Classic Poem

ACT III. SCENE I .

Caius Cassius, Marcus Brutus.

Cass . Now ( Brutus ) now we need no more to doubt,
Nor with blinde hopes our judgement to suspend,
That flatt'rers credit (loe) is quite worne out;
We must in time attempt, and not attend:
That race of victors which did realmes appall,
Ah (vanquish'd by their victories at last)
Are by their too much liberty made thrall,
Since all their strength but down themselves doth cast;
And we who by our birth aym'd at great things,
Of the worlds mistresse mighty minions once,
Who might have labour'd to give lawes to kings,
Lawes from a king, must looke for now with grones:
For, such of Caesar is the monstrous pride,
That though he domineers even at this houre,
And to his clients kingdomes doth divide
With an unlimited tyrannicke pow'r;
Yet of dictator he disdaines the name,
And seekes a tyrants title with the place,
Not for his honour, no, but for our shame,
As onely bent to bragge of our disgrace.
Brut . I thought to see that man (as others are)
Walke re-apparell'd with a private gowne,
As one who had unwillingly made warre,
To stand himselfe, not to cast others downe;
So Silla (though more inhumane then he)
Whilst having all to what his heart aspir'd,
The soveraignty resign'd, and set Rome free,
When expectations date was quite expir'd,
By Caesars worth we must thinke that he too,
Will render freedome to this captiv'd state,
When first the world hath view'd what he might doe,
His thoughts are generous, as his minde is great.
Though insolencies oft from courage flow,
His dying fury sparkles but a space:
" High thoughts which Mars inspires, nought can bring low,
" Till one have us'd the purity of peace,
" Those who by violence to all things tend,
" Scarce can themselves to quietnesse conforme;
" Their stately carriage, and franke words, offend,
" Whil'st peace cannot comport with warres rudeforme, "
I hope that Caesar setling civill broyles,
When worne by custome from intestine rage,
Will strive to mitigate his countries toyles,
And all those flames which burn'd his brest, asswage.
Cass . Thus, of his course you by your owne conceiv'd,
As if like thoughts of both did bound the will:
" Ah, honest mindes are with least paine deceiv'd,
" Those who themselves are good, dreame not of ill.
" To sound of some the still unsound device,
" Their inclination must your judgement sway;
" The square of vertue cannot measure vice,
" Nor yet a line when straight, a crooked way. "
So Caesar rising may usurpe the state,
He cares not by what force, nor by what sleight:
" O! one may soone deceive men, and grow great,
" Who leaves religion, honesty and right. "
When as the senators (no more their owne)
Came to that tyrant whom ambition blindes,
And by high honours shew'd how they had showne
To gratifie his greatnesse, gratefull mindes;
He (in a chayre imperiously plac'd,)
Not daign'd to rise, nor bow in any sort,
As both of them had but their due embrac'd,
When he a haughty, they a humble port.
But if he thus, ere we be thoroughly thrall'd,
Dare so disdainefully such great men use,
When in a regall throne by us enstall'd,
Then will he breake that which he now doth bruise.
Was he not first who ever yet began
To violate the sacred tribunes place,
And punish'd them for punishing a man
Who had transgress'd the lawes in time of peace?
The lawes which doe of death all guilty hold,
Whose actions seeme to tyranny inclin'd,
So earnest were our ancestors of old,
To quench a tyrants light before it shin'd:
And shall our Nephewes (heires of bondage) blame
Vs dastard parents who their hopes deceiv'd,
Who saw, who suff'red, who surviv'd such shame,
Not leaving dead, what we when borne receiv'd?
By Caesars friends, to an assembly brought,
The senators intend to call him king.
Brut . I'le not be there.
Cass . But what if we be sought
To ayde (as pretors) such a publike thing?
Brut . I will resist that violent decree;
None of Romes crowne shall long securely boast:
For, ere that I live thrall'd, i'le first dye free,
" What can be kept when liberty is lost? "
Cass . O! with what joy I swallow up those words,
Words worthy of thy worth, and of thy name:
But ( Brutus ) doe not feare, this cause affords
In danger many, but few mates in fame;
When Anthony proud Caesars image crown'd,
By silent sorrow all the people told
In what a depth of woes their thoughts were drown'd,
That bondage-bragging comet to behold.
What doe those scroules throwne in thy chaire import:
Which, what thou art, to brave thy courage, brings?
Be those the fancies of the vulgar sort?
No, none but noble mindes dreame of great things?
Of other pretors people looke for showes,
And distributions whose remembrance dyes,
Whilst bloudy fencers fall with mutuall blowes,
And Africkes monsters doe amaze their eyes;
But from thy hands they liberty attend,
(By birthright due) the glory of thy race,
And bent for thee, their bloud will frankely spend,
So thou succeed in thy great parents place.
He ( Rome redeeming) Tarquin did o'rethrow,
Though from his birth obey'd, and without strife;
A rising tyrant then bring boldly low,
To what extinguish'd was, who would give life.
Brut . I weigh thy words with an afflicted heart,
Which for compassion of my country bleeds:
And would to God that I might onely smart,
So that all others scap'd what mischiefe breeds;
Then, never man himselfe from death did free,
With a more quiet and contented minde,
Then I would perish, if I both could be
To Caesar thankefull, to my country kinde:
But though that great mans grace to me enlarg'd,
May chalenge right in my affections store,
Yet must the greatest debt be first discharg'd,
I owe him much, but to my country more.
This in my brest hath great dissension bred:
I Caesar love, but yet Romes enemy hate,
And as Iove lives, I could be mov'd to shed
My bloud for Caesar, Caesars for the state.
I for my fathers death loath'd Pompey long,
Whilst just disdaine did boyle within my brest:
Yet when he warr'd to venge the common wrong,
I joyn'd with him, because his cause was best.
A minde to raigne if Caesar now reveale,
I will in time precipitate his end:
Thus (never arm'd but for the common-weale)
I help'd a foe, and now must hurt a friend,
Cass . Lest of his favour thou the poyson prove,
From swallowing of such baites in time now spare,
" No tyrant (trust me) can intirely love,
" Nor none who for himselfe doth onely care: "
He by this course doth cunningly intend
(Thy vertue slack'd) to undermine thy minde:
Thy well-knowne courage purpos'd to disbend,
Thus (though with silken bonds) he would thee binde;
This of each tyrant is the common tread,
To wreake all those in whom most worth he findes;
Or (whilst that terrours tosse his jealous head)
By subtilty to snare the greatest mindes:
As, for the pretor-ship when we did strive,
Then both were held in hope, that so deceiv'd,
Each th' others harmes might study to contrive
Through emulation and disdaine conceiv'd.
Thus subtile Caesar by such sleights hath toild
To sow dissension, that we both might pause
Of private wrongs, and (by such meanes imbroil'd)
Still courting him, neglect the common cause.
But nought must make us th', one t' another strange,
Who should in time the tyrants course restraine:
Let other men lament, we must revenge,
I scorne to beare a sword, and to complaine.
Brut . Though Caesar (now) I must conspire thy fall,
My heart to thee yet never harbour'd hate;
But (pardon' me) who ever make it thrall,
From bondage Brutus must redeeme the state,
Of this my course what ever others judge,
Here, I protest it is for good design'd;
My thoughts are guilty of no private grudge,
For, reason and not fury moves my minde;
Nor doth ambition now enflame my brest,
With a prodigious appetite to raigne,
That when I have made Caesar Pluto's guest,
I in his roome a monarch may remaine;
No, if that glory did my fancies charme,
To which (blind-folded) tyrants doe aspire,
I needed not to doe, nor suffer harme,
But with lesse paine might compasse my desire:
For, if I would but temporize a space,
Till time or death diminish Caesars might,
He thinkes that I deserve to have his place,
And I could make my day succeed his night;
Yet doe I not for glory seeke so much
As to attaine it by my countries shame:
But O! I would (my zeale to it is such)
That it may scape, incurre a kinde of blame.
Yea, so that I may free with honour'd wounds
My soile that's dearer then my soule to me,
I could my selfe live banish'd from that bounds,
Which at so deare a rate I would set free.
Cas . What man doth breath of Mars his martiall race,
But will with Brutus sacrifize his bloud,
And (charg'd with armes) ere tyranny take place,
Dare venture all things for his countries good,
Can any judgement be deceiv'd so farre,
But it already clearely may behold,
How that this change Romes greatnesse soon will marre,
And raze the trophees which she rear'd of old.
Of old in Rome , all those who once had worne
The peace-importing gowne, or war-like shield,
(Of dignities as capable all borne,)
Durst ayme at ought that liberty could yeeld;
Those in affaires to deale, who would set forth,
Were not discourag'd by their birth, though base;
And poverty could not hold backe true worth,
From having honour both by warre and peace:
Then emulation violently driv'd
All gallant mindes to tempt great actions still;
In vertues love, who friendly rivals liv'd,
Whilst in their bosomes glory balme did still:
Fabricius first was from the plow advanc'd,
The rudder of the common-weale to hold,
Yet by no meanes his private wealth enhanc'd,
As rich in vertue still, as poore in gold.
Rude Marius too, to match red Mars in fame,
Forth from the vulgar drosse his race remov'd,
And loe, of Cicero the ridiculous name,
As famous as the Fabians now hath prov'd.
Each abject minde disdain'd to be obscure,
When still preferment follow'd lofty cares,
And that one might by dangers past, procure
Fame for himselfe, and honour to his heires;
But since that state by Caesar is o'return'd,
Whilst all our lives upon ones lippes depend,
Of brests which once with love of glory burn'd,
The soaring thoughts this wholly doth disbend;
Advancement now doth not attend desert,
But flowes from fancies of a flatt'red minde;
Which to base hirelings, honour doth impart,
Whilst envy'd worth no safe retreat can finde.
" All proud usurpers most addicted prove,
" To them whom without cause they raise too high,
" As thinking those who stand but by their love,
" To entertaine the same, all meanes must try.
" Where they, whose vertue reapes a due reward,
" Not building onely on the givers grace,
" Doe by deserts not gaine so great regard,
" Whilst they maintaine, as they obtaine their place.
" And if a worthy man to worke great things,
" Wing'd with a tyrants favour, raise his flight,
" The highest course to him most harme still brings,
" Who till he fall, cannot have leave to light.
" Those who by force would have th' affection mov'd,
" When willingly men hold such gallants deare,
" Doe rage that any should be freely lov'd,
" Whose vertue makes their vice more vile appeare. "
The man who now to be preferr'd aspires,
Must by base flattery in a servile forme,
So soothing Caesar , seale all his desires,
And in some shadow lurke to scape a storme.
A number now of that proud rebels foes,
Who grieve to see the ground whence growes their griefe,
Would in obscurity entombe their woes,
So waiting, and not working for reliefe,
But we whose lofty mindes disdaine to lowre,
Like them who seeke but their owne safety thus;
When shall we use high indignations pow'r,
Which (as brave Romans) worthy is of us?
Brut . Since no indignity you will endure,
I see our mindes doe sympathize in this;
Should we by suff'ring, seek to live secure,
Whose action must amend what is amisse?
No, no such abject thought must staine our brest,
Whose active thoughts reach further than discourse,
Whilst but like beasts, affecting food and rest,
Where men by reason should direct their course;
Like those of other parts, not rais'd by strife,
If Caesar had been born, or chus'd our prince,
Then those who durst attempt to take his life,
The world of treason justly might convince.
Let still the states which flourish for the time,
By subjects be inviolable thought,
And those (no doubt) commit a monstrous crime,
Who lawfull soveraignty prophane in ought:
And we must thinke (though now thus brought to bow)
The senate king; a subject Caesar is;
The soveraignty whom violating now,
The world must damne, as having done amisse.
We will (deare Cassius ) for our countries sake,
(Whatever follow) give, or suffer death,
And let us now advise what course to take,
Whilst nought but th' ayre can beare away our breath.
Cass . I thinke this matter needs not many words,
Since but one deed can bound the common shame;
In Caesar's body we must sheath our swords,
And by his death our liberty reclaime;
But since his fortune did confound them all,
Who in the fields to match him did begin;
Whilst he by thousands made their bands to fall,
With hoary legions alwayes us'd to winne:
As Pompeys, Scipio's , and Petreius ghosts,
In lightlesse shades can by experience tell,
Who after fatall proofes of num'rous hoasts,
All famous (though infortunately, fell:)
And since (provided for the Parthian warre)
His armie arm'd attends on his decree,
Where we (sequestred from such forces farre)
Would (if suspected) soone prevented be:
With some few friends whom all things to assay,
A love to us, or to their country bindes,
We to his wreake must walke another way,
Whilst, ere our tongues, our hands doe tell our mindes:
Now when most high, and therefore hated most,
The gathered senate seeks to make him king,
We must goe give the blow before we boast,
And him to death, Rome out of bondage bring.
Brut. In all this course I onely one thing blame,
That we should steale, what we may justly take,
By cloathing honour with a cloake of shame,
Which may our cause (though good) more odious make.
O! I could wish with honourable wounds
To match Romes enemy in the battels dust:
No sweeter musicke then the trumpets sounds,
When right and valour keepe a consort just:
Then, free if quicke, else dead, no harme more fear'd,
I alwayes so contentment might attaine;
What tombe to men more glorious can be rear'd,
Then mountaines made of foes whom they have slaine?
But how are my transported thoughts growne such,
That they disdaine a measure to admit?
Whilst (bent not what to doe, but to doe much)
On glories throne, ambition strives to sit.
No, to the state me from my selfe I give,
Free from particulars, as who expose
Fame, life, and all for it, and whilst I live,
So Rome may gaine, I care not what I lose.
I'le never rest till he for ever rest,
Who gives my country such a cause of griefe;
And that to doe no forme I will detest,
Nor for my fame endanger Romes reliefe:
But (worthy Cassius ) ere we further doe,
Let our friends mindes first well be understood,
Of which I hope to have assistance too,
Who will not venture for his countries good?
Cass. Now whilst my soule rests ravish'd in a trance,
I thinke I see great Rome her courage raise,
Then beat the ayre with songs, th' earth with a dance,
And crowne thy vertues with deserved praise.

AGT III. SCENE II.

Marcus, Brutus, Portia.

Brut . My dearest halfe, my comfort, my delight,
Of whom one smyle may sweeten all my sow'rs:
Thou in my bosome us'd to powre thy spright,
And where I was didst spare afflictions pow'rs.
When broils domesticke did disturbe thy rest,
Then still (till finding) faining some reliefe;
Thou with calme words disguis'd a stormy brest,
Ioyes frankly sharing, and engrossing griefe;
Still tend'ring me with a respective care,
What might offend, was by no meanes made knowne:
But (with loves colours all things painted faire)
What might have made me glad, was gladly showne.
How com'st thou then thy courage thus to lose,
That thou canst look so sad, and in my sight?
Lend me (deare love) a portion of thy woes;
" A burden (when divided) doth grow light; "
I see the roses fading in thy face,
The lilies languish, violets take their place.
Por. Thou hast (dear lord) prevented my designe,
Which was to aske of thee what makes me pale;
If Phaebus had no light, could Phaebe shine?
No, with the cause of force th' effects must faile.
The mirrour but gives backe as it receives,
By just resemblance the objected forme,
And what impression the ingraver leaves,
The waxe retains, still to the stamp conforme.
I am the mirrour which reflects thy minde,
As forc'd from thoughts, or flowing from thine eyes;
I take the state in which thy state I finde;
Such is my colour as thy count'nance dyes.
Then how can I rejoyce, whil'st thou art sad,
Whose breast of all thy crosses is the scroule?
I am still as thou art, if griev'd, or glad,
Thy bodies shadow, th' essence of thy soule:
On that great planet which divides the yeares,
Of fields inferiour as the fruit depends,
And as it vanish doth, or pleas'd appeares,
In th' earths cold bosome, life begins, or ends;
Sunne of my soule, so I subsist by thee,
Whose shining vertue leades me as a thrall:
From care-bred clouds if that thy face be free,
I rise in joyes, but if thou faint I fall.
Brut. With all my course this count'nance best accords,
Who as you know, yet never from my birth,
Light gestures us'd, nor did delight in words,
Whose pleasant straines were onely tun'd to mirth.
My melancholy nature feeds on cares,
Whil'st smothred sorrow by a habite smokes:
" A thoughtfull breast (when burden'd with affaires)
" Doth make a silent mouth, and speaking looks; "
As for my palenesse, it imports but good:
" The bodies humbling doth exalt the minde, "
Where fatnesse (come from food) but serves for food:
In fattest bodies, leanest sprits we finde.
Ah! since I saw the abhorr'd Thessalia's bounds,
All drench'd with bloud of senatours and kings,
(As if my soule yet smarted in their wounds)
A secret sorrow often-times me stings:
But since thy father (braving paine with blows)
In the most hideous forme affronted death,
To him my minde a sad remembrance owes,
Which sorrow shall exact whil'st I have breath;
Yet grieve I that I gave thee cause of griefe,
Who thoughtst some new mishap did me dismay
To such old sores one worst can give reliefe;
But time in end may weare my woes away.
Por. Why shouldst thou so from me thy thoughts conceale?
From thine own soule between whose breasts thou sleep'st,
To whom (though showne) thou dost them not reveale,
But in thy selfe more inwardly them keep'st?
And thou canst hardly hide thy selfe from me,
Who soone in thee each alteration spie,
I can comment on all that comes from thee:
" True love still looks with a suspitious eye: "
Within our bosome rests not every thought,
Tun'd by a sympathie of mutuall love?
Thou marr'st the musicke if thou change in ought,
Which (when distemper'd) I do quickly prove.
Soule of my soule, unfold what is amisse,
Some great disaster all my thoughts divine,
Whose curiousnesse may be excus'd in this,
Since it concerns thy state, and therefore mine.
Brut. I wonder that thou dost thy frailtie show!
" By nature women have beene curious still, "
And yet till now thou never crav'd to know
More then I pleas'd to speak of my free will.
" Nought save the wife a man within the walls,
" Nor ought save him without she should embrace:
" And it not comely is, but th' one enthralls,
" When any sexe usurpes anothers place. "
Deare, to their wonted course thy cares inure,
I may have matters which import the state,
Whose op'ning up might my disgrace procure,
Whose weight for femall thoughts would be too great.
Por. I was not ( Brutus ) match'd with thee, to be
A partner onely of thy boord, and bed:
Each servile whore in those might equall me,
Who but for pleasure or for wealth did wed.
No, Portia spous'd thee minding to remaine
Thy fortunes partner, whether good or ill:
" By loves strict bonds whil'st mutuall duties chaine,
" Two breasts must hold one heart, two souls one will;
" Those whom just Hymen voluntar'ly bindes,
" Betwixt them should communicate all things,
" But chiefly that which most doth move the mindes;
" Whence either pleasure, or displeasure springs. "
If thus thou seek thy sorrows to conceale
Through a disdaine, or a mistrust of me,
Then to the world what way can I reveale,
How great a matter I would do for thee?
And though our sexe too talkative be deem'd,
As those whose tongues import our greatest pow'rs,
For secrets still bad treasurers esteem'd,
Of others greedy, prodigall of ours;
" Good education may reforme defects, "
And this may leade me to a vertuous life,
(Whil'st such rare patterns generous worth respects)
I Cato's daughter am, and Brutus wife.
Yet would I not repose my trust in ought,
Still thinking that thy crosse was great to beare,
Till I my courage to a tyrall brought,
Which suffering for thy cause can nothing feare:
For first to try how that I could comport
With sterne afflictions sprit-enfeebling blows,
Ere I would seek to vex thee in this sort,
To whom my soule a dutious reverence owes.
Loe, here a wound which makes me not to smart,
No, I rejoyce that thus my strength is knowne:
Since thy distresse strikes deeper in my heart,
Thy griefe (lifes joy) makes me neglect mine owne.
Brut. Thou must (deare love) that which thou sought'st receive,
Thy heart so high a saile in stormes still beares,
That thy great courage doth reserve to have
Our enterprise entrusted to thine eares;
This magnanimitie prevailes so farre,
That it my resolution must controule,
And of my bosome doth the depths unbarre,
To lodge thee in the centre of my soule.
Thou seest in what estate the state now stands,
Of whose strong pillars Caesar spoyl'd the best,
Whil'st by his owne, preventing others hands,
Our famous father fell amongst the rest.
That proud usurper fondly doth presume
To re-erect detested Tarquins throne,
Thus the worlds mistresse all-commanding Rome ,
Must entertaine no minion now but one.
All those brave mindes who mark where he doth tend,
Swell with disdaine, their countries scorne to see;
And I am one of those who soone intend
(His death or mine procur'd) to be made free.
Por. And without me, canst thou resolve so soone
To try the danger of a doubtfull strife?
As if despair'd, and alwayes but undone,
Of me growne weary, weary of thy life.
Yet since thou thus thy rash designe hast showne,
Leave Portia's portion, venter not her part,
Endanger nought but that which is thine owne,
Go where thou lik'st, I will hold still thy heart.
But lest by holding of thy best part back,
The other perish't, aggravate my grones:
Who would be so thought guilty of thy wrack,
Take all thy treasure to the seas at once.
Like Asia's monarchs wife, who with short haires,
(Sad signes of bondage) past still where he past,
To weare away, or beare away thy cares,
I'le follow thee, and of thy fortune taste.
These hands which were with mine own bloud imbru'd,
To strike another, may more strength afford,
At least when thou by th' enemies art pursu'd,
I'le set my selfe betwixt thee and each sword;
But if too great a priviledge I claime,
Whose actions all should be dispos'd by thee,
Ah! pardon ( Brutus ) and but onely blame
This streame of passions that transported me.
Brut. Thou ask'st what thou shouldst give, forgive deare mate,
This ventrous course of mine, which must have place,
Though it make fortune tyrant of our state,
Whose fickle foot-steps vertue grieves to trace.
And wonder not though thus to thee I prove,
Since private duties now all pow'r have lost;
I weigh not glory, profit, pleasure, love,
Nor what respect may now import me most:
So to the land of which I hold my life,
I may performe that worke which I intend,
Let me be call'd unkinde unto my wife:
Yea, worst of all, ingrate unto my friend.
" As an instinct by nature makes us know,
" There are degrees of duty to be past,
" Of which the first unto the gods we owe,
" The next t' our countrey, to our friends the last. "
From Rome of old proud tyrants bent to drive,
Did th' author of my race with ardent zeale,
Make those to dye, whom he had made to live,
And spoil'd himselfe to raise the common-weale?
To settle that which Caesar now o'rethrows,
(Though vertues nurserie, stately whil'st it stood)
He with the tyrant inter-changing blows,
On glories altar offered fame his bloud.
And did that man to crosse the common foe,
Then damne his sonnes to death? and with dry eyes,
And is his speciall heire degener'd so,
In abject bondage that he basely lyes?
No, his posterity his name not staines,
But even to tread his steps doth fast draw neare;
Yet, of his sprit in us some spark remaines,
Who more then life, our liberty hold deare.
Por. Then prosecute thy course, for I protest,
Though with some griefe, my soule the same approves;
This resolution doth become thy brest,
In honours spheare where heavenly vertue moves:
And do this enterprise no more deferre,
What thee contents, to me contentment brings,
I to my life thy safety do preferre,
But hold thy honour deare above all things.
It would but let the world my weaknesse see,
If I sought my delights, not thy desires,
Though griefe it give, and threaten death to me,
Go follow forth that which thy fame requires.
Though nature, sexe, and education breed,
No power in me, with such a purpose even,
I must lend help to this intended deed,
If vows and pray'rs may penetrate the heaven:
But difficulties huge my fancie findes,
Nought, save the successe, can defray my feare:
" Ah! fortune alwayes frownes on worthy mindes,
" As hating all who trust in ought save her. "
Yet I despaire not but thou may'st prevaile,
And by this course to ease my present grones,
I this advantage have which cannot faile:
I'le be a free-mans wife, or else be nones:
For, if all prosper not as we pretend,
And that the heavens Romes bondage to decree,
Straight with thy liberty my life shall end,
Who have no comfort but what comes from thee;
My father hath me taught what way to dye,
By which if hindred from encountring death,
Some other meanes, I (though more strange) must try:
For, after Brutus none shall see me breathe.
Brut. Thou for my cause all others earst didst leave,
But now forsak'st thy selfe to joyne with me,
" Ore generous love no pow'r weake passions have "
Against thy minde thou dost with mine agree.
I'le (since by thee approv'd) securely
And vilipend the dangers of this life:
Heavens make my enterprise to prosper so,
That I may once prove worthy such a wife:
But ah! of all thy words those grieve me most,
Which bragge me with the dating of thy dayes;
What? though I in so good a cause were lost,
" None flies the fate which stablish'd for him stayes. "
Do not defraud the world of thy rare worth,
But of thy Brutus the remembrance love;
From this faire prison strive not to breake forth,
Till first the fates have forc'd thee to remove.
Por. The heavens (I feare) have our confusion sworn,
Since this ill age can with no good accord,
Thou and my father (ah!) should have beene borne,
When vertue was advanc'd, and vice abhorr'd.
Then, ere the light of vertue was declin'd,
Your worth had reverenc'd beene, not throwne away,
Where now ye both have but in darknesse shin'd,
As starres by night, that had beene sunnes by day:
Brut. My treasure, strive to pacifie thy brest,
Lest sorrows but sinistrously presage
That which thou would'st not wish, and hope the best,
Though vertue now must act on fortunes stage.

Chorus .

Then liberty, of earthly things
What more delights a generous brest?
Which doth receive,
And can conceive
The matchlesse treasure that it brings;
It making men securely rest,
As all perceive,
Doth none deceive,
Whil'st from the same true courage springs,
But fear'd for nought, doth what seemes best:
" Then men are men, when they are all their owne,
" Not, but by others badges when made knowne: "
Yet should we not mispending houres,
A freedome seeke, as oft it falls,
With an intent
But to content
These vaine delights, and appetites of ours;
For, then but made farre greater thralls,
We might repent
As not still pent
In stricter bounds by others pow'rs,
Whil'st feare licentious thoughts appalls:
" Of all the tyrants that the world affords,
" Ones owne affections are the fiercest lords: "
As libertines those onely live,
Who (from the bands of vice set free)
Vile thoughts cancell,
And would excell
In all that doth true glory give,
From which when as no tyrants be
Them to repell,
And to compell
Their deeds against their thoughts to strive,
They blest are in a high degree:
" For such of fame the scrouls can hardly fill,
" Whose wit is bounded by anothers will. "
Our ancestors of old such prov'd,
(Who Rome from Tarquines yoke redeem'd)
They first obtain'd,
And then maintain'd
Their liberty so dearly lov'd;
They from all things which odious seem'd
(Though not constrain'd)
Themselves restrain'd,
And willingly all good approv'd,
Bent to be much, yet well esteem'd;
" And how could such but ayme at some great end,
" Whom liberty did leade, glory attend? "
They leading valorous legions forth,
(Though wanting kings) triumph'd o're kings,
And still aspir'd,
By Mars inspir'd,
To conquer all from south to north;
Then lending fame their eagles wings,
They all acquir'd
That was requir'd,
To make them rare for rarest things,
The world made witnesse of their worth:
Thus those great mindes who domineer'd o're all,
Did make themselves first free, then others thrall,
But we who hold nought but their name,
From that to which they in times gone
Did high ascend
Must low descend,
And bound their glory with our shame,
Whil'st on an abject tyrants throne,
We (base) attend,
And do intend
Vs for our fortune still to frame,
Not it for us, and all for one:
" As liberty a courage doth impart,
" So bondage doth disbend, else breake the heart, "
Yet, O! who knows but Rome to grace
Another Brutus may arise?
Who may effect
What we affect,
And Tarquines steps make Caesar trace;
Though seeming dangers to despise
He doth suspect
What we expect
Which from his breast hath banish'd peace,
Though fairely he his feares disguise:
" Of tyrants even the wrong, revenge affords,
" All feare but theirs, and they feare all mens swords. "