, following. Cornelia; Septimius and the two Lentuli reading letters. Cor. 
SO may my comforts for this good news thrive  
As I am thankful for them to the Gods.  
joys unexpected, and in desperate plight,  
Are still most sweet, and prove from whence they come;  
When earth's still moonlike confidence, in joy,  
Is at her full. True joy descending far  
From past her sphere, and from that highest heaven  
That moves and is not moved: how far was I  
From hope of these events, when fearful dreams  
Of Harpies tearing out my heart? of armies  
Terribly joining? Cities, kingdoms falling,  
And all on me? proved sleep, not twin to death,  
But to me, death itself? yet making then,  
These letters; full of as much cheerful life,  
I found closed in my hand. O gods how justly  
Ye laugh at all things earthly? at all fears  
That rise not from your judgements? at all joys,  
Not drawn directly from yourselves, and in ye,  
Distrust in man is faith, trust in him ruin.  
Why write great learned men? men merely rapt  
With sacred rage, of confidence, belief?  
Undaunted spirits? inexorable fate  
And all fear treading on? 'tis all but air,  
If any comfort be, 'tis in despair.  1 Len. 
You learned Ladies may hold any thing.  2 Lent. 
Now madam is your walk from coach come near  
The promontory, where you late commanded  
A Sentinel should stand to see from thence  
If either with a navy, brought by sea,  
Or train by land; great Pompey comes to greet you  
As in your letters, he near this time promised.  Cor. 
O may this Isle of Lesbos, compassed in  
With the Aegaean sea, that doth divide  
Europe from Asia. (The sweet literate world  
From the Barbarian) from my barbarous dreams  
Divide my dearest husband and his fortunes.  2 Len. 
He's busied now with ordering offices.  
By this time, madam, sits your honoured father He looks in his letter.  
In Caesar's chair of universal Bishop.  
Domitius Aenobarbas, is made Consul,  
Spinther his Consort; and Phaonius  
Tribune, or Praetor.  Septimius with a letter. Sep. 
These were only sought  
Before the battle, not obtained; nor moving  
My father but in shadows.  Corn. 
Why should men  
Tempt fate with such firm confidence? seeking places  
Before the power that should dispose could grant them?  
For then the stroke of battle was not struck.  1 Len. 
Nay, that was sure enough. physicians know  
When sick men's eyes are broken, they must die.  
Your letters telling you his victory  
Lost in the skirmish, which I know hath broken  
Both the eyes and heart of Caesar: for as men  
Healthful through all their lives to greyhaired age,  
When sickness takes them once, they seldom scape:  
So Caesar victor in his general fights  
Till this late skirmish, could no adverse blow  
Sustain without his utter overthrow.  2 Lent. 
See, madam, now; your Sentinel: inquire.  Cor. 
Seest thou no fleet yet (Sentinel) nor train  
That may be thought great Pompey's?  Sen. 
Not yet, madame.  1 Len. 
Seest thou no travellers addressed this way?  
In any number on this Lesbian shore?  Sent. 
I see some not worth note; a couple coming  
This way, on foot, that are not now far hence.  2 Lent. 
Come they apace? like messengers with news?  Sent. 
No, nothing like (my Lord) nor are their habits  
Of any such men's fashions; being long mantles,  
And sable hewed; their heads all hid in hats  
Of parching Thessaly, broad brimmed, high crowned.  Cor. 
These serve not our hopes.  Sent. 
Now I see a ship,  
A kenning hence; that strikes into the haven.  Cor. 
One only ship?  Sen. 
One only, madam, yet.  Cor. 
That should not be my Lord.  1 Lent. 
Your Lord? no madam.  Sen. 
She now lets out armed men upon the land.  2 Lent. 
Armed men? with drum and colours?  Sen. 
No, my Lord,  
But bright in arms, yet bear half pikes, or beadhooks.  1 Lent. 
These can be no plumes in the train of Pompey.  Cor. 
I'll see him in his letter, once again.  Sen. 
Now, madam, come the two I saw on foot.  Enter Pompey and Demetrius: Dem. 
See your Princess, Sir, come thus far from the  
City in her coach, to encounter your promised coming  
About this time in your last letters.  Pom. 
The world is altered since Demetrius; offer to go by.  1 Lent. 
See, madam, two Thessalian Augurs it seems  
By their habits. Call, and inquire if either by their  
Skills or travels, they know no news of your husband.  Cor. 
My friends? a word.  Dem. 
With us, madam?  Cor. 
Yes. Are you of Thessaly?  Dem. 
ay, madam, and all the world beside.  Cor. 
Your Country is great.  Dem. 
And our portions little.  Cor. 
Are you Augurs?  Dem. 
Augurs, madam? yes a kind of Augurs, alias  
Wizards, that go up and down the world, teaching  
How to turn ill to good.  Cor. 
Can you do that?  Dem. 
ay, madam, you have no work for us, have you?  
No ill to turn good, I mean?  Cor. 
Yes; the absence of my husband.  Dem. 
What's he?  Cor. 
Pompey the great.  Dem. 
Wherein is he great?  Cor. 
In his command of the world.  Dem. 
Then he's great in others. Take him without his  
Addition (great) what is he then?  Cor. 
Pompey.  Dem. 
Not your husband then?  Cor. 
Nothing the less for his greatness.  Dem. 
Not in his right; but in your comforts he is.  Cor. 
His right is my comfort.  Dem. 
What's his wrong?  Cor. 
My sorrow.  Dem. 
And that's ill.  Cor. 
Yes.  Dem. 
Y'are come to the use of our Profession, madam,  
Would you have that ill turned good? that  
Sorrow turned comfort?  Cor. 
Why is my Lord wronged.  Dem. 
We profess not that knowledge, madam:  
Suppose he were.  Cor. 
Not I.  Dem. 
You'll suppose him good.  Cor. 
He is so.  Dem. 
Then must you needs suppose him wronged; for  
All goodness is wronged in this world.  Cor. 
What call you wrong?  Dem. 
Ill fortune, affliction.  Cor. 
Think you my Lord afflicted?  Dem. 
If I think him good (madam) I must. Unless he  
Be worldly good, and then, either he is ill, or has ill:  
Since, as no sugar is without poison: so is no worldly  
Good without ill. even naturally nourished in it, like a  
Household thief, which is the worst of all thieves.  Cor. 
Then he is not worldly, but truly good.  Dem. 
He's too great to be truly good; for worldly greatness  
Is the chief worldly goodness; and all worldly goodness  
(I proved before) has ill in it: which true good has not.  Cor. 
If he rule well with his greatness, wherein is he ill?  Dem. 
But great Rulers are like Carpenters that wear their  
Rules at their backs still: and therefore to make good your  
True good in him, you'd better suppose him little, or mean.  
For in the mean only is the true good.  Pom. 
But every great Lady must have her husband  
Great still, or her love will be little.  Cor. 
I am none of those great Ladies.  1 Len. 
She's a philosophress Augur, and can turn  
Ill to good as well as you.  Pom. 
I would then, not honour, but adore her: could you  
Submit yourself cheerfully to your husband,  
Supposing him fall'n?  Cor. 
If he submit himself cheerfully to his fortune.  Pom. 
'tis the greatest greatness in the world you undertake.  Cor. 
I would be so great, if he were.  Pom. 
In supposition.  Cor. 
In fact.  Pom 
Be no woman, but a Goddess then; & make good thy greatness;  
I am cheerfully fall'n; be cheerful.  Cor. 
I am: and welcome, as the world were closed  
In these embraces.  Pom. 
Is it possible?  
A woman, losing greatness, still as good,  
As at her greatest? O gods, was I ever  
Great till this minute?  Amb. 
Len. Pompey?  Pom. 
View me better.  Amb. 
Len. Conquered by Caesar?  Pom. 
Not I, but mine army.  
No fault in me, in it: no conquest of me:  
I tread this low earth as I trod on Caesar.  
Must I not hold myself, though lose the world?  
Nor lose I less; a world lost at one clap,  
'tis more than jove ever thundered with.  
What glory is it to have my hand hurl  
So vast a volley through the groaning air?  
And is't not great, to turn griefs thus to joys,  
That break the hearts of others?  Amb. 
Len. O 'tis jove-like.  Pom, 
It is to imitate jove, that from the wounds  
Of softest clouds, beats up the terriblest sounds.  
I now am good, for good men still have least,  
That 'twixt themselves and God might rise their rest.  Cor. 
O Pompey, Pompey: never Great till now.  Pom. 
O my Cornelia: let us still be good,  
And we shall still be great: and greater far  
In every solid grace, then when the tumour  
And boil of rotten observation swelled us.  
Griefs for wants outward, are without our cure,  
Greatness, not of itself, is never sure.  
Before, we went upon heaven, rather treading  
The virtues of it underfoot, in making  
The vicious world our heaven; then walking there  
Even here, as knowing that our home; contemning  
All forged heavens here raised; setting hills on hills.  
Vulcan from heaven fell, yet on's feet did light,  
And stood no less a god then at his height;  
At lowest things lie fast: we now are like  
The two Poles propping heaven, on which heaven moves;  
And they are fixed, and quiet, being above  
All motion far; we rest above the heavens.  Cor. 
O, I more joy, t'embrace my Lord thus fixed,  
Than he had brought me ten inconstant conquests.  1 Len 
Miraculous standing in a fall so great,  
Would Caesar knew, Sir, how you conquered him  
In your conviction.  Pom. 
'tis enough for me  
That Pompey knows it. I will stand no more  
On others legs: nor build one joy without me.  
If ever I be worth a house again,  
I'll build all inward: not a light shall ope  
The common outway: no expense, no art,  
No ornament, no door will I use there,  
But raise all plain, and rudely, like a rampire,  
Against the false society of men  
That still batters  
All reason piecemeal. And for earthy greatness  
All heavenly comforts ratifies to air,  
I'll therefore live in dark, and all my light,  
Like ancient Temples, let in at my top.  
This were to turn one's back to all the world,  
And only look at heaven. Empedocles  
Recured a mortal plague through all his Country,  
With stopping up the yawning of a hill,  
From whence the hollow and unwholesome South  
Exhaled his venomed vapour. And what else  
Is any King, given over to his lusts,  
But even the poisoned cleft of that cracked mountain,  
That all his kingdom plagues with his example?  
Which I have stopped now, and so cured my Country  
Of such a sensual pestilence:  
When therefore our diseased affections  
Harmful to humane freedom; and stormlike  
Inferring darkness to th'infected mind  
Oppress our comforts: 'tis but letting in  
The light of reason, and a purer spirit,  
Take in another way; like rooms that fight  
With window against the wind, yet let in sight.  Amb. Len. 
My Lord, we served before, but now adore you.  Sen. 
My Lord, the armed men I discovered lately  
unshipped, and landed; now are trooping near.  Pom. 
What armed men are they?  1 Len. 
Some, my Lord, that lately  
The Sentinel discovered, but not knew.  Sen. 
Now all the sea (my Lords) is hid with ships,  
Another Promontory flanking this,  
Some furlong hence, is climbed, and full of people,  
That easily may see hither; it seems looking  
What these so near intend: Take heed, they come.  Enter Achillas, Septius, Saluius, with soldiers, Ach. 
Haile to Rome's great Commander; to whom Egypt  
(Not long since seated in his kingdom by thee,  
And sent to by thee in thy passage by)  
Sends us with answer: which withdraw and hear.  Pom 
I'll kiss my children first.  Sep. 
Bless me, my Lord.  Pom. 
I will, and Cyris, my poor daughter too.  
even that high hand that hurled me down thus low,  
Keep you from rising high: I hear: now tell me.  
I think (my friend) you once served under me:  Septius only nods with his head. Pom. 
Nod only? not a word deign? what are these?  
Cornelia? I am now not worth men's words.  Ach. 
Please you receive your aid, Sir?  Pom. 
ay, I come. Exit Pom. They draw and follow.  Cor. 
Why draw they? See, my Lords; attend them ushers.  Sen. 
O they have slain great Pompey.  Cor. 
O my husband.  Sept. Cyr. 
Mother, take comfort. Enter Pompey bleeding.  
O my Lord and father.  Pom. 
See heavens your sufferings, is my country's love,  
The justice of an Empire; piety;  
Worth this end in their leader: last yet life,  
And bring the gods off fairer: after this  
Who will adore, or serve the deities?  He hides his face with his robe. Enter the Murderers. Ach. 
Help hale him off: and take his head for Caesar.  Sep. 
Mother? O save us; Pompey? O my father.  Enter the two Lentuli and Demetrius bleeding, and kneel about Cornelia. 1 Len. 
Yet falls not heaven? Madam, O make good  
Your late great spirits; all the world will say,  
You know not how to bear adverse events,  
If now you languish.  Omn. 
Take her to her coach. They bear her out.  Cato with a book in his hand. 
O Beastly apprehenders of things manly,  
And merely heavenly: they with all the reasons  
I used for just men's liberties, to bear  
Their lives and deaths up in their own free hands;  
Fear still my resolution though I seem  
To give it off like them: and now am won  
To think my life in law's rule, not mine own,  
When once it comes to death; as if the law  
Made for a sort of outlaws, must bound me  
In their subjection; as if I could  
Be racked out of my veins, to live in others;  
As so I must, if others rule my life;  
And public power keep all the right of death,  
As if men needs must serve the place of justice;  
The form, and idol, and renounce itself?  
ourselves, and all our rights in God and goodness?  
Our whole contents and freedoms to dispose,  
All in the joys and ways of arrant rogues?  
No stay but their wild errors, to sustain us?  
No forges but their throats to vent our breaths?  
To form our lives in, and repose our deaths?  
See, they have got my sword. Who's there?  Enter Marcillius bare. Mar. 
My Lord.  Cat. 
Who took my sword hence? Dumb? I do not ask  
For any use or care of it: but hope  
I may be answered. Go Sir, let me have it. Exit Mar.  
Poor slaves, how terrible this death is to them?  
If men would sleep, they would be wroth with all  
That interrupt them Physic take to take  
The golden rest it brings: both pay and pray  
For good, and soundest naps all friends consenting  
In those kind invocations; praying all  
Good rest, the gods vouchsafe you; put when death  
(Sleeps natural brother) comes; (that's nothing worse,  
But better; being more rich; and keeps the store;  
Sleep ever fickle, wayward still, and poor)  
O how men grudge, and shake, and dear, and fly  
His stern approaches? all their comforts taken  
In faith, and knowledge of the bliss and beauties  
That watch their wakings in an endless life:  
Drowned in the pains and horrors of their sense  
sustained but for an hour; be all the earth  
Rapt with this error, lie pursue my reason,  
And hold that as my light and fiery pillar,  
Th'eternal law of heaven and earth no firmer.  
But while I seek to conquer conquering Caesar,  
My soft-spleened servants overrule and curb me.  He knocks, and Brutus enters. 
Where's he I sent to fetch and place my sword  
Where late I left it? Dumb to? Come another!  Enter Cleanthes. 
Where's my sword hung here?  Cle. 
My Lord, I know not, Ent. Marcilius.  Cat. 
The rest come in there. Where's the sword I charged you  
To give his place again? I'll break your lips open,  
Spite of my freedom; all my servants, friends;  
My son and all, will needs betray me naked  
To th' armed malice of a foe so fierce  
And Bear-like, mankind of the blood of virtue.  
O gods, whoever saw me thus contemned?  
Go call my son in; tell him, that the less  
He shows himself my son, the less I'll care  
To live his father.  Enter Athenodorus, Porcius: Porcius kneeling; Brutus, Cleanthes and Marcilius by him. Por. 
I beseech you, Sir,  
Rest patient of my duty, and my love;  
Your other children think on, our poor mother,  
Your family, your Country.  Cat. 
If the gods  
Give over all, I'll fly the world with them.  
Athenodorus, I admire the changes.  
I note in heavenly providence. When Pompey  
Did all things out of course, past right, past reason,  
He stood invincible against the world:  
Yet, now his cares grew pious, and his powers  
Set all up for his Country, he is conquered.  Ath. 
The gods will secret are, nor must we measure  
Their chaste-reserved deeps by our dry shallows.  
Sufficeth us, we are entirely such  
As 'twixt them and our consciences we know  
Their graces, in our virtues, shall present  
Unspotted with the earth; toth' high throne  
That overlooks us: for this giant world  
Let's not contend with it, when heaven itself  
Fails to reform it: why should we affect  
The least hand over it, in that ambition?  
A heap 'tis of digested villainy;  
Virtue in labour with eternal Chaos  
Pressed to a living death, and racked beneath it.  
Her throws unpitied; every worthy man  
Limb by limb sawn out of her virgin womb,  
To live here piecemeal tortured, fly life then;  
Your life and death made precedents for men. Exit.  Cat. 
Ye hear (my masters) what a life this is,  
And use much reason to respect it so.  
But mine shall serve ye. Yet restore my sword,  
Lest too much ye presume, and I conceive  
Ye front me like my fortunes. Where's Statilius?  Por. 
I think Sir, gone with the three hundred Romans  
In Lucius Caesar's charge, to serve the victor.  Cat. 
And would not take his leave of his poor friend?  
Then the Philosophers have stooped his spirit,  
Which I admire, in one so free, and knowing,  
And such a fiery hater of base life,  
Besides, being such a vowed and noted foe  
To our great Conqueror. But I advised him  
To spare his youth, and live.  Por. 
My brother Brutus  
Is gone to Caesar.  Cat. 
Brutus? Of mine honour  
(Although he be my son in law) I must say  
There went as worthy, and as learned a precedent  
As lives in Rome's whole rule, for all life's actions;  
And yet your sister Porcia (his wife)  
Would scarce have done this. But (for you my son)  
However Caesar deals with me; be counseled  
By your experienced father, not to touch  
At any action of the public weal,  
Nor any rule bear near her politic stern:  
For, to be upright, and sincere therein  
Like Cato's son, the Time's corruption  
Will never bear it: and, to soothe the time,  
You shall do basely, and unworthy your life;  
Which, to the gods I wish, may outweigh mine  
In every virtue; howsoever ill  
You thrive in honour.  Por. 
ay, my Lord, shall gladly  
Obey that counsel.  Cat. 
And what needed you  
Urge my kind care of any charge that nature  
Imposes on me? have I ever shown  
love's least defect to you? or any dues  
The most indulgent father (being discreet)  
Could do his dearest blood? do you me right  
In judgement, and in honour; and dispense  
With passionate nature: go, neglect me not,  
But send my sword in. Go, 'tis I that charge you.  Por. 
O my Lord, and father, come, advise me. Exeunt.  Cat. 
What have I now to think on in this world?  
No one thought of the world, I go each minute  
Discharged of all cares that may fit my freedom.  
The next world, and my soul, then let me serve  
With her last utterance, that my body may  
With sweetness of the passage drown the sour  
That death will mix with it: the consul's souls  
That slew themselves so nobly, scorning life  
Led under Tyrants Sceptres, mine would see.  
For we shall know each other; and past death  
Retain those forms of knowledge learned in life;  
Since, if what here we learn, we there shall lose,  
Or immortality were not life, but time.  
And that our souls in reason are immortal,  
Then natural and proper objects prove;  
Which immortality and knowledge are.  
For to that object ever is referred  
The nature of the soul, in which the acts  
Of her high faculties are still employed.  
And that true object must her powers obtain  
To which they are in natures aim directed.  
Since 'twere absurd to have her sit an object  
Which possibly she never can aspire.  Enter a Page with his sword taken out before. Pag 
Your sword, my Lord.  Cat. 
O is it found? lay down  
Upon the bed (my boy) Exit Pa. Poor men; a boy  
Must be presenter; manhood at no hand  
Must serve so foul a fact; for so are called  
(In common mouths) men's fairest acts of all.  
unsheathe; is't sharp? 'tis sweet. Now I am safe,  
Come Caesar, quickly now, or lose your vassal.  
Now wing thee, dear soul, and receive her heaven.  
The earth, the air, and seas I know, and all  
The joys, and horrors of their peace and wars,  
And now will see the God's state, and the stars.  He falls upon his sword, and enter Statilius at another side of the Stage with his sword drawn, Porcius, Brutus, Cleanthes and Marcilius holding his hands. Stat. 
Cato? my Lord?  Por. 
I swear (Statilius)  
He's forth, and gone to seek you, charging me  
To seek elsewhere, lest you had slain yourself;  
And by his love entreated you would live.  Sta. 
I swear by all the gods, I'll run his fortunes.  Por. 
You may, you may; but shun the victor now,  
Who near is, and will make us all his slaves.  Sta 
He shall himself be mine first, and my slaves. Exit.  Por. 
Look, look in to my father, O (I fear)  
He is no sight for me to bear and live. Exit.  Omn. 3 
O ruthful spectacle!  Cle. 
He hath ripped his entrails.  Bru. 
Search, search; they may be sound.  Cle. 
They may, and are.  
Give leave, my Lord, that I may sew them up  
Being yet unperished. He thrusts him back, & plucks out his entrails.  Ca. 
Stand off; now they are not.  
Have he my curse that my life's least part saves.  
Just men are only free, the rest are slaves.  Bru. 
Mirror of men.  Mar. 
The gods envied his goodness.  Enter Caesar, Anthony, Brutus, Acilius, with Lords and Citizens of Utica. Caes. 
Too late, too late; with all our haste. O Cato,  
All my late Conquest, and my life's whole acts,  
Most crowned, most beautified, are basted all  
With thy grave life's expiring in their scorn.  
Thy life was rule to all lives, and thy death  
(Thus forcibly despising life) the quench  
Of all life's glories.  Ant. 
Unreclaimed man?  
How censures Brutus his stern father's fact?  Bru. 
'twas not well done.  Caes. 
O censure not his acts;  
Who knew as well what fitted man, as all men.  Enter Achilius, Septimius, Salvius, with Pompey's head. 
All kneeling .Your enemy's head great Caesar.  Caes. 
Cursed monsters,  
Wound not mine eyes with it, nor in my camp  
Let any dare to view it; far as noblesse  
The den of barbarism flies, and bliss  
The bitterest curse of vexed and tyrannised nature,  
Transfer it from me. Borne the plagues of virtue  
How durst ye poison thus my thoughts? to torture  
Them with instant rapture.  Omn. 3. 
Sacred Caesar.  Caes. 
Away with them; I vow by all my comforts,  
Who slack seems, or not fiery in my charge,  
Shall suffer with them.  All the soldiers. 
Out base murderers;  
Tortures, tortures for them: bale them out.  Omn. 
Cruel Caesar.  Caes. 
Too mild with any torture.  Bru. 
Let me crave  
The ease of my hate on their one cursed life.  Caes. 
Good Brutus take it; O you cool the poison  
These villain's flaming poured upon my spleen  
To suffer with my loathings. If the blood  
Of every common Roman touched so near;  
Shall I confirm the false brand of my tyranny  
With being found a fautor of his murder  
Whom my dear Country choosed to fight for her?  Ant. 
Your patience Sir, their tortures well will quit you:  Bru. 
Let my slaves use, Sir, be your precedent.  Caes. 
It shall, I swear: you do me infinite honour.  
O Cato, I envy thy death, since thou  
enviedst my glory to preserve thy life.  
Why fled his son and friend Statilius?  
So far I fly their hurt, that all my good  
Shall fly to their desires. And (for himself)  
My Lords and Citizens of Utica,  
His much renown of you, quit with your most.  
And by the sea, upon some eminent rock,  
Erect his sumptuous tomb; on which advance  
With all fit state his statue; whose right hand  
Let hold his sword, where, may to all times rest  
His bones as honoured as his soul is blessed.   
FINIS.