The Tragedy of Cleopatra

The Poetical Essays of Sam. Daniel. Newly corrected and augmented.

Ætas prima canat veneres, postremas tumultus. 

At London, printed by P. Short for Simon Waterson 1599.

To the Right honourable, sir Charles Blunt Knight, Lord Mountjoy, and Knight of the most noble order of the Garter, and his most worthy Lord.

I do not plant thy great respected name

Here in this front, to th’ end thou should’st protect

These my endeavours from contempt or blame,

Which none but their own forces must effect:

Nor do I seek to win by more respect,

Most learned Lord, by these essays of mine,

Since that clear judgement that did first elect

To favour me, will always keep me thine:

Nor do I this more honour to assign.

Unto thy worth that is no more hereby,

Since th’offrings made unto the powers divine,

Enrich not them but shew men’s piety:

But this I do to th’ end if destiny

Shall any monument reserve of me,

Those times should see my love, how willing I

That liv’d by thee, would have thee live with me.

                       S. D. 

The Tragedy of Cleopatra

Aetas prima canat veneres, postrema tumultus.

At London, printed by P.S. for Simon Waterson. 1599.

To the Right Honourable, the Lady Mary, Countess of Pembrooke.

Loe  here the work the which she did impose,

Who only doth predominate my muse:

The star of wonder, which my labours chose

To guide their way in all the course I use.

She, whose clear brightness doth alone infuse

Strength to my thoughts, and makes me what I am;

Call’d up my spirits from out their low repose,

To sing of state, and tragic notes to frame.

I, who (contented with a humble song,)

Made musique to myself that pleas’d me best,

And only told of Delia, and her wrong,

And prais’d her eyes, and plaind mine own unrest:

(A text from whence my muse had not degrest )

Madam, had not thy well grac’d Antony,

(who all alone, having remained long,)

Requir’d his Cleopatra’s company.

Who if she here doe so appear in act,

That for his queen and love he scarce will know her,

Finding how much she of herself hath lackt,

And mist that glory wherein I should shew her,

In majesty debas’d, in courage lower;

Yet lightning thou by thy sweet favouring eyes

My dark defects, which from her spirit detract,

He yet may gesse  it’s she; which will suffice.

And I hereafter in another kind,

More fitting to the nature of my vain,

May (peradventure) better please thy mind,

And higher notes in sweeter musique strain:

Seeing that thou so graciously dost dain ,

To countenance my song and cherish me,

I must so work posterity may find

How much I did contend to honour thee.

Now when so many pens (like spears) are charg’d,

To chase away this tyrant of the North:

Gross barbarism, whose power grown far inlarg’d,

Was lately by thy valiant brother’s worth 

First found, encountered, and provoked forth:

Whose onset made the rest audacious,

Whereby they likewise have so well discharg’d

Upon that hideous beast encroaching thus.

And now must I with that poor strength I have,

Resist so foul a foe in what I may:

And arm against oblivion and the grave,

That else in darkness carries all away,

And makes of all our honours but a pray.

So that if by my pen procure I shall

But to defend me, and my name to save,

Then though I die, I cannot yet die all;

But still the better part of me will live,

Deckt and adorned with thy sacred name,

Although thy self dost far more glory give

Unto thy self, then I can by the same.

Who dost with thine own hand a bulwark frame

Against these monsters, (enemies of honour,)

Which ever-more shall so defend thy fame,

That Time nor they, shall never pray upon her.

Those Hymns that thou doost consecrate to heaven,

Which Israel’s singer to his God did frame:

Unto thy voice eternity hath given,

And makes thee dear to him from whence they came.

In them must rest thy ever-reverent name,

So long as Sion’s  God remaineth honoured,

And till confusion hath all zeal bereaven,

And murthered Faith, and Temples ruined.

By this, great lady, thou must then be known,

When Wilton  lies low levell’d with the ground,

And this is that which thou maist  call thine own,

Which sacrilegious time cannot confound;

Here thou surviv’st thy self, here thou are found

Of late succeeding ages, fresh in fame,

This monument cannot be over-thrown,

Where, in eternal brass remains thy name.

O that the Ocean did not bound our stile

Within these strict and narrow limits so:

But that the melody of our sweet ile,

Might now be heard to Tiber, Arne, and Po :

That they might know how far Thames doth out-go

The musique of declined Italy,

And list’ning to our songs another while,

Might learn of thee, their notes to purify.

O why may not some after-coming hand,

Unlock these limits, open our confines:

And break asunder this imprisoning band,

T’ enlarge our spirits, and publish our designs

Planting our roses on the Apennines?

And teach to Rhine, to Loire, and Rhodanus, 

Our accents, and the wonders of our land,

That they might all admire and honour us.

Whereby great Sidney and our Spencer might,

With those Po-singers being equalled,

Enchant the world with such a sweet delight,

That their eternal songs (forever read)

May shew what great Eliza’s reign hath bred,

What musique in the kingdom of her peace

Hath now been made to her, and by her might,

Whereby her glorious fame shall never cease.

But if that Fortune doth deny us this,

Then Neptune, lock up with thy Ocean key,

This treasure to ourselves, and let them miss

Of so sweet riches, as unworthy they

To taste the great delights that we enjoy.

And let our harmony so pleasing grown,

Content ourselves, whose error ever is,

Strange notes to like and disesteem our own.

But, whither doe my vows transport me now,

Without the compass of my course enjoind ?

Alas, what honour can a voice so low

As this of mine, expect hereby to find?

But, madam, this doth animate my mind,

That favoured by the worthies of our land,

My lines are lik’d, the which may make me grow

In time to take a greater task in hand.

The Argument.

After the death of Antonius, Cleopatra (living still in the Monument she had caused to be built) could not by any means be drawn forth, although Octavius Caesar very earnestly laboured it and sent Proculeius to use all diligence to bring her unto him, for that he thought it would be a great ornament to his triumphs to get her alive to Rome. But never would she put herself into the hands of Proculeius, although on a time he found the means (by a window that was at the top of the monument) to come down unto her where he persuaded her (all he might) to yield herself to Caesar’s mercy. Which she (to be rid of him) cunningly seemed to grant unto. After that, Octavius in person went to visit her, to whom she excused her offence, laying all the fault upon the greatness and fear she had of Antonius, and withal seemed very tractable, and willing to be disposed of by him. Whereupon Octavius, thinking himself sure, resolv’d presently to send her away to Rome. Whereof, Dolabella, a favourite of Caesar’s (and one that was grown into some good liking of her) having certified her, she makes her humble petition to Caesar that he would suffer her to sacrifice to the ghost of Antonius, which being granted her, she was brought unto his sepulchre where, after her rites performed, she returned to the monument, and there dined with great magnificence. And in dinner time, came there one in the habit of a countryman, with a basket of figs unto her, who (unsuspected) was suffered to carry them in. And, in that basket (among the figs) were conveyed the aspics wherewith she did herself to death.

Dinner being ended, she dispatched letters to Caesar, containing great lamentations, with an earnest supplication that she might be entomb’d with Antonius. Whereupon Caesar knowing what she intended, sent presently with all speed messengers to have prevented her death, which, notwithstanding, before they came was dispatched.

Caesario her son, which she had by Julius Caesar, (conveyed before unto India, out of the danger of the wars) was about the same time of her death, murthered at Rhodes: trained thither by the falsehood of his tutor, corrupted by Caesar. And so hereby, came the race of the Ptolemies to be wholly extinct, and the flourishing rich kingdom of Egypt utterly overthrown and subdued.

The Scene supposed Alexandria.

The Actors.

Cleopatra

Octavius Caesar

Proculeius

Dolabella

Titius, servant to Dolabella

Arius [and] Philostratus, two philosophers

Seleucus, secretary to Cleopatra

Rodon, tutor to Caesario

Nuntius

The Chorus, all Egyptians.

[1]

CLEOPATRA

Yet doe I live, and yet doth breath extend

My life beyond my life, nor can my grave

Shut up my griefs, to make my end my end?

Will yet confusion have more then I have?

5Is th’ honour, wonder, glory, pomp and all

Of Cleopatra dead, and she not dead?  

Have I outliv’d myself, and seen the fall

Of all upon me, and not ruined?

Can yet these eyes endure the ghastly look

10Of desolations dark and ugly face,

Wont but on fortunes fairest side to look,

Where nought was but applause, but smiles, and grace?

Whiles on his shoulders all my rest relied

On whom the burthen of m’ambition lay,

15My Atlas, and supporter of my pride

That did the world of all my glory sway,

Who now thrown down, disrac’d, confounded lies

Crusht with the weight of shame and infamy,

Following th’ unlucky party of my  eyes,

20The trains of lust and imbecility,

Whereby my dissolution is become

The grave of Egypt and the wrack of all:

My unforeseeing weakness must intoome

25My country’s fame and glory with my fall .

  Now who would think that I were she who late

With all the ornaments on earth enrich’d,

Environ’d with delights, compast with state,

Glittering in pomp that harts and eyes bewitch’d;

30Should thus distrest, cast down from of that height

Levell’d with low disgrac’d calamity,

Under the weight of such affliction sigh,

Reduc’d unto th’ extreamest misery?

  Am I the woman whose inventive pride,

35Adorn’d like Isis, scorned mortality?

Is ’t I would have my frailty so belide

That flattery could persuade I was not I?

Well now I see they but delude that praise us,

Greatness is mockt, prosperity betrays us. 

40And we are but ourselves, although this cloud

Of interposed smokes make us seem more:

Witness these gallant fortune-following trains,

These summer-swallows of felicity

Gone with the heat, of all see what remains,

45This monument, two maids, and wretched I.

And I t’ adorn their triumphs, am reserv’d

A captive kept to honour others spoils,

Whom Caesar labours, so to have preserv’d,

And seeks to entertain my life with wiles.

50But Caesar, it is more than thou canst do,

Promise, flatter, threaten extremity,

Employ thy wits and all thy force thereto,

I have both hands, and will, and I can die.

Though thou of both my country and my crown,

55Of power, of means and al doost quite bereave me;

Though thou hast wholly Egypt made thine own,

Yet hast thou left me that which will deceive thee.

That courage with my blood and birth innated,

Admir’d of all the earth, as thou art now,

60Can never be so abjectly abated

To be thy slave that rul’d as good as thou.

Think Caesar I that lived and raign’d a Queen,

Doe scorn to buy my life at such a rate,

That I should under neath my self be seen,

65Basely enduring to survive my state:

That Rome should see  my sceptre-bearing hands,

Behind me bound, and glory in my tears.

That I should pass , whereas Octavia stands

To view my misery, that purchast hers.

70No, I disdain that head which wore a crown,

Should stoop to take up that which others give:

I must not be, unless I be mine own.

’T is sweet to die when we are forc’d to live.

Nor had I stayed behind myself this space,

75Nor paid such intrest for this borrow’d breath,

But that hereby I seek to purchase grace

For my distressed seed after my death.

Is ’t that which doth my dearest blood control,

That’s it alas detains me from my tomb,

80Whilst Nature brings to contradict my soul,

The argument of mine unhappy womb.

  You luckless issue of an woeful mother,

The wretched pledges of a wanton bed;

You kings design’d, must subjects live to other;

85Or else, I fear, scarce live, when I am dead.

It is for you I temporise with Caesar,

And stay this while to mediate your safety.

For you I faine  content and sooth his pleasure,

Calamity herein hath made me crafty.

90But this is but to try what may be done,

For come what will, this stands, I must die free,

And die myself uncaptiv’d and unwon.

Blood, children, nature, all must pardon me.

My soul yields honour up the victory,

95And I must be a queen, forget a mother,

Though mother would I be, were I not I;

And queen would not be now, could I be other.

  But what know I if th’ heavens have decreed,

And that the sins of Egypt have deserv’d,

100The Ptolemies should fail, and none succeed,

And that my weakness was thereto reserv’d.

That I should bring confusion to my state,

And fill the measure of iniquity:

Luxuriousness in me  should raise the rate 

105Of loose and ill-dispensed liberty. 

If it be so, then what needs these delays?

Since I was made the meanes of misery:

Why should I strive  but to make death  my praise,

That had my life but for my infamy? 

110A fit memorial for the times to come,

To be example to such princes good

That please themselves, and care not what become. 

  And  Antony, because the world takes note 

That my defects have only ruin’d thee :

115And my ambitious practises are thought

The motive and the cause of all to be:

Though God thou know’st, how just this stain is laid 

Upon my soul, whom ill success makes ill:

Yet since  condemn’d misfortune hath no aid

120Against proud luck that argues what it will,

I have no means to undeceive their minds ,

But to  bring in the witness of my blood,

To testify the faith and love  that binds

My equal shame , to fall with whom I stood.

125Defects I grant I had, but this was worst,

That being the first to fall I died not first.

  Though I perhaps could lighten mine own side

With some excuse of my constrained case

Drawn down with power but that were to divide

130My shame: to stand alone in my disgrace.

To clear me so, would shew m’affections naught,

And make th’ excuse more heinous than the fault.

Since if I should our errors disunite,

I should confound afflictions only rest,

135That from stern death even steals a sad delight

To die with friends or with the like distresst;

And since we took of either such firm hold

In th’ overwhelming seas of fortune cast,

What power should be of power to reunfold

140The arms of our affections lockt so fast,

For grappling in the ocean of our pride,

We sunk each other’s greatness both together;

And both made shipwreck of our same beside,

Both wrought a like destruction unto either,

145And therefore I am bound to sacrifice  

To Death, and thee, the life that doth reprove me,

Our like distress I feel doth sympathize,

And even  affliction makes me truly love thee. 

Which Antony, I must confess my fault,

150I never did sincerely until now;

Now I protest I do, now am I taught

In death to love, in life that knew not how.

For whilst my glory in that greatness stood,

And that I saw my state and knew my beauty,

155Saw how the world admir’d me, how they woo’d,

I then thought all men, must love me of duty,

And I love none: for my lascivious court, 

(Fertile in ever-fresh and new-choice pleasure,)

Afforded me so bountiful disport,

160That I to think on love had never leisure.

My vagabond desires no limits found,

   For lust is endless, pleasure hath no bound.

Thou, coming from  the strictness of thy city,

And never this loose pomp of monarchs learnest, 

165Inu’rd to wars, in women’s wiles unwitty,

Whilst others feigned, thou fell’st to love in earnest.

Not knowing how we like them best that hover,  

And make least reck’ning of a doting lover.

  And yet thou cam’st  but in my beauties wane,

170When new-appearing wrinkles of declining,

Wrought with the hand of years, seem’d to detain

My graces light, as now but dimly shining. 

Even in the confines of mine age, when I

Failing of what I was, and was but thus,

175When such as we, doe deem in jealousy

That men love for themselves, and not for us.

Then, and but thus, thou didst love most sincerely,

O Antony, that best deserv’st it better

This autumn of my beauty bought so dearly,

180For which in more than death I stand thy debtor,

Which I will pay thee with so true a mind, 

Casting up all these deep accompts of mine,

That  both our souls and all the world shall find

All recknings cleer’d betwixt my love and thine.

185  But to the end I may prevent proud Caesar, 

Who doth so eagerly my life importune,

I must prevail me of this little leisure,

Seeming to suit my mind unto my fortune.

Thereby with more convenience to  provide

190For  what my death and honour best shall fit:

A yielding  base content must wary hide

My last design till I accomplish it,

That hereby yet the world shall see that I,

Although unwise to live had wit to die.

[1] CHORUS.

Behold what Furies still

Torment their tortur’d breast.

Who by their doing ill,

Have wrought the world’s unrest.

5Which when being most distrest,

Yet more to vex their sprite,

The hideous face of sin

(In forms they must detest)

Stands ever in their sight.

10Their conscience still within

Th’ eternal larum  is

That ever-barking dog that calls upon their miss.

No means at all to hide

Man from himself can find,

15No way to start aside

Out from the hell of mind.

But in himself confin’d,

He still sees sin before

And winged-footed pain, 

20That swiftly comes behind,

The which is ever more,

The sure and certain gain

Impiety doth get,

And wanton loose respect, that doth itself forget.

25And Cleopatra now,

Well sees the dangerous way

She took and car’d not bow,

Which led her to decay.

And likewise makes us pay

30For her disord’red lust,

The int’rest of our blood

Or live a servile pray,

Under a band unjust,

As others shall think good.

35This hath her riot won.

And thus she hath her state, herself and us undone.

Now every mouth can tell,

What close was muttered:

How that she did not well,

40To take the course she did.

  For now is nothing hid, 

Of what fear did restrain.

No secret closely done,

But now is uttered:

45The text is made most plain

That flattery glos’d upon,

The bed of sin reveal’d,

And all the luxury that shame would have conceal’d.

50The scene is broken down,

And all uncov’red lies,

The purple actors known

Scarce men, whom men despise.

The complots of the wise,

55Prove imperfections smoke

And all what wonder gave

To pleasure-gazing eyes,

Lies scattered, dasht, all broke.

Thus, much beguiled have

60Poor inconsiderate wights ,

These momentary pleasures, fugitive delights.

[2]

Caesar, Proculeius. 

CAESAR

Kingdoms I see we win, we conquer climates,

Yet cannot vanquish hearts, nor force obedience,

Affections kept in close-concealed limits,

Stand far without the reach of sword or violence.

5Who forc’d doe pay us duty, pay not love:

Free is the heart, the temple of the  mind,

The sanctuary sacred from above,

Where nature keeps the keys  that loose and bind.

No mortal hand force open can that door,

10So close shut up, and lockt to all mankind,

I see men’s bodies only ours, no more,

The rest, another’s right, that rules the mind.

Behold, my forces vanquisht have this land,

Subdu’de that strong competitor of mine,

15All Egypt yields to my all-conquering hand,

And all their treasure and themselves resign.

Only this queen, that hath lost all this all,

To whom is nothing left except a mind,

Cannot into a thought of yielding fall, 

20To be dispos’d as chance hath her assign’d.

But Proculei, what hope doth she now give,

Will she be brought to condescend to live? 

PROCULEIUS

My Lord, what time being sent from you to try,

To win her forth alive (if that I might)

25From out the monument, where woefully

She lives inclos’d in most afflicted plight;

No way I found, no means how to surprize her,

But through a grate at th’ entry of the place,

Standing to treat, I labour’d to advise her,

30To come to Caesar, and to sue for grace.

She said, she crav’d not life, but leave to die,

Yet for her children, prayed they might inherit,

That Caesar would vouchsafe (in clemency)

To pity them, though she deserv’d no merit.

35So, leaving her for then, and since of late

With Gallus sent to try another time,

The whilst he entertains her at the grate

I found the means up to the tomb to climb,

Where in  descending in the closest wise

40And silent manner as I could contrive

Her woman me descri’d, and out she cries:

“Poor  Cleopatra, thou art tane   alive”.

With that the Queen raught  from her side her knife,

And even in act to stab her mart’red breast,

45I stept with speed, and held, and sav’d her life,

And forth her trembling hand the blade did wrest.

“Ah Cleopatra, why should’s thou” said I,

“Both injury thy self and Caesar so?

Bar him the honour of his victory,

50Whoever deals most mildly with his foe?

Live and rely on him, whose mercy will

To thy submission always ready be”.

  With that (as all amaz’d) she held her still,

Twixt majesty confus’d and misery.

55Her proud griev’d eyes, held sorrow and disdain,

State and distress warring within her soul,

 Dying ambition dispossest her reign,

So base affliction seemed to control,

Like as  a burning lamp, whose liquor spent

60With intermitted flames, when dead you deem it,

Sends forth a dying flash, as discontent,

That so the matter fails that should redeem it.

So she (in spight ) to see her low-brought state,

(When all her hopes were now consum’d to nought)

65Scorns yet to make an abject league with Fate,

Or once descend into a servile thought.

Th’ imperious tongue unused to beseech, 

Authority confounds with prayers, so

Words of command  conjoin’d with humble speech,

70Shew’d she would live, yet scorn’d to pray her foe.

   “Ah, what hath Caesar here to doe”, said she,

“In confines of the dead in darkness lying ?

Will he not grant our sepulchres be free,

But violate the privilege of dying?

75What, must he stretch forth his ambitious hand

Into the right of Death, and force us here?

Hath misery no covert where to stand

Free from the storm of pride, is ’t safe nowhere?

Cannot my land, my gold, my crown suffice,

80And all what I held dear, to him made common,

But that he must in this sort  tyrannize,

Th’ afflicted body of a woeful woman? 

Tell him, my frailty, and the gods have given

Sufficient glory, if he could content him ,

85And let him now with his desires make even,

And leave me to this horror, to lamenting .

Now he hath taken all away from me,

What must he take me from myself by force?

Ah, let him yet (in mercy) leave me free

90The kingdom of this poor distressed corpse.

No other crown I seek, no other good,

Yet wish that Caesar would vouchsafe this grace,

To favour the poor  offspring of my blood,

Confused issue , yet of Roman race.

95If blood and name be links of love in princes,

Not spurs of hate, my poor Caesario may

Find favour notwithstanding mine offences,

And Caesar’s blood, may Caesar’s raging stay.

But if that with the torrent of my fall,

100All must be rapt with furious violence,

And no respect, nor no regard at all,

Can ought with nature or with blood dispense:

Then be it so, if needs it must be so”.

There stays and shrinks in horror of her state:

105When I began to mitigate her woe,

And thy great mercies unto her relate,

Wishing her not despair, but rather come

And sue for grace, and shake off all vain fears,

No doubt she should obtain as gentle doom

110As she desir’d, both for herself and hers.

And so, with much ado  (well pacified

Seeming to be) she show’d content to live,

Saying she was resolv’d thy doom t’ abide,

And to accept what favour thou would’st give.

115And herewithall, crav’d also that she might 

Perform her last rites to her lost belov’d.

To sacrifice to him that wrought her plight:

And that she might not be by force remov’d. 

I, granting from thy part this her request,

120Left her for then, seeming in better rest.

CAESAR

But dost thou think she will remain so still?

PROCULEIUS

I think, and doe assure myself she will.

CAESAR

Ah, private men found not the hearts of princes,

Whose actions oft bear contrary pretences. 

PROCLEUIS

125Why, ’t is her safety for to yield to thee.

CAESAR

But tis more honour for her to die free.

PROCLEUIS

She may thereby procure  her children’s good.

CAESAR

Princes respect their honour more than blood.

PROCLEUIS

Can princes power dispense with nature then?

CAESAR

130To be a prince, is more than be a man.

PROCLEUIS

There’s none but have in time persuaded been.

CAESAR

And so might she too, were she not a queen.

PROCLEUIS

Divers respects will force her be reclam’d.

CAESAR

Princes (like lions) never will be tam’d.

135A private man may yield, and care not how,

But greater hearts will break before they bow.

And sure I think  sh’ will never  condescend,

To live to grace our spoils with her disgrace,

But yet let still a wary watch  attend,

140To guard her person, and to watch the place.

And look that none with her come to confer:

Shortly myself will goe to visit her .

[2] CHORUS

Opinion, how dost thou molest

Th’ affected mind of restless man?

Who following thee, never can,

Nor ever shall attain to rest.

5For getting what thou saist is best,

Yet lo, that best he finds far wide

Of what thou promisedst before:

For in the same he lookt for more,

Which proves but small when once ’t is tried.

10Then something else thou find’st beside,

To draw him still from thought to thought:

When in the end all proves but nought.

Farther from rest he finds him then,

Than at the first when he began.

15O malcontent seducing guest,

Contriver of our greatest woes, 

Which born of wind, and fed with shows,

Dost nurse thyself in thine unrest.

Judging ungotten things the best,

20Or what thou in conceit design’st

And all things in the world dost deem,

Not as they are, but as they seem,

Which shows their state thou ill defin’st ,

And liv’st to come, in present pin’st.

25For what thou hast, thou still dost lack:

O minds tormentor, bodies wrack,

Vain promiser of that sweet rest,

Which never any yet possest.

If we unto ambition tend,

30Then dost thou draw our weakness on,

With vain imagination

Of that which never hath an end.

Or if that lust we apprehend,

How doth that pleasant plague infest?

35O what strange forms of luxury,

Thou straight dost cast t’ entice us by?

And tell’st us that is ever best,

Which we have never yet possest.

And that more pleasure rests beside, 

40In something that we have not tried.

And when the same likewise is had,

Then all is one, and all is bad.

This Antony can say is true,

45And Cleopatra knows ’t is so,

By th’ experience of their woe,

She can say, she never knew

But that just found pleasures new,

And was never satisfied,

50He can say by proof of toil,

Ambition is a vulture vile,

That feeds upon the heart of pride

And finds no rest when all is tried.

For worlds cannot confine the one,

55  Th’ other, lists and bounds hath none,

And both subvert the mind, the state,

Procure destruction, envy, hate.

And now when all this is prov’d vain,

Yet Opinion leaves not here,

But sticks to Cleopatra near.

60Persuading now, how she shall gain

Honour by death, and fame attain.

And what a shame it were to live,

Her kingdom lost, her lover dead:

And so with this persuasion led,

Despair doth such a courage give,

65That nought else can her mind relieve.

Nor yet divert her from that thought:

To this conclusion all is brought.

This is that rest this vain world lends,

To end in death that all thing ends.

[3]

[3.1]

Philostratus, Arius. 

How deeply Arius am I bound to thee,

That sav’dst from death this wretched life of mine:

Obtaining Caesar’s gentle grace for me,

When I of all helps else despair’d but thine?

5Although I see in such a woeful state,

Life is not that which should be much desir’d:

Sith all out glories come to end their date,

Our countries honour and our own expir’d.

Now that the hand of wrath hath overgone us,

10Living (as ’t were) in  th’ arms of our dead mother,

With blood under our feet, ruin upon us,

And in a land most wretched of all other,

When yet we reckon life our dearest good.

And so we live, we care not how we live,

15So deep we feel impressed in our blood,

That touch which nature with our breath did give.

And yet what blasts of words hath learning found,

To blow against the fear of death and dying?

What comforts unsick eloquence can sound,

20And yet all fails us in the point of trying;

For whilst we reason with the breath of safety,

Without the compass of destruction living,

What precepts show we then, what courage lofty

In taxing others’ fears, in counsel giving?

25When all this air of sweet-contrived words,

Proves but weak armour to defend the heart.

For when this life, pale fear and terror boords ,

Where are our precepts then, where is our art?

O who is he that from himself can turn,

30That bears about the body of a man?

Who doth not toil and labour to adjourn

The day of death, by any meanes he can?

All this I speak to th’ end myself t’ excuse,

For my base begging of a servile breath,

35Wherein I grant myself much t’ abuse ,

So shamefully to seek t’ avoid my death.

ARIUS

Philostratus, that self-same care to live ,

Possesseth all alike, and grieve not then

Nature doth us no more than others give ,

40Though we speak more than men, we are but men.

And yet (in truth) these miseries to see,

Wherein we stand in most extreme distress:

Might to ourselves sufficient motives be

To loath this life, and weigh our death the less.

45For never any age hath better taught ,

What feeble footing pride and greatness hath.

How improvident prosperity is caught,

And clean confounded in the day of wrath .

See how dismayed Confusion keeps those streets,

50That nought but mirth and musique late resounded,

How nothing with our eye but horror meets,

Our state, our wealth, our pride & all confounded .

Yet what weak sight did not discern from far

This black-arising tempest, all confounding?

55Who did not see we should be what we are,

When pride and riot grew to such abounding?

When dissolute impiety possest,

Th’ unrespective  minds of such a people :

When insolent Security found rest

60In wanton thoughts, with lust & ease made feeble?

Then when unwary peace with fat-fed pleasure,

New-fresh invented ryots still detected,

Purchas’d with all the Ptolemies rich treasure,

Our laws, our gods, our mysteries neglected.

65Who saw not how this confluence of vice,

This inundation of disorders, must 

At length of force pay back the bloody price

Of sad destruction, (a reward for lust.)  

O thou and I have heard, and read, and known

70Of like proud states, as woefully incomb’red ,

And fram’d by them examples for our own:

Which now among examples must be numb’red.

For this decree a law from high is given,

An ancient canon , of eternal date,

75In consistory of the stars of heaven,

Ent’red the book of unavoided fate,

That no state can in height of happiness

In th’ exaltation of their glory stand,

But thither once arriv’d, declining less,

80Ruin themselves , or fall by others hand.

Thus doth the ever-changing course of things

Run a perpetual circle, ever turning,

And that same day that highest glory brings,

Brings us unto the point of back-returning.

85For senseless sensuality doth ever

Accompany felicity and greatness :

A fatal witch, whose charms do leave us never,

Till we leave all in sorrow for our sweetness ;

When yet ourselves must be the cause we fall,

90Although the same be first decreed on hie,

Our errors still must bear the blame of all,

This must it be, earth aske not heaven why.

Yet mighty men with wary jealous hand,

Strive to cut off all obstacles of fear,

95All whatsoever seems but to withstand

Their least conceit of quiet, held so dear,

And so intrench themselves with blood, with crimes,

With all injustice as their fear dispose;

Yet for all this we see, how oftentimes

100The means they work to keep, are means to lose.

And sure, I cannot see, how this can stand 

With great Augustus safety and his honour 

To cut off all succession from our land,

For her offence that pull’d the wars upon her. 

PHILOSTRATUS

105Why must her issue pay the price of that?

ARIUS

The price is life that they are rated at.

PHILOSTRATUS

Caesario too, issued of Caesar’s blood? 

ARIUS

Plurality of Caesars are not good.

PHILOSTRATUS

Alas what hurt procures his feeble arm?

ARIUS

110Not for it doth, but that it may doe harm.

PHILOSTRATUS

Then when it offers hurt, repress the same

ARIUS

’t is best  to quench a spark before it flame.

PHILOSTRATUS

’t is inhumane, an innocent to kill.

ARIUS

Such innocents, seldom remain so still.

115And sure his death may best procure our peace,

Competitors the subject dearly buys:

And so that our affliction may surcease,

Let great men be the people’s sacrifice. 

But see where Caesar comes himself to try

120And work the mind of our distressed queen,

To apprehend some falsed  hope whereby

She might be drawn to have her fortune seen.

But yet, I think, Rome will not see that face 

That quell her champions, blush in base disgrace.

[3.2]

Caesar, Cleopatra, Seleucus, Dolabella.

CAESAR

What Cleopatra, dost thou doubt so much

Of Caesar’s mercy, that thou hid’st thy face?

Or dost thou think, thy offences can be such

That they surmount the measure of our grace?

CLEOPATRA

5O Caesar, not for that I fly thy fight

My soul this sad retire of sorrow chose,

But that my oppressed thoughts  abhorring light,

Like best in darkness my disgrace t’ enclose.

And here to these close limits of despair

10This solitary horror where I bide,

Caesar, I thought no Roman should repair ,

More after him, who here oppressed died.

Yet now, here at thy conquering feet I lie,

Poor  captive soul, that never thought to bow,

15Whose happy foot of rule and majesty

Stood late on the  same ground thou standest now.

CAESAR

Rise queen, none but thy self is cause of all .

And yet, would all were but thine own alone,

That others ruin had not with thy fall

20Brought Rome her sorrows, to my triumphs moan

For breaking off the league of love and blood.

Thou mak’st my winning joy a gain unpleasing,

Sith th’ eye of grief must look into our good,

Through the horror of our own blood-shedding ,

25And all, we must attribute unto thee.

CLEOPATRA

To me? Caesar, what  should a woman doe

Opprest with greatness? What was it for me

To contradict my Lord, being bent thereto?

I was by love, by fear, by weakness, made

30An instrument to such designs as these .

For when the Lord of all the Orient bade,

Who but obey’d? Who was not glad to please? 

And how could I withdraw my succouring hand,

From him that had my heart, and  what was mine?

35The int’rest of my faith in straightest band,

My love to his most firmly did combine.

CAESAR

Love? Alas no!  it was th’ innated hatred

That thou and thine hast ever borne our people

That made thee seek al means to have us scatt’red,

40To disunite our strength, and make us feeble.

And therefore, did that breast nurse our dissention,

With hope t’ exalt thy self, t’ augment thy state,

To prey upon the wrack of our contention,

And (with the rest our foes) to joy thereat.

CLEOPATRA

45O Caesar, see how easy ’t is t’ accuse 

Whom fortune hath made faulty by their fall,

The wretched conquered may not refuse 

The titles of reproach he’s charg’d withal.

The conquering cause hath right, wherein thou art,

50The vanquisht, still is judg’d the worser part .

Which part is mine, because I lost my part

No lesser than the portion of a crown.

Enough for me. Alas what needed art

To gain by others, but to keep mine own?

55But here let weaker powers note what it is ,

To neighbour great competitors too near,

If we take part, we oft doe perish thus,

If neutral bide, both parties we must fear.

Alas, what shall the forst partakers doe,

60When following none, yet must they perish too? 

But Caesar, since thy right and cause is such,

Be not a heavy weight upon calamity,

Depress not the afflicted over-much,

The chiefest glory is the victor’s lenity ,

65Th’ inheritance of mercy from him take,

Of whom thou hast thy fortune and thy name:

Great Caesar  me a queen at first did make,

And let not Caesar now confound the same.

Read here these lines which still I keep with me,

70The witness of his love and favours ever,

And God forbid this should be said of thee,

That Caesar wrong’d the favoured of Caesar.

For look what I have been to Antony,

Think thou the same I might have been to thee.

75And here I doe present thee with the note,

Of all the treasure, all the jewels rare

That Egypt hath in many ages got,

And look what Cleopatra hath, is there.

SELEUCUS

Nay there’s not all set down within that roll,

80I know some things she hath reserv’d a part.

CLEOPATRA

What? Vile ungrateful wretch, dar’st thou control

Thy queen and sovereign? Caitive  as thou art.

CAESAR

Hold, hold, a poor revenge can work so feeble hands.

CLEOPATRA

Ah Caesar, what a great indignity

85Is this, that here my vassal subject stands,

T’ accuse me to my lord of treachery?

If I reserv’d some certain women’s toys,

Alas it was not for myself (God knows)

Poor miserable soul, that little joys

90In trifling ornaments, in outward shows.

But what I kept, I kept to make my way

Unto thy Livia , and Octavia’s  grace.

That thereby in compassion moved, they

Might mediate thy favour in my case.

CAESAR

95Well Cleopatra, fear not, thou shalt find

What favour thou desir’st, or canst expect,

For Caesar never yet was found but kind

To such as yield, and can themselves subject.

And therefore give thou comfort to thy mind,

100Relieve thy soul thus over-charg’d with care,

How well I will intreat thee thou shalt find ,

So soon as some affairs dispatched are.

Till when farewell.

CLEOPATRA Thanks thrice-renown’d Caesar,

Poor Cleopatra rests thine own forever.

DOLABELLA

105No marvel Caesar though our greatest spirits,

Have to the power of such a charming beauty,

Been brought to yield the honour of their merits,

Forgetting all respect of other duty.

Then whilst the glory of her youth remain’d

110The wond’ring object to each wanton eye,

Before her full of sweet (with sorrow wain’d)

Came to the period of this misery.

If still, even in the midst of death  and horror,

Such beauty shines, throw clouds of age and sorrow,

115If even those sweet decays seem to plead for her,

Which from affliction, moving graces borrow;

If in calamity she could thus move,

What could she do adorn’d with youth and love?

What could she do then, when as spreading wide

120The pomp of beauty, in her glory dight ?

When arm’d with wonder, she could use beside

Th’ engines of her love, hope and delight?

Beauty daughter of marvel, oh see how

Thou canst disgracing sorrows sweetly grace?

125What power thou show’st in a distressed brow.

That mak’st affliction fair, giv’st tears their grace.

What can untressed locks, can tormented hair, 

A weeping eye, a wailing face be fair?

I see then, artless feature can content,

130And that true beauty needs no ornament.

CAESAR

What in a passion Dolabella? What? Take heed,

Let others’ fresh examples be thy warning,

What mischiefs these, so idle humours breed,

Whilst error keeps us from a true discerning .

135Indeed, I saw she labour’d to impart

Her sweetest graces in her saddest cheer,

Presuming on the face that knew the art

To move with what aspect soev’r it were.

But all in vain, she takes her aim amiss,

140The ground, and mark, her level much deceives,

Time now hath alt’red all, for neither is

She as she was, nor we as she conceives.

And therefore now, ’t were best she left such badness,

Folly in youth is sin, in age, ’t is madness .

145And for my part, I seek but t’ entertain

In her some feeding hope to draw her forth,

The greatest trophy that my travails gain ,

Is to bring home a prizal  of such worth.

And now, sith that she seems so well content

150To be dispos’d by us, without more stay

She with her children shall to Rome be sent,

Whilst I by Syria thither take my way.

[3] CHORUS 

O fearful frowning Nemesis ,

Daughter of Justice, most severe,

That art the world’s great arbitress,

And queen of causes reigning here.

5Whose swift-sure hand is ever near

Eternal justice, righting wrong,

Who never yet-deferrest long

The proud’s decay, the weak’s redress.

But through thy power everywhere,

10Dost raze the great and raise the less.

The less made great, dost ruin too,

To show the earth what heaven can do.

Thou from dark-clos’d eternity,

From thy black cloudy hidden seat,

15The world’s disorders dost descry,

Which when they swell so proudly great,

Reversing th’ order nature set,

Thou giv’st thy all-confounding doom,

Which none can know before it come.

20Th’ inevitable destiny,

Which neither wit nor strength can let,

Fast chain’d unto necessity,

In mortal things doth order so,

Th’ alternate course of weal or wo .

25O low the powers of heaven do play

With travail’d mortality,

And doth their weakness still betray

In their best prosperity,

When being listed up so high,

30They look beyond themselves so far,

That to themselves they take no care,

Whilst swift confusion down doth lay,

Their late proud mounting vanity,

Bringing their glory to decay.

35And with the ruin of their fall,

Extinguish people, state and all.

But is it justice that all we

Th’ innocent poor multitude,

For great men’s faults should punisht be,

40And to destruction thus pursued?

O why should th’ heavens us include,

Within the compass of their fall,

Who of themselves procured all?

Or do the gods in close decree,

45Occasion take how to extrude

Man from the earth with cruelty?

Ah no, the Gods are ever just,

Our faults excuse their rigor must.

This is the period Fate set down,

50To Egypt’s fat prosperity,

Which now unto her greatest grown,

Must perish thus, by course must die.

And some must be the causers why

This revolution must be wrought,

55As borne to bring their state to nought.

To change the people and the crown,

And purge the world’s iniquity

Which vice so far hath over-grown.

As we, so they that treat us thus,

60Must one day perrish like to us.

[4]

Seleucus, Rodon.

SELEUCUS

Never friend Rodon in a better hour,

Could I have met thee then ev’en now I do 

Having affliction in the greatest power

Upon my soul, and none to tell it to.

5For ’t is some ease our sorrows to reveal,

If they to whom we shall impart our woes

Seem but to feel a part of what we feel,

And meet us with a sigh but at a close.

RODON

And never (friend Seleucus) found’st thou one,

10That better could bear such a part with thee:

Who by his own, knows others cares to moan,

And can in like accord of grief agree.

And therefore, tell th’ oppression of thy heart,

Tell to an ear prepar’d and tun’d to care

15And I will likewise unto thee impart

As sad a tale as what thou shalt declare.

So shall we both our mournful plaints combine,

I’ll wail thy state, and thou shalt pity mine .

SELEUCUS

Well then, thou know’st how I have liv’d in grace

20With Cleopatra, and esteem’d in court

As one of counsel, and of chiefest  place,

And ever held my credit in that sort.

Till now in this confusion of our state ,

When thinking to have us’d a mean to climb

25And fled the wretched, flown unto the great

(Following the fortune of the present time)

Am come to be cast down and ruin’d clean.

And in the course of mine own plot undone,

For having all the secrets of the queen 

30Reveal’d to Caesar, to have favour won.

My treachery is quited  with disgrace ,

My falsehood loath’d, and not without great reason

Though good for him, yet princes in this case

Doe hate you traitor though they love the treason.

35For how could he imagine I would be

Faithfull to him, being false unto mine own?

And false to such a bounteous queen as she,

That had me rais’d, and made mine honour known.

He saw ’t was not for zeal to him I bare,

40But for base fear, or mine own state to settle .

Weakness is false, and faith in cowards rare,

Fear finds out shifts, timidity is subtle.

And therefore scorn’d of him, scorn’d of mine own,

Hateful to all that look into my state,

45Despis’d Seleucus now is only grown

The mark of infamy, that’s pointed at.

RODON

’t is much thou saist, and oh! too much to feel,

And I doe grieve  and doe lament thy fall,

But yet all this which thou dost here reveal,

50Compar’d with mine, will make thine seem but small.

Although my fault be in the self-same kind,

Yet in degree far greater, far more hateful.

Mine sprung of mischief, thine from feeble mind,

I stain’d with blood, thou only but ungrateful.

55For unto me did Cleopatra give 

The best and dearest treasure of her blood,

Lovely Caesario, whom she would live

Free from the dangers wherein Egypt stood ,

And unto mee with him this charge she gave:

60“Here , Rodon, take,  convey from out this coast,

This precious gem, the chiefest that I have,

The jewel of my soul I value most.

Guide him to India, lead him far from hence,

Safeguard him where secure he may remain,

65Till better fortune call him back from thence,

And Egypt’s peace be reconcil’d again.

For this is he that may our hopes bring back,

(The rising sun of our declining state)

These be the hands that may restore our wrack,

70And raise the broken ruins made of late.

He may give limits to the boundless pride

Of fierce Octavius, and abate his might:

Great Julius’ offspring , he may come to guide

The empire of the world, as his by right.

75Oh how he seems the model of his sire!

Oh how I gaze my Caesar in his face!

Such was his gate, so did his looks aspire,

Such was his threatening brow, such was his grace.

High shoulder, and his forehead even as high.

80And oh (if he had not been born so late) 

He might have rul’d the world’s great  monarchy,

And now have been the champion of our state.

Then unto him, oh my dear son” (she says)

“Son of my youth, fly hence, oh fly, be gone!

85Reserve thy self, ordain’d for better days,

For much thou hast to ground thy hopes upon,

Leave me (thy woeful mother) to endure,

The fury of this tempest here alone,

Who cares not for herself, so thou be sure,

90Thou may’st revenge, when others can but moan.

Rodon will see thee safe, Rodon will guide

Thee and thy ways, thou shalt not need to fear.

Rodon (my faithful servant) will provide

What shall be best for thee, take thou no care.

95And oh good Rodon, look well to his youth,

The ways are long, and dangers ev’rywhere.

I urge it not that I doe doubt thy truth,

Mothers will cast the worst, and always fear.

The absent danger greater still appears,

100Less fears he, who is near the thing he fears.

And oh, I know not what presaging thought

My sp’rit suggests of luckless bad event,

But yet it may be tis but love doth dote,

Or idle shadows which my fears present.

105But yet the memory of mine own fate,

Makes me fear his. And yet why should I fear?

His fortune may recover better state,

And he may come in pomp to govern here.

But yet I doubt the genius of our race

110By some malignant spirit comes overthrown:

Our blood must be extinct, in my disgrace,

Egypt must have no more kings of their own.

Then let him stay, and let us fall together,

Sith it is fore-decreed that we must fall.

115Yet who knows what may come? Let him go thither,

What merchant in one vessel venters all?

Let us divide our stars. Goe, goe my son,

Let not the fate of Egypt find thee here:

Try if so be thy destiny can shun

120The common wrack of us, by being there.

But who is he found ever yet defence

Against the heavens, or hide him anywhere?

Then what need I to send thee so far hence

To seek thy death that may’st as well die here?

125And here die with thy mother, die in rest,

Not travailing to what will come to thee.

Why should we leave our blood unto the East,

When Egypt may a Tomb sufficient be?

O my divided soul, what shall I doe?

130Whereon shall now my resolution rest?

What were I best resolve to yield unto

When both are bad, how shall I know the best?

Stay; I may hap so work with Caesar now,

That he may yield him to restore thy right.

135Go; Caesar never will consent that thou

So near in blood, shalt be so great in might.

Then take him Rodon, go my son, farewell.

But stay; ther’s something else that I would say:

Yet nothing now, but oh God speed thee well,

140Least saying more, that more may make thee stay.

Yet let me speak: It may be ’t is the last

That ever I shall speak to thee my son.

Doe mothers use to part in such post-haste?

What, must I end when I have scarce begun?

145Ah no (dear heart) ’t is no such slender twine

Where-with the knot is tied twixt thee and me.

That blood within thy veins came out of mine,

Parting from thee, I part from part of me

And therefore, I must speak. Yet what? O son”.

150Here more she would, when more she could not say.

Sorrow rebounding back whence it begun,

Fill’d up the passage, and quite stopt the way:

When sweet Caesario with a princely sp’rite,

(Though comfortless himself) did comfort give;

155With mildest words, persuading her to bear it.

And as for him, she should not need to grieve.

And I (with protestations of my part)

Swore by that faith, (which sworn I did deceive)

That I would use all care, all wit and art

160To see him safe. And so we took our leave.

Scarce had we travail’d to our journey’s end,

When  Caesar having knowledge of our way,

His agents after us with speed doth send 

To labour me Caesario to betray.

165Who, with rewards, and promises so large,

Assail’d me then, that I grew soon content

And back to Rhodes  did reconvey my charge,

Pretending that Octavius for him sent,

To make him king of Egypt presently.

170And thither come, seeing himself betrayed,

And in the hands of death through treachery,

Wailing his state, thus to himself he said:

“Lo  here brought back by subtle train to death,

Betrayed by tutor’s faith, or traitors rather.

175My fault my blood, and mine offence my birth,

For being son of such a mighty father.

From India (whither sent by mother’s care,

To be reserv’d from Egypt’s common wrack,)

To Rhodes (so long the arms of tyrants are)

180I am by Caesar’s subtle reach brought back,

Here to be made th’ oblation for his fears,

Who doubts the poor revenge these hands may doe him?

Respecting neither blood, nor youth, nor years,

Or how small safety can my death be to him?

185And is this all the good of being born great?

Then wretched greatness, proud rich misery ,

Pompous distress, glittering calamity.

Is it for this th’ ambitious fathers swear,

To purchase blood and death for them and theirs?

190Is this the issue that their glories get ,

To leave a sure destruction  to their heirs?

O how far  better had it been for me,

From low descent, deriv’d of humble birth,

To have eaten the sweet-sour bread of poverty,

195And drunk of Nilus’ stream in Nilus’ earth,

Under the cov’ring of some quiet cottage,

Free from the wrath of heaven, secure in mind,

Untoucht when sad events  of princes dotage,

Confounds whatever mighty it doth find.

200And not t’ have stood in their way, whose condition,

Is to have all made clear, and all thing plain ,

Between them and the mark of their ambition,

That nothing let the full sight  of their reign,

Where nothing stands that stands not in submission,

205Where greatness must all in itself contain.

Kings will be alone, competitors must down,

Near death he stands, that stands too near a crown.

Such is my case, for Caesar will have all,

My blood must seal th’ assurance of his state,

210Yet ah! weak state that blood assure him shall,

Whose wrongful shedding, Gods and men do hate.

Injustice never ’scapes unpunisht still,

Though men revenge not, yet the heavens will.

And thou Augustus that with bloody hand,

215Curt’st off succession from another’s race,

Maist  find the heavens thy vows so to withstand

That others may deprive thine in like case

When thou maist see thy proud contentious bed

Yielding thee none of thine that may inherit,

220Subvert thy blood, place others in their stead,

To pay this thy injustice her due merit .

If it be true (as who can that deny

Which sacred priests of Memphis doe fore-say)

Some of the offspring yet of Antony,

225Shall all the rule of this whole empire sway.

And then Augustus, what is it thou gainest

By poor Antillus’ blood, or this of mine?

Nothing but this thy victory thou stainest,

And pull’st the wrath of heaven on thee and thine.

230In vain doth man contend against the stars,

For what he seeks to make, his wisdom mars.

Yet in the meantime we whom Fates reserve

The bloody sacrifices of ambition,

We feel the smart whatever they deserve,

235And we endure the present  times condition.

The justice of the heavens revenging thus,

Doth only sacrifice  itself, not us.

Yet ’t is a pleasing comfort that doth ease

Affliction in so great extremity

240To think their like destruction shall appease

Our ghosts, who did procure our misery.

But dead we are, uncertain what shall be,

And living, we are sure to feel the wrong,

Our certain ruin we ourselves doe see.

245They joy the while, and we know not how long,

But yet Caesario, thou must die content,

For men will moan, and God revenge th’ innocent ”.

Thus he complain’d, and thus thou hear’st my shame.

SELEUCUS

But how hath Caesar now rewarded thee?

RODON

250As he hath thee. And I expect the same

As fell to Theodor to fall to me

For he (one of my coat) having betray’d 

The young Antillus, son of Antony,

And at his death from off his neck convey’d

255A jewel, which being askt, he did deny

Caesar occasion took to hang him straight,

Such instruments with princes live not long.

Although they need such actors of deceit, 

Yet still our  sight seems to upbraid their wrong,

260And therefore we  must needs this danger run,

And in the net of our  own guile be caught,

We must not live to brag what we have done,

For what is done, must not appear their fault .

But here comes Cleopatra, woeful queen,

265And our shame will not that we should be seen.

Exeunt.

CLEOPATRA.

What, hath my face yet power to win a lover?

Can this torn remnant serve to grace me so,

That it can Caesar’s secret plots discover

What he intends with me and mine to do?

270Why then poor Beauty thou hast done thy last

And best good service thou could’st doe unto me.

For now the time of death reveal’d thou hast,

Which in my life didst serve but to undoe me.

Here Dolabella far forsooth in love,

275Writes how that Caesar means forthwith to send

Both me and mine, th’ ayre  of Rome to prove.

There his triumphant chariot to attend,

I thank the man, both for his love and letter,

Th’ one comes fit to warn me thus before,

280But for th’ other, I must die his debtor,

For Cleopatra now can love no more.

But having leave, I must goe take my leave

And last farewell of my dead Antony:

Whose dearly honour’d tomb must here receive

285This sacrifice, the last before I die.

O sacred ever-memorable stone,

That hast without my tears, within my flame,

Receive th’ oblation of the woeful’st moan

That ever yet from sad affliction came.

290And you dear relics of my lord and love

(The sweetest parcels of the faithful’st liver )

Oh let no impious hand dare to remove

You out from hence, but rest you here forever.

Let Egypt now give peace unto you dead,

295That living, gave you trouble and turmoil,

Sleep quiet in this everlasting bed,

In foreign land preferr’d before your soil.

And oh, if that the sp’rits of men remain

After their bodies, and doe never die,

300Then hear thy ghost thy captive spouse complain,

And be attentive  to her misery.

But if that laboursome mortality

Found this sweet error, only to confine

The curious search of idle vanity,

305That would the depth of darkness undermine,

Or rather , to give rest unto the thought

Of wretched man, with th’ after-coming joy

Of those conceived fields whereon we dote,

To pacify the present worlds annoy.

310If it be so, why speak I then to th’ air?

But ’t is not so, my Antony doth hear,

His ever-living ghost attends my prayer,

And I doe know his hovering sp’rit is near.

And I will speak, and pray, and mourn to thee,

315O pure immortal love that daign’st to hear ,

I feel thou answer’st my credulity

With touch of comfort, finding none elsewhere.

Thou know’st these hands entomb’d thee here of late,

Free and unforc’d, which now must servile be,

320Reserv’d for bands to grace proud Caesar’s state,

Who seeks in me to triumph over thee.

O if in life we could not sever’d be,

Shall death divide our bodies now asunder?

Must thine in Egypt, mine in Italy,

325Be kept  the monuments of fortune’s wonder?

If any powers be there whereas thou art

(Sith our own country gods betray our case)

O work they may their gracious help impart,

To save thy woeful wife from such disgrace.

330Doe not permit she should in triumph show

The blush of her reproach, join’d with thy shame,

But rather let that hateful tyrant know,

That thou and I had power t’ avoid the same.

But what doe I spend breath and idle wind,

335In vain invoking a conceived aide?

Why doe I not myself occasion find

To break the bounds wherein myself am staid?

Words are for them that can complain and live,

Whose melting hearts compos’d of baser frame,

340Can to their sorrows time and leisure give,

But Cleopatra may not doe the same.

No Antony, thy love requireth more.

A lingering death, with thee deserves no merit,

I must myself force open wide a door

345To let out life, and so unhouse my spirit.

These hands must break the prison of my soul

To come to thee, there to enjoy like state,

As doth the long-pent solitary foul,

That hath escapt her cage, and found her mate.

350This sacrifice to sacrifice my life,

Is that true incense that doth best beseem ,

These rites may serve a life-desiring wife,

Who doing them, t’ have done enough doth deem .

My heart blood should the purple flowers have been,

355Which here upon thy tomb to thee are off’red,

No smoke but dying breath should here been seen,

And this it had been too, had I been suff’red.

But what have I save these bare hands to doe it? 

And these weak fingers are not iron-pointed,

360They cannot pierce the flesh being put unto it ,

And I of all means else am disappointed.

But yet I must a way and means seek, how

To come unto thee, what so ere  I do.

O Death, art thou so hard to come by now ,

365That we must pray, entreat, and seek thee too ?

But I will find thee where so ere thou lie ,

For who can stay a mind resolv’d to die?

And now I go  to work th’effect indeed,

I’ll never send more words or sighs to thee ,

370I’ll bring my soul myself, and that with speed,

Myself will bring my soul to Antony.

Come go my maids, my fortunes sole attenders,

That minister to misery and sorrow,

Your mistress you unto your freedom renders,

375And will discharge your charge  yet ere tomorrow.

And now by this, I think the man I sent,

Is near return’d that brings me my dispatch.

God grant his cunning sort to good event ,

And that his skill may well beguile my watch.

380So shall I shun disgrace, leave to be sorry,

Fly to my love, scape my foe, free my soul;

So shall I act the last act of my glory,

Die like a queen, and rest without control.

Exit.

[4] CHORUS.

Mysterious Egypt, wonder breeder,

strict religions strange observer,

State-orderer zeal, the best rule-keeper,

fostering still in temp’rate fervour,

5O how cam’st thou to lose so wholly

all religion, law and order?

And thus become the most unholy

of all lands that Nylus border?

How could confus’d Disorder enter

10where stern Law sat so severely?

How durst weak lust and riot venter

th’ eye of Justice looking nearly?

Could not those means that made thee great,

Be still the means to keep thy state?

15Ah no, the course of things requireth

change and alteration ever,

That same  continuance man desireth,

th’ unconstant world yieldeth never.

We in our counsels must be blinded,

20and not see what dooth import us,

And often-times the thing least mind,

is the thing that most must hurt us.

Yet they that have the stern in guiding,

’t is their fault that should prevent it,

25For oft they seeing their country sliding,

take their ease, as though contented .

We imitate the greater powers,

The princes’ manners fashion ours.

Th’ example of their light regarding,

30vulgar looseness much incenses,

Vice uncontrolled, grows wide enlarging,

Kings’ small faults, be great offences.

And this hath set the window open

unto licence, lust and riot.

35This way confusion first found broken,

whereby ent’red our disquiet,

Those laws that olde Sesostris  founded,

and the Ptolemies observed,

Hereby first came to be confounded,

40which our state so long preserved.

The wanton luxury of court,

Did form the people of like sort.

For all (respecting private pleasure)

universally consenting

45To abuse their time, their treasure,

in their own delights contenting

And future dangers nought respecting,

whereby (Oh how easy matter

Made this so general neglecting,

50Confus’d weakness to discatter ?)

Caesar found th’ effect true tried,

in his easy entrance making,

Who at the sight of arms, descried

all our people, all forsaking.

55For riot (worse than war) so sore

Had wasted all our strength before.

And thus is Egypt servile rend’red,

to the insolent destroyer,

And all their sumptuous treasure tend’red,

60all her wealth that did betray her,

Which poison (Oh if heavens be rightful)

may so far infect their senses,

That Egypt’s pleasures so delightful,

may breed them the like offences,

65And Romans learn our way of weakness,

be instructed in our vices.

That our spoils may spoil your greatness,

overcome with our devises.

Fill full your hands, and carry home

70Enough from us to ruin Rome.

[5]

[5.1]

Dolabella, Titius.

DOLABELLA

Come tell me Titius ev’ry circumstance

How Cleopatra did receive my news,

Tell ev’ry look, each gesture, countenance,

That she did in my letters reading use.

TITIUS

5I shall my Lord so far as I could note,

Or my conceit observe in any wise.

It was the time when as she having got

Leave to her dearest dead to sacrifice,

And now was issuing out the Monument,

10With odours, incense, garlands in her hand,

When I approcht, as one from Caesar sent,

And did her close thy message t’ understand.

She turns her back, and with her takes me in,

Reads in thy lines thy strange unlookt for tale,

15And reads, and smiles, and stays , and doth begin

Again to read, then blusht, and then was pale.

And having ended with a sigh, refolds

Thy letter up and with a fixed eye,

(Which steadfast her imagination holds)

20She mus’d a while, standing confusedly,

At length. “Ah friend,” saith she, “tell thy good lord

How dear I hold his pitying of my case,

That out of his sweet nature can afford

A miserable woman so much grace.

25Tell him how much my heavy soul doth grieve

Merciless Caesar should so deal with me,

Pray him that he would all the counsel give ,

That might divert him from such cruelty.

As for my love, say Antony hath all,

30Say that my heart is gone into the grave

With him, in whom it rests and ever shall,

I have it not myself, nor cannot  have.

Yet tell him, he shall more command of me

Then any, whosoever living, can.

35He that so friendly shows himself to be

A right kind  Roman, and a gentleman.

Although his nation (fatal unto me)

Have had mine age a spoil, my youth a pray,

Yet his affection must accepted be,

40That favours one distressed in such decay .

Ah, he was worthy then to have been lov’d,

Of Cleopatra whiles her glory lasted;

Before she had declining fortune prov’d,

Or seen her honour wrackt, her flower blasted.

45Now there is nothing left her but disgrace,

Nothing but her affliction that can move.

Tell Dolabella, one that’s in her case,

(Poor soul) needs rather pity now then love.

But shortly shall thy lord hear more of me”.

50And ending so her speech, no longer stayed,

But hasted to the tomb of Antony.

And this was all she did, and all she said.

DOLABELLA

Ah sweet distressed Lady. What hard heart

Could choose but pity thee, and love thee too?

55Thy worthiness, the state wherein thou art

Requireth both, and both I vow to do.

Although ambition let’s not Caesar see

The wrong he doth thy majesty and sweetness,

Which makes him now exact so much of thee,

60To add unto his pride, to grace his greatness.

He knows thou canst no hurt procure us now,

Sith all thy strength is ceas’d into our hands,

Nor fears he that, but rather labours how

He might show Rome so great a queen in bands.

65That our great ladies (envying thee so much

That stain’d them all, and held them in such wonder)

Might joy to see thee and thy fortune such,

Thereby extolling him that brought thee under.

But I will seek to stay it what I may,

70I am but one, yet one that Caesar loves,

And oh if now I could doe more than pray,

Then should’st you know how far affection moves.

But  what my power and prayer may prevail,

I’ll join them both, to hinder thy disgrace,

75And even this present day I will not fail

To doe my best with Caesar in this case.

TITIUS

And Sir, even now herself hath letters sent,

I met her messenger as I came hither,

With a dispatch as he to Caesar went,

80But knows not what imports  her sending thither.

Yet this he told, how Cleopatra late

Was come from sacrifice. How richly clad

Was serv’d to dinner in most sumptuous state,

With all the bravest ornaments she had.

85How having din’d, she writes, and sends away

Him straight to Caesar, and commanded than

All should depart the tomb, and none to stay

But her two maids, and one poor countryman.

DOLABELLA

Why  then I know, she sends t’ have audience now,

90And means t’ experience what her state can doe,

To see if majesty will make him bow

To what affliction could not move him to.

And oh, if now she could but bring a view 

Of that fresh  beauty she in youth possest,

95(The argument wherewith she overthrew

The wit of Julius Caesar, and the rest)

Then happily Augustus might relent,

Whilst powerful love, far stronger than ambition,

Might work in him a mind to be content

100To grant her asking in the best condition.

But being as she is, yet doth she merit

To be respected, for what she hath been:

The wonder of her kind, of rarest  spirit,

A glorious lady, and a mighty queen.

105And now, but by a little weakness falling

To doe that which perhaps sh’ was forst to doe.

Alas! An error past, is past recalling,

Take away weakness and take women too.

But now I goe to be thy advocate,

110Sweet Cleopatra, now I’ll use mine art .

Thy presence will me greatly animate,

Thy face will teach my tongue, thy love my heart.

[5.2]

NUNTIUS

Am I ordain’d the careful messenger,

And sad news-bringer of the strangest death,

Which self hand did upon itself infer,

To free a captive soul from servile breath?

5Must I the lamentable wonder shew,

Which all the world must grieve and marvel at?

The rarest form of death in earth below,

That ever pity, glory, wonder gat .

CHORUS

What news bring’st you, can Egypt yet yield more

10Of sorrow then it hath? What can it add

To th’ already overflowing store

Of sad affliction, matter yet more sad?

Have we not seen the worst of our calamity?

Is there behind yet something of distress

15Unseen, unknown? Tell if that greater misery

There be, that we wail not that which is less.

Tell us what so it be, and tell at first,

For sorrow ever longs to hear her worst.

NUNTIUS

Well then, the strangest thing relate I will,

20That ever eye of mortal man hath seen.

I (as you know) even from my youth, have still

Attended on the person of the queen.

And ever in all fortunes good or ill,

With her as one of chiefest trust have been.

25And now in these so great extremities

That ever could to majesty befall,

I did my best in what I could devise,

And left her not, till now she left us all.

CHORUS

What is she gone? Hath Caesar forst her so?

NUNTIUS

30Yea, she is gone, and hath deceiv’d him too.

CHORUS

What, fled to India, to goe find her son?

NUNTIUS

No, not to India, but to find her son.

CHORUS

Why then there’s hope she may her state recover.

NUNTIUS

Her state? Nay rather honour, and her lover.

CHORUS

35Her Lover? Him she cannot have again.

NUNTIUS

Well, him she hath, with him she doth remain.

CHORUS

Why then she’s dead. Is ’t so? Why speak’st not thou?

NUNTIUS

You guess aright, and I will tell you how:

When she perceiv’d all hope was clean bereft her,

40That Caesar meant to send her straight away,

And saw no means of reconcilement left her,

Work what she could, she could not work to stay.

She calls me to her, and she thus began:

“Oh thou whose trust hath ever been the same

45And one in all my fortunes, faithful man,

Alone content t’ attend disgrace and shame.

Thou, whom the fearful ruin of my fall,

Never deterr’d to leave calamity

As did those other smooth state-pleasers all,

50Who followed but my fortune, and not me.

’t is thou must doe a service for thy queen,

Wherein thy faith and skill must doe their best ,

Thy honest care and duty shall be seen

Performing this, more than in all the rest.

55For all what thou hast done, may die with thee,

Although ’t is pity that such faith should die.

But this shall ever-more rememb’red be,

A rare example to posterity.

And look how long as Cleopatra shall

60In after ages live in memory,

So long shall thy clear fame endure withal,

And therefore, thou must not my suite deny

Nor contradict my will. For what I will

I am resolv’d: and this ’t is thou must do me:

65Go find me out with all thy art and skill

Two aspics and convey them close unto me.

I have a work to doe with them in hand,

Enquire not what, for thou shalt soon see what,

If the heavens doe not my designs withstand,

70But doe thy charge and let me shift with that”.

Being thus conjur’d, by her t’ whom I had vow’d

My true perpetual service, forth I went,

Devising how my close attempt to shrewd,

So that there might no art my art prevent.

75And so disguis’d in habit as you see,

Having found out the thing for which I went,

I soon return’d again, and brought with me

The aspics, in a basket closely pent.

Which I had fill’d with figs and leaves upon.

80And coming to the guard that kept the door,

“What hast thou there?” said they, and lookt thereon.

Seeing the figs, they deem’d of nothing more,

But said, they were the fairest they had seen.

“Taste some”, said I, “for they are good and pleasant”.

85“No, no”, said they, “goe bear them to thy queen”.

Thinking me some poor man that brought a present.

Well, in I went, where brighter than the sun,

Glittering in all her pompous rich array,

Great Cleopatra sat as if she had won

90Caesar and all the world beside this day.

Even as she was when on thy crystal streams,

Oh Cydnos  she did show what earth could show.

When Asia all amaz’d in wonder, deems

Venus from heaven was come on earth below.

95Even as she went at first to meet her love,

So goes she now at last again to find him.

But that first, did her greatness only prove,

This last her love, that could not live behind him.

Yet as she sat, the doubt of my good speed

100Detracts much from the sweetness of her look,

Cheer-marrer care, did then such passions breed,

That made her eye bewray the care she took.

But she no sooner sees mee in the place,

But straight her sorrow-clouded brow she clears,

105Lightning a smile from out a stormy face,

Which all her tempest-beaten senses cheers.

Look how a stray’d perplexed travailer 

When chas’d by thieves, and even at point of taking,

Descrying suddenly some town not far,

110Or some unlookt-for aide to him-ward making

Cheers up his tired sp’rits, thrusts forth his strength

To meet that good that comes in so good hour.

Such was her joy, perceiving now at length,

Her honour was t’ escape so proud a power.

115Forth from her seat she hastes to meet the present,

And as one overjoyed, she caught it straight.

And with a smiling cheer in action pleasant,

Looking among the figs, finds the deceit.

And seeing there the ugly venomous beast,

120Nothing dismayed, she stays and views it well.

At length, th’ extremest of her passion ceaset,

When she began with words her joy to tell:

“O rarest beast” saith she “that Affric breeds ,

How dearly welcome art thou unto  me?

125The fairest creature that fair Nylus feeds

Methinks I see, in now beholding thee.

What though the ever-erring world doth deem

That ang’red Nature fram’d thee but in spight? 

Little they know what they so light esteem,

130That never learn’d the wonder of thy might.

Better than Death, Death’s office thou dischargest ,

That with one gentle touch can  free our breath,

And in a pleasing sleep our soul enlargest,

Making ourselves not privy to our death.

135If Nature err’d, oh then how happy error,

Thinking to make thee worst, she made thee best,

Sith thou best freest us from our lives’ worst terror,

In sweetly bringing souls to quiet rest.

When that inexorable Monster Death

140That follows Fortune flies the poor distressed,

Tortures our bodies ere he takes our breath,

And loads with pains th’ already weak oppressed.

How oft have I begg’d, pray’d, entreated him

To take my life, and yet could never get him?

145And when he comes, he comes so ugly grim,

That who is he (if he could choose) would let him?

Therefore come thou, of wonders wonder chief ,

That open canst with such an easy key

The door of life, come gentle cunning thief,

150That from ourselves so steal’st ourselves away.

Well did our priests discern something divine

Shadow’d in thee, and therefore first they did

Off’rings and worships due to thee assign,

In whom they found such mysteries were hid.

155Comparing thy swift  motion to the sun,

That mov’st without the instruments that move;

And never waxing old, but always one,

Dost sure thy strange divinity approve.

And therefore to, the rather unto thee

160In zeal I make the offering of my blood,

Calamity confirming now in me

A sure belief that piety makes good.

Which happy men neglect, or hold ambiguous,

And only the afflicted are religious.

165And here I sacrifice these arms to Death ,

That Lust late dedicated to delights

Off’ring up for my last, this last of breath,

The complement of my love’s dear’st rites”.

With that she bares her arm, and offer makes

170To touch her death, yet at the touch withdraws,

And seeming more to speak, occasion takes,

Willing to die, and willing too to pause.

Look how a mother at her son’s departing

For some far voyage, bent to get him fame,

175Doth entertain him with an idle parling .

And still doth speak, and still speaks but the same;

Now bids farewell, and now recalls him back,

Tells what was told, and bids again fare-well,

And yet again recalls, for still doth lack

180Something that love would fain  and cannot tell.

Pleas’d he should go, yet cannot let him go.

So she, although she knew there was no way

But this, yet this she could not handle so

But she must show that life desir’d delay.

185Fain  would she entertain the time as now,

And now would fain  that Death would seize upon her.

Whilst I might see presented in her brow,

The doubtful combat tried twixt Life and Honour:

Life bringing legions of fresh hopes with her,

190Arm’d with the proof of Time, which yields we say

Comfort and help to such as doe refer

All unto him and can admit delay.

But Honour scorning Life, lo forth leads he

Bright Immortality in shining armour,

195Through the rays of whose clear glory she

Might see Life’s baseness, how much it might harm her.

Besides, she saw whole armies of Reproaches,

And base Disgraces, Furies fearful sad,

Marching with Life, and shame that still encroaches

200Upon her face, in bloody colours clad.

Which representments seeing worse than death

She deem’d to yield to Life, and therefore chose

To render all to Honour, heart and breath,

And that with speed, least that her inward foes

205False flesh and blood, joining with life and hope,

Should mutiny against her resolution.

And to the end she would not give them scope,

She presently proceeds to th’ execution.

And sharply blaming of her rebel powers,

210“False flesh” saith she “and what dost thou conspire 

With Caesar too, as thou wert none of ours,

To work my shame, and hinder my desire?

Wilt thou retain in closure of thy veins,

That enemy base life, to let my good? 

215No, know there is a greater power constrains

Than can be countercheckt with fearful blood.

For to the mind that’s great nothing seems great.

And seeing death to be the last of woes,

And life lasting disgrace, which I shall get,

220What doe I lose, that have but life to lose?”

This having said, strengthened in her own heart,

And union of herself senses in one

Charging together, she performs that part

That hath so great a part of glory won.

225And so receives the deadly poisoning touch.

That touch that tried the gold of her love pure,

And hath confirm’d her honour to be such,

As must a wonder to all worlds endure.

Now not a yielding shrink or touch of fear.

230Consented to bewray least sense of pain,

But still in one same sweet unaltered cheer,

Her honour did her dying thoughts retain.

“Well, now this work is done” saith she “here ends 

This act of life, that part of Fates assign’d me,

235What glory or disgrace here this world lends 

Both have I had, and both I leave behind .

And now, oh Earth! The theatre where I 

Have acted this, witness I die unforst.

Witness my soul parts free to Antony,

240And now proud tyrant Caesar doe thy worst”.

This said, she stays, and makes a sudden pause,

As ’t were to feel whither the poison wrought,

Or rather else the working might be cause

That made her stay, and entertain’d her  thought.

245For in that instant I might well perceive

The drowsy humour in her falling brow,

And how each power, each part opprest did leave

Their former office and did senseless grow.

Look how a new-pluckt branch against the sun

250Declines his fading leaves in feeble sort,

So her disjoined jointures as undone.

Let fall her weak dissolved limbs support.

Yet lo that face, the wonder of her life,

Retains in death a grace that graceth death,

255Colour so lively, cheer so lovely rife,

That none would think such beauty could want breath.

And in that cheer, th’ impression of a smile

Did seem to show she scorned Death and Caesar,

As glorying that she could them both beguile,

260And telling death how much her death did please her.

Wonder it was to see how soon she went,

She went with such a will, and did so haste it,

That sure I think she did her pain prevent,

Fore-going pain, or staying not to taste it.

265And senseless, in her sinking down she wryes 

The diadem which on her head she wore,

Which Charmion (poor weak feeble maid) espies,

And hastes to right it as it was before.

For Eras now was dead, and Charmion too

270Even at the point, for both would imitate

Their mistress glory, striving like to do.

But Charmion would in this exceed her mate,

For she would have this honour to be last

That should adorn that head that must be seen

275To wear a crown in death that life held fast,

That all the world might know she died a queen.

And as she stood setting if fitly on,

Lo in rush Caesar’s messengers in haste,

Thinking to have prevented what was done,

280But yet they came too late, for all was past.

For there they found, stretch’d on a bed of gold,

Dead Cleopatra, and that proudly dead

In all the rich attire procure she could,

And dying Charmion trimming of her head,

285And Eras at her feet, dead in like case.

“Charmion, is this well done?” said one of them.

“Yea, well” said she, “and her that from the race

Of so great kings descends, doth best become”.

And with that word, yields too her faithful breath,

290To passe th’ assurance of her love with death.

CHORUS

But how knew Caesar of her close intent?

NUNTIUS

By letters which before to him she sent.

For when she had procur’d this means to die,

She writes and earnestly intreats she might

295Be buried in one tomb with Antony.

Whereby then Caesar guess’d all went not right.

And forth-with sends, yet ere the message came

She was dispatcht, he crosst in his intent,

Her providence had ord’red so the same

300That she was sure none should her plot prevent.

[5] CHORUS

Then thus we have beheld

Th’ accomplishment of woes,

The full of ruin, and

The worst of worst of ills.

5And seen all hope expell’d,

That ever-sweet repose

Shall repossess the land

That desolations fills,

And where Ambition spills

10With uncontrolled hand,

All th’ issue of all those

That so long rule have hell’d:

To make us no more us,

But clean confound us thus.

15And canst, oh Nylus! Thou,

Father of floods endure

That yellow Tiber  should

With sandy streams rule thee?

Wilt thou be pleas’d to bow

20To him those feet so pure,

Whose unknown head we hold

A power divine to be?

Thou that didst ever see

Thy free banks uncontroll’d

25Live under thine own care:

Ah wilt thou bear it now?

And now wilt yield thy streams

A pray to other realms?

Draw back thy waters flow

30To thy concealed head:

Rocks strangle up thy waves,

Stop cataracts thy fall.

And turn thy courses so,

That sandy deserts dead,

35The world of dust that craves

To swallow thee up all

May drink so much as shall

Revive from vasty graves

A living green, which spread

40Far flourishing, may grow

On that wide face of Death

Where nothing now draws breath.

Fatten some people there,

Even as thou us hast done,

45With plenty wanton store,

And feeble luxury,

And them as us prepare

Fit for the day of moan

Respected not before.

50Leave levell’d Egypt dry,

A barren pray to lie,

Wasted forever more.

Of plenty yielding none

To recompense the care

55Of victors’ greedy lust,

And bring forth nought but dust.

And so, Oh! Leave to be,

Sith thou art what thou art,

Let not our race possess

60Th’ inheritance of shame,

The see of sin, that we

Have left them for their part,

The yoke of whose distress

Must still upbraid our blame,

65Telling from whom it came.

Our weight of wantonness

Lies heavy on their heart

Who never-more shall see

The glory of that worth

70They left who brought us forth.

Oh thou all seeing light!

High president of heaven,

You magistrates the stars

Of that eternal court

75Of Providence and Right,

Are these the bounds y’ have given

Th’ untranspassable bars

That limit pride so short?

Is greatness of this sort

80That greatness greatness mars,

And wracks itself, self-driven

On rocks of her own might?

Doth Order order so

Disorders overthrow?

Finis.