The Tragedy Of Caesar's Revenge Part 7

My trembling heart misgiues me what's befalne, _Brutus_ is dead: I: herke how willingly 2450 The Ecco itterates those deadly words, The whisling windes with their mourning sound Do fill mine eares with noyse of _Brutus_ death, The birdes now chanting a more cheerles lay, In dolefull notes recorde my friends decay.

And _Philomela_ now forgets old wronges, And onely _Brutus_ wayleth in her songes.

I heare some noyse, O tis _t.i.tinnius_, No tis not hee, for hee doth feare to wound, My greeued eares with that hearts-thrilling sound. 2460 Why dost thou feed my thoughts with lingering hope?

Why dost thou then prolong my life in vayne?

Tell me my sentence and so end my payne: He comes not yet, nor yet, nor will at all, Linger not _Ca.s.sius_ for to heare reply, What if he come and tels me hee is slayne?

That only will increase my dying paine, _Brutus_ I come to company thy soule, Which by _Cocytus_ wandreth all alone.

_Brutus_ I come prepare to meete thy friend 2470 Thy Brothers fall procures this balefull end.

_Enter t.i.tinius._

_t.i.ti._ _Brutus_ doth liue and like a second _Mars_, Rageth in heate of fury mongest his foes, Then cheere thee _Ca.s.sius_, loe I bring releefe.

And news of power to ease thy stormy greefe, But see where _Ca.s.sius_ weltreth in his blood, Doth beate the Earth, and yet not fully dead.

O _Ca.s.sius_ speake, O speake to me sweet friend, _Brutus_ doth liue; open thy dying eyes, 2480 And looke on him that hope and comfort rings.

O noe, hee will not looke on mee but cryes, That by my long delayes he haples dies: Accursed villaine murtherer of thy friend, Why hath thy lingering thus wrought _Ca.s.sius_ end, How cold thy care was to preuent this deed, How slow thy loue that made no greater speed, Care winged is, and burning loue can flye, My care was feareles, loue but flattery, But sithence in my life my loue was neuer shewne, 2490 Now in my death Ile make it to be knowne.

Accursed weapon that such blood could spil, Nay cursed then the author of this deed, Yet both offended, both shall punished be, Ile take reueng of the knife, the knife of me, It shall make a pa.s.sage for my life to pa.s.se, Cause through my life his master murthered was.

And I on it againe will venged bee.

Cause it did worke my _Ca.s.sius_ tragedy.

Then this reueng shalbe to end my life. 2500 Mine to distayne with baser blood the knife.

_Enter Brutus the Ghost following him._

_Bru._ What doest thou still persue me vgly fend, Is this it that thou thirsted for so much?

Come with thy tearing clawes and rend it out, Would thy appeaseles rage be slacked with blood, This sword to day hath crimsen channels made, But heare's the blood that thou woulds drinke so fayne, Then take this percer, broch this trayterous heart.

Or if thou thinkest death to small a payne, 2510 Drag downe this body to proud _Erebus_, Through black _Cocytus_ and infernall _Styx_, _Lethean_ waues, and fiers of _Phlegeton_, Boyle me or burne, teare my hatefull flesh, Deuoure, consume, pull, pinch, plague, paine this hart, h.e.l.l craues her right, and heere the furyes stand, And all the h.e.l.l-hounds compa.s.se me a round Each seeking for a parte of this same prey, Ala.s.se this body is leane, thin, pale and wan, Nor can it all your hungery mouthes suffice, 2520 O tis the soule that they stand gaping for, And cndlesse matter for to prey vpon.

Renewed still as _t.i.tius_ p.r.i.c.ked heart.

Then clap your hands, let h.e.l.l with Ioy resound?

Here it comes flying through this aery round.

_Gho._ h.e.l.l take their hearts, that this ill deed haue done And vengeance follow till they be ouercome: Nor liue t'applaud the iustice of this deed.

Murther by her owne guilty hand doth bleed.

_Enter Discord._

_Dis._ I, now my longing hopes haue their desire, 2531 The world is nothing but a ma.s.sie heape: Of bodys slayne, The Sea a lake of blood, The Furies that for slaughter only thirst, Are with these Ma.s.sakers and slaughters cloyde, _Tysiphones_ pale, and _Megeras_ thin face, Is now puft vp, and swolne with quaffing blood, _Caron_ that vsed but an old rotten boate Must nowe a nauie rigg for to transport, The howling soules, vnto the _Stigian_ stronde. 2540 h.e.l.l and _Elisium_ must be digd in one, And both will be to litle to contayne, Numberles numbers of afflicted ghostes, That I my selfe haue tumbling thither sent.

_Gho._ Now nights pale daughter since thy b.l.o.o.d.y ioyes, And my reuengfull thirst fulfilled are, Doe thou applaud what iustly heauens haue wrought, While murther on the murtherers head is brought.

_Dis._ _Caesar_ I pitied not thy Tragick end: Nor tyrants daggers sticking in thy heart, 2550 Nor doe I that thy deaths with like repayd, But that thy death so many deaths hath made: Now cloyde with blood, Ile hye me downe below, And laugh to thinke I caused such endlesse woe.

_Gho._ Sith my reueng is full accomplished, And my deaths causers by them selues are slaine, I will descend to mine eternall home, Where euerlastingly my quiet soule, The sweete _Elysium_ pleasure shall inioy, And walke those fragrant flowry fields at rest: 2560 To which nor fayre _Adonis_ bower so rare, Nor old _Alcinous_ gardens may compare.

There that same gentle father of the spring, Mild _Zephirus_ doth _Odours_ breath diuine: Clothing the earth in painted brauery, The which nor winters rage, nor Scorching heate, Or Summers sunne can make it fall or fade, There with the mighty champions of old time, And great _Heroes_ of the Goulden age, My dateles houres Ile spend in lasting ioy.

FINIS.