DO'st thou not feele me, Rome? not yet? Is
night

So heauy on thee, and my weight so light?

Can SYLLA'S Ghost arise within thy walls,

Lesse threatning, then an earth-quake, the
quick falls

Of thee, and thine? shake not the frighted
heads

Of thy steepe towers? or shrinke to their
first beds?

Or, as their ruine the large Tyber fills,

Make that swell vp, and drowne thy seuen proud hills?

What sleepe is this doth seize thee, so like death,

And is not it? Wake, feele her, in my breath:

Behold, I come, sent from the Stygian sound,

As a dire vapor, that had cleft the ground,

T'ingender with the night, and blast the day;

Or like a pestilence, that should display

Infection through the world: which, thus, I doe.

PLVTO be at thy councells; and into

Thy darker bosome enter SYLLA'S spirit:

All, that was mine, and bad, thy brest inherit.

Alas, how weake is that, for CATILINE!

Did I but say (vaine voice!) all that was mine?

All, that the GRACCHI, CINNA, MARIVS would;

What now, had I a body againe, I could,

Comming from hell; what Fiends would wish should be;

And HANNIBAL could not haue wish'd to see:

Thinke thou, and practice. Let the long-hid seeds

Of treason, in thee, now shoot forth in deeds,

Ranker then horror; and thy former facts

Not fall in mention, but to vrge new acts:

Conscience of them prouoke thee on to more.

Be still thy incests, murders, rapes before

Thy sense; thy forcing first a Vestall nunne;

Thy parricide, late, on thine owne onely sonne,

After his mother; to make emptie way

For thy last wicked nuptialls; worse, then they,

That blaze that act of thy incestuous life,

Which got thee, at once, a daughter, and a wife.

I leaue the slaughters that thou didst for me,

Of Senators; for which, I hid for thee

Thy murder of thy brother, (being so brib'd)

And writ him in the list of my proscrib'd

After thy fact, to saue thy little shame:

Thy incest, with thy sister, I not name.

These are too light. Fate will haue thee pursue

Deedes, after which, no mischiefe can be new;

The ruine of thy countrey: thou wert built

For such a worke, and borne for no lesse guilt.

What though defeated once th'hast beene, and knowne,

Tempt it againe: That is thy act, or none.

What all the seuerall ills, that visite earth,

(Brought forth by night, with a sinister birth)

Plagues, famine, fire could not reach vnto,

The sword, nor surfets; let thy furie doe:

Make all past, present, future ill thine owne;

And conquer all example, in thy one.

Nor let thy thought find any vacant time

To hate an old, but still a fresher crime

Drowne the remembrance: let not mischiefe cease,

But, while it is in punishing, encrease.

Conscience, and care die in thee; and be free

Not heau'n it selfe from thy impietie:

Let night grow blacker with thy plots; and day,

At shewing but thy head forth, start away

From this halfe-spheare: and leaue Romes blinded walls

T'embrace lusts, hatreds, slaughters, funeralls,

And not recouer sight, till their owne flames

Doe light them to their ruines. All the names

Of thy confederates, too, be no lesse great

In hell, then here: that, when we would repeat

Our strengths in muster, we may name you all,

And Furies, vpon you, for Furies, call.

Whilst, what you doe, may strike them into feares,

Or make them grieue, and wish your mischiefe theirs.

IT is decree'd. Nor shall thy Fate, Ô Rome,

Resist my vow. Though hills were set on hills,

And seas met seas, to guard thee; I would through:

I, plough vp rocks, steepe as the Alpes, in dust;

And laue the Tyrrbene waters, into clouds;

But I would reach thy head, thy head, proud citie.

The ills, that I haue done, cannot be safe

But by attempting greater; and I feele

A spirit, within me, chides my sluggish hands,

And sayes, they haue beene innocent too long.

Was I a man, bred great, as Rome her selfe?

One, form'd for all her honors, all her glories?

Equall to all her titles? that could stand

Close vp, with ATLAS; and sustaine her name

As strong, as he doth heau'n? And, was I,

Of all her brood, mark'd out for the repulse

By her no voice, when I stood Candidate,

To be commander in the Pontick warre?

I will, hereafter, call her step-dame, ener.

If shee can loose her nature, I can loose

My pietie; and in her stony entrailes

Dig me a seate: where, I will liue, againe,

The labour of her wombe, and be a burden,

Weightier then all the prodigies, and monsters,

That shee hath teem'd with, since shee first knew MARS.

Appeare,

And breake, like day, my beautie, to this circle:

Vpbraid thy Phœbus, that he is so long

In mounting to that point, which should giue thee

Thy proper splendor. Wherefore frownes my sweet?

Haue I too long beene absent from these lips,

This cheeke, these eyes? What is my trespasse? speake.

It seemes, you know, that can accuse your selfe.

I will redeeme it.

Still, you say so. When?

When ORESTILLA, by her bearing well

These my retirements, and stolne times for thought,

Shall giue their effects leaue to call her Queene

Of all the world, in place of humbled Rome.

You court me, now.

As I would alwayes, Loue,

By this ambrosiack kisse, and this of nectar,

Wouldst thou but heare as gladly, as I speake.

Could my AVRELIA thinke, I meant her lesse;

When, wooing her, I first remou'd a wife,

And then a sonne, to make my bed, and house

Spatious, and fit t'embrace her? These were deeds

Not t'haue begun with, but to end with more,

And greater: “He that, building, stayes at one

“Floore, or the second, hath erected none.

'Twas how to raise thee, I was meditating;

To make some act of mine answere thy loue:

That loue, that, when my state was now quite sunke,

Came with thy wealth, and weigh'd it vp againe,

And made my 'emergent-fortune once more looke

Aboue the maine; which, now, shall hit the starres,

And stick my ORESTILLA, there, amongst 'hem,

If any tempest can but make the billow,

And any billow can but lift her greatnesse.

But, I must pray my loue, shee will put on

Like habites with my selfe. I haue to doe

With many men, and many natures. Some,

That must be blowne, and sooth'd; as LENTVLVS,

Whom I haue heau'd, with magnifying his bloud,

And a vaine dreame, out of the SYBILL'S bookes,

That a third man, of that great family,

Whereof he is descended, the CORNELII,

Should be a king in Rome: which I haue hir'd

The flatt'ring AVGVRES to interpret him,

CINNA, and SYLLA dead. Then, bold CETHEGVS,

Whose valour I haue turn'd into his poyson,

And prais'd so into daring, as he would

Goe on vpon the gods, kisse lightning, wrest

The engine from the CYCLOP'S, and giue fire

At face of a full cloud, and stand his ire:

When I would bid him moue. Others there are,

Whom enuy to the state drawes, and puts on,

For contumelies receiu'd, (and such are sure ones)

As CVRIVS, and the fore-nam'd LENTVLVS,

Both which haue beene degraded, in the Senate,

And must haue their disgraces, still, new rub'd,

To make 'hem smart, and labour of reuenge.

Others, whom meere ambition sires, and dole

Of prouinces abroad, which they haue fain'd

To their crude hopes, and I as amply promis'd:

These, LECCA, VARGVNTEIVS, BESTIA, AVTRONIVS.

Some, whom their wants oppresse, as th'idle Captaynes

Of SYLLA'S troops: and diuers Roman Knights

(The profuse wasters of their patrimonies)

So threatned with their debts as they will, now,

Runne any desperate fortune, for a change.

These, for a time, we must relieue, AVRELIA,

And make our house the safe-guard: like, for those,

That feare the law, or stand within her gripe,

For any act past, or to come. Such will

From their owne crimes, be factious, as from ours.

Some more there be, slight ayrelings, will be wonne,

With dogs, and horses; or, perhaps, a whore;

Which must be had: and, if they venter liues,

For vs, AVRELIA, we must hazard honors

A little. Get thee store, and change of women,

As I haue boyes; and giue 'hem time, and place,

And all conniuence: be thy selfe, too, courtly;

And entertayne, and feast, sit vp, and reuell;

Call all the great, the faire, and spirited Dames

Of Rome about thee; and beginne a fashion

Of freedome, and community. Some will thanke thee,

Though the sowre Senate frowne, whose heads must ake

In feare, and feeling too. We must not spare

Or cost, or modestie. It can but shew

Like one of IVNO'S, or of IOVE'S disguises,

In either thee, or mee: and will as soone,

When things succeed, be throwne by, or let fall,

As is a vaile put off, a visor chang'd,

Or the scene shifted, in our theaters——

Who's that? It is the voyce of LENTVLVS.

Or of CETHEGVS.

In, my faire AVRELIA,

And thinke vpon these arts. They must not see,

How farre you are trusted with these priuacies;

Though, on their shoulders, necks, and heads you rise.

IT is, me thinks, a morning, full of fate!

It riseth slowly, as her sollen carre

Had all the weights of sleepe, and death hung at it!

Shee is not rosy-finger'd, but swolne black!

Her face is like a water, turn'd to bloud,

And her sick head is bound about with clouds,

As if shee threatned night, ere noone of day!

It does not looke, as it would haue a haile,

Or health, wish'd in it, as on other mornes.

Why, all the fitter, LENTVLVS: our comming

Is not for salutation, we haue businesse.

Said nobly, braue CETHEGVS. Where's AVTRONIVS?

Is he not come?

Not here.

Nor VARGVNTEIVS?

Neither.

A fire in their beds, and bosomes,

That so will serue their sloth, rather then vertue.

They are no Romanes, and at such high need

As now.

Both they, LONGINVS, LECCA, CVRIVS,

FVLVIVS, GABINIVS, gaue me word, last night,

By LVCIVS BESTIA, they would all be here,

And early.

Yes? As you, had I not call'd you.

Come, we all sleepe, and are meere dormice; flies,

A little lesse then dead: more dulnesse hangs

On vs, then on the morne. W'are spirit-bound,

In ribs of ice; our whole blouds are one stone;

And honor cannot thaw vs; nor our wants:

Though they burne, hot as feuers, to our states.

I muse they would be tardy, at an houre

Of so great purpose.

If the gods had call'd

Them, to a purpose, they would iust haue come

With the same tortoyse speed! that are thus slow

To such an action, which the gods will enuy:

As asking no lesse meanes, then all their powers

Conioyn'd, t'effect. I would haue seene Rome burn't,

By this time; and her ashes in an vrne:

The kingdome of the Senate, rent a-sunder;

And the degenerate, talking gowne runne frighted,

Out of the aire of Italie.

Spirit of men!

Thou, heart of our great enterprise! how much

I loue these voices in thee!

O, the dayes

Of SYLLA'S sway, when the free sword tooke leaue

To act all that it would!

And was familiar

With entrailes, as our Augures!

Sonnes kild fathers,

Brothers their brothers.

And had price, and praise.

All hate had licence giuen it: all rage raines.

Slaughter bestrid the streets, and stretch'd himselfe

To seeme more huge; whilst to his stayned thighes

The gore he drew flow'd vp: and carryed downe

Whole heaps of limmes, and bodies, through his arch.

No age was spar'd, no sexe.

Nay, no degree.

Not infants, in the porch of life were free.

The sick, the old, that could but hope a day

Longer, by natures bountie, not let stay.

Virgins, and widdowes, matrons, pregnant wiues,

All dyed.

'Twas crime enough, that they had liues.

To strike but onely those, that could doe hurt,

Was dull, and poore. Some fell to make the number,

As some the prey.

The rugged CHARON fainted,

And ask'd a nauy, rather then a boate,

To ferry ouer the sad world that came:

The mawes, and dens of beasts could not receiue

The bodies, that those soules were frighted from;

And e'en the graues were fild with men, yet liuing,

Whose flight, and feare had mix'd them, with the dead.

And this shall be againe, and more, and more,

Now LENTVLVS, the third CORNELIVS,

Is to stand vp in Rome.

Nay, vrge not that

Is so vncertaine.

How!

I meane, not clear'd.

And, therefore, not to be reflected on.

The SYBILL'S leaues vncertayne? or the comments

Of our graue, deepe, diuining men not cleare?

All prophecies, you know, suffer the torture.

But this, already, hath confess'd, without.

And so beene weigh'd, examin'd, and compar'd,

As't were malicious ignorance in him,

Would faint in the beliefe.

Doe you beleeue it?

Doe I loue LENTVLVS? or pray to see it?

The Augures all are constant, I am meant.

They'had lost their science else.

They count from CIN-
NA.

And SYLLA next, and so make you the third;

All that can say the sunne is ris'n, must thinke it.

Men marke me more, of late, as I come forth!

Why, what can they doe lesse? CINNA, and SYLEA

Are set, and gone: and we must turne our eyes

On him that is, and shines. Noble CETHEGVS,

But view him with me, here! He lookes, already,

As if he shooke a scepter, o're the Senate,

And the aw'd purple dropt their rods, and axes!

The statues melt againe; and houshold gods

In grones confesse the trauaile of the citie;

The very walls sweat bloud before the change;

And stones start out to ruine, ere it comes.

But he, and we, and all are idle still.

I am your creature, SERGIVS: And what ere

The great CORNELIAN name shall winne to be,

It is not Augury, nor the SYBILS bookes,

But CATILINE that makes it.

I am shaddow

To honor'd LENTVLVS, and CETHEGVS here,

Who are the heires of MARS.

By MARS himselfe,

CATILINE is more my parent: for whose vertue

Earth cannot make a shaddow great inough,

Though enuy should come too. O, there they'are.

Now we shall talke more, though we yet doe nothing.

Haile noble SERGIVS.

Haile PVB: LENTVL⁹.

Haile the third CORNELI⁹.

CAIVS CETHEGVS haile.

Haile sloth, and words,

In steed of men, and spirits.

Nay, deare CAIVS—

Are your eyes yet vnsee'ld? Dare they looke day

In the dull face?

Hee's zealous, for the'affaire,

And blames your tardy comming, gentlemen.

Vnlesse, we had sold our selues to sleepe, and ease,

And would be our slaues slaues —

Pray you forbeare.

The north is not so starke, and cold.

CETHEGVS—

We shall redeeme all, if your fire will let vs.

You are too full of lightning, noble CAIVS.

Boy, see all doores be shut, that none approch vs,

On this part of the house. Goe you, and bid

The Priest, he kill the slaue I mark'd last night;

And bring me of his bloud, when I shall call him:

Till then, wait all without.

How is't, AVTRONIVS!

LONGINVS?

CVRIVS?

LECCA?

Feele you
nothing?

A strange, vn-wonted horror doth inuade me,

I know not what it is!

The day goes back,

Or else my senses!

As at ATREVS feast!

Darkenesse growes more, and more!

The vestall flame,

I thinke, be out.

What grone was that?

Our phant'sies.

Strike fire, out of our selues, and force a day.

Againe it sounds!

As all the citie gaue it!

We feare what our selues faine.

What light is this?

Looke forth.

It still growes greater!

From whence
(comes it?

A bloudy arme it is, that holds a pine

Lighted, aboue the Capitoll! and, now,

It waues vnto vs!

Braue, and omenous!

Our enterprise is seal'd.

In spight of darkenesse,

That would discountenance it. Looke no more;

We loose time, and our selues. To what we came for,

Speake LVCIVS, we attend you.

Noblest Romanes,

If you were lesse, or that your faith, and vertue

Did not hold good that title, with your bloud,

I should not, now, vnprofitably spend

My selfe in words, or catch at empty hopes,

By ayrie wayes, for solide certainties.

But since in many, and the greatest dangers,

I still haue knowne you no lesse true, then valiant,

And that I tast, in you, the same affections,

To will, or nill, to thinke things good, or bad,

Alike with me: (which argues your firme friendship)

I dare the boldlier, with you, set on foot,

Or leade, vnto this great, and goodliest action.

What I haue thought of it afore, you all

Haue heard apart. I then express'd my zeale

Vnto the glorie; now, the neede enflames me:

When I fore-thinke the hard conditions,

Our states must vnder-goe, except, in time,

We doe redeeme our selues to libertie,

And breake the yron yoke, forg'd for our necks.

For, what lesse can we call it? when we see

The common-wealth engross'd so by a few,

The giants of the state, that doe, by turnes,

Enioy her, and defile her! All the earth,

Her Kings, and Tetrarchs, are their tributaries;

People, and nations, pay them hourely stipends:

The riches of the world flowes to their coffers,

And not, to Romes. While (but those few) the rest,

How euer great we are, honest, and valiant,

Are hearded with the vulgar; and so kept,

As we were onely bred, to consume corne;

Or weare out wooll; to drinke the cities water;

Vngrac'd, without authoritie, or marke;

Trembling beneath their rods: to whom, (if all

Were well in Rome) we should come forth bright axes.

All places, honors, offices are theirs!

Or where they will conferre 'hem! They leaue vs

The dangers, the repulses, iudgements, wants:

Which how long will you beare, most valiant spirits?

Were we not better to fall, once, with vertue,

Then draw a wretched, and dishonor'd breath,

To loose with shame, when these mens pride will laugh?

I call the faith of gods, and men to question,

The power is in our hands; our bodies able;

Our mindes as strong; o'th' contrary, in them,

All things growne aged, with their wealth, and yeeres:

There wants, but onely to beginne the businesse,

The issue is certaine.

On, let vs goe on.

Goe on, braue SERGIVS.

It doth strike my soule,

(And, who can scape the stroke, that hath a soule,

Or, but the smallest aire of man within him?)

To see them swell with treasure; which they powre

Out i' their riots, eating, drinking, building,

I, i' the sea! planing of hills with valleyes;

And raysing vallies aboue hills! whilst we

Haue not, to giue our bodies necessaries.

They ha' their change of houses, mannors, lordships;

We scarce a fire, or poore houshold Lar!

They buy rare Atticke statues, Tyrian hangings,

Ephesian pictures, and Corinthian plate,

Attalicke garments, and now, new-found gemmes,

Since POMPEY went for Asia, which they purchase

At price of prouinces! The riuer Phasis

Cannot affoord 'hem fowle; nor Lucrine lake

Oysters enow: Circei, too, is search'd

To please the witty gluttony of a meale!

Their ancient habitations they neglect,

And set vp new; then, if the eccho like not

In such a roome, they pluck downe those, build newer,

Alter them too: and, by all frantick wayes,

Vexe their wild wealth, as they molest the people,

From whom they force it! yet, they cannot tame,

Or ouer-come their riches! Not, by making

Bathes, orchards, fish-pooles! letting in of seas

Here! and, then there, forcing 'hem out againe,

With mountaynous heaps, for which the earth hath lost

Most of her ribs, as entrailes! being now

Wounded no lesse for marble, then for gold.

We, all this while, like calme, benum'd Spectators,

Sit, till our seates doe cracke; and doe not heare

The thundring ruines: whilst, at home, our wants,

Abroad, our debts doe vrge vs; our states daily

Bending to bad, our hopes to worse: and, what

Is left, but to be crush'd? Wake, wake braue friends,

And meet the libertie you oft haue wish'd for.

Behold, renowne, riches, and glory court you.

Fortune holds out these to you, as rewards.

Me thinkes (though I were dumbe) th'affaire it selfe

The opportunity, your needs, and dangers,

With the braue spoile the warre brings, should inuite you.

Vse me your generall, or souldier: neither,

My minde, nor body shall be wanting to you.

And, being Consul, I not doubt t'effect,

All that you wish, if trust not flatter me,

And you'd not rather still be slaues, then free.

Free, free.

'Tis freedom.

Freedom we all stand for.

Why, these are noble voyces! Nothing wants then,

But that we take a solemne sacrament,

To strengthen our designe.

And so to act it.

Differring hurts, where powers are so prepar'd.

Yet, ere we enter into open act,

(With fauour) 'twere no losse, if 't might be enquir'd,

What the condition of these armes would be?

I, and he meanes, to carry vs through?

How, friends!

Thinke you, that I would bid you, graspe the winde?

Or call you to th'embracing of a cloud?

Put your knowne valures on so deare a businesse,

And haue no other second then the danger,

Nor other gyrlond then the losse? Become

Your owne assurances. And, for the meanes,

Consider, first, the starke securitie

The common wealth is in now; the whole Senate

Sleepy, and dreaming no such violent blow;

Their forces all abroad; of which the greatest,

That might annoy vs most, is fardest off,

In Asia, vnder POMPEY: those, neare hand,

Commanded, by our friends; one army' in Spaine,

By CNEVS PISO; th'other in Mauritania,

By NVCERINVS; both which I haue firme,

And fast vnto our plot. My selfe, then, standing

Now to be Consul; with my hop'd Colleague

CAIVS ANTONIVS; one, no lesse engag'd

By'his wants then we: and, whom I'haue power to melt,

And cast in any mould. Beside, some others

That will not yet be nam'd, (both sure, and great ones)

Who, when the time comes, shall declare themselues,

Strong, for our party: so, that no resistance

In nature can be thought. For our reward, then,

First, all our debts are paid; dangers of law,

Actions, decrees, iudgements against vs quitted;

The rich men, as in SYLLA's times, proscrib'd,

And publication made of all their goods;

That house is yours; that land is his; those waters,

Orchards, and walkes a third's; he'has that honor,

And he that office: Such a prouince falls

To VARGVNTEIVS: this to' AVTRONIVS: that

To bold CETHEGVS: Rome to LENTVLVS.

You share the world, her magistracies, priest-hoods,

Wealth, and felicitie amongst you, friends;

And CATILINE your seruant. Would you, CVRIVS,

Reuenge the contumely stuck vpon you,

In being remoued from the Senate? Now,

Now, is your time. Would PVBLIVS LENTVLVS

Strike, for the like disgrace? Now, is his time.

Would stout LONGINVS walke the streets of Rome,

Facing the Prætor? Now, has he a time

To spurne, and tread the fasces, into dirt,

Made of the vsurers, and the Lictors braines.

Is there a beautie, here in Rome, you loue?

An enemie you would kill? What head's not yours?

Whose wife, which boy, whose daughter, of what race,

That th'husband, or glad parents shall not bring you,

And boasting of the office? only, spare

Your selues, and you haue all the earth beside,

A field, to exercise your longings in.

I see you rais'd, and reade your forward mindes

High, in your faces. Bring the wine, and bloud

You haue prepar'd there.

How!

I'haue kill'd a slaue,

And of his bloud caus'd to be mixt with wine.

Fill euery man his bowle. There cannot be

A fitter drinke, to make this sanction in.

Here, I beginne the sacrament to all.

O, for a clap of thunder, now, as loud,

As to be heard through-out the vniuerse,

To tell the world the fact, and to applaud it.

Be firme, my hand; not shed a drop: but powre

Fiercenesse into me, with it, and fell thirst

Of more, and more, till Rome be left as bloud-lesse,

As euer her feares made her, or the sword.

And, when I leaue to wish this to thee, step-dame,

Or stop, to effect it, with my powers fainting;

So may my bloud be drawne, and so drunke vp

As is this slaues.

And so be mine.

And mine.

And mine.

And mine.

Swell mee my bowle yet
fuller.

Here, I doe drinke this, as I would doe CATO'S,

Or the new fellow CICERO'S: with that vow

Which CATILINE hath giuen.

So doe I.

And I.

And I.

And I.

And all of vs.

Why, now's the businesse safe, and each man strengthned.

Sirrah, what aile you?

Nothing.

Somewhat modest.

Slaue, I will strike your soule out, with my foot,

Let me but find you againe with such a face:

You whelp——

Nay, LVCIVS.

Are you coying it,

When I command you to be free, and generall

To all?

You'll be obseru'd.

Arise, and shew

But any least auersion i' your looke

To him that bourds you next, and your throat opens.

Noble confederates, thus farre is perfect.

Only your suffrages I will expect,

At the assembly for the choosing Consuls,

And all the voyces you can make by friends

To my election. Then, let me worke out

Your fortunes, and mine owne. Meane while, all rest

Seal'd vp, and silent, as when rigid frosts

Haue bound vp brookes, and riuers, forc'd wild beasts

Vnto their caues, and birds into the woods,

Clownes to their houses, and the countrey sleeps:

That, when the sodaine thaw comes, we may breake

Vpon 'hem like a deluge, bearing downe

Halfe Rome before vs, and inuade the rest

With cryes, and noise able to wake the vrnes

Of those are dead, and make their ashes feare,

The horrors, that doe strike the world, should come

Loud, and vnlook'd for: till they strike, be dumbe.

Oraculous SERGIVS!

God-like CATILINE!

CAn nothing great, and at the height

Remaine so long? but it's owne weight

Will ruine it? Or, is't blinde chance,

That still desires new states t'aduance,

And quit the old? Else, why must Rome,

Be by it selfe; now, ouer-come?

Hath shee not foes inow of those,

Whom shee hath made such, and enclose

Her round about? Or, are they none,

Except shee first become her owne?

O wretchednesse of greatest states,

To be obnoxious to these fates:

That cannot keepe, what they doe gaine;

And what they raise so ill sustaine!

Rome, now, is Mistris of the whole

World, sea, and land, to either pole;

And euen that fortune will destroy

The power that made it: shee doth ioy

So much in plentie, wealth, and ease,

As, now, th'excesse is her disease.

Shee builds in gold; and, to the starres;

As, if shee threatned heau'n with warres:

And seekes for hell, in quarries deepe,

Giuing the fiends, that there doe keepe,

A hope of day. Her women weare

The spoiles of nations, in an eare,

Chang'd for the treasure of a shell;

And, in their loose attires, doe swell

More light then sailes, when all windes play:

Yet, are the men more loose then they!

More kemb'd, and bath'd, and rub'd, and trim'd,

More sleek'd, more soft, and slacker limm'd;

As prostitute: so much, that kinde

May seeke it selfe there, and not finde.

They eate on beds of silke, and gold;

At yuorie tables; or, wood sold

Dearer then it: and, leauing plate,

Doe drinke in stone of higher rate.

They hunt all grounds; and draw all seas;

Foule euery brooke, and bush; to please

Their wanton tasts: and, in request

Haue new, and rare things; not the best!

Hence comes that wild, and vast expence,

That hath enforc'd Romes vertue, thence,

Which simple pouerty first made:

And, now, ambition doth inuade

Her state, with eating auarice,

Riot, and euery other vice.

Decrees are bought, and lawes are sold,

Honors, and offices for gold;

The peoples voyces: and the free

Tongues, in the Senate, bribed bee.

Such ruine of her manners Rome

Doth suffer now, as shee's become

(Without the gods it soone gaine-say)

Both her owne spoiler, and owne prey.

So, Asia, 'art thou cru'lly euen

With vs, for all the blowes thee giuen;

When we, whose vertue conquer'd thee,

Thus, by thy vices, ruin'd bee.

Madame.

Looke

Within, i' my blew cabinet, for the pearle

I'had sent me last, and bring it.

That from CLODIVS?

From CAIVS CAESAR. You'are for CLODIVS, still.

Or CVRIVS. Sirrha, if QVINTVS CVRIVS come,

I am not in fit moode; I keepe my chamber:

Giue warning so, without.

Is this it? madame.

Yes, helpe to hang it in mine eare.

Beleeue me,

It is a rich one, madame.

I hope so:

It should not be worne there else. Make an end,

And binde my haire vp.

As 'twas yesterday?

No, nor the t'other day. When knew you me

Appeare, two dayes together, in one dressing?

Will you ha't i'the globe, or spire?

How thou wilt;

Any way, so thou wilt doe it, good impertinence.

Thy company, if I slept not very well

A nights, would make me, an errant foole, with questions.

Alas, madame—

Nay, gentle halfe o' the dialogue, cease.

I doe it, indeed, but for your exercise,

As your physitian bids me.

How! Do's he bid you

To anger me for exercise?

Not to anger you,

But stirre your bloud a little: There's difference

Betweene luke-warme, and boyling, madame.

IOVE!

Shee meanes to cooke me, I thinke? Pray you, ha' done.

I meane to dresse you, madame.

O, my IVNO,

Be friend to me! Offring at wit, too? Why, GALLA!

Where hast thou been?

Why? madam!

What hast thou done

With thy poore innocent selfe?

Wherefore? sweet madame!

Thus to come forth, so sodainely, a wit-worme?

It pleases you to flout one. I did dreame

Of lady SEMPRONIA——

O, the wonder is out.

That did infect thee? Well, and how?

Me thought,

Shee did discourse the best—

That euer thou heard'st?

Yes.

I' thy sleepe? Of what was her discourse?

O' the republike, madame, and the state,

And how shee was in debt, and where shee meant

To raise fresh summes: Shee's a great states-woman!

Thou dream'st all this?

No, but you know she is, madam,

And both a mistris of the latine tongue,

And of the greeke.

I, but I neuer dreamt it, GALLA,

As thou hast done, and therefore you must pardon me.

Indeed, you mock me, madame.

Indeed, no.

Forth, with your learned lady. Shee has a wit, too?

A very masculine one.

A shee-Critick, GALLA?

And can compose, in verse, and make quick iests,

Modest, or otherwise?

Yes, madame.

Shee can sing, too?

And play on instruments?

Of all kindes, they say.

And doth dance rarely?

Excellent! So, well,

As a bald Senator made a iest, and said,

'Twas better, then an honest woman need.

Tut, shee may beare that. Few wise womens honesties

Will doe their courtship hurt.

Shee's liberall too, madame.

What! of her money, or her honor, pray thee?

Of both, you know not which shee doth spare least.

A comely commendation.

Troth, 'tis pitty,

Shee is in yeeres.

Why, GALLA? For it is.

O, is that all? I thought thou'hadst had a reason.

Why, so I haue. Shee has beene a fine lady,

And, yet, shee dresses her selfe (except you, madame)

One o' the best in Rome: and paints, and hides

Her decayes very well.

They say, it is

Rather a visor, then a face shee weares.

They wrong her verily, madame, shee do's sleeke

With crums of bread, and milke, and lies a nights

In as neat gloues—— But shee is faine of late

To seeke, more then shee's sought to (the fame is)

And so spends that way.

Thou know'st all! But, GALLA,

What say you to CATILINES lady, ORESTILLA?

There is the gallant!

Shee do's well. Shee has

Very good sutes, and very rich: but, then,

Shee cannot put 'hem on. Shee knowes not how

To weare a garment. You shall haue her all

Iewels, and gold sometimes, so that her selfe

Appeares the least part of her selfe. No' in troth,

As I liue, madame, you put 'hem all downe

With your meere strength of iudgement! and doe draw, too,

The world of Rome to follow you! you attire

Your selfe so diuersly! and with that spirit!

Still to the noblest humors! They could make

Loue to your dresse, although your face were away, they say.

And body too, and ha' the better match on't?

Say they not so too, GALLA? Now! What newes

Trauailes your count'nance with?

If't please you, madame,

The lady SEMPRONIA is lighted at the gate;

CASTOR, my dreame, my dreame.

And comes to see you.

For VENVS sake, good madame see her.

Peace,

The foole is wild, I thinke.

And heare her talke,

Sweet madame, of state-matters, and the Senate.

Well, SEMPRONIA.

Whither are you thus early addrest?

To see

AVRELIA ORESTILLA. Shee sent for me.

I came to call thee, with me, wilt thou goe?

I cannot now, in troth, I haue some letters

To write, and send away.

Alas, I pitty thee.

I ha' beene writing all this night (and am

So very weary) vnto all the tribes,

And centuries, for their voyces, to helpe CATILINE,

In his election. We shall make him Consul,

I hope, amongst vs. CRASSVS, I, and CAESAR

Will carry it for him.

Do's he stand for't?

H'is the chiefe Candidate.

Who stands beside?

(Giue me some wine, and poulder for my teeth.

Here's a good pearle in troth!

A pretty one.

A very orient one!) There are competitors,

CAIVS ANTONIVS, PVBLIVS GALBA, LVCIVS

CASSIVS LONGINVS, QVINTVS CORNIFICIVS,

CAIVS LICINIVS, and that talker, CICERO.

But CATILINE, and ANTONIVS will be chosen.

For foure o' the other, LICINIVS, LONGINVS,

GALBA, and CORNIFICIVS will giue way.

And CICERO they will not choose.

No? why?

It will be cross'd, by the nobilitie.

(How shee do's vnderstand the common businesse!)

Nor, were it fit. He is but a new fellow,

An in-mate, here, in Rome (as CATILINE calls him)

And the Patricians should doe very ill,

To let the Consul-ship be so defil'd

As't would be, if he obtain'd it! A meere vpstart,

That has no pedigree, no house, no coate,

No ensignes of a family?

He'has vertue.

Hang vertue, where there is no bloud: 'tis vice,

And, in him, sawcinesse. Why should he presume

To be more learned, or more eloquent,

Then the nobilitie? or boast any qualitie

Worthy a noble man, himselfe not noble?

'Twas vertue onely, at first, made all men noble.

I yeeld you, it might, at first, in Romes poore age;

When both her Kings, and Consuls held the plough,

Or garden'd well: But, now, we ha' no need,

To digge, or loose our sweat for't. We haue wealth,

Fortune and ease, and then their stock, to spend on,

Of name, for vertue; which will beare vs out

'Gainst all new commers: and can neuer faile vs,

While the succession stayes. And, we must glorifie,

A mushrome? one of yesterday? a fine speaker?

'Cause he has suck'd at Athens? and aduance him,

To our owne losse? No, FVLVIA. There are they

Can speake greeke too, if need were. CAESAR, and I,

Haue sate vpon him; so hath CRASSVS, too:

And others. We haue all decreed his rest,

For rising farder.

Excellent rare lady!

SEMPRONIA, you are beholden to my woman, here.

Shee do's admire you.

O good GALLA, how dost thou?

The better, for your learned ladiship.

Is this grey poulder, a good dentifrice?

You see I vse it.

I haue one is whiter.

It may be so.

Yet this smells well.

And clenses

Very well, madame, and resists the crudities.

FVLVIA, I pray thee, who comes to thee, now?

Which of our great Patricians?

Faith, I keepe

No catalogue of 'hem. Sometimes I haue one,

Sometimes another, as the toy takes their blouds.

Thou hast them all. Faith, when was QVINTVS CVRIVS,

Thy speciall seruant, here?

My speciall seruant?

Yes, thy idolater, I call him.

He may be yours,

If you doe like him.

How!

He comes, not, here,

I haue forbid him, hence.

VENVS forbid!

Why?

Your so constant louer.

So much the rather.

I would haue change. So would you too, I am sure.

And now, you may haue him.

Hee's fresh yet, FVLVIA:

Beware, how you doe tempt me.

Faith, for me,

He' is somewhat too fresh, indeed. The salt is gone,

That gaue him season. His good gifts are done.

He do's not yeeld the crop that he was wont.

And, for the act, I can haue secret fellowes,

With backs worth ten of him, and shall please me

(Now that the land is fled) a myriade better.

And those one may command.

'Tis true: these Lordings,

Your noble Faunes, they are so imperious, saucy,

Rude, and as boistrous as Centaures, leaping

A lady, at first sight.

And must be borne

Both with, and out, they thinke.

Tut, Ile obserue

None of 'hem all: nor humour 'hem a iot

Longer, then they come laden in the hand,

And say, here's t'one, for th'tother.

Do's CAESAR giue well?

They shall all giue, and pay well, that come here,

If they will haue it: and that iewells, pearle,

Plate, or round summes, to buy these. I'am not taken

With a cob-swan, or a high-mounting bull,

As foolish LEDA, and EVROPA were,

But the bright gold, with DANAE. For such price,

I would endure, a rough, harsh IVPITER,

Or ten such thundring gamsters: and refraine

To laugh at 'hem, till they are gone, with my much suffring.

Th'art a most happy wench, that thus canst make

Vse of thy youth, and freshnesse, in the season:

And hast it, to make vse of.

(Which is the happinesse.)

I am, now, faine to giue to them, and keepe

Musique, and a continuall table, to inuite 'hem;

(Yes, and they study your kitchin, more then you)

Eate my selfe out with vsury, and my lord, too,

And all my officers, and friends beside,

To procure moneyes, for the needfull charge

I must be at, to haue 'hem: and, yet, scarce

Can I atchieue 'hem, so.

Why, that's because

You affect yong faces onely, and smooth chinnes,

SEMPRONIA. If youl'd loue beards, and bristles,

(One with another, as others doe) or wrinkles——

Who's that? Looke GALLA.

'Tis the party, madame.

What party? Has he no name?

'Tis QVINTVS CVRIVS.

Did I not bid 'hem, say, I kept my chamber?

Why, so they doe.

Ile leaue you, FVLVIA.

Nay, good SEMPRONIA, stay.

In faith, I will not.

By IVNO, I would not see him.

Ile not hinder you.

You know, he will not be kept out, madame.

No,

Nor shall not, carefull GALLA, by my meanes.

As I doe liue, SEMPRONIA —

What needs this?

Goe, say, I am a-sleepe, and ill at ease.

By CASTOR, no, I'le tell him, you are awake;

And very well. Stay GALLA; Farewell FVLVIA:

I know my manners. Why doe you labour, thus,

With action, against purpose? QVINTVS CVRIVS,

Shee is, yfaith, here, and in disposition.

Spight, with your courtesie! How shall I be tortur'd!

True, shee was a foole,

When, first, shee shew'd it to a thiefe.

How, pretty solennesse!

So harsh, and short?

The fooles artillery, sir.

Then, take my gowne off, for th'encounter.

Stay sir.

I am not in the moode.

I'le put you into't.

Best put your selfe, i'your case againe, and keepe

Your furious appetite warme, against you haue place for't.

What! doe you coy it?

No sir. I'am not proud.

I would you were. You thinke, this state becomes you?

By HERCVLES, it do's not. Looke i'your glasse, now,

And see, how sciruely that countenance shewes;

You would be loth to owne it.

I shall not change it.

Faith, but you must; and slack this bended brow;

And shoot lesse scorne: there is a fortune comming

Towards you, Daintie, that will take thee, thus,

And set thee aloft, to tread vpon the head

Of her owne statue, here, in Rome.

I wonder,

Who let this promiser in! Did you, good diligence?

Giue him his bribe, againe. Or if you had none,

Pray you demand him, why he is so ventrous,

To presse, thus, to my chamber, being forbidden,

Both, by my selfe, and seruants?

How! This's handsome!

And somewhat a new straine!

'Tis not strain'd, sir.

'Tis very naturall.

I haue knowne it otherwise,

Betweene the parties, though.

For your fore-knowledge,

Thanke that, which made it. It will not be so,

Hereafter, I assure you.

No, my mistris?

No, though you bring the same materialls.

Heare me,

You ouer-act when you should vnder-doe.

A little call your selfe againe, and thinke.

If you doe this to practise on me' or finde

At what forc'd distance you can hold your seruant;

That' it be an artificiall trick, to enflame,

And fire me more, fearing my loue may need it,

As, heretofore, you ha' done: why, proceede.

As I ha' done heretofore?

Yes, when you'ld faine

Your husbands iealousie, your seruants watches,

Speake softly, and runne often to the dore,

Or to the windore, forme strange feares that were not;

As if the pleasure were lesse acceptable,

That were secure.

You are an impudent fellow.

And, when you might better haue done it, at the gate,

To take me in at the casement.

I take you in?

Yes, you my lady. And, then, being a-bed with you,

To haue your well taught wayter, here, come running,

And cry, her lord, and hide me without cause,

Crush'd in a chest, or thrust vp in a chimney.

When he, tame crow, was winking at his farme;

Or, had he beene here, and present, would haue kept

Both eyes, and beake seal'd vp, for sixe sesterces.

You haue a slanderous, beastly, vnwash'd tongue,

I'your rude mouth, and sauouring your selfe,

Vn-manner'd lord.

How now!

It is your title, sir.

Who (since you ha' lost your owne good name, and know not

What to loose more) care not, whose honor you wound,

Or fame' you poyson with it. You should goe,

And vent your selfe, i' the region, where you liue,

Among the suburbe-brothels, bawdes, and brokers,

Whither your broken fortunes haue design'd you.

Nay, then I must stop your fury, I see; and pluck

The tragick visor off. Come, lady CYPRIS,

Know your owne vertues, quickly. Ile not be

Put to the wooing of you thus, a-fresh,

At euery turne, for all the VENVS in you.

Yeeld, and be pliant; or by POLLVX——How now?

Will LAIS turne a LVCRECE?

No, but by CASTOR,

Hold off your rauishers hands, I pierce your heart, else.

Ile not be put to kill my selfe, as shee did

For you, sweet TARQVINE. What? doe you fall off?

Nay, it becomes you graciously! Put not vp.

You'll sooner draw your weapon on me, I thinke it,

Then on the Senate, who haue cast you forth

Disgracefully, to be the common tale

Of the whole citie; base, infamous man!

For, were you other, you would there imploy

Your desperate dagger.

FVLVIA, you doe know

The strengths you haue vpon me; doe not vse

Your power too like a tyran: I can beare,

Almost vntill you breake me.

I doe know, sir,

So do's the Senate, too, know, you can beare.

By all the gods, that Senate will smart deepe

For your vpbraidings. I should be right sorry

To haue the meanes so to be veng'd on you,

(At least, the will) as I shall shortly on them.

But, goe you on still; fare you well, deare lady:

You could not still be faire'vnlesse you were proud.

You will repent these moodes, and ere't be long, too.

I shall ha' you come about, againe.

Doe you thinke so?

Yes, and I know so.

By what augurie?

By the faire entrailes of the matrons chests,

Gold, pearle, and iewells, here in Rome, which FVLVIA

Will then (but late) say that shee might haue shar'd:

And, grieuing, misse.

Tut, all your promis'd mountaynes,

And seas, I am so stalely acquainted with——

But, when you see the vniuersall floud

Runne by your coffers; that my lords, the Senators,

Are sold for slaues, their wiues for bond-women,

Their houses, and fine gardens giuen away,

And all their goods, vnder the speare, at out cry,

And you haue none of this; but are still FVLVIA,

Or perhaps lesse, while you are thinking of it:

You will aduise then, Coynesse, with your cushion,

And looke o' your fingers; say, how you were wish'd;

And so, he left you.

Call him againe, GALLA:

This is not vsuall! something hangs on this

That I must winne out of him.

How now, melt you?

Come, you will laugh, now, at my easinesse!

But, 'tis no miracle: Doues, they say, will bill,

After their pecking, and their murmuring.

Yes,

And then 'tis kindly. I would haue my loue

Angrie, sometimes, to sweeten off the rest

Of her behauiour.

You doe see, I studie

How I may please you, then. But you thinke, CVRIVS,

'Tis couetise hath wrought me: if you loue me,

Change that vnkinde conceipt.

By my lou'd soule,

I loue thee, like to it; and 'tis my studie,

More then mine owne reuenge, to make thee happy.

And 'tis that iust reuenge doth make me happy

To heare you prosequute: and which, indeed,

Hath wonne me, to you, more, then all the hope

Of what can else be promis'd. I loue valour

Better, then any lady loues her face,

Or dressing: then my selfe do's. Let me grow

Still, where I doe embrace. But, what good meanes

Ha' you t'effect it? Shall know I your proiect?

Thou shalt, if thou'lt be gracious.

As I can be.

And wilt thou kisse me, then?

As close as shells

Of cockles meet.

And print 'hem deepe?

Quite through

Our subtle lips.

And often?

I will sow 'hem,

Faster, then you can reape. What is your plot?

Why, now my FVLVIA lookes, like her bright name!

And is her selfe!

Nay, answere me, your plot:

I pray thee tell me, QVINTVS.

I, these sounds

Become a mistris. Here is harmonie!

When you are harsh, I see, the way to bend you

Is not with violence, but seruice. Cruell,

A lady is a fire: gentle, a light.

Will you not tell me, what I aske you?

All,

That I can thinke, sweet loue, or my brest holds,

Ile poure into thee.

What is your designe, then?

Ile tell thee; CATILINE shall now be Consull:

But, you will heare more, shortly.

Nay, deare loue——

Ile speake it, in thine armes, let vs goe in.

Rome will be sack'd, her wealth will be our prize;

By publique ruine, priuate spirits must rise.

GReat father MARS, and greater IOVE,

By whose high auspice, Rome hath stood

So long; and, first, was built in blood

Of your great nephew, that then stroue

Not with his brother, but your rites:

Be present to her now, as then,

And let not proud, and factious men

Against your wills oppose their mights.

Our Consuls, now, are to be made;

O, put it in the publique voice

To make a free, and worthy choice:

Excluding such as would inuade

The common wealth. Let whom we name

Haue wisedome, fore-sight, fortitude,

Be more with faith, then face endu'd,

And studie conscience, aboue fame.

Such, as not seeke to get the start

In state, by power, parts, or bribes,

Ambition's bawdes: but moue the tribes

By vertue, modestie, desart.

Such, as to iustice will adhere,

What euer great one it offend:

And from the'embraced truth not bend

For enuy, hatred, gifts, or feare.

That, by their deeds, will make it knowne,

Whose dignitie they doe sustaine;

And life, state, glorie, all they gaine,

Count the republiques, not their owne.

Such the old BRVTI, DECII were,

The CIPI, CVRTII, who did giue

Themselues for Rome: and would not liue,

As men, good, only for a yeere.

Such were the great CAMILLI, too;

The FABII, SCIPIO'S; that still thought

No worke, at price inough, was bought,

That for their countrey they could doe.

And, to her honor, so did knit;

As all their acts were vnderstood

The sinewes of the publique good:

And they themselues, one soule, with it.

These men were truely magistrates;

These neither practis'd force, nor formes:

Nor did they leaue the helme, in stormes!

And such they are make happy states.

GReat honors are great burdens: but, on whom

They'are cast with enuie, he doth beare two loades.

His cares must still be double to his ioyes,

In any dignitie; where, if he erre

He findes no pardon: and, for doing well

A most small praise, and that wrung out by force.

I speake this, Romanes, knowing what the weight

Of the high charge, you 'haue trusted to me, is.

Not, that thereby I would with art decline

The good, or greatnesse of your benefit;

For, I ascribe it to your singular grace,

And vow, to owe it to no title else,

Except the gods, that CICERO' is your Consul.

I haue no vrnes; no dustie moniments;

No broken images of ancestors,

Wanting an eare, or nose; no forged tables

Of long descents; to boast false honors from:

Or be my vnder-takers to your trust.

But a new man (as I am stil'd in Rome)

Whom you haue dignified; and more, in whom

Yo'haue cut a way, and left it ope for vertue

Hereafter, to that place: which our great men

Held shut vp, with all ramparts, for themselues.

Nor haue but few of them, in time beene made

Your Consuls, so; new men, before me, none:

At my first suite; in my iust yeere; preferd

To all competitors; and some the noblest——

Now the vaine swels.

Vp glorie.

And to haue

Your loud consents, from your owne vtter'd voices;

Not silent bookes: nor from the meaner tribes,

But first, and last, the vniuersall concourse!

This is my ioy, my gladnesse. But my care,

My industrie, and vigilance now must worke,

That still your counsells of me be approu'd;

Both, by your selues, and those, to whom you haue,

With grudge, prefer'd me: two things I must labour,

That neither they vpbraid, nor you repent you.

For euery lapse of mine will, now, be call'd

Your error, if I make such. But, my hope is,

So to beare through, and out, the Consul-ship,

As spight shall ne're wound you, though it may me.

And, for my selfe, I haue prepar'd this strength,

To doe so well; as, if there happen ill

Vnto me, it shall make the gods to blush:

And be their crime, not mine, that I am enui'd.

O confidence! more new, then is the man!

I know well, in what termes I doe receiue

The common wealth, how vexed, how perplex'd:

In which, there's not that mischiefe, or ill fate,

That good men feare not, wicked men expect not.

I know, beside, some turbulent practises

Alreadie on foot, and rumors of moe dangers——

Or you will make them, if there be none.

Last,

I know, 'twas this, which made the enuie, and pride

Of the great Romane bloud bate, and giue way

To my election.

MARCVS TVLLIVS, true;

Our need made thee our Consul, and thy vertue.

CATO, you will vn-doe him, with your praise.

CAESAR will hurt himselfe, with his owne enuie.

The voice of CATO is the voice of Rome.

The voice of Rome is the consent of heauen!

And that hath plac'd thee, CICERO, at the helme,

Where thou must render, now, thy selfe a man,

And master of thy art. Each petty hand

Can steere a ship becalm'd; but he that will

Gouerne, and carry her to her ends, must know

His tides, his currents; how to shift his sailes;

What shee will beare in foule, what in faire weathers;

Where her springs are, her leakes; and how to stop 'hem;

What sands, what shelues, what rocks doe threaten her;

The forces, and the natures of all winds,

Gusts, stormes, and tempests; when her keele ploughs hell,

And deck knocks heauen: then, to manage her,

Becomes the name, and office of a pilot.

Which I'le performe, with all the diligence,

And fortitude I haue; not for my yeere,

But for my life; except my life be lesse,

And that my yeere conclude it: if it must,

Your will, lou'd gods. This heart shall yet employ

A day, an houre is left me, so, for Rome,

As it shall spring a life, out of my death,

To shine, for euer glorious in my facts.

The vicious count their yeeres, vertuous their acts.

Most noble Consul! Let vs wait him home.

Most popular Consul he is growne, me thinks!

How the rout cling to him!

And CATO leads 'hem!

You, his colleague, ANTONIVS, are not look't on.

Not I, nor doe I care.

He enioyes rest,

And ease, the while. Let th'others spirit toile,

And wake it out, that was inspir'd for turmoile.

If all reports be true, yet, CAIVS CAESAR,

The time hath need of such a watch, and spirit.

Reports? Doe you beleeue 'hem CATVLVS,

Why, he do's make, and breed 'hem for the people;

T'endeare his seruice to 'hem. Doe you not tast

An art, that is so common? Popular men,

They must create strange monsters, and then quell 'hem;

To make their artes seeme something. Would you haue

Such an HERCVLEAN actor in the scene,

And not his HYDRA? They must sweat no lesse

To fit their properties, then t'expresse their parts.

Treasons, and guiltie men are made in states

Too oft, to dignifie the magiftrates.

Those states be wretched, that are forc'd to buy

Their rulers fame, with their owne infamy.

We therefore, should prouide that ours doe not.

That will ANTONIVS make his care.

I shall.

And watch the watcher.

Here comes CATILINE.

How do's he brooke his late repulse?

I know not.

But hardly sure.

LONGINVS, too, did stand?

At first: but he gaue way vnto his friend.

Who's that come? LENTVLVS?

Yes. He is againe

Taken into the Senate.

And made Prætor.

I know't. He had my suffrage, next the Consuls;

True, you were there, Prince of the Senate, then.

I could wish

It had beene happier, by your fellowship,

Most noble SERGIVS, had it pleas'd the people.

It did not please the gods; who'instruct the people:

And their vnquestion'd pleasures must be seru'd.

They know what's fitter for vs, then our selues;

And 'twere impietie, to thinke against them.

You beare it rightly, LVCIVS; and, it glads me,

To find your thoughts so euen.

I shall still

Studie to make them such to Rome, and heauen.

(I would with-draw with you, a little, IVLIVS.

Ile come home to you: CRASSVS would not ha' you

To speake to him, 'fore QVINTVS CATVLVS.

I apprehend you.) No, when they shall iudge

Honors conuenient for me, I shall haue 'hem,

With a full hand: I know it. In meane time,

They are no lesse part of the common-wealth,

That doe obey, then those, that doe command.

O, let me kisse your fore-head, LVCIVS.

How are you wrong'd!

By whom?

Publike report.

That giues you out, to stomack your repulse;

And brooke it deadly.

Sir, shee brookes not me.

Beleeue me rather, and your selfe, now, of me:

It is a kinde of slander, to trust rumour.

I know it. And I could be angrie with it.

So may not I. Where it concernes himselfe,

Who's angrie at a slander, makes it true.

Most noble SERGIVS! This your temper melts me.

Will you doe office to the Consul, QVINTVS?

Which CATO, and the rout haue done the other?

I wait, when he will goe. Be still your selfe.

He wants no state, or honors, that hath vertue,

Did I appeare so tame, as this man thinkes me?

Look'd I so poore? so dead? So like that nothing,

Which he calls vertuous? O my breast, breake quickly;

And shew my friends my in-parts, lest they thinke

I haue betraid 'hem.

Where's GABINIVS?

Gone.

And VARGVNTEIVS?

Slipt away; all shrunke:

Now that he mist the Consul-ship.)

I am

The scorne of bond-men; who are next to beasts.

What can I worse pronounce my selfe, that's fitter?

The owle of Rome, whom boyes, and girles will hout!

That were I set vp, for that woodden god,

That keeps our gardens, could not fright the crowes,

Or the least bird from muiting on my head.

'Tis strange how he should misse it.

Is't not stranger,

The vpstart CICERO should carrie it so,

By all consents, from men so much his masters?

'Tis true.)

To what a shaddow, am I melted!

ANTONIVS wan it but by some few voices.)

Strooke through, like aire, and feele it not. My wounds

Close faster, then they're made.

The whole designe,

And enterprise is lost by't. All hands quit it,

Vpon his faile.)

I grow mad at my patience.

It is a visor that hath poison'd me.

Would it had burnt me vp, and I died inward:

My heart first turn'd to ashes.

Here's CETHEGVS yet.)

What, are we wishing now?

Yes, my CETHEGVS.

Who would not fall with all the world about him?

Not I, that would stand on it, when it falls;

And force new nature out, to make another.

These wishings tast of woman, not of Romane.

Let vs seeke other armes.

What should we doe?

Doe, and not wish; something, that wishes take not:

So sodaine, as the gods should not preuent,

Nor scarce haue time, to feare.

O noble CAIVS!

It likes me better, that you are not Consul.

I would not goe through open dores, but breake 'hem;

Swim to my ends, through bloud; or build a bridge

Of carcasses; make on, vpon the heads

Of men, strooke downe, like piles; to reach the liues

Of those remaine, and stand: Then is't a prey,

When danger stops, and ruine makes the way.

How thou dost vtter me, braue soule, that may not,

At all times, shew such as I am; but bend

Vnto occasion? LENTVLVS, this man,

If all our fire were out, would fetch downe new,

Out of the hand of IOVE; and riuet him

To Caucasus, should he but frowne: and let

His owne gaunt Eagle flie at him, to tire.

Peace, here comes CATO.

Let him come, and heare.

I will no more dissemble. Quit vs all;

I, and my lou'd CETHEGVS here, alone

Will vndertake this giants warre, and carrie it.

What needs this, LVCIVS?

SERGIVS, be more warie.

Now, MARCVS CATO, our new Consuls spie,

What is your sowre austeritie sent t'explore.

Nothing in thee, licentious CATILINE:

Halters, and racks cannot expresse from thee

More, then thy deeds. 'Tis onely iudgement waits thee.

Whose? CATO's? shall he iudge me?

No, the gods;

Who, euer, follow those, they goe not with:

And Senate; who, with fire, must purge sicke Rome

Of noisome citizens, whereof thou art one.

Be gone, or else let me. 'Tis bane to draw

The same aire with thee.

Strike him.

Hold, good CAIVS;

Fear'st thou not, CATO?

Rash CETHEGVS, no.

'Twere wrong with Rome, when CATILINE and thou

Doe threat, if CATO fear'd.

The fire you speake of

If any flame of it approch my fortunes,

Ile quench it, not with water, but with ruine.

You heare this, Romanes.

Beare it to the Consul.

I would haue sent away his soule, before him.

You are too heauie, LENTVLVS, and remisse;

It is for you we labour, and the kingdome

Promis'd you by the SYBILL'S.

Which his Prætor-ship,

And some small flatterie of the Senate more,

Will make him to forget.

You wrong me, LVCIVS.

He will not need these spurres.

The action needs 'hem.

These things, when they proceed not, they goe backward.

Let vs consult then.

Let vs, first, take armes.

They that denie vs iust things, now, will giue

All that we aske; if once they see our swords.

Our obiects must be sought with wounds, not words.

IS there a heauen? and gods? and can it be

They should so slowly heare, so slowly see!

Hath IOVE no thunder? or is IOVE become

Stupide as thou art? Ô neere-wretched Rome,

When both thy Senate, and thy gods doe sleepe,

And neither thine, nor their owne states doe keepe!

What will awake thee, heauen? what can excite

Thine anger, if this practice be too light?

His former drifts partake of former times,

But this last plot was onely CATILINES.

O, that it were his last. But he, before

Hath safely done so much, hee'll still dare more.

Ambition, like a torrent, ne're lookes back;

And is a swelling, and the last affection

A high minde can put off: being both a rebell

Vnto the soule, and reason, and enforceth

All lawes, all conscience, treades vpon religion,

And offereth violence to natures selfe.

But, here, is that transcends it! A black purpose

To confound nature: and to ruine that,

Which neuer age, nor mankinde can repaire!

Sit downe, good lady; CICERO is lost

In this your fable: for, to thinke it true

Tempteth my reason. It so farre exceedes

All insolent fictions of the tragick scene!

The common-wealth, yet panting, vnder-neath

The stripes, and wounds of a late ciuill warre,

Gasping for life, and scarce restor'd to hope;

To seeke t'oppresse her, with new crueltie,

And vtterly extinguish her long name,

With so prodigious, and vnheard-of fiercenesse!

What sinke of monsters, wretches of lost minds,

Mad after change, and desp'rate in their states,

Wearied, and gall'd with their necessities,

(For all this I allow them) durst haue thought it?

Would not the barbarous deeds haue beene beleeu'd,

Of MARIVS, and SYLLA, by our children,

Without this fact had rise forth greater, for them?

All, that they did, was pietie, to this!

They, yet, but murdred kinsfolke, brothers, parents,

Rauish'd the virgins, and, perhaps, some matrons;

They left the citie standing, and the temples:

The gods, and maiestie of Rome were safe yet!

These purpose to fire it, to dispoile them,

(Beyond the other euils) and lay wast

The farre-triumphed world: for, vnto whom

Rome is too little, what can be inough?

'Tis true, my lord, I had the same discourse.

And, then, to take a horride sacrament

In humane bloud, for execution

Of this their dire designe; which might be call'd

The height of wickednesse: but that, that was higher,

For which they did it!

I assure your lordship,

The extreme horror of it almost turn'd me

To aire, when first I heard it; I was all

A vapor, when 'twas told me: and I long'd

To vent it any where. 'Twas such a secret,

I thought, it would haue burnt me vp.

Good FVLVIA,

Feare not your act; and lesse repent you of it.

I doe not, my good lord. I know to whom

I haue vtter'd it.

You haue discharg'd it, safely.

Should Rome, for whom you haue done the happy seruice,

Turne most ingrate; yet were your vertue paid

In conscience of the fact: so much good deedes

Reward themselues.

My lord, I did it not

To any other aime, but for it selfe.

To no ambition.

You haue learn'd the difference

Of doing office to the publike weale,

And priuate friendship: and haue shewne it, lady.

Be still your selfe. I haue sent for QVINTVS CVRIVS,

And (for your vertuous sake) if I can winne him,

Yet, to the common-wealth; he shall be safe too.

Ile vnder-take, my lord, he shall be won.

Pray you, ioyne with me, then: and helpe to worke him.

He'is here, my lord.

Go presently,

Pray my colleague ANTONIVS, I may speake with him,

About some present businesse of the state;

And (as you goe) call on my brother QVINTVS,

And pray him, with the Tribunes to come to me.

Bid CVRIVS enter. FVLVIA, you will aide me?

It is my dutie.

O, my noble lord!

I haue to chide you, yfaith. Giue me your hand.

Nay, be not troubled; 't shall be gently, CVRIVS.

You looke vpon this lady? What! doe you ghesse

My businesse, yet? Come, if you frowne, I thunder:

Therefore, put on your better lookes, and thoughts.

There's nought but faire, and good intended to you;

And I would make those your complexion.

Would you, of whom the Senate had that hope,

As, on my knowledge, it was in their purpose,

Next sitting, to restore you: as they ha' done

The stupide, and vngratefull LENTVLVS

(Excuse me, that I name you thus, together,

For, yet, you are not such) would you, I say,

A person both of bloud and honor, stock't

In a long race of vertuous ancestors,

Embarke your selfe for such a hellish action,

With parricides, and traytors; men turn'd furies,

Out of the wast, and ruine of their fortunes!

(For 'tis despaire, that is the mother of madnesse)

Such as want (that, which all conspirators,

But they, haue first) meere colour for their mischiefe?

O, I must blush with you. Come, you shall not labour

To extenuate your guilt, but quit it cleane;

Bad men excuse their faults, good men will leaue 'hem.

He acts the third crime, that defends the first.

Here is a lady, that hath got the start,

In pietie of vs all; and, for whose vertue,

I could almost turne louer, againe: but that

TERENTIA would be iealous. What an honor

Hath shee atchieued to her selfe! What voices,

Titles, and loud applauses will pursue her,

Through euery street! What windores will be fill'd,

To shoot eyes at her! What enuy, and griefe in matrons,

They are not shee! when this her act shall seeme

Worthier a chariot, then if POMPEY came,

With Asia chain'd! All this is, while shee liues,

But dead, her very name will be a statue!

Not wrought for time, but rooted in the minds

Of all posteritie: when brasse, and marble,

I, and the Capitol it selfe is dust!

Your honor thinks too highly of me.

No:

I cannot thinke inough. And I would haue

Him emulate you. 'Tis no shame, to follow

The better precedent. Shee shewes you, CVRIVS,

What claime your countrey layes to you; and what dutie

You owe to it: be not afraid, to breake

With murderers, and traytors, for the sauing

A life, so neere, and necessary to you,

As is your countries. Thinke but on her right.

No child can be too naturall to his parent.

Shee is our common mother, and doth challenge

The prime part of vs; doe not stop, but giue it:

He, that is void of feare, may soone be iust.

And no religion binds men to be traitors.

My lord, he vnderstands it; and will follow

Your sauing counsell: but his shame, yet, stayes him.

I know, that he is comming.

Doe you know it?

Yes, let me speake with you.

O you are—

What
(am I?

Speake not so loud.

I am, what you should be,

Come, doe you thinke, I'ld walke in any plot,

Where madame SEMPRONIA should take place of me,

And FVLVIA come i' the rere, or o' the by?

That I would be her second, in a businesse,

Though it might vantage me all the sunne sees?

It was a silly phant'sie of yours. Apply

Your selfe to me, and the Consul, and be wise;

Follow the fortune I ha' put you into:

You may be something this way, and with safetie.

Nay, I must tolerate no whisperings, lady.

Sir, you may heare. I tell him, in the way,

Wherein he was, how hazardous his course was.

How hazardous? how certayne to all ruine.

Did he, or doe, yet, any of them imagine

The gods would sleepe, to such a Stygian practice,

Against that common-wealth, which they haue founded

With so much labour, and like care haue kept,

Now neere seuen hundred yeeres? It is a madnesse,

Wherewith heauen blinds 'hem, when it would confound 'hem,

That they should thinke it. Come, my CVRIVS,

I see your nature's right; you shall no more

Be mention'd with them: I will call you mine,

And trouble this good shame, no farder. Stand

Firme for your countrey; and become a man

Honor'd, and lou'd. It were a noble life,

To be found dead, embracing her. Know you,

What thankes, what titles, what rewards the Senate

Will heape vpon you, certaine, for your seruice?

Let not a desperate action more engage you,

Then safetie should: and wicked friendship force

What honestie, and vertue cannot worke.

He tells you right, sweet friend: 'Tis sauing counsaile.

Most noble Consul, I am yours, and hers;

I meane my countries: you' haue form'd me new.

Inspiring me, with what I should be, truely.

And I intreat, my faith may not seeme cheaper

For springing out of penitence.

Good CVRIVS,

It shall be dearer rather, and because

Il'd make it such, heare, how I trust you more.

Keepe still your former face: and mixe againe

With these lost spirits. Runne all their mazes with 'hem:

For such are treasons. Find their windings out,

And subtle turnings, watch their snaky wayes,

Through brakes, and hedges, into woods of darkenesse,

Where they are faine to creepe vpon their brests

In paths ne're trod by men, but wolues, and panthers.

Learne, beside CATILINE, LENTVLVS, and those,

Whose names I haue; what new ones they draw in;

Who else are likely; what those great ones are,

They doe not name; what wayes they meane to take;

And whither their hopes point: to warre, or ruine,

By some surprize. Explore all their intents,

And what you finde may profit the republique,

Acquaint me with it, either, by your selfe,

Or this your vertuous friend, on whom I lay

The care of vrging you. Ile see, that Rome

Shall proue a thankefull, and a bounteous mother:

Be secret as the night.

And constant, sir.

I doe not doubt it. Though the time cut off

All vowes. The dignitie of truth is lost,

With much protesting. Who is there! This way,

Lest you be seene, and met. And when you come,

Be this your token, to this fellow. Light 'hem.

O Rome, in what a sicknesse art thou fall'n!

How dangerous, and deadly! when thy head

Is drown'd in sleepe, and all thy body feu'ry!

No noise, no pulling, no vexation wakes thee,

Thy lethargie is such: or if, by chance,

Thou heau'st thy eye-lids vp, thou dost forget

Sooner, then thou wert told, thy proper danger.

I did vn-reuerendly, to blame the gods,

Who wake for thee, though thou snore to thy selfe.

Is it not strange, thou should'st be so diseas'd,

And so secure? But more, that the first symptomes

Of such a maladie, should not rise out

From any worthy member, but a base

And common strumpet, worthlesse to be nam'd

A haire, or part of thee? Thinke, thinke, hereafter,

What thy needes were, when thou must vse such meanes:

And lay it to thy brest, how much the gods

Vpbraid thy foule neglect of them; by making

So vile a thing, the author of thy safetie.

They could haue wrought by nobler wayes: haue strooke

Thy foes with forked lightning; or ramm'd thunder;

Throwne hills vpon 'hem, in the act; haue sent

Death, like a dampe, to all their families;

Or caus'd their consciences to burst 'hem. But,

When they will shew thee what thou art, and make

A scornefull difference 'twixt their power, and thee,

They helpe thee by such aides, as geese, and harlots.

How now? What answer? Is he come?

Your brother,

Will streight be here; and your colleague ANTONIVS

Said, coldly, he would follow me.

I, that

Troubles me somewhat, and is worth my feare.

He is a man, 'gainst whom I must prouide,

That (as hee'll doe no good) he doe no harme.

He, though he be not of the plot, will like it,

And wish it should proceed: for, vnto men,

Prest with their wants, all change is euer welcome.

I must with offices, and patience win him;

Make him, by art, that which he is not borne,

A friend vnto the publique; and bestow

The prouince on him; which is by the Senate

Decreed to me: that benefit will bind him.

'Tis well, if some men will doe well, for price:

So few are vertuous, when the reward's away.

Nor must I be vnmindfull of my priuate;

For which I haue call'd my brother, and the tribunes,

My kins-folke, and my clients to be neere me:

He that stands vp 'gainst traytors, and their ends,

Shall need a double guard, of law, and friends:

Especially, in such an enuious state,

That sooner will accuse the magistrate,

Then the delinquent; and will rather grieue

The treason is not acted, then beleeue.

THe night growes on; and you are for your meeting:

Ile therefore end in few. Be resolute,

And put your enterprise in act: the more

Actions of depth, and danger are consider'd,

The lesse assuredly they are perform'd.

And thence it hapneth, that the brauest plots

(Not executed straight) haue beene discouer'd.

Say, you are constant, or another, a third,

Or more; there may be yet one wretched spirit,

With whom the feare of punishment shall worke

'Boue all the thoughts of honor, and reuenge.

You are not, now, to thinke what's best to doe,

As in beginnings; but, what must be done,

Being thus entred: and slip no aduantage

That may secure you. Let 'hem call it mischiefe;

When it is past, and prosper'd, 'twill be vertue.

Th'are petty crimes are punish'd, great rewarded.

Nor must you thinke of perill; since, attempts,

Begunne with danger, still doe end with glory:

And, when need spurres, despaire will be call'd wisdome.

Lesse ought the care of men, or fame to fright you;

For they, that win, doe seldome receiue shame

Of victorie: how ere it be atchiu'd;

And vengeance, least. For who, besieg'd with wants,

Would stop at death, or any thing beyond it?

Come, there was neuer any great thing, yet,

Aspired, but by violence, or fraud:

And he that sticks (for folly of a conscience)

To reach it——

Is a good religious foole.

A superstitious slaue, and will die beast.

Good night. You know what CRASSVS thinkes, and I,

By this: Prepare you wings, as large as sayles,

To cut through ayre, and leaue no print behind you.

A serpent, ere he comes to be a dragon,

Do's eate a bat: and so must you a Consul,

That watches. What you doe, doe quickly SERGIVS.

You shall not stir for me.

Excuse me, lights there.

By no meanes.

Stay then. All good thoughts to CAESAR.

And like to CRASSVS.

Mind but your friends counsells.

Yes.

And is SEMPRONIA there?

She is.

That's well.

Shee ha's a sulphurous spirit, and will take

Light at a sparke. Breake with them, gentle loue,

About the drawing as many of their husbands,

Into the plot, as can: if not, to rid 'hem.

That'll be the easier practice, vnto some,

Who haue beene tir'd with 'hem long. Sollicite

Their aydes, for money: and their seruants helpe,

In firing of the citie, at the time

Shall be design'd. Promise 'hem states, and empires,

And men, for louers, made of better clay,

Then euer the old potter TITAN knew.

Who's that? O, PORCIVS LECCA! are they met?

They are all, here.

Loue, you haue your instructions:

Ile trust you with the stuffe you haue to worke on.

You'll forme it? PORCIVS, fetch the siluer eagle

I ga' you in charge. And pray 'hem, they will enter.

O, Friends, your faces glad me. This will be

Our last, I hope, of consultation.

So, it had need.

We loose occasion, daily.

I, and our meanes: whereof one wounds me most,

That was the fairest. PISO is dead, in Spaine.

As we are, here.

And, as it is thought, by enuy

Of POMPEY'S followers.

He too's comming backe,

Now, out of Asia.

Therefore, what we intend,

We must be swift in. Take your seates, and heare.

I haue, already, sent SEPTIMIVS

Into the Picene territorie; and IVLIVS,

To raise force, for vs, in Apulia:

MANLIVS at Fesulæ, is (by this time) vp,

With the old needie troops, that follow'd SYLLA:

And all doe but expect, when we will giue

The blow at home. Behold this siluer eagle,

'Twas MARIVS standard, in the Cimbrian warre,

Fatall to Rome; and, as our augures tell me,

Shall still be so: for which one ominous cause,

I' haue kept it safe, and done it sacred rites,

As to a god-head, in a chappell built

Of purpose to it. Pledge then all your hands,

To follow it, with vowes of death, and ruine,

Strooke silently, and home. So waters speake

When they runne deepest. Now's the time, this yeere,

The twenti'th, from the firing of the Capitol,

As fatall too, to Rome, by all predictions:

And, in which, honor'd LENTVLVS must rise

A king, if he pursue it.

If he doe not,

He is not worthy the great destinie.

It is too great for me, but what the gods,

And their great loues decree me, I must not

Seeme carelesse of.

No, nor we enuious.

We haue enough beside, all Gallia, Belgia,

Greece, Spaine, and Africke.

I, and Asia too,

Now POMPEY is returning.

Noblest Romanes,

Me thinkes our lookes, are not so quicke and high,

As they were wont.

No? whose is not?

We haue

No anger in our eyes, no storme, no lightning:

Our hate is spent, and fum'd away in vapor,

Before our hands be' at worke. I can accuse

Not any one, but all of slacknesse.

Yes,

And be your selfe such, while you doe it.

Ha?

'Tis sharply answer'd, CAIVS.

Truly, truly.

Come, let vs each one know his part to doe,

And then be accus'd. Leaue these vntimely quarrells.

I would there were more Romes then one, to ruine.

More Romes? More worlds.

Nay, then, more gods, and
(natures,

If they tooke part.

When shall the time be, first?

I thinke the Saturnalls.

'Twill be too long.

They are not now farre off, 'tis not a month.

A weeke, a day, an houre is too farre off,

Now, were the fittest time.

We ha' not laid

All things so safe, and readie.

While we'are laying,

We shall all lye; and grow to earth. Would I

Were nothing in it, if not now. These things

They should be done, e're thought.

Nay, now your reason

Forsakes you, CAIVS. Thinke, but what commodity

That time will minister; the cities custome

Of being, then, in mirth, and feast—

Loos'd whole

In pleasure and securitie—

Each house

Resolu'd in freedome—

Euery slaue a master—

And they too no meane aides—

Made from their hope

Of libertie—

Or hate vnto their lords.

'Tis sure, there cannot be a time found out

More apt, and naturall.

Nay, good CETHEGVS,

Why doe your passions, now, disturbe our hopes?

Why doe your hopes delude your certainties?

You must lend him his way. Thinke, for the order,

And processe of it.

Yes.

I like not fire:

'Twill too much wast my citie.

Were it embers,

There will be wealth enough, rak't out of them,

To spring a new. It must be fire, or nothing.

What else should fright, or terrifie 'hem?

True.

In that confusion, must be the chiefe slaughter.

Then we shall kill 'hem brauest.

And in heaps.

Strew sacrifices.

Make the earth an altar.

And Rome the fire.

'Twill be a noble night.

And worth all SYLLA'S dayes.

When husbands, wiues,

Grandsires, and nephewes, seruants, and their lords,

Virgins, and priests, the infant, and the nurse

Goe all to hell, together in a fleet.

I would haue you, LONGINVS, and STATILIVS,

To take the charge o' the firing, which must be,

At a signe giuen with a trumpet, done

In twelue chiefe places of the citie, at once.

The flaxe, and sulphure, are alreadie laid

In, at CETHEGVS house. So are the weapons.

GABINIVS, you, with other force, shall stop

The pipes, and conduits: and kill those that come

For water.

What shall I doe?

All will haue

Employment, feare not: Ply the execution.

For that, trust me, and CETHEGVS.

I will be

At hand, with the armie, to meet those that scape.

And LENTVLVS, begirt you POMPEY'S house,

To seize his sonnes aliue: for they are they

Must make our peace with him. All else cut off,

As TARQVINE did the poppy heads; or mowers

A field of thistles; or else, vp, as ploughes

Doe barren lands; and strike together flints,

And clods; th'vngratefull Senate, and the people:

Till no rage, gone before, or comming after,

May weigh with yours, though horror leapt her selfe

Into the scale; but, in your violent acts,

The fall of torrents, and the noyse of tempests,

The boyling of Charybdis, the seas wildnesse,

The eating force of flames, and wings of winds,

Be all out-wrought, by your transcendent furies.

It had beene done, e're this, had I beene Consul;

We'had had no stop, no let.

How find you ANTONIVS?

The'other ha's wonne him, lost: that CICERO

Was borne to be my opposition,

And stands in all our wayes.

Remoue him first.

May that, yet, be done sooner?

Would it were done.

I'll do't.

It is my prouince; none vsurpe it.

What are your meanes?

Enquire not. He shall die.

Shall, was too slowly said. He'is dying. That

Is, yet, too slow. He'is dead.

Braue, only Romane,

Whose soule might be the worlds soule, were that dying;

Refuse not, yet, the aides of these your friends.

Here's VARGVNTEIVS holds good quarter with him.

And vnder the pretext of clientele,

And visitation, with the morning haile,

Will be admitted.

What is that to me?

Yes, we may kill him in his bed, and safely.

Safe is your way, then; take it. Mine's mine owne.

Follow him, VARGVNTEIVS, and perswade,

The morning is the fittest time.

The night

Will turne all into tumult.

And perhaps

Misse of him too.

Intreat, and coniure him,

In all our names—

By all our vowes, and friendships.

You say,

Women are greatest talkers.

We ha' done;

And are now fit for action.

Which is passion.

There's your best actiuitie, lady.

How

Knowes your wise fatnesse that?

Your mothers daughter

Did teach me, madame.

Come SEMPRONIA, leaue him:

He is a giber. And our present businesse

Is of more serious consequence. AVRELIA

Tells me, you'haue done most masculinely within,

And plaid the orator.

But we must hasten

To our designe as well, and execute:

Not hang still, in the feuer of an accident.

You say well, lady.

I doe like our plot

Exceeding well, 'tis sure; and we shall leaue

Little to fortune, in it.

Your banquet stayes.

AVRELIA, take her in. Where's FVLVIA?

O, the two louers are coupling.

In good faith,

Shee's very ill, with sitting vp.

Youl'd haue her

Laugh, and lye downe?

No, faith, SEMPRONIA,

I am not well: I'le take my leaue, it drawes

Toward the morning. CVRIVS shall stay with you.

Madame, I pray you, pardon me, my health

I must respect.

Fare-well, good FVLVIA.

Make hast, and bid him get his guards about him.

For VARGVNTEIVS, and CORNELIVS

Haue vndertane it, should CETHEGVS misse:

Their reason, that they thinke his open rashnesse

Will suffer easier discouerie,

Then their attempt, so vayled vnder friendship.

Ile bring you to your coach. Tell him, beside,

Of CAESARS comming forth, here.

My sweet madame,

Will you be gone?

I am, my lord, in truth,

In some indisposition.

I doe wish

You had all your health, sweet lady: LENTVLVS,

You'll doe her seruice.

To her coach, and dutie.

VVHat ministers men must, for practice, vse!

The rash, th'ambitious, needy, desperate,

Foolish, and wretched, eu'n the dregs of mankind,

To whores, and women! still, it must be so.

Each haue their proper place; and, in their roomes,

They are the best. Groomes fittest kindle fires,

Slaues carry burdens, butchers are for slaughters,

Apothecaries, butlers, cookes for poysons;

As these for me: dull, stupide LENTVLVS,

My stale, with whom I stalke; the rash CETHEGVS,

My executioner; and fat LONGINVS,

STATILIVS, CVRIVS, CEPARIVS, CIMBER,

My labourers, pioners, and incendiaries;

With these domesticke traytors, bosome theeues,

Whom custome hath call'd wiues; the readiest helps,

To betray headie husbands; rob the easie:

And lend the moneys, on returnes of lust.

Shall CATILINE not doe, now, with these aides,

So sought, so sorted, something shall be call'd

Their labour, but his profit? and make CAESAR

Repent his ventring counsells, to a spirit,

So much his lord in mischiefe? when all these,

Shall, like the brethren sprung of dragons teeth,

Ruine each other; and he fall amongst 'hem:

With CRASSVS, POMPEY, or who else appeares,

But like, or neere a great one. May my braine

Resolue to water, and my bloud turne phlegme,

My hands drop off, vnworthy of my sword,

And that b'inspired, of it selfe, to rip

My brest, for my lost entraills; when I leaue

A soule, that will not serue: and who will, are

The same with slaues, such clay I dare not feare.

The cruelty, I meane to act, I wish

Should be call'd mine, and tarry in my name;

Whil'st, after-ages doe toile out themselues,

In thinking for the like, but doe it lesse:

And, were the power of all the fiends let loose,

With fate to boot, it should be, still, example.

When, what the Gaule, or Moore could not effect,

Nor emulous Carthage, with their length of spight,

Shall be the worke of one, and that my night.

I Thanke your vigilance. Where's my brother, QVINTVS?

Call all my seruants vp. Tell noble CVRIVS,

And say it to your selfe, you are my sauers;

But that's too little for you, you are Romes:

What could I then, hope lesse? O brother! now,

The engines I told you of, are working;

The machine 'gin's to moue. Where are your weapons?

Arme all my house-hold presently. And charge

The porter, he let no man in, till day.

Not clients, and your friends?

They weare those names,

That come to murther me. Yet send for CATO,

And QVINTVS CATVLVS; those I dare trust:

And FLACCVS, and POMTINIVS, the Prætors,

By the backe way.

Take care, good brother MARCVS,

Your feares be not form'd greater, then they should;

And make your friends grieue, while your enemies laugh.

'Tis brothers counsell, and worth thankes. But doe

As I intreat you. I prouide, not feare.

Was CAESAR there, say you?

CVRIVS sayes, he met him,

Comming from thence.

O, so. And, had you a counsell

Of ladies too? Who was your speaker, madame?

Shee that would be, had there beene fortie more;

SEMPRONIA, who had both her greeke, and figures;

And, euer and anone, would aske vs, if

The witty Consul could haue mended that?

Or Orator CICERO could haue said it better?

Shee's my gentle enemy. Would CETHEGVS

Had no more danger in him. But, my guards

Are you, great powers; and th'vnbated strengths

Of a firme conscience, which shall arme each step

Tane for the state: and teach me slacke no pace

For feare of malice. How now, brother?

CATO,

And QVINTVS CATVLVS were comming to you,

And CRASSVS with 'hem. I haue let 'hem in,

By th' garden.

What would CRASSVS haue?

I heare

Some whispering 'bout the gate; and making doubt,

Whether it be not yet too early, or no?

But I doe thinke, they are your friends, and clients,

Are fearefull to disturbe you.

You will change

To 'another thought, anone. Ha' you giu'n the porter

The charge, I will'd you?

Yes.

With-draw, and hearken.

You'were best to knocke.

Let them stand close, then: And, when we are in,

Rush after vs.

But where's CETHEGVS?

He

Has left it, since he might not do't his way.

Who's there?

A friend, or more.

I may not let

Any man in, till day.

No? why?

Thy reason?

I am commanded so.

By whom?

I hope

We are not discouer'd.

Yes, by reuelation.

Pray thee, good slaue, who has commanded thee?

He that may best, the Consul.

We are his friends.

All's one.

Best giue your name.

Do'st thou heare,
(fellow?

I haue some instant businesse with the Consul.

My name is VARGVNTEIVS.

True, he knowes it;

And for what friendly office you are sent.

CORNELIVS, too, is there?

We are betraid.

And desperate CETHEGVS, is he not?

Speake you, he knowes my voyce.

What say you to't?

You are deceiu'd, sir.

No, 'tis you are so;

Poore, misse-led men. Your states are yet worth pitty,

If you would heare, and change your sauage minds.

Leaue to be mad; forsake your purposes

Of treason, rapine, murder, fire, and horror:

The common-wealth hath eyes, that wake as sharpely

Ouer her life, as yours doe for her ruine.

Be not deceiu'd, to thinke her lenitie

Will be perpetuall; or, if men be wanting,

The gods will be, to such a calling cause.

Consider your attempts, and while there's time,

Repent you of 'hem. It doth make me tremble

There should those spirits yet breath, that when they cannot

Liue honestly, would rather perish basely.

You talke too much to 'hem, MARCVS, they'are lost.

Goe forth, and apprehend 'hem.

If you proue

This practice, what should let the common-wealth

To take due vengeance?

Let vs shift, away.

The darkenesse hath conceal'd vs, yet. Wee'll say

Some haue abus'd our names.

Deny it all.

QVINTVS, what guards ha'you? Call the Tribunes aide,

And raise the citie. Consul, you are too mild,

The foulenesse of some facts takes thence all mercy:

Report it to the Senate. Heare: The gods

Grow angrie with your patience. 'Tis their care,

And must be yours, that guiltie men escape not.

As crimes doe grow, iustice should rouse it selfe.

VVHat is it, heauens, you prepare

With so much swiftnesse, and so sodaine rising?

There are no sonnes of earth, that dare,

Againe, rebellion? or the gods surprising?

The world doth shake, and nature feares,

Yet is the tumult, and the horror greater

Within our minds, then in our eares:

So much Romes faults (now growne her fate) doe threat her.

The priests, and people runne about,

Each order, age, and sexe amaz'd at other;

And, at the ports, all thronging out,

As if their safety were to quit their mother:

Yet finde they the same dangers there,

From which they make such hast to be preserued;

For guiltie states doe euer beare

The plagues about them, which they haue deserued.

And, till those plagues doe get aboue

The mountayne of our faults, and there doe sit;

Wee see 'hem not. Thus, still we loue

The'euill we doe, vntill we suffer it.

But, most, ambition, that neere vice

To vertue, hath the fate of Rome prouoked;

And made, that now Rome's selfe no price,

To free her from the death, where with shee's yoked.

That restlesse ill, that still doth build

Vpon successe; and ends not in aspiring:

But there begins. And ne're is fill'd,

While ought remaines that seemes but worth desiring.

Wherein the thought, vnlike the eye,

To which things farre, seeme smaller then they are,

Deemes all contentment plac'd on high:

And thinkes there's nothing great, but what is farre.

O, that in time, Rome did not cast

Her errors vp, this fortune to preuent;

T'haue seene her crimes 'ere they were past:

And felt her faults, before her punishment.

CAn these men feare? who are not onely ours,

But the worlds masters? Then I see, the gods

Vpbraid our suffrings, or would humble them;

By sending these affrights, while we are here:

That we might laugh at their ridiculous feare,

Whose names, we trembled at, beyond the Alpes.

Of all that passe, I doe not see a face

Worthy a man; that dares looke vp, and stand

One thunder out: but downe-ward all, like beasts,

Running away from euery flash is made.

The falling world could not deserue such basenesse.

Are we emploid here, by our miseries,

Like superstitious fooles (or rather slaues)

To plaine our griefs, wrongs, and oppressions,

To a meere clothed Senate, whom our folly

Hath made, and still intends to keepe our tyrannes?

It is our base petitionarie breath

That blowes 'hem to this greatnesse; which this pricke

Would soone let out, if we were bold, and wretched.

When they haue taken all we haue, our goods,

Crop, lands, and houses, they will leaue vs this:

A weapon, and an arme will still be found,

Though naked left, and lower then the ground.

DOe; vrge thine anger, still: good heauen, and iust.

Tell guiltie men, what powers are aboue them.

In such a confidence of wickednesse,

'Twas time, they should know something fit to feare.

I neuer saw a morne more full of horror.

To CATILINE, and his: But, to iust men,

Though heauen should speake, with all his wrath at once,

That, with his breath, the hinges of the world

Did cracke, we should stand vpright, and vnfear'd.

Why, so we doe, good CATO. Who be these?

Ambassadors, from the ALLOBROGES,

I take 'hem, by their habits.

I, these men

Seeme of another race; let's sue to these,

There's hope of iustice, with their fortitude.

Friends of the Senate, and of Rome, to day

We pray you to forbeare vs: on the morrow

What sute you haue, let vs, by FABIVS SANGA,

(Whose patronage your state doth vse) but know it,

And, on the Consul's word, you shall receiue

Dispatch, or else an answere, worth your patience.

We could not hope for more, most worthy Consul.

This magistrate hath strooke an awe into me,

And, by his sweetnesse, wonne a more reguard

Vnto his place, then all the boystrous moodes

That ignorant greatnesse practiseth, to fill

The large, vnfit authoritie it weares.

How easie is a noble spirit discern'd

From harsh, and sulphurous matter, that flies out

In contumelies, makes a noyse, and stinkes!

May we find good, and great men: that know how

To stoupe to wants, and meete necessities,

And will not turne from any equall suites.

Such men, they doe not succour more the cause,

They vnder-take, with fauour, and successe;

Then, by it, their owne iudgements they doe raise,

In turning iust mens needs, into their praise.

Roome for the Consuls. Fathers, take your places.

Here, in the house of IVPITER, the STAYER,

By edict from the Consul, MARCVS TVLLIVS.

You'are met, a frequent Senate. Heare him speake.

What may be happy, and auspicious still

To Rome, and hers. Honor'd, and conscript Fathers,

If I were silent, and that all the dangers

Threatning the state, and you, were yet so hid

In night, or darkenesse thicker in their brests,

That are the blacke contriuers; so, that no

Beame of the light could pierce hem: yet the voyce

Of heau'n, this morning, hath spoke loud inough,

T'instruct you with a feeling of the horror;

And wake you from a sleepe, as starke, as death.

I haue, of late, spoke often in this Senate,

Touching this argument, but still haue wanted

Either your eares, or faith: so' incredible

Their plots haue seem'd, or I so vaine, to make

These things for mine owne glorie, and false greatnesse,

As hath beene giuen out. But be it so.

When they breake forth, and shall declare themselues,

By their too foule effects, then, then, the enuy

Of my iust cares will find another name.

For me, I am but one: and this poore life,

So lately aim'd at, not an houre yet since,

They cannot with more eagernesse pursue,

Then I with gladnesse would lay downe, and loose,

To buy Romes peace, if that would purchase it.

But when I see, they'ld make it but the step

To more, and greater; vnto yours, Romes, all:

I would with those preserue it, or then fall.

I, I, let you alone, cunning artificer!

See, how his gorget 'peeres aboue his gowne;

To tell the people, in what danger he was.

It was absurdly done of VARGVNTEIVS,

To name himselfe, before he was got in.

It matters not, so they denie it all:

And can but carry the lye constantly.

Will CATILINE be here?

I'haue sent for him.

And ha' you bid him to be confident?

To that his owne necessitie will prompt him.

Seeme to beleeue nothing at all, that CICERO

Relates vs.

It will mad him.

O, and helpe

The other partie. Who is that? his brother?

What new intelligence ha's he brought him now?

Some cautions from his wife, how to behaue him.

Place some of them without, and some bring in.

Thanke their kind loues. It is a comfort yet,

That all depart not from their countries cause.

How now, what meanes this muster? Consul, ANTONIVS?

I doe not know, aske my colleague, hee'll tell you.

There is some reason in state, that I must yeeld to;

And I haue promis'd him: Indeed he has bought it,

With giuing me the Prouince.

I professe,

It grieues me, Fathers, that I am compell'd

To draw these armes, and aides for your defence;

And, more, against a citizen of Rome,

Borne here amongst you, a Patrician,

A man, I must confesse, of no meane house,

Nor no small vertue, if he had employ'd

Those excellent gifts of fortune, and of nature,

Vnto the good, not ruine of the state.

But, being bred in's fathers needy fortunes,

Brought vp in's sisters prostitution,

Confirm'd in ciuill slaughter, entring first

The common-wealth, with murder of the gentrie;

Since, both by studie, and custome, conuersant

With all licentiousnesse: what could be hop'd

In such a field of riot, but a course

Extreme pernicious? Though, I must protest,

I found his mischiefs, sooner, with mine eyes,

Then with my thought; and with these hands of mine,

Before they touch'd, at my suspicion.

What are his mischiefs, Consul? you declame

Against his manners, and corrupt your owne:

No wise man should, for hate of guiltie men,

Loose his owne innocence.

The noble CAESAR.

Speakes god-like truth. But, when he heares, I can

Conuince him, by his manners, of his mischiefs,

He might be silent: and not cast away

His sentences in vaine, where they scarce looke

Toward his subiect.

Here he comes himselfe.

If he be worthy any good mans voyce,

That good man sit downe by him: CATO will not.

If CATO leaue him, I'le not keepe aside.

What face is this, the Senate here puts on,

Against me, Fathers! Giue my modestie

Leaue, to demand the cause of so much strangenesse.

It is reported here, you are the head

To a strange faction, LVCIVS.

I, and will

Be prou'd against him.

Let it be. Why, Consul,

If in the common-wealth, there be two bodies,

One leane, weake, rotten, and that hath a head;

The other strong, and healthfull, but hath none:

If I doe giue it one, doe I offend?

Restore your selues, vnto your temper, Fathers;

And, without perturbation, heare me speake.

Remember who I am, and of what place,

What petty fellow this is, that opposes;

One, that hath exercis'd his eloquence,

Still to the bane of the nobilitie:

A boasting, insolent tongue-man.

Peace, leud traytor,

Or wash thy mouth. He is an honest man

And loues his countrey, would thou didst so, too.

CATO, you are too zealous for him.

No;

Thou art too impudent.

CATILINE, be silent.

Nay then, I easily feare, my iust defence

Will come too late, to so much preiudice.

Will he sit downe?)

Yet, let the world forsake me,

My innocence must not.

Thou innocent?

So are the Furies.

Yes, and Ate, too.

Do'st thou not blush, pernicious CATILINE?

Or, hath the palenesse of thy guilt drunke vp

Thy bloud, and drawne thy veines, as drie of that,

As is thy heart of truth, thy brest of vertue?

Whither at length wilt thou abuse our patience?

Still shall thy furie mocke vs? To what licence

Dares thy vnbridled boldnesse runne it selfe?

Doe all the nightly guards, kept on the palace,

The cities watches, with the peoples feares,

The concourse of all good men, this so strong

And fortified seate here of the Senate,

The present lookes vpon thee, strike thee nothing?

Do'st thou not feele thy counsells all laid open?

And see thy wild conspiracie bound in

With each mans knowledge? which of all this order

Canst thou thinke ignorant (if they'll but vtter

Their conscience to the right) of what thou didst

Last night, what on the former, where thou wert,

Whom thou didst call together, what your plots were?

O age, and manners! This the Consul sees,

The Senate vnderstands, yet this man liues!

Liues? I, and comes here into counsell with vs;

Partakes the publique cares: and with his eye

Markes, and points out each man of vs to slaughter.

And we, good men, doe satisfie the state,

If we can shunne but this mans sword, and madnesse.

There was that vertue, once, in Rome, when good men

Would, with more sharpe coërcion, haue restrain'd

A wicked citizen, then the deadliest foe.

We haue that law still, CATILINE, for thee;

An act as graue, as sharpe: The state's not wanting,

Nor the authoritie of this Senate; we,

We, that are Consuls, onely faile our selues.

This twentie dayes, the edge of that decree

We haue let dull, and rust; kept it shut vp,

As in a sheath, which drawne should take thy head.

Yet still thou liu'st: and liu'st not to lay by

Thy wicked confidence, but to confirme it.

I could desire, Fathers, to be found

Still mercifull, to seeme, in these maine perills

Grasping the state, a man remisse, and slacke;

But then, I should condemne my selfe of sloth,

And trecherie. Their campe's in Italie,

Pitch'd in the iawes, here, of Hetruria;

Their numbers daily increasing, and their generall

Within our walls: nay, in our counsell! plotting

Hourely some fatall mischiefe to the publique.

If, CATILINE, I should command thee, now,

Here, to be taken, kill'd; I make iust doubt,

Whether all good men would not thinke it done

Rather too late, then any man too cruell.

Except he were of the same meale, and batch.

But that, which ought to haue been done long since,

I will, and (for good reason) yet forbeare.

Then will I take thee, when no man is found

So lost, so wicked, nay, so like thy selfe,

But shall professe, 'tis done of need, and right.

While there is one, that dares defend thee, liue;

Thou shalt haue leaue; but so, as now thou liu'st:

Watch'd at a hand, besieged, and opprest

From working least commotion to the state.

I haue those eyes, and eares, shall still keepe guard,

And spiall on thee, as they haue euer done,

And thou not feele it. What, then, canst thou hope?

If neither night can, with her darknesse, hide

Thy wicked meetings; nor a priuate house

Can, in her walls, contayne the guiltie whispers

Of thy conspiracie: if all breake out,

All be discouered, change thy mind at last,

And loose thy thoughts of ruine flame, and slaughter.

Remember, how I told, here, to the Senate,

That such a day, thy Lictor, CAIVS MANLIVS,

Would be in armes. Was I deceiued, CATILINE?

Or in the fact, or in the time? the houre?

I told too, in this Senate, that thy purpose

Was, on the fifth (the kalends of Nouember)

T'haue slaughter'd this whole order: which my caution

Made many leaue the citie. Canst thou here

Denie, but this thy blacke designe was hindred,

That very day, by me? thy selfe clos'd in

Within my strengths, so that thou could'st not moue

Against a publique reed? when thou wert heard

To say, vpon the parting of the rest,

Thou would'st content thee, with the murder of vs,

That did remaine. Had'st thou not hope, beside,

By a surprize, by night, to take Præneste?

Where when thou cam'st, did'st thou not find the place

Made good against thee, with my aides, my watches?

My garrisons fortified it. Thou do'st nothing, SERGIVS,

Thou canst endeauour nothing, nay not thinke,

But I both see, and heare it; and am with thee,

By, and before, about, and in thee, too.

Call but to mind thy last nights businesse. Come,

Ile vse no circumstance: at LECCA'S house,

The shop, and mint of your conspiracie,

Among your sword-men, where so many associates

Both of thy mischiefe, and thy madnesse, met.

Dar'st thou denie this? wherefore art thou silent?

Speake, and this shall conuince thee: Here they are,

I see 'hem, in this Senate, that were with thee.

O, you immortall gods! in what clime are we?

What region doe we liue in? in what ayre?

What common-wealth, or state is this we haue?

Here, here, amongst vs, our owne number, Fathers,

In this most holy counsell of the world,

They are, that seeke the spoyle of me, of you,

Of ours, of all; what I can name's too narrow:

Follow the sunne, and find not their ambition.

These I behold, being Consul; nay, I aske

Their counsells of the state, as from good Patriots:

Whom it were fit the axe should hew in pieces,

I not so much as wound, yet, with my voyce.

Thou wast, last night, with LECCA, CATILINE,

Your shares, of Italie, you there diuided;

Appointed who, and whither, each should goe;

What men should stay behind, in Rome, were chosen;

Your offices set downe; the parts mark'd out,

And places of the citie, for the fire;

Thy selfe (thou'affirmd'st) wast readie to depart,

Onely, a little let there was, that stay'd thee,

That I yet liu'd. Vpon the word, stept forth

Three of thy crew, to rid thee of that care;

Two vnder-tooke this morning, before day,

To kill me in my bed. All this I knew,

Your conuent scarce dismiss'd, arm'd all my seruants,

Call'd both my brother, and friends, shut out your clients,

You sent to visite me; whose names I told

To some there, of good place, before they came.

Yes, I, and QVINTVS CATVLVS can affirme it.

He's lost, and gone. His spirits haue forsooke him.

If this be so, why, CATILINE, do'st thou stay?

Goe, where thou mean'st. The ports are open; forth.

The campe abroad wants thee, their chiefe, too long.

Lead with thee all thy troupes out. Purge the citie.

Draw drie that noysome, and pernicious sinke,

Which left, behind thee, would infect the world.

Thou wilt free me of all my feares, at once,

To see a wall betweene vs. Do'st thou stop

To doe that now, commanded; which before,

Of thine owne choice, thou'rt prone to? Goe. The Consul

Bids thee, an enemie, to depart the citie.

Whither, thou'lt aske? to exile? I not bid

Thee that. But aske my counsell, I perswade it.

What is there, here, in Rome, that can delight thee?

Where not a soule, without thine owne foule knot,

But feares, and hates thee. What domesticke note

Of priuate filthinesse, but is burnt in

Into thy life? What close, and secret shame,

But is growne one, with thy knowne infamy?

What lust was euer absent from thine eyes?

What leud fact from thy hands? what wickednesse

From thy whole body? where's that youth drawne in

Within thy nets, or catch'd vp with thy baits,

Before whose rage, thou hast not borne a sword,

And to whose lusts thou hast not 'held a torch?

Thy latter nuptialls I let passe in silence;

Where sinnes incredible, on sinnes, were heap't:

Which I not name, lest, in a ciuill state,

So monstrous facts should either appeare to be,

Or not to be reueng'd. Thy fortunes, too,

I glance not at, which hang but till next Ides.

I come to that, which is more knowne, more publike;

The life, and safetie of vs all, by thee

Threatned, and sought. Stood'st thou not in the field,

When LEPIDVS, and TVLLVS were our Consuls,

Vpon the day of choice, arm'd, and with forces,

To take their liues, and our chiefe citizens?

When, not thy feare, nor conscience chang'd thy mind,

But the meere fortune of the common-wealth

With-stood thy actiue malice? Speake but right.

How often hast thou made attempt on me?

How many of thy assaults haue I declin'd

With shifting but my body (as wee'ld say)

Wrested thy dagger from thy hand, how oft?

How often hath it falne, or slip't by chance?

Yet, can thy side not want it: which, how vow'd,

Or with what rites, 'tis sacred of thee, I know not,

That still thou mak'st it a necessitie,

To fixe it in the body of a Consul.

But let me loose this way, and speake to thee,

Not as one mou'd with hatred, which I ought,

But pitty, of which none is owing thee.

No more then vnto TANTALVS, or TITYVS.

Thou cam'st, e're-while, into this Senate. Who

Of such a frequency, so many friends,

And kindred thou hast here, saluted thee?

Were not the seates made bare, vpon thy entrance?

Riss' not the consular men? and left their places,

So soone as thou sat'st downe? and fled thy side,

Like to a plague, or ruine? knowing, how oft

They had beene, by thee, mark'd out for the shambles?

How dost thou beare this? Surely, if my slaues

At home fear'd me, with halfe th'affright, and horror,

That, here, thy fellow-citizens doe thee,

I should soone quit my house, and thinke it need too.

Yet thou dar'st tarry here? Goe forth, at last;

Condemne thy selfe to flight, and solitude.

Discharge the common-wealth, of her deepe feare.

Goe; into banishment, if thou wait'st the word.

Why do'st thou looke? They all consent vnto it.

Do'st thou expect th'authoritie of their voyces,

Whose silent wills condemne thee? While they sit,

They approue it; while they suffer it, they decree it;

And while they'are silent to it, they proclaime it.

Proue thou there honest, Ile endure the enuie.

But there's no thought, thou should'st be euer he,

Whom either shame should call from filthinesse,

Terror from danger, or discourse from furie.

Goe; I intreat thee: yet, why doe I so?

When I alreadie know, they'are sent afore,

That tarry for thee'in armes, and doe expect thee

On th'AVRELIAN way. I know the day

Set downe, 'twixt thee, and MANLIVS; vnto whom

The siluer eagle too is sent, before:

Which I doe hope shall proue, to thee as banefull,

As thou conceiu'st it to the common-wealth.

But, may this wise, and sacred Senate say,

What mean'st thou MARCVS TVLLIVS? If thou know'st

That CATILINE be look'd for, to be chiefe

Of an intestine warre; that he'is the author

Of such a wickednesse; the caller out

Of men of marke in mischiefe, to an action

Of so much horror; Prince of such a treason;

Why do'st thou send him forth? why let him scape?

This is, to giue him libertie, and power:

Rather, thou should'st lay hold vpon him, send him

To deseru'd death, and a iust punishment.

To these so holy voices, thus I answere.

If I did thinke it timely, Conscript Fathers,

To punish him with death, I would not giue

The Fencer vse of one short houre, to breath;

But when there are in this graue order, some,

Who, with soft censures, still doe nource his hopes;

Some, that with not beleeuing, haue confirm'd

His designes more, and whose authoritie

The weaker, as the worst men, too, haue follow'd:

I would now send him, where they all should see

Cleere, as the light, his heart shine; where no man

Could be so wickedly, or fondly stupide,

But should cry out, he saw, touch'd, felt, and grasp't it.

Then, when he hath runne out himselfe; led forth

His desp'rate partie with him; blowne together

Aides of all kindes, both shipwrack'd mindes and fortunes:

Not onely the growne euill, that now is sprung,

And sprouted forth, would be pluck'd vp, and weeded;

But the stocke, roote, and seed of all the mischiefes,

Choking the common-wealth. Where, should we take,

Of such a swarme of traytors, onely him,

Our cares, and feares might seeme a while relieu'd,

But the maine perill would bide still enclos'd

Deepe, in the veines, and bowells of the state.

As humane bodies, labouring with feuers,

While they are tost with heate, if they doe take

Cold water, seeme for that short space much eas'd,

But afterward, are ten times more afflicted.

Wherefore, I say, let all this wicked crew

Depart, diuide themselues from good men, gather

Their forces to one head; as I said oft,

Let 'hem be seuer'd from vs with a wall;

Let 'hem leaue off attempts, vpon the Consul,

In his owne house; to circle in the Prætor;

To girt the court with weapons; to prepare

Fire, and balls, swords, torches, sulphure, brands:

In short, let it be writ in each mans fore-head

What thoughts he beares the publike. I here promise,

Fathers Conscript, to you, and to my selfe,

That diligence in vs Consuls, for my honor'd

Colleague, abroad, and for my selfe, at home;

So great authoritie in you; so much

Vertue, in these, the gentlemen of Rome;

Whom I could scarce restraine to day, in zeale,

From seeking out the parricide, to slaughter;

So much consent in all good men, and minds,

As, on the going out of this one CATILINE,

All shall be cleere, made plaine, oppress'd, reueng'd.

And, with this omen, goe, pernicious plague,

Out of the citie, to the wish'd destruction

Of thee, and those, that, to the ruine of her,

Haue tane that bloudie, and black sacrament.

Thou IVPITER, whom we doe call the STAYER,

Both of this citie, and this empire, wilt

(With the same auspice thou didst raise it first)

Driue from thy altars, and all other temples,

And buildings of this citie; from our walls;

Liues, states, and fortunes of our citizens;

This fiend, this furie, with his complices.

And all the'offence of good men (these knowne traytors

Vnto their countrey, theeues of Italie,

Ioyn'd in so damn'd a league of mischiefe) thou

Wilt with perpetuall plagues, aliue, and dead,

Punish for Rome, and saue her innocent head.

If an oration, or high language, Fathers,

Could make me guiltie, here is one, hath done it:

H'has stroue to emulate this mornings thunder,

With his prodigious rhetoricke. But I hope,

This Senate is more graue, then to giue credit

Rashly to all he vomits, 'gainst a man

Of your owne order, a Patrician;

And one, whose ancestors haue more deseru'd

Of Rome, then this mans eloquence could vtter,

Turn'd the best way: as still, it is the worst.

His eloquence hath more deseru'd to day,

Speaking thy ill, then all thy ancestors

Did, in their good: and, that the state will find,

Which he hath sau'd.

How, he? were I that enemie,

That he would make me: Il'd not wish the state

More wretched, then to need his preseruation.

What doe you make him, CATO, such a HERCVLES?

An ATLAS? A poore petty in-mate!

Traytor.

He saue the state? A burgesse sonne of Arpinum.

The gods would rather twentie Romes should perish,

Then haue that contumely stucke vpon 'hem,

That he should share with them, in the preseruing

A shed, or signe-post.

Peace, thou prodigie.

They would be forc'd themselues, againe, and lost

In the first, rude, and indigested heape;

Ere such a wretched name, as CICERO,

Should sound with theirs.

Away, thou impudent head.

Doe you all backe him? are you silent too?

Well, I will leaue you, Fathers; I will goe.

But——my fine daintie speaker——

What now, Furie?

Wilt thou assault me here?

Helpe, aide the Consul.)

See, Fathers, laugh you not? who threatned him?

In vaine thou do'st conceiue, ambitious orator,

Hope of so braue a death, as by this hand.

Out, of the court, with the pernicious traytor.)

There is no title, that this flattering Senate,

Nor honor, the base multitude can giue thee,

Shall make thee worthy CATILINES anger.

Stop,

Stop that portentous mouth.)

Or, when it shall,

Ile looke thee dead.

Will none restraine the monster?

Parricide.

Butcher, traytor, leaue the Senate.

I'am gone, to banishment, to please you, Fathers.

Thrust head-long forth?

Still, do'st thou murmure, monster?

Since, I am thus put out, and made a——

What?

Not guiltier then thou art.

I will not burne

Without my funerall pile.

What saies the fiend?

I will haue matter, timber.

Sing out scrich-owle.

It shall be in—

Speake thy imperfect thoughts.

The common fire, rather then mine owne.

For fall I will with all, ere fall alone:

H'is lost, there is no hope of him.

Vnlesse

He presently take armes; and giue a blow,

Before the Consuls forces can be leui'd.

What is your pleasure, Fathers, shall be done?

See, that the common-wealth receiue no losse.

Commit the care thereof vnto the Consuls.

'Tis time.

And need.

Thankes to this frequent
(Senate.

But what decree they, vnto CVRIVS,

And FVLVIA?

What the Consul shall thinke meete.

They must receiue reward, though't be not knowne;

Lest when a state needs ministers, they ha' none.

Yet, MARCVS TVLLIVS, doe not I beleeue,

But CRASSVS, and this CAESAR here ring hollow.

And would appeare so, if that we durst proue 'hem.

Why dare we not? What honest act is that,

The Roman Senate should not dare, and doe?

Not an vnprofitable, dangerous act,

To stirre too many serpents vp at once.

CAESAR, and CRASSVS, if they be ill men,

Are mightie ones; and, we must so prouide,

That, while we take one head, from this foule Hydra,

There spring not twentie more.

I' proue your counsell.

They shall be watch'd, and look'd too. Till they doe

Declare themselues, I will not put 'hem out

By any question. There they stand. Ile make

My selfe no enemies, nor the state no traytors.

FAlse to our selues? All our designes discouer'd

To this state-cat?

I, had I had my way,

He' had mew'd in flames, at home, not i'the Senate:

I' had sing'd his furres, by this time.

Well, there's, now,

No time of calling backe, or standing still.

Friends, be your selues; keepe the same Roman hearts,

And readie minds, you' had yester-night. Prepare

To execute, what we resolu'd. And let not

Labour, or danger, or discouerie fright you.

Ile to the armie: you (the while) mature

Things, here, at home. Draw to you any aides,

That you thinke fit, of men of all conditions,

Or any fortunes, that may helpe a warre.

Ile bleede a life, or winne an empire for you.

Within these few dayes, looke to see my ensignes,

Here, at the walls: Be you but firme within.

Meane time, to draw an enuy on the Consul,

And giue a lesse suspicion of our course,

Let it be giuen out, here in the citie,

That I am gone, an innocent man, to exile,

Into Massilia, willing to giue way

To fortune, and the times; being vnable

To stand so great a faction, without troubling

The common-wealth: whose peace I rather seeke,

Then all the glory of contention,

Or the support of mine owne innocence.

Farewell the noble LENTVLVS, LONGINVS,

CVRIVS, the rest; and thou, my better Genius,

The braue CETHEGVS: when we meete againe,

Wee'll sacrifice to libertie.

And reuenge.

That we may praise our hands once.

O, you Fates,

Giue Fortune now her eyes, to see with whom

Shee goes along, that shee may ne're forsake him.

He needs not her, nor them. Goe but on, SERGIVS.

A valiant man is his owne fate, and fortune.

The fate, and fortune of vs all goe with him.

And euer guard him.

I am all your creature.

Now friends, 'tis left with vs. I haue alreadie

Dealt, by VMBRENVS, with the ALLOBROGES,

Here resiant in Rome; whose state, I heare,

Is discontent with the great vsuries,

They are oppress'd with: and haue made complaints

Diuers, vnto the Senate, but all vaine.

These men, I'haue thought (both for their owne oppressions,

As also that, by nature, they'are a people

Warlike, and fierce, still watching after change,

And now, in present hatred with our state)

The fittest, and the easiest to be drawne

To our societie, and to aide the warre.

The rather, for their seate; being next bordrers

On Italie; and that they'abound with horse:

Of which one want our campe doth onely labour.

And I haue found 'hem comming. They will meete

Soone, at SEMPRONIA'S house, where I would pray you

All to be present, to confirme 'hem more.

The sight of such spirits hurt not, nor the store.

I will not faile.

Nor I.

Nor I.

Would I

Had somewhat by my selfe, apart, to doe.

I' ha' no Genius to these many counsells.

Let me kill all the Senate, for my share,

Ile doe it at next sitting.

Worthy CAIVS,

Your presence will adde much.

I shall marre more.

THe state's beholden to you, FABIVS SANGA,

For this great care: And those ALLOBROGES

Are more then wretched, if they lend a listning

To such perswasion.

They, most worthy Consul,

As men employ'd here, from a grieued state,

Groning beneath a multitude of wrongs,

And being told, there was small hope of ease

To be expected, to their euills, from hence,

Were willing, at the first to giue an eare

To any thing, that sounded libertie:

But since, on better thoughts, and my vrg'd reasons,

They'are come about, and wonne, to the true side.

The fortune of the common-wealth hath conquer'd.

What is that same VMBRENVS, was the agent?

One that hath had negotiation

In Gallia oft, and knowne vnto their state.

Are th'Ambassadors come with you?

Yes.

Well, bring 'hem in, if they be firme, and honest,