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 walles, (falles

Lesse threatning, then an earth-quake, the quicke

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 fils,

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

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.

Pluto be at thy councels; 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, Marius would;

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

Comming from hell; what Fiendes would wish should be;

And Hannibal could not haue wish'd to see:

Thinke thou, and practise. Let the long-hid seedes

Of treason, in thee, now shoore forth in deedes,

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 naturall Sonne,

After his Mother, to make empty way

For thy last wicked Nuptials; worse, then they,

That fame 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 sury doe:

Make all past, present, future ill thine owne;

And conquer all example, in thy one.

Nor let thy thought finde 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 impiety:

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, funerals,

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 repeate

Our strengths in Muster, we may name you all,

And Furies, vpon you, for Furies, call.

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

Or make them grieue, and wish your mischiese theirs.

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

Resist my vow. Though Hils were set on Hils,

And Seas met Seas, to guarde thee; I would through:

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

And laue the Tyrrhene waters, into cloudes;

But I would reach thy head, thy head, proud Citty:

The ills, that I haue done, cannot be safe

But by attempting greater; and I feele

A spirit, within me, chides my sluggish handes.

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 Ponticke warre?

I will, hereafter, call her Stepdame, euer.

If shee can loose her nature, I can loose

My piety; and in her stony entrailes

Digge 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.

Tis I.

Aurelia?

Yes.

(Appeare,

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

Vpbraid [unclear]hy Phœbus, that he is so long

In mounting to that point, which should giue thee

Thy proper splendour. Wherefore frownes my sweet?

Haue I too long bene absent from these lips,

This cheeke, these eyes? what is my trepasse? 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 alwaies, Loue,

By this Ambrosiacke kisse, and this of Nectar,

Wouldst thou but heare as gladly, as I speake.

Could my Aurelia 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 begunne 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 weighd it vp againe,

And made my'emergent. Fortune once more looke

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

And sticke 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, she 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 Lentulus,

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

Where of he is descended, the Cornely,

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

The flatt'ring Augures to interpret him,

Cinna, and Sylla dead. Then, bold Cethegus,

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 enuie to the state drawes, and puts on,

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

As Curius, and the fore-nam'd Lentulus,

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 fires, and dole

Of Prouinces abroade, which they haue faind

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

These, Lecca, Vargunteius, Bestia, Autronius,

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

Of Sylla's troopes; 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, Aurelia,

And make our house their saue-gard. 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, Aurelia, 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 entertaine, and feast, sit vp, and reuell;

Call all the great, the fayre, and spirited Dames

Of Rome about thee, and beginne a fashion

Of freedome, & community. Some will thanke thee,

Though the sowre Senate frowne, whose heads mustake

In feare, and feeling too. We must not spare

Or cost, or modestie. It can but shew

Like one of Iuno's, or of Ioue's disguises

In eyther thee, or mee; and will as soone,

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

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

Or the Scene shifted, in our Theaters.

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

Or of Cethegus.

In, my faire Aurelia,

And thinke vpon these artes: They must not see,

How farre you are trusted with these priuacies;

Though, by their shoulders, necks, & heads you rise.

IT is, mee thinkes, a Morning, full of Fate.

It riseth slowly, as her sollen carre

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

She is not rosy-fingerd, but swolne blacke.

Her face is like a water, turnd to bloud,

And her sicke head is bound about with clouds,

As if she threatned night, ere noone of day.

It does not looke, as it would haue a Hayle

Or Health, wish'd in it, as on other Mornes.

Why, all the fitter, Lentulus: Our comming

Is not for salutation, we haue businesse.

Said nobly, braue Cethegus. Where's Autronius?

Is he not come?

Not here.

Nor Vargunteius?

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 neede

As now.

Both they, Longinus, Lecca, Curius,

Fuluius, Gabinius, gaue me word, last night,

By Lucius 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 Honour cannot thaw vs; nor our wants,

Though they burne, hot as seuers, 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 enuie.

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 asunder;

And the degenerate, talking Gowne, runne frighted,

Out of the ayre of Italy.

Spirit of men!

Thou, heart of our great enterprise! how much

I loue these voyces in thee!

O the daies

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 raynes.

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 carried downe

Whole heapes 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 Sicke, the Old, that could but hope a day

Longer, by natures bounty, not let stay.

Virgins, and Widdowes, Matrons, pregnant Wiues,

All dyed.

'Twas crime enough, that they had liues.

To strike but only 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 name, rather then a boate,

To ferry ouer the sad World that came:

The mawes, and dennes 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 Lentulus, the third Cornelius,

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 vncertaine? 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 Lentulus? or pray to see it?

The Augures all are constant, I am meant.

They, had lost their science else.

They count from (Cinna.

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 Sylla

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

On him that is, and shines. Noble Cethegus,

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 roddes, and axes.

The Statues melt againe; and houshold Gods

In grones confesse the trauaile of the City;

The very walles sweate blood 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, Sergius: 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 shadow

To honor'd Lentulus, and Cethegus here,

Who are the heires of Mars.

By Mars himselfe,

Catiline is more my parent: For whose vertue

Earth cannot make a shadow great inough,

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

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

Haile noble Sergius.

Haile Publius Leniulus.

Haile the third Cornelius.

Caius Cethegus haile.

Haile sloth, and words,

In steed of Men, and Spirits.

Nay, deare Caius;

Are your eyes yet vnseel'd? 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.

Cethegus.

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

You are too full of lightning, noble Caius.

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

On this part of the house. Go 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, waite all without.

How is't, Autronius!

Longinus?

Curius?

Lecca?

Feele you no-(thing?

A strange, vnwonted horror doth inuade me,

I know not what it is!

The day goes backe,

Or else my senses!

As at Atreus feast!

Darknesse growes more & more!

The Vestall flame,

I think, be out.

What groane 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?

Look forth.

It still grows greater.

From whēce (comes it?

A Bloody 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 darknesse,

That would discountenance it. Looke no more;

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

Speake Lucius, 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 emptie hopes,

By ayrie waies, 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 foote,

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 glory; Now, the neede enflames me[unclear]:

When I fore-thinke the hard conditions,

Our states must vndergoe, except, in time,

We do redeeme our selues to liberty,

And breake the yron yoake, 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 do, 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 yeares.

There wants, but onely to beginne the businesse,

The issue is certaine.

On, Let vs go on.

Go on, braue Sergius.

It doth strike my (soule,

(And, who can scape the stroke, that hath a foule.

Or, but the smallest ayre of Man within him?)

To see them swell with treasure; which they poure

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

I, i'the sea: planing of Hilles with Valleyes;

And raysing Vallies aboue Hilles, whilst wee

Haue not, to giue our Bodies Necessaries.

They ha' their change of Houses, Manors, 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 affourd 'hem Fowle; nor Lucrine Lake

Oysters enow: Circei, too, is search'd

To please the witty Gluttonie of a meale.

Their ancient Habitations they neglect,

And set vp new; Then, if the Echo like not

In such a roome, they plucke downe those; build newer,

Alter them too; and, by all franticke waies,

Vexe their wild wealth, as they molest the people,

From whom they force it; Yet, they cannot tame,

Or ouercome their riches: Not, by making,

Bathes, Orchards, Fish-pooles, letting in of seas,

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

With mountaynous heapes; for which the Earth hath lost

Most of her ribbes, as entrayles, being now

Wounded no lesse for Marble, then for gold.

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

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

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

Abroad, our debts do 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 meete the liberty 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 needes, 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 had, rather, still be slaues, then free.

Free, free.

Tis freedome.

Freedome we all stand (for.

Why, these are noble voices. Nothing wants then,

But that we take a solemne Sacrament,

To strengthen our designe.

And so to act it.

Differring hurts, where powers are most prepar'd.

Yet, ere we enter into open act,

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

What the Condition of these Armes would be?

I, and the meanes, to carry vs through.

How, (Friendes!

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

Or call you to th' embracing of a cloude?

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 security

The common wealth is in, now; the whole Senate

Sleepy, and dreaming no such violent blow;

Their forces all abroade; of which the greatest,

That might annoy vs most, is fardest off,

In Asia, vnder Pompey: Those, neare hand,

Commanded, by our friendes; one Army' in Spaine,

By Cneus Piso; th'other in Mauritania;

By Nucerinns; both which I haue firme,

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

Now to be Consul; with my hop'd Colleague

Caius Antonius, 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, Iudgments 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 fals

To Vargunt eius: This to' Autronius: That

To bold Cethegus: Rome to Lentulus:

You share the World, her Magistracies, Priest-hoods,

Wealth, and Felicity amongst you, Friendes;

And Catiline your seruant. Would you, Curius,

Reuenge the Contumelie stucke vpon you,

In being remoued from the Senate? Now,

Now, is your time. VVould Publius Lentulus

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

VVould stout Longinus walke the streets of Rome,

Facing the Prætor? Now, has he a time

To spurne, and treade the Fasces, into dirt

Made of the Vsurers, and the Lictors braines.

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

An Enemie you would kill? What Head's not yours?

VVhose 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, i' your faces. Bring the wine, and blood

You haue prepar'd there.

How!

I'haue kill'd a slaue,

And of his blood 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 applaude it.

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

Fiercenesse into me, with it; and sell thirst

Of more, and more: Till Rome be lest as blood-lesse,

As euer her feares made her, or the sword.

And, when I leaue to wish this to thee, Stepdame

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

So may my blood be drawne, and so drunke vp

As is this slaues.

And so be mine.

And mine.

And mine.

And mine.

Crowne me 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, & each man strengthned.

Sirah, what aile you?

Nothing.

Somewhat modest.

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

Let me but finde you againe with such a face:

You Whelpe.

Nay Lucius.

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 bourdes you next, and your throate opens.

Noble Confederates, thus farre is perfect.

Only your suffrages I will expect,

At the assembly for the choosing Consuls,

And all the voices you can make by friendes

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 sleepes;

That, when the sodaine thaw comes, we may breake

Vpon'hem like a deluge, bearing downe

Halfe Rome before vs, and inuade the rest

VVith cries, 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 Sergius.

God-like Catiline.

CAn nothing great, and at the height

Remaine so long? but it's owne weight

VVill 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, ouercome?

Hath shee not foes inow of those,

VVhom 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 Mistresse of the whole

VVorld, Sea, and Land, to either Pole;

And euen that Fortune will destroy

The power that made it. Shee doth ioy

So much in plenty, 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 voices: 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 pray.

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.

THose Roomes doe smell extremely; Bring my glasse,

And table hither, Galla.

Madame.

Looke

VVithin, i'my blew Cabinet, for the pearle

I'had sent me last, and bring it.

That from Clodius?

From Caius Cæsar. You'are for Clodius, still.

Or Curius. Sitha, if Quintus Curius 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 Madam.

Nay gentle halfe o' the Dialogue, cease.

I doe it, indeede, but for your exercise,

As your Phisitian bids me.

How! Do's he bid you

To anger me for exercise?

Not to anger you,

But stirre your blood a little: There's difference

Betweene luke-warme, and boyling, Madame.

Ioue!

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

I meane to dresse you, Madame.

O my Iuno,

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

Where hast thou been?

Why, Madame?

What hast thou (done

VVith thy poore innocent selfe?

Wherfore, sweet Madam?

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

It pleases you to flout one. I did dreame

Of Ladie Sempronia.

O, the wonder is out.

That did infect thee? VVell, and how?

Me thought.

Shee did discourse the best.

That euer thou heardst?

Yes.

I'thy sleepe? Of what was her discourse?

O' the Republicke, 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 dreamp'tst all this?

No, but you know she is Ma-(dame.

And both a Mistresse of the Latine tongue,

And of the Greeke.

I, but I neuer dreampt it, Galla,

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

Indeede, you mocke me, Madame.

Indeede, no.

Forth with your learned Ladie: Shee has a wit, too?

A very masculine one.

A shee-Criticke, Galla?

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

Modest, or otherwise?

Yes Madame.

She 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 neede.

Tut, shee may beare that. Few wise womens honesties

VVill doe their courtship hurt.

Shee's liberall too, Madam.

VVhat 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 yeares.

VVhy Galla?

For it is.

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

VVhy so I haue. Shee has beene a fine Ladie,

And, yet, shee dresses herselfe, (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 neate gloues. But shee is faine of late

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

And so spends that way.

Thou knowst all. But Galla,

VVhat say you to Catilines Ladie, 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, Madam

The Ladie Sempronia is lighted at the gate;

Castor, my dreame, my dreame.

And comes to see you

For Venus 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

Aurelia Orestilla. Shee sent for me.

I came to call thee, with mee; wilt thou goe?

I cannot now, in troth, I haue some letters

To write, and send away.

Alas, I pitty thee.

I ha'bene 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. Crassus, I, and Cæsar

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 prettie one.

A very orient one. There are Competitors,

Caius Antonius, Publius Galba, Lucius

Cassius Longinus, Quintus Cornificius,

Caius Licinius, and that talker, Cicero.

But Catiline, and Antonius will be chosen.

For foure of the other, Licinius, Longinus,

Galba, and Cornificius will giue way,

And Cicero they will not choose.

No? Why?

It will be cross'd, by the Nobility.

How she do's vnderstand the common busines!

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 blood:'tis vice

And, in him, sawcinesse. Why should he presume

To be more learned, or more eloquent,

Then the Nobility? or boast any quality

Worthie 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 stocke, 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 Fuluia. There are they

Can speake Greeke too, if need were. Cæsar and I

Haue sate vpon him; so hath Grassus, too;

And others. We haue all decreed his rest,

For rising farder.

Excellent rare Lady!

Sempronia, you are beholden to my woman, here.

She 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 smels well.

And clenses

Very well, Madam, and resists the crudities.

Fuluia, 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 Quintus Curius,

Thy speciall seruant, here?

My speciall seruant?

Yes, thy Idolater, I call him.

He may be yours,

If you do like him.

How!

He comes, not, here,

I haue for bid him, hence.

Venus 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, Fuluia:

Beware, how you do tempt mee.

Faith, for mee,

He' is some what 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 mee

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

And those one may command.

Tis true, These Lor-(dings,

Your noble Faunes, they are so imperious, saucy,

Rude, and as boystrous as Cent aures; leaping

A Ladie, at first sight.

And must be borne

Both with, and out, they thinke.

Tut, Ile obserue

None of 'hem all: nor humor 'hem a lot

Longer, then they come laden in the hand,

And say, here's tone, for th'tother.

Do's Cæsar giue well?

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

If they will haue it: and that iewels, 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 Europa were,

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

I would endure, a rough, harsh Iupiter,

Or ten such thundring Gamsters, and refrain

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 studie 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 partie, Madame.

What party? Has he no name?

Tis Quintus Curius.

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

Why, so they do.

Ile leaue you, Fuluia.

Nay, good Sempronia, stay.

In faith, I will not.

By Iuno, I would not see him.

Ile not hinder you.

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

No,

Nor shall not, carefull Galla, by my meanes.

As I doe liue, Sempronia.

What needs this?

Go, say, I am asleepe, and ill at ease.

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

And very well. Stay Galla. Farewell Fuluia:

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

With action, against purpose? Quintus Curius,

She is, yfaith, here, and in disposition.

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

VVHere are you, fayre one, rhat conceale your selfe;

And keepe your beauty, within lockes, and barres, here,

Like a fooles treasure?

True, she was a foole,

When, first she shew'd it to a theefe.

How prety Solennesse!

So harsh, and short?

The fooles Artillery, sir.

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

Stay sir.

I am not in the moode.

Ile 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! do you coy it?

No sir. I'am not proud.

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

By Hercules, it do's not. Looke i'your glaffe, 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 slacke this bended brow,

And shoote 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 Mistresse?

No though you bring the same materials.

Heare me,

You ouer act when you should vnderdoe.

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 tricke, to enflame,

And fire me more, fearing my loue may neede 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 accoptable,

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 abed 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, Baudes, and Brokers,

Whither your broken fortunes haue design'd you.

Nay, then I must stop your furie, I see; and plucke

The tragicke visor off. Come, Ladie Cypris,

Know your owne vertues, quickly. Ile not be

Put to the woing of you thus, afresh,

At euery turne, for all the Venus in you.

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

Will Lais turne a Lucrece?

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 Tarquine. 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 Citty; base, infamous Man:

For, were you other, you would there imploy

Your desperate dagger.

Fuluia, 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 Ladie;

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 Augury?

By the faire Entrailes of the Matrons chests,

Gold, Pearle, and Iewels, here in Rome, which Fuluia

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

And, grieuing, misse.

Tut, all your promis'd Mountaines,

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 Fuluia,

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

Angry, sometimes, to sweeten off the rest

Of her behauiour.

You doe see, I study

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

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 study,

More then mine owne reuenge, to make thee happy.

And' tis that iust reuenge doth make me happy

To heare you prosequute: and which, indeede,

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

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

Better, then any Ladie 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 I know your proiect?

Thou shalt, if thou'lt be gracious.

As I can be.

And wilt thou kisse me, then?

As close as shels

Of Cockles meet.

And print 'hem deep?

Quite through

Our subtle lips.

And often?

I will sow 'hem.

Faster then you can reape. What is your plot?

Why, now my Fuluia lookes, like her bright name,

And is her selfe.

Nay, answere me, your plot:

I pray thee tell me, Quintus.

I, these sounds

Become a Mistresse. Here is harmony.

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 breast 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 Ioue,

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 willes 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, foresight, fortitude,

Be more with faith, then face endu'd,

And study conscience, aboue fame.

Such, as not seeke to get the start

In State, by power, parts, or bribes,

Ambition's baudes; but moue the Tribes

By vertue, modesty, desart.

Such, as to iustice will adhære,

What euer great one it offend,

And from the' embraced truth not bend

For enuie, hatred, gifts, or feare.

That, by their deedes, will make it knowne,

Whose dignity they doe sustaine;

And life, state, glory, all they gaine,

Count the Republiques, not their owne.

Such the old Bruti, Decij were,

The Cipi, Curtij, who did giue

Themselues for Rome: And would not liue,

As men, good, only for a yeare.

Such were the great Camilli, too;

The Fabij, Seipio'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 practisd 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 enuy, he doth beare two loades.

His cares must still be double to his ioyes,

In any Dignity; 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 vndertakers to your trust.

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

Whom you have 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 rampires, for themselues.

Nor haue but few of them, in time bene made

Your Consuls so; New men, before mee, none:

At my first suite; In my iust yeare; Preferd

To all Competitors; and some the noblest.

Now the vaine swels.

Vp glory.

And to (haue

Your lowde consents, from your owne vtter'd voyces;

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 counsell of me be approu'd;

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

With grudge, prefer'd mee: 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 Consulship,

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

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

To do 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 foote, and rumors of moe dangers,

Or you will make them, if there be none.

Last,

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

Of the Great Romane bloud bate, and giue way

To my election.

Marcus Tullius, true;

Our neede made thee our Consull, and thy vertue.

Cato, you will vndoe him, with your praise.

Cæsar will hurt himselfe, with his owne enuie.

The voyce of Cato is the voyce of Rome.

The voyce 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 pettie hand

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

Gouerne, and carry her to her endes, must know

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

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

Where her springs are, her leaks; & how to stop'hem;

What sands, what shelues, what rocks do threate her;

The forces, and the natures of all winds,

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

And decke 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 yeare,

But for my life; except my life be lesse,

And that my yeare 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 yeares, vertuous their acts.

Most noble Consul! Let vs wait him home.

Most popular Consul he is growne, me thinkes.

How the rout cling to him!

And Cato leads 'hem!

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

Not I, nor do I care.

He enioyes rest,

And ease, the while: Let th' others spirit toyle,

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

If all reports be true, yet, Caius Cæsar,

The time hath neede of such a watch, and spirit:

Reports? Do you beleeue 'hem Catulus,

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

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

An art, that is so common? Popular men,

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

To make their artes seeeme something. Would you haue

Such an Herculean 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 Magistrates.

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

“Their Rulers fame, with their owne infamy.

We therefore, should prouide that ours do not.

That will Antonius 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.

Longinus, too, did stand?

At first: But he gaue way vnto his friend.

Who's that come? Lentulus?

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 Sergius, 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't were impiety, to thinke against them.

You beare it rightly, Lucius; and, it glads mee,

To find your thoughts so euen.

I shall still

Studie to make them such to Rome, and Heauen.

I would withdraw with you, a little, Iulius.

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

To speake to him, 'fore Quintus Catulus.

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 forehead, Lucius.

How are you wrongd!

By whom?

Publicke re-(port.

That giues you out, to stomacke your repulse;

And brooke it deadly.

Sir: she brookes not me.

Belieue me rather, and your selfe, now, of mee;

It is a kinde of slaunder, to trust rumour.

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

So may not I. Where it concernes himselfe,

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

Most noble Sergius! This your temper melts me.

Will you do office to the Consul, Quintus?

That Cato, and the Rout haue done the other?

I waite, 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 thinks mee?

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, least they thinke

I haue betraid 'hem.

Where's Gabinius?

Gone.

And Vargunteius?

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 keepes our gardens, could not fright the crowes,

Or the least Bird from muting on my head.

Tis strange how he should misse it.

Is't not stranger,

The vpstart Cicero should carry it so,

By all consents, from men so much his Masters?

Tis true.

To what a shadow, am I melted!

Antonius wan it but by some few voyces.

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

Close faster, then they're made.

The whole designe,

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

Vpon his fayle.

I grow mad at my patience.

It is a Visor that hath poyson'd mee.

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

My heart first turn'd to ashes.

Here's Cethegus yet.

REpulse vpon repulse? An In-mate, Consul?

That I could reach the axell, where the pinnes are,

Which bolt this frame; that I might pull 'hem out,

And plucke all into Chaos, with my selfe.

What, are we wishing now?

Yes, my Cethegus.

Who would not fall with all the world about him?

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

And force new Nature out, to make another.

These wishings taste of woman, not of Romane.

Let vs seeke other armes.

What should we do?

Do, & not wish; something, that wishes take not:

So sodaine, as the Gods should not preuent,

Nor scarce haue time, to feare.

O noble Caius!

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 pray,

When Danger stoppes, 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? Lentulus, this man,

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

Out of the hand of Ioue; 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 Cethegus here, alone

Will vndertake this Giants warre, and cary it.

What needs this, Lucius?

Sergius be more wary.

Now, Marcus Cato, our new Consuls spie,

What is your sowre austerity 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 go not with:

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

Of noysome Citizens, where of thou art one.

Be gone, or else let mee. Tis bane to draw

The same ayre with thee.

Strike him.

Hold good (Caius;

Fearst thou not, Cato?

Rash Cethegus, no.

Twere wrong with Rome, when Catiline and thou

Do threat, if Cato feard.

The fire you speake of

If any flame of it approach 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, Lentulus, and remisse;

It is for you we labour, and the Kingdome

Promis'd you by the Sibyll's.

Which his Prætorship,

And some small flattery of the Senate more,

Will make him to forget.

You wrong me, Lucius.

He wil not need these spurres.

The action needs 'hem.

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

Let vs consult then.

CET, 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 Ioue no thunder? or is Ioue become

Stupide as thou art? ô neare-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 practise be too light?

His former drifts partake of former times,

But this last plot was only Catilines.

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

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

Ambition, like a torrent, nere lookes backe;

And is a swelling, and the last affection

A high minde can put off: being both a Rebell

Vnto the soule, and reason, and ensorceth

All lawes, all conscience, treades vpon religion,

And offereth violence to Natures selfe.

But here, is that transcends it. A blacke 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 tragicke Scene.

The Commonwealth, yet panting, vnderneath

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 cruelty,

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 Marius, and Sylla, by our Children,

Without, this fact had rise forth greater, for them?

All, that they did, was piety, to this.

They, yet, but murdred Kinsfolke, Brothers, Parents,

Rauish'd the Virgins, and, perhaps, some Matrons;

They let the Citty standing, and the Temples:

The Gods, and Maiesty 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 blood, 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't was told me; And I long'd

To vent it any where; 'T was such a secret,

I thought, it would haue burnt me vp.

Good Fuluia,

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 ayme, 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 Quintus Curius,

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

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

Ile vndertake, my Lord, he will be wonne.

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

He'is here, my Lord.

Goe (presently,

Pray my Colleague Antonius, I may speake with him,

About some present businesse of the State;

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

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

Bid Curius enter. Fuluia, you will aide me?

It is my duty.

O, my noble Lord!

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

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

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 Lentulus;

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

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

A person both of Blood and Honor, stock't

In a long race of vertuous Ancestors,

Embarke your selfe for such a hellish action,

With Parricides, and Traitors, 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 piety, 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 shoote eyes at her! What enuy, and griefe in Matrons,

They are not shee! when this her act shall seeme

VVorthier a Chariot, then if Pompey came,

VVith 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 posterity; 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, Curius,

VVhat claime your Countrey laies to you; and what duty

You owe to it: Be not afraid, to breake

VVith Murderers, and Traytors, for the sauing

A life, so neare, 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 Fuluia come i' the rere, or on the by?

That I would be her second, in a businesse,

Though it might vantage me all the Sunne sees?

It was a seely 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 some thing this way, and with safety.

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 certaine to all ruine.

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

The Gods would sleepe, to such a Stygian practise,

Against that Commonwealth, which they haue founded

With so much labour, and like care haue kept,

Now neare seuen hundred yeares? It is a madnesse,

Where with Heauen blinds 'hem, when it would confound 'hem,

That they should thinke it. Come, my Curius,

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 thanks, what titles, what rewards the Senate

Will heape vpon you, certaine, for your seruice?

Let not a desperate action more engage you,

Then safety should; and wicked friendship force

VVhat honesty, and vertue cannot worke.

He tels you right, sweete 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 intreate, my faith may not seeme cheaper

For springing out of penitence.

Good Curius,

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. Finde their windings out,

And subtle turnings, watch their snaky waies,

Through brakes, and hedges, into woods of darkenesse,

VVhere they are faine to creepe vpon their breasts

In pathes nere trod by Men, but Wolues, and Panthers.

Learne, beside Catiline, Lentulus, and those,

VVhose names I haue, what new ones they draw in;

VVho else are likely; what those Great ones are,

They doe not name; what waies 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 dignity of truth is lost,

VVith much protesting: Who is there! This way,

Least 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 vnreuerendly, to blame the Gods,

VVho 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 malady, 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 breast, how much the Gods

Vpbraid thy foule neglect of them; by making

So vile a thing, the Author of thy safety.

They could haue wrought by nobler waies: haue strooke

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

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

Death, like a dampe, to all their families;

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

VVhen 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 answere? Is he come?

Your Brother,

VVill streight be here; and your Colleague Antonius

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 proceede; for, vnto men,

Prest with their wants, all change is euer welcome.

I must with offices, and patience winne 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 neare me;

“He that stands vp 'gainst Traitors, and their ends,

“Shall neede 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, 't will 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 neede spurres, despaire will be call'd wisdome.

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

“For they, that winne, do seldome receiue shame

“Of victory: 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 thing, yet,

Aspired, but by violence, or fraud:

And he that stickes (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 Crassus thinks, 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 Sergius.

You shall not stir for mee.

Excuse me, lights there.

By no meanes.

Stay then. All good thoughts to (Cæsar.

And like to Crassus.

Mind but your friends counsels.

OR, I will beare no mind. How now, Aurelia?

Are your confederates come? the Ladies?

Yes.

And is Sempronia there?

She is.

That's well.

She 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 practise, vnto some,

Who haue bene 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, Porcius 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? Porcius, fetch the siluer Eagle

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

So, it had need.

We loose occasion, daily.

I, and our meanes: whereof one woundes 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, alreadie, sent Septimius

Into the Picene territorie; and Iulius,

To rayse force, for vs, in Apulia:

Manlius at Fesulæ is (by this time) vp,

With the old needie troopes, that follow'd Sylla;

And all do but expect, when we will giue

The blow at home. Behold this siluer Eagle,

Was Marius standard, in the Cimbrian warre,

Fatall to Rome; and, as our Augures tell mee,

Shall still be so: For which one omenous cause,

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

As to a Godhead; 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 yeare,

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

As fatall too, to Rome, by all predictions;

And, in which, honor'd Lentulus must rise

A King, if he pursue it.

If he doe not,

He is not worthy the great destiny.

It is too great for mee, 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, Spayne, 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 do it.

Ha?

Tis sharply answerd, Caius,

Truly, truly.

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

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

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

More Romes? More Worlds.

Nay then, more Gods, & (Natures,

If they tooke part.

When shall the time be, first?

I thinke the Saturnals.

'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 lie; 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, Caius. 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 liberty.

Or hate vnto their Lords.

Tis sure, there cannot be a time found out

More apt, and naturall.

Nay, good Cethegus,

Why do your passions, now, disturbe our hopes?

Why do 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 terrefie 'hem?

True.

In that confusion, must be the chiefe slaughter.

Then we shall kill'hem brauest.

And in heapes.

Strew Sacrifices.

Make the Earth an Altar.

And Rome the fire.

'Twill be a noble night.

And worth all Sylla's daies.

When Husbands, Wiues,

Grandsires, and Nephewes, Seruants, and their Lords,

Virgins, and Priests, the Infant, and the Nurse

Go all to hell, together, in a fleete.

I would haue you, Longinus, and Statilius,

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 Cethegus house. So are the weapons.

Gabinius, you, with other force, shall stop

The pipes, and conduits: And kill those that come

For water.

What shall I do?

All will haue

Employment, feare not: Ply the execution.

For that, trust me, and Cethegus.

I will be

At hand, with the army, to meete those that scape.

And Lentulus, begirt you Pompey's house,

To seise his sonnes aliue: for they are they

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

As Tarquin did the Poppey heads; or mowers

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

Do barren lands; and strike together flints,

And clods; th'ungratefull 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 outwrought, by your transcendent furies.

It had bene done, ere this, had I bene Consul;

We'had had no stop, no let.

How find you Antonius?

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

Was borne to be my opposition,

And stands in all our waies.

Remoue him first.

May that, yet, be done sooner?

Would it were done.

I'll doe'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 aydes of these your friends:

Here's Vargunteius holds good quarter with him.

And vnder the pretext of clientele

And visitation, with the morning Hayle,

Will be admitted.

What is that to mee?

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

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

Follow him, Vargunteius, 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,

VVomen are greatest talkers.

VVe ha'done;

And are now fit for action.

VVhich is passion.

There's your best actiuity, 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. Aurelia

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 do like our plot

Exceeding well, tis sure; and we shall leaue

Little to fortune, in it.

Your banquet stayes.

Aurelia take her in. VVhere's Fuluia?

O the two Louers are coupling.

In good faith,

She's very ill, with sitting vp.

Youl'd haue her

Laugh, and lie downe.

No, faith, Sempronia,

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

To ward the morning. Curius shall stay with you.

Madam, I pray you pardon me, my health

I must respect.

Farewell, good Fuluia.

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

For Vargunteius, and Cornelius

Haue vndertane it, should Cethegus misse:

Their reason, that they thinke his open rashuesse

VVill suffer easier discouerie,

Then their attempt; so vailed vnder friendship.

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

Of Cæsars comming forth, here.

My sweete Madam,

VVill you be gone?

I am, my Lord, in truth,

In some indisposition.

I do wish

You had all your health, sweet Lady. Lentulus,

You'll doe her seruice.

To her coach, and duty.

VVHat ministers men must, for practise, vse!

The rash, th'ambitious, needy, desperate,

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

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

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

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 Lentulus,

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

My executioner; and fat Longinus,

Statilius, Curius, Ceparius, Cimber.

My laborers, pioners, and incendiaries;

VVith these domesticke traitors, bosome theeues,

Whom custome hath call'd Wiues; the readiest helpes,

To strangle head-strong Husbands; rob the easie;

And lend the moneyes, on returnes of lust.

Shall Catiline not doe, now, with these aides,

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

Their labor, but his profit? and make Cæsar

Repent his ventring counsels, 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:

VVith Crassus, Pompey, or who else appeares,

But like, or neare 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 breast, for my lost entrailes; 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 tary in my name;

Whil'st after Ages do toyle out themselues

In thinking for the like, but do it lesse:

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

With Fate to boote, it should be, still, example.

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

Nor æmulous Carthage, with their length of spight,

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

I Thanke your vigilance. VVhere's my brother, Quintus?

Call all my seruants vp. Tell noble Curius,

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

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

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

The engines I told you of, are working;

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

Arme all my houshold 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 Quintus Catulus; those I dare trust;

And Flaccus, and Pomtinius, the Prætors,

By the backe way.

Take care, good brother Marcus,

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.

VVas Cæsar there, say you?

Curius sayes, he met him,

Comming from thence.

O, so. And, had you a counsell

Of Ladies too? VVho was your Speaker, Madam?

She that would be, had there bene 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 Cethegus

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 Quintus Catulus were comming to you,

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

By th'garden.

What would Crassus haue?

I heare

Some whispering 'bout the gate; and making doubt,

Whither it be not yet too early, or no?

But I doe thinke, they are your friendes, 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.

Withdraw, and hearken.

You' were best to knocke.

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

Rush after vs.

But where's Cethegus?

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 Consull.

We are his friends.

All's one.

Best giue your name.

Dost thou heare, (fellow?

I have some instant businesse with the Consull.

My name is Vargunteius.

True, he knowes it;

And for what friendly office you are sent.

Cornelius, too, is there?

We are betraid.

And desperate Cethegus, is he not?

Speake you, he knowes my voice.

What say you to't?

You are deceau'd Sir.

No, 'tis you are so;

Poore, misled 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 sharply

Ouer her life, as yours doe for her ruine.

Be not deceiu'd, to thinke her lenity

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 to much to 'hem, Marcus, They'are lost.

Goe forth, and apprehend'hem.

If you proue

This practise; 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.

Denie it all.

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

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

“The foulenesse of some facts takes thence all mercy:

Report it to the Senate. Heare: The Gods

Grow angry with your patience. “Tis their care,

“And must be yours, that guilty men escape not.

“As crimes doe grow, Iustice should rouse it selfe.

VVHat is it, Heauens, you prepare

VVith 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

VVithin 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 guilty States doe euer beare

The plagues about them, which they haue deserued.

And, till those plagues doe get aboue

The mountaine of our faults, and there doe sit;

VVe see 'hem not. Thus, still we loue

The'euill we doe, vntill we suffer it.

But, most, ambition, that neare 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 she's yoked.

That restlesse Ill, that still doth build

Vpon successe; and endes not in aspiring:

But there beginnes. And nere is fill'd,

While ought remaines that seemes but worth desiring.

VVherein the Thought, vnlike the Eye,

To which things farre, seeme smaller then they are,

Deemes all contentment plac'd on high:

And thinks 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 only 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 downeward 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 griefes, wrongs, and oppressions,

To a meere clothed Senate, whom our folly

Hath made, and still intends to keepe our Tyrannes?

It is our base petitionary 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 íust.

Tell guilty men, what powers are aboue them.

In such a confidence of wickednesse,

'Twas time, they should know something sit to seare.

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?

Ambassadours, 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 justice, with their fortitude.

Friends of the Senate, and of Rome, to day

VVe pray you to forbeare vs: on the morrow

VVhat sute you haue, let vs, by Fabius Sanga,

(VVhose Patronage your State doth vse) but know it,

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

Dispatch, or else an answere, worth your patience.

VVe 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 boistrous moodes

That ignorant Greatnesse practiseth, to fill

The large, vnfit authority it weares.

How easie is a noble spirit discern'd

From harsh, and sulphurous matter, that flies out

In contumelies, makes a noise, and stinkes.

May we finde 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 vndertake, with fauor, and successe;

“Then, by it, their owne iudgments they doe raise,

“In turning iust mens needes, into their praise.

Roome for the Consuls. Fathers; take your places.

Here, in the house of Iupiter, the STAYER,

By edict from the Consull, Marcus Tullius,

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

Which 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 breasts,

That are the blacke contriuers; so, that no

Beame of the light could pierce 'hem: Yet the voice

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 dead, 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 glory, 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 finde 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 Vargunteius,

To name himselfe, before he was got in.

It matters not, so they denie it all:

And can but carry the lie constantly.

Will Catiline be here?

I' haue sent for him.

And ha' you bid him to be confident?

To that his owne necessity will prompt him.

Seeme to beleeue nothing at all, that Cicero

Relates vs.

It will mad him.

O, and helpe

The other party. 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 kinde loues. It is a comfort yet,

That all depart not from their Countries cause.

How now, what meanes this Muster? Consul, Antonius?

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: Indeede 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 gentry;

Since, both by study, 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.

VVhat are his mischiefs, Consul? you declame

Against his manners, and corrupt your owne;

“No wise man should, for hate of guilty men,

“Loose his owne innocence.

The noble Cæsar

Speakes Godlike 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 scarse looke.

Toward his subiect.

Here he comes himselfe.

If he be wo thy any good mans voice,

That good man sit downe, by him: Cato will not.

If Cato leaue him. I'le not keepe aside.

VVhat face is this, the Senate here puts on,

Against me, Fathers! Giue my modesty

Leaue, to demand the cause of so much strangenesse.

It is reported here, you are the head

To a strange faction, Lucius.

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,

VVhat petty fellow this is, that opposes;

One, that hath exercis'd his eloquence,

Still to the bane of the Nobility:

A boasting, insolent tongue-man.

Peace leud Traitor,

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

VVill 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 blood, and drawne thy vaines, as drie of that,

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

Whither at length wilt thou abuse our patience?

Still shall thy fury 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 Councels all laid open?

And see thy wild Conspiracy bound in

VVith 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 Conful sees,

The Senate vnderstands, yet this man liues!

Liues? I, and comes here into Councell 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 authority of this Senate; wee,

Wee, that are Consuls, onely fayle our selues.

This twentie daies, 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 perils.

Grasping the state, a man remisse, and slacke;

But then, I should condemne my selfe of sloth.

And trechery. Their Campe's in Italy,

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

Their numbers daily increasing, and their Generall

Within our walles: nay in our Councell, plotting

Howerly some fatall mischiefe to the Publique.

If, Catiline, I should commaund 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 bene 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 neede, and right.

While there is one, that dares desend 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 walles, containe the guiltie whispers

Of thy conspiracy: If all breake out,

All be discouered, change thy minde 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, Caius Manlius,

Would be in armes. Was I deceiued, Catiline,

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

I told too, in this Senate, that thy purpose

Was, on the fifth, the Kalends of Nouember,

T' haue slaughterd 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 mee, 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 rèmaine. Had'st thou not hope, beside,

By a surprize, by night, to take Praneste?

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

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

My Garrisons fortified it. Thou dost nothing, Sergius,

Thou canst endeuour 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 minde 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 wee?

What region do we liue in? in what ayre?

VVhat Common-wealth, or State is this we haue?

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

In this most holy Councell 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 Consull; Nay, I aske

Their counsels 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 Italy, 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 vndertooke 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 mee; whose names I told

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

Yes, I, and Quintus Catulus can affirme it.

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

If this be so, why, Catiline, dost thou stay?

Goe, where thou meanst: 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. Dost thou stop

To do that now, commanded; which before,

Of thine owne choise, thou'rt prone to?

The Consul

Bids thee, an enemy, to depart the Citie.

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

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

VVhat 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?

VVhat lewd fact from thy hands? what wickednesse

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

VVithin thy nets, or catch'd vp with thy baytes,

Before whose rage, thou hast not borne a sword,

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

Thy latter Nuptials I let passe in silence;

VVhere sinnes incredible, on sinnes, were heapt:

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

So monstrous facts should eyther appeare to bee,

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 publick;

The life, and safety of vs all, by thee

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

VVhen Lepidus, and Tullus were our Consuls,

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

To take their liues, and our chiefe Citizens;

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

But the meere fortune of the Common-wealth

VVithstood thy actiue malice? Speake but right.

How often hast thou made attempt on mee?

How many of thy assaults haue I declin'd

VVith shifting but my bodie, (as wee'ld say)

VVrested 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 bodie 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 Tantalus, or Tityus.

Thou cam'st, ere while, into this Senate. Who

Of such a frequency, so many friends,

And kindred thou hast here, saluted thee?

VVere 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 bene, 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 do thee,

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

Yet thou dar'st tary heere? Go 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' authority of their voyces,

VVhose silent willes 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 hee,

VVhom eyther shame should call from filthinesse,

Terror from danger, or discourse from fury.

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

VVhen I alreadie know, they'are sent afore,

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

On the Aurelian way. I know the day

Set downe, twixt thee, and Manlius; vnto whom

The siluer Eagle too is sent, before:

VVhich I do hope shall proue, to thee as banefull,

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

But, may this wise, and sacred Senate say,

VVhat mean'st thou Marcus Tullius? 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;

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

This is to giue him liberty, and power:

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

To deseru'd death, and a iust punishment.

To these so holy voyces, 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 hower, to breath;

But when there are in this graue Order, some,

VVho, 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

Cleare, 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

Aids of all kinds, both shipwrack'd minds & fortunes:

Not onely the growne euill, that now is sprung,

And sprouted forth, would be pluck'd vp, & 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 bowels of the State.

As humane bodies, laboring with feuers,

VVhile they are tost with heate, if they do take

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

But afterward, are ten times more afflicted.

VVherefore, 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 balles, swords, torches, sulphure, brands:

In short, let it be writ in each mans forehead

What thoughts he beares the Publike. I here promise,

Fathers Conscript, to you, and to my selfe,

That diligence in vs Consulls, for my honour'd

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

So great authority in you; so much

Vertue, in these, the Gentlemen of Rome;

VVhom 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 cleare, made plaine, oppress'd, reueng'd.

And, with this omen, go, pernicious plague,

Out of the Citie, to the wish'd destruction

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

Haue tane that bloudy, and blacke sacrament.

Thou Iupiter, whom we do 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 City; from our Walles;

Liues, states, and fortunes of our Citizens;

This fiend, this fury, with his complices.

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

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 guilty, here is one, hath done it:

H'has stroue to æmulate 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 finde,

Which he hath sau'd.

How he? were I that enemy,

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

More wretched, then to neede his preseruation.

What doe you make him, Cato, such a Hercules?

An Atlas? A poore petty In-mate.

Traitor.

He saue the State? A Burgesse' sonne of Arpinum.

The Gods would rather twenty 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 runne 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 dainty speaker.—

What now Fury?

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?

Stil, dost thou murmure, Monster?

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

What?