Act 3
Scene 3.1
L
Great Honors are great burdens: But, on whom
They are cast with enuy, he doth beare two loades.
His cares must still be double to his ioyes,
In any Dignity; where, if he erre
He findes no pardon: and, for doing well
A most small praise, and that wrung out, by force.
I speake this, Romanes, knowing what the weight
Of the high charge, you have trusted to me, is.
Not, that thereby I would with art decline
The good, or greatnesse of your benefit;
For, I ascribe it to your singular grace
And vow, to owe it to no title else,
Except the Gods, that Cicero' is your Consul.
I have no vrnes; no dustie moniments;
No broken images of ancestors,
Wanting an eare, or nose; no forged tables
Of long descents, to boast false honors from;
Or be my vndertakers to your trust.
But a new Man (as I am stil'd in Rome)
Whom you have dignified; and more, in whom
You have cut a way, and left it ope for vertue
Hereafter, to that place, which our Great men
Held shut up, with all rampires, for themselues.
Nor have but few of them, in time bene made
Your Consuls so; New men, before me, none:
At my first suite; In my iust yeare: Preferd
To all Competitors; and some the noblest.
P
Now the vaine swels.
Q
Up glory.
L
And to have
Your lowde consents, from your owne vtter'd voyces;
Not silent bookes: nor from the meaner tribes,
But first, and last, the vniuersall concourse.
This is my ioy, my gladnesse. But my care,
My industrie, and vigilance now must worke,
That still your counsell of me be approu'd;
Both, by your selues, and those, to whom you have,
With grudge, prefer'd me: Two things I must labour,
That neither they upbraid, nor you repent you.
For euery lapse of mine will, now, be call'd
Your error; if I make such: But, my hope is,
So to beare through, and out, the Consulship,
As spight shall ne're wound you, though it may me.
And, for my selfe, I have prepar'd this strength,
To do so well; as, if there happen ill
Vnto me, it shall make the Gods to blush,
And be their crime, not mine, that I am enui'd;
Q
O confidence! more new, then is the Man!
L
I know well, in what termes I do receiue
The Common wealth, how vexed, how perplex'd:
In which, there is not that mischiefe, nor ill fate,
That good men feare not, wicked men expect not.
I know, beside, some turbulent practises
Alreadie on foote, and rumors of more dangers,
P
Or you will make them, if there be none.
L
Last,
I know, it was this, which made the enuy, and pride
Of the Great Romane bloud bate, and give way
To my election.
N
Marcus Tullius, true;
Our neede made thee our Consull, and thy vertue.
Q
Cato, you will vndoe him, with your praise.
N
Cæsar will hurt himselfe, with his owne enuie.
U
The voyce of Cato is the voyce of Rome.
N
The voyce of Rome is the consent of Heauen;
And that hath plac'd thee, Cicero, at the helme,
Where thou must render, now thy selfe a Man,
And Master of thy art. Each pettie hand
Can steere a ship becalm'd; but he that will
Gouerne, and carry her to her endes, must know
His tides, his currents; how to shift his sayles;
What she will beare in foule, what in faire weathers;
Where her springs are, her leakes; and how to stop them;
What sands, what shelues, what rocks do threaten her;
The forces, and the natures of all winds,
Gusts, stormes, and tempests; when her keele ploughs hell
And decke knocks heauen: then, to manage her
Becomes the name, and office of a Pilot.
L
Which I will performe, with all the diligence,
And fortitude I have; nor for my yeare,
But for my life; except my life be lesse,
And that my yeare conclude it: If it must,
Your will, lou'd Gods. This heart shall yet employ
A day, an houre is left me, so, for Rome.
As it shall spring a life, out of my death,
To shine, for euer glorious in my facts;
``The vicious count their yeares, vertuous their acts.
U
Most noble Consul! Let us wait him home.
Q
Most popular Consul he is growne, me thinkes.
P
How the rout cling to him!
Q
And Cato leads them!
P
You, his colleague, Antonius, are not look't on.
M
Not I, nor do I care.
Q
He enioyes rest,
And ease, the while: Let the others spirit toyle,
And wake it out, that was inspir'd for turmoyle.
O
If all reports be true, yet, Caius Cæsar,
The time hath neede of such a watch, and spirit:
Q
Reports? Do you beleeve them Catulus,
Why, he does make, and breed them for the people;
To endeare his seruice to them. Do you not tast
An art, that is so common? Popular men,
They must create strange Monsters, and then quell them;
To make their artes seeme something. Would you have
Such an Herculean Actor in the Scene,
And not his Hydra? They must sweat no lesse
To fit their properties, then to expresse their parts.
P
``Treasons, and guiltie men are made in States
``Too oft, to dignifie the Magistrates.
O
``Those States be wretched, that are forc'd to buy
``Their Rulers fame, with their owne infamy.
P
We therefore, should prouide that ours do not.
Q
That will Antonius make his care.
M
I shall.
Q
And watch the watcher.
O
Here comes Catiline.
How does he brooke his late repulse.
Q
I know not,
But hardly sure.
N
Longinus, too, did stand?
Q
At first: But he gaue way vnto his friend.
O
Who is that come? Lentulus?
Q
Yes. He is againe
Taken into the Senate.
M
And made Prætor.
N
I know it. He had my suffrage, next the Consuls;
Q
True, you were there, Prince of the Senate, then.
Scene 3.2
A
Hayle noblest Romanes. The most worthy Consul,
I gratulate your Honor.
M
I could wish
It had beene happier, by your fellowship,
Most noble Sergius, had it pleas'd the people.
A
It did not please the Gods; who instruct the people.
And their vnquestion'd pleasures must be seru'd.
They know what is fitter for us, then our selues;
And it were impiety, to think against them.
O
You beare it rightly, Lucius; and, it glads me,
To find your thoughts so euen.
A
I shall still
Studie to make them such to Rome, and Heauen.
I would withdraw with you, a little, Iulius.
Q
I will come home to you: Crassus would not have you
To speake to him, 'fore Quintus Catulus.
A
I apprehend you. No, when they shall iudge
Honors conuenient for me, I shall have them,
With a full hand: I know it. In meane time,
They are no lesse part of the Common-wealth,
That do obey, then those, that do command.
O
O, let me kisse your forehead, Lucius.
How are you wrongd!
A
By whom?
O
Publicke report.
That giues you out, to stomacke your repulse;
And brooke it deadly.
A
Sir: she brookes not me.
Belieue me rather, and your selfe, now, of me;
It is a kinde of slander, to trust rumour.
O
I know it. And I could be angrie with it.
A
So may not I. Where it concernes himselfe,
Who is angry at a slander, makes it true.
O
Most noble Sergius! This your temper melts me.
P
Will you do office to the Consul, Quintus?
Q
That Cato, and the Rout have done the other?
O
I waite, when he will goe. Be still your selfe.
He wants no state, or honors, that hath vertue,
A
Did I appeare so tame, as this man thinks me?
Look'd I so poore, so dead? So like that nothing,
Which he calls vertuous? O my breast, breake quickly;
And shew my friends my in-parts, least they think
I have betraid them.
E
Where is Gabinius?
B
Gone.
E
And Vargunteius?
B
Slipt away; all shrunke:
Now he mist the Consul-ship.
A
I am
The scorne of bond-men; who are next to beasts.
What can I worse pronounce my selfe, that is fitter?
The Owle of Rome, whom Boyes, and Girles will hout;
That were I set up, for that woodden God,
That keepes our gardens, could not fright the crowes,
Or the least Bird from muting on my head,
E
It is strange how he should misse it.
B
Is it not stranger,
The upstart Cicero should carry it so,
By all consents, from men so much his Masters?
E
It is true.
A
To what a shadow, am I melted!
E
Antonius wan it but by some few voyces.
A
Strooke through, like ayre, and feele it not. My wounds
Close faster, then they are made.
F
The whole designe,
And enterprise is lost by it. All handes quit it,
Upon his fayle.
A
I grow mad at my patience.
It is a Visor that hath poyson'd me.
Would it had burnt me up, and I died inward:
My heart first turn'd to ashes.
E
Here is Cethegus yet.
Scene 3.3
A
Repulse upon repulse? An In-mate, Consul?
That I could reach the axell, where the pinnes are,
Which bolt this frame; that I might pull them out,
And plucke all into Chaos; with my selfe.
C
What, are we wishing now?
A
Yes, my Cethegus.
Who would not fall with all the world about him?
C
Not I, that would stand on it, when it falles;
And force new Nature out, to make another.
These wishing taste of woman, not of Romane.
Let us seeke other armes.
A
What should we do?
C
Do, and not wish; something, that wishes take not:
So sodaine, as the Gods should not preuent,
Nor scarce have time, to feare.
A
O noble Caius!
C
It likes me better, that you are not Consul.
I would not goe through open dores, but breake them;
Swim to my ends, through bloud; or build a bridge
Of carcasses; make on, upon the heads
Of men, strooke downe, like piles; to reach the liues
Of those remaine, and stand: Then is it a pray,
When Danger stoppes, and Ruine makes the way.
A
How thou dost vtter me, braue soule, that may not,
At all times, shew such as I am; but bend
Vnto occasion? Lentulus, this man,
If all our fire were out, would fetch downe new,
Out of the hand of Ioue; and riuet him
To Caucasus, should he but frowne: and let
His owne gaunt Eagle flie at him, to tire.
B
Peace, here comes Cato.
A
Let him come, and heare.
I will no more dissemble. Quit us all;
I, and my lou'd Cethegus here, alone
Will vndertake this Giants warre, and cary it.
B
What needs this, Lucius?
E
Sergius be more wary.
A
Now, Marcus Cato, our new Consuls spie,
What is your sowre austerity sent to explore.
N
Nothing in thee, licentious Catiline:
Halters, and racks cannot expresse from thee
More, then thy deeds. It is onely iudgement waits thee.
A
Whose? Cato's? shall he iudge me?
N
No, the Gods,
Who, euer, follow those, they go not with:
And Senate; who, with fire, must purge sicke Rome
Of noysome Citizens, whereof thou art one.
Be gone, or else let me. It is bane to draw
The same ayre with thee.
C
Strike him.
B
Hold good Caius;
C
Fearst thou not, Cato?
N
Rash Cethegus, no.
It were wrong with Rome, when Catiline and thou
Do threat, if Cato feard.
A
The fire you speake of
If any flame of it approach my fortunes,
I will quench it, not with water, but with ruine.
N
You heare this, Romanes.
A
Beare it to the Consul.
C
I would have sent away his soule, before him.
You are too heauie, Lentulus, and remisse;
It is for you we labour, and the Kingdome
Promis'd you by the Sibyll's.
A
Which his Prætorship,
And some small flattery of the Senate more,
Will make him to forget.
B
You wrong me, Lucius.
E
He will not need these spurres.
C
The action needs them.
``These things, when they proceed not, they goe backward.
B
Let us consult then.
C
Let us, first, take armes.
They that denie us iust things, now, will give
All that we aske; if once they see our swords.
O
Our obiects must be sought with wounds, not words.
Scene 3.4
L
Is there a Heauen? and Gods? and can it be
They should so slowly heare, so slowly see?
Hath Ioue no thunder? or is Ioue become
Stupide as thou art? o neare-wretched Rome,
When both thy Senate, and thy Gods do sleepe,
And neither thine, nor their owne States do keepe!
What will awake thee, Heauen? what can excite
Thine anger, if this practise be too light?
His former drifts partake of former times,
But this last plot was only Catilines.
O, that it were his last. But he, before
Hath safely done so much, he will still dare more.
Ambition, like a torrent, nere lookes backe;
And is a swelling, and the last affection
A high minde can put off: being both a Rebell
Vnto the soule, and reason, and enforceth
All lawes, all conscience, treades upon religion,
And offereth violence to Natures selfe.
But here, is that transcends it. A blacke purpose
To confound Nature: and to ruine that,
Which neuer Age, nor Mankinde can repaire.
Sit downe, good Lady; Cicero is lost
In this your fable: for, to think it true
Tempteth my reason. It so farre exceedes
All insolent fictions of the tragicke Scene.
The Commonwealth, yet panting, vnderneath
The stripes, and wounds of a late ciuill warre,
Gasping for life, and scarce restor'd to hope;
To seeke to oppresse her, with new cruelty,
And vtterly extinguish her long name,
With so prodigious, and vnheard-of fiercenesse!
What sinke of Monsters, wretches of lost minds,
Mad after change, and desp'rate in their states,
Wearied, and gall'd with their necessities,
( For all this I allow them) durst have thought it?
Would not the barbarous deeds have beene beleeu'd,
Of Marius, and Sylla, by our Children,
Without, this fact had rise forth greater, for them?
All, that they did, was piety, to this.
They, yet, but murdred Kinsfolke, Brothers, Parents,
Rauish'd the Virgins, and, perhaps, some Matrons;
They left the Citty standing, and the Temples:
The Gods, and Maiesty of Rome were safe yet.
These purpose to fire it, to dispoile them,
(Beyond the other euils,) and lay wast
The farre-triumphed world: For, vnto whom
Rome is too little, what can be inough?
I
It is true, my Lord, I had the same discourse.
L
And, then, to take a horride Sacrament
In humane blood, for execution
Of this their dire designe; which might be call'd
The height of wickednesse: but that, that was higher,
For which they did it.
I
I assure your Lordship,
The extreme horror of it almost turn'd me
To aire, when first I heard it; I was all
A vapor, when it was told me; and I long'd
To vent it any where; It was such a secret,
I thought, it would have burnt me up.
L
Good Fuluia,
Feare not your act; and lesse repent you of it.
I
I do not, my good Lord. I know to whom
I have vtter'd it.
L
You have discharg'd it, safely.
Should Rome, for whom you have done the happy seruice,
Turne most ingrate; yet were your vertue paid
In conscience of the fact: so much good deedes
Reward themselues.
I
My Lord, I did it not
To any other ayme, but for it selfe.
To no ambition.
L
You have learn'd the difference
Of doing office to the publike weale,
And priuate friendship, and have shewne it, Lady.
Be still your selfe. I have sent for Quintus Curius,
And (for your vertuous sake) if I can winne him,
Yet, to the common wealth; He shall be safe too.
I
I will vndertake, my Lord, he will be wonne.
L
Pray, you ioyne with me, then: And helpe to worke him.
Scene 3.5
L
How now? Is he come?
W
He is here, my Lord.
L
Goe presently,
Pray my Colleague Antonius, I may speake with him,
About some present businesse of the State;
And (as you goe) call on my brother Quintus,
And pray him, with the Tribunes to come to me.
Bid Curius enter. Fuluia, you will aide me?
I
It is my duty.
L
O, my noble Lord!
I have to chide you, yfaith. Give me your hand.
Nay, be not troubled; it shall be gently, Curius.
You looke upon this Lady? What? Do you ghesse
My businesse, yet? Come, if you growne, I thunder:
Therefore, put on your better lookes, and thoughts.
There is nought but faire, and good intended to you;
And I would make those your complexion.
Would you, of whom the Senate had that hope,
As, on my knowledge, it was in their purpose,
Next sitting, to restore you: as they have done
The stupide, and vngratefull Lentulus;
(Excuse me, that I name you thus, together,
For, yet, you are not such) would you, I say,
A person both of Blood and Honor, stock't
In a long race of vertuous Ancestors,
Embarke your selfe for such a hellish action,
With Parricides, and Traitors, men turn'd Furies,
Out of the wast, and ruine of their fortunes;
(For it is despaire, that is the mother of madnesse)
Such as want (that, which all Conspirators,
But they, have first) meere colour for their mischiefe?
O, I must blush with you. Come, you shall not labour
To extenuate your guilt, but quit it cleane;
``Bad men excuse their faults, good men will leaue them.
``He acts the third crime, that defends the first.
Here is a Lady, that hath got the start,
In piety, of us all; and, for whose vertue,
I could almost turne Louer, againe: but that
Terentia would be iealous. What an honor
Hath she atchieued to herselfe! What voices,
Titles, and loud applauses will pursue her,
Through euery street! What windores will be fill'd,
To shoote eyes at her! What enuy, and griefe in Matrons,
They are not she! When this her act shall seeme
Worthier a Chariot, then if Pompey came,
With Asia chain'd! All this is while she liues.
But dead, her very name will be a Statue,
Not wrought for time, but rooted in the minds
Of all posterity; when Brasse, and Marble,
Aye, and the Capitol it selfe is dust.
I
Your Honor thinks too highly of me.
L
No:
I cannot think inough. And I would have
Him emulate you. It is no shame, to follow
The better precedent. She shewes you, Curius,
What claime your Countrey laies to you; and what duty
You owe to it: Be not afraid, to breake
With Murderers, and Traytors, for the sauing
A life, so neare, and necessary to you,
As is your Countries. Think but on her right.
``No Child can be too naturall to his Parent.
She is our common Mother, and doth challenge
The prime part of us; Do not stop, but give it:
``He, that is void of feare, may soone be iust,
``And no Religion binds men to be Traitors.
I
My Lord, he vnderstands it; and will follow
Your sauing counsell. But his shame, yet, stayes him.
I know, that he is comming.
D
Do you know it?
I
Yes, let me speake with you.
D
O you are -- .
I
What am I?
D
Speake not so loud.
I
I am, what you should be,
Come, do you think, I would walke in any plot,
Where Madame Sempronia should take place of me,
And Fuluia come in the rere or on the by?
That I would be her second, in a businesse,
Though it might vantage me all the Sunne sees?
It was a seely phant'sie of yours. Apply
Your selfe to me, and the Consul, and be wise;
Follow the fortune I have put you into:
You may be something this way, and with safety.
L
Nay, I must tolerate no whisperings, Lady.
I
Sir, you may heare. I tell him, in the way,
Wherein he was, how hazardous his course was.
L
How hazardous? how certaine to all ruine.
Did he, or do, yet, any of them imagine
The Gods would sleepe, to such a Stygian practise,
Against that Commonwealth, which they have founded
With so much labour, and like care have kept,
Now neare seuen hundred yeares? It is a madnesse,
Wherewith Heauen blinds them, when it would confound them,
That they should think it. Come, my Curius,
I see your nature is right; you shall no more
Be mention'd with them: I will call you mine,
And trouble this good shame, no farder. Stand
Firme for your Countrey; and become a man
Honor'd, and lou'd. It were a noble life,
To be found dead, embracing her. Know you,
What thanks, what titles, what rewards the Senate
Will heape upon you, certaine, for your seruice?
Let not a desperate action more engage you,
Then safety should; and wicked friendship force
What honesty, and vertue cannot worke.
I
He tels you right, sweete friend: It is sauing counsaile.
D
Most noble Consul, I am yours, and hers;
I meane my Countries: you have form'd me new.
Inspiring me, with what I should be, truely.
And I intreate, my faith may not seeme cheaper
For springing out of penitence.
L
Good Curius,
It shall be dearer rather, and because
I would make it such, heare how I trust you more.
Keepe still your former face; and mixe againe
With these lost spirits. Runne all their mazes with them;
For such are treasons. Finde their windings out,
And subtle turnings, watch their snaky waies,
Through brakes, and hedges, into woods of darkenesse,
Where they are faine to creepe upon their breasts
In pathes nere trod by Men, but Wolues, and Panthers.
Learne, beside Catiline, Lentulus, and those,
Whose names I have, what new ones they draw in;
Who else are likely; what those Great ones are,
They do not name; what waies they meane to take;
And whither their hopes point; to warre: or ruine,
By some surprize. Explore all their intents,
And what you finde may profit the Republique,
Acquaint me with it, either, by your selfe,
Or this your vertuous friend, on whom I lay
The care of vrging you; I will see, that Rome
Shall proue a thankefull, and a bounteous Mother:
Be secret as the night.
D
And constant Sir.
L
I do not doubt it. Though the time cut off
All vowes. ``The dignity of truth is lost,
With much protesting: Who is there! This way,
Least you be seene, and met. And when you come,
Be this your token; to this fellow. Light them.
O Rome, in what a sicknesse art thou fall'n!
How dangerous, and deadly! when thy head
Is drown'd in sleepe, and all thy body feu'ry!
No noise, no pulling, no vexation wakes thee,
Thy Lethargie is such: or if, by chance,
Thou heau'st thy eye-lids up, thou dost forget
Sooner, then thou wert told, thy proper danger.
I did vnreuerendly, to blame the Gods,
Who wake for thee, though thou snore to thy selfe.
Is it not strange, thou shouldst be so diseas'd,
And so secure? But more, that the first symptomes
Of such a malady, should not rise out
From any worthy member, but a base
And common strumpet, worthlesse to be nam'd
A haire, or part of thee? Think, think, hereafter,
What thy needes were, when thou must vse such meanes:
And lay it to thy breast, how much the Gods
Upbraid thy foule neglect of them; by making
So vile a thing, the Author of thy safety.
They could have wrought by nobler waies: have strooke
Thy foes which forked lightning; or ramm'd thunder;
Throwne hilles upon them, in the act; have sent
Death, like a dampe, to all their families;
Or caus'd their consciences to burst them. But,
When they will shew thee what thou art, and make
A scornefull difference 'twixt their power, and thee,
They helpe thee by such aides, as Geese, and Harlots.
How now? What answere? Is he come?
W
Your Brother,
Will streight be here; and your Colleague Antonius
Said, coldly, he would follow me.
L
Aye, that
Troubles me somewhat, and is worth my feare;
He is a man, 'gainst whom I must prouide,
That (as he will do no good) he do no harme;
He, though he be not of the plot, will like it,
And wish it should proceede; for, vnto men,
Prest with their wants, all change is euer welcome.
I must with offices, and patience winne him;
Make him, by art, that which he is not borne,
A friend vnto the publique; and bestow
The Prouince on him; which is by the Senate
Decreed to me: That benefit will bind him.
It is well, if some men will do well, for price;
``So few are vertuous, when the reward is away:
Nor must I be vnmindfull of my priuate;
For which I have call'd my Brother, and the Tribunes,
My Kins-folke, and my Clients to be neare me;
``He that stands up 'gainst Traitors, and their ends,
``Shall neede a double guard, of law, and friends:
``Especially, in such an enuious State,
``That sooner will accuse the Magistrate,
``Then the Delinquent; and will rather grieue
``The Treason is not acted, then beleeue.
Scene 3.6
Q
The night growes on; and you are for your meeting:
I will therefore end in few. Be resolute,
And put your enterprise in act: The more
``Actions of depth, and danger are consider'd,
``The lesse assuredly they are perform'd.
And thence it hapneth, that the brauest plots
(Not executed straight) have been discouer'd.
Say, you are constant, or another, a third,
Or more; there may be yet one wretched spirit,
With whom the feare of punishment shall worke
'Boue all the thoughts of honor, and reuenge.
You are not, now, to think what is best to do,
As in beginnings; but, what must be done,
Being thus entred: and slip no aduantage
That may secure you. Let them call it mischiefe;
``When it is past, and prosper'd, it will be vertue.
``They are petty crimes are punish'd, great rewarded.
Nor must you think of perill; since, ``Attempts,
``Begunne with danger, still do end with glory:
``And, when neede spurres, despaire will be call'd wisdome.
Lesse ought the care of men, or fame to fright you;
``For they, that winne, do seldome receiue shame
``Of victory: how ere it be atchiu'd;
And vengeance, least. For who, besieg'd with wants,
Would stop at death, or any thing beyond it?
Come, there was neuer any great thing thing, yet,
Aspired, but by violence, or fraud:
And he that stickes (for folly of a conscience)
To reach it -- .
A
Is a good religious foole.
Q
A superstitious slaue, and will die beast.
Good night. You know what Crassus thinks, and I,
By this: Prepare you wings, as large as sayles,
To cut through ayre, and leaue no print behind you.
A Serpent, ere he comes to be a Dragon,
Does eate a Bat: and so must you a Consul,
That watches. What you do, do quickly Sergius.
You shall not stir for me.
A
Excuse me, lights there.
Q
By no meanes.
A
Stay then. All good thoughts to Cæsar.
And like to Crassus.
Q
Mind but your friends counsels.
Scene 3.7
A
Or, I will beare no mind. How now, Aurelia?
Are your confederates come? the Ladies?
V
Yes.
A
And is Sempronia there?
V
She is.
A
That is well.
She has a sulphurous spirit, and will take
Light at a sparke. Breake with them, gentle loue,
About the drawing as many of their Husbands,
Into the plot, as can: if not, to rid them.
That will be the easier practise, vnto some,
Who have bene tir'd with them long. Sollicite
Their aydes, for money; and their Seruants helpe,
In firing of the Citie, at the time
Shall be design'd. Promise them States, and Empires,
And men, for Louers, made of better clay,
Then euer the old Potter Titan knew.
Who is that? O, Porcius Lecca! are they met?
F
They are all, here.
A
Loue, you have your instructions.
I will trust you with the stuffe you have to worke on.
You will forme it? Porcius, fetch the siluer Eagle
I gave you in charge. And pray them, they will enter.
Scene 3.8
A
Our Friends, your faces glad me. This will be
Our last, I hope, of consultation.
C
So, it had need.
D
We loose occasion, daily.
A
Aye, and our meanes: whereof one woundes me most,
That was the fairest. Piso is dead, in Spaine.
C
As we are, here.
E
And, as it is thought, by enuy
Of Pompey's followers.
B
He too is comming backe,
Now, out of Asia.
A
Therefore, what we intend
We must be swift in. Take your seates, and heare.
I have, alreadie, sent Septimius
Into the Picene territorie; and Iulius,
To rayse force, for us, in Apulia:
Manlius at Fesula is (by this time) up,
With the old needie troopes, that follow'd Sylla;
And all do but expect, when we will give
The blow at home. Behold this siluer Eagle,
Was Marius standard, in the Cimbrian warre,
Fatall to Rome; and, as our Augures tell me,
Shall still be so: For which one omenous cause,
I have kept it safe, and done it sacred rites,
As to a Godhead; in a Chappell built
Of purpose to it. Pledge then all your hands,
To follow it, with vowes of death, and ruine,
Strooke silently, and home. So waters speake
When they runne deepest. Now is the time, this yeare,
The twenti'th, from the firing of the Capitol,
As fatall too, to Rome, by all predictions;
And, in which, honor'd Lentulus must rise
A King, if he pursue it.
D
If he do not,
He is not worthy the great destiny.
B
It is too great for me, but what the Gods,
And their great loues decree me, I must not
Seeme carelesse of.
A
No nor we enuious.
We have enough beside, all Gallia, Belgia,
Greece, Spayne, and Africke.
D
Aye and Asia too,
Now Pompey is returning.
A
Noblest Romanes,
Me thinkes our lookes, are not so quicke and high,
As they were wont.
D
No? whose is not?
A
We have
No anger in our eyes, no storme, no lightning;
Our hate is spent, and fum'd away in vapor,
Before our hands be at worke. I can accuse
Not any one, but all of slacknesse.
C
Yes,
And be your selfe such, while you do it.
A
Ha?
It is sharply answerd, Caius,
C
Truly, truly.
B
Come, let us each one know his part to do,
And then be accus'd. Leaue these vntimely quarrels.
D
I would there were more Romes then one, to ruine.
C
More Romes? More Worlds.
D
Nay then more Gods, and Natures,
If they tooke part.
B
When shall the time be, first?
A
I think the Saturnals.
C
It will be too long.
A
They are not now farre off, it is not a month.
C
A weeke, a day, an houre is too farre off,
Now, were the fitest time.
A
We have not laid
All things so safe, and readie.
C
While we are laying,
We shall all lie; and grow to earth. Would I
Were nothing in it, if not now. These things
They should be done, e're thought.
A
Nay, now your reason
Forsakes you, Caius. Think, but what commodity
That time will minister; the Cities custome
Of being, then, in mirth, and feast.
B
Loos'd whole
In pleasure and securitie.
W
Each house
Resolu'd in freedome.
D
Euery slaue a master.
E
And they too no meane aides.
D
Made from their hope
Of liberty.
B
Or hate vnto their Lords.
W
It is sure, there cannot be a time found out
More apt, and naturall.
B
Nay, good Cethegus,
Why do your passions, now, disturbe our hopes?
C
Why do your hopes delude your certainties?
A
You must lend him his way. Think, for the order,
And processe of it.
E
Yes.
B
I like not fire:
It will too much wast my Citie.
A
Were it embers,
There will be wealth enough, rak't out of them,
To spring a new: It must be fire, or nothing.
E
What else should fright, or terrefie them?
W
True.
In that confusion, must be the chiefe slaughter.
D
Then we shall kill them brauest.
W
And in heapes.
Strew Sacrifices.
D
Make the Earth an Altar.
E
And Rome the fire.
F
It will be a noble night.
W
And worth all Sylla's daies.
D
When Husbands, Wiues,
Grandsires, and Nephewes, Seruants, and their Lords,
Virgins, and Priests, the Infant, and the Nurse
Go all to hell, together, in a fleete.
A
I would have you, Longinus, and Statilius,
To take the charge of the firing, which must be,
At a signe giuen with a trumpet, done
In twelue chiefe places of the Citie, at once.
The flaxe, and sulphure, are alreadie laid
In, at Cethegus house. So are the weapons.
Gabinius, you, with other force, shall stop
The pipes, and conduits: And kill those that come
For water.
D
What shall I do?
A
All will have
Employment, feare not: Ply the execution.
D
For that, trust me, and Cethegus.
A
I will be
At hand, with the army, to meete those that scape.
And Lentulus, begirt you Pompey's house,
To seise his sonnes aliue: for they are they
Must make our peace with him. All else cut off,
As Tarquin did the Poppey heads; or mowers
A field of thistles; or else, up, as ploughes
Do barren lands; and strike together flints,
And clods; the ungratefull Senate, and the People:
Till no rage, gone before, or comming after
May weigh with yours, though Horror leapt her selfe
Into the scale: but, in your violent acts,
The fall of torrents, and the noyse of tempests,
The boyling of Charybdis, the Seas wildnesse,
The eating force of flames, and wings of winds,
Be all outwrought, by your transcendent furies.
It had bene done, ere this, had I bene Consul;
We had had no stop, no let.
B
How find you Antonius?
A
The other has wonne him lost, that Cicero
Was borne to be my opposition,
And stands in all our waies.
D
Remoue him first.
C
May that, yet, be done sooner?
A
Would it were done.
D
I will do it.
C
It is my prouince; none vsurpe it.
B
What are your meanes?
C
Enquire not. He shall die.
Shall, was too slowly said. He is dying. That
Is, yet, too slow. He is dead.
A
Braue, only Romane,
Whose soule might be the worlds soule, were that dying;
Refuse not, yet, the aydes of these your friends:
B
Here is Vargunteius holds good quarter with him.
A
And vnder the pretext of clientele
And visitation, with the morning Hayle,
Will be admitted.
C
What is that to me?
W
Yes, we may kill him in his bed, and safely.
C
Safe is your way, then; take it. Mine is mine owne.
A
Follow him, Vargunteius, and perswade,
The morning is the fittest time.
E
The night
Will turne all into tumult.
B
And perhaps
Misse of him too.
A
Intreat, and coniure him.
In all our names.
B
By all our vowes, and friendships.
Scene 3.9
J
What! is our Councell broke up first?
W
You say,
Women are greatest talkers.
J
We have done;
And are now fit for action.
E
Which is passion.
There is your best actiuity, Lady.
J
How
Knowes your wise fatnesse that?
E
Your Mothers daughter
Did teach me, Madam.
C
Come Sempronia, leaue him:
He is a Giber. And our present businesse
Is of more serious consequence. Aurelia
Tells me, you have done most masculinely within,
And plaid the Orator.
W
But we must hasten
To our designe as well, and execute:
Not hang still, in the feuer of an accident.
A
You say well, Lady.
J
I do like our plot
Exceeding well, it is sure; and we shall leaue
Little to fortune, in it.
A
Your banquet stayes.
Aurelia take her in. Where is Fuluia?
J
O the two Louers are coupling.
D
In good faith,
She is very ill, with sitting up.
J
You would have her
Laugh, and lie downe.
I
No, faith, Sempronia,
I am not well; I will take my leaue, it drawes
Toward the morning. Curius shall stay with you.
Madam, I pray you pardon me, my health
I must respect.
W
Farewell, good Fuluia.
D
Make hast, and bid him get his guards about him.
For Vargunteius, and Cornelius
Have vndertane it, should Cethegus misse:
Their reason, that they think his open rashnesse
Will suffer easier discouerie,
Then their attempt; so vailed vnder friendship.
I will bring you to your Coach. Tell him, beside,
Of Cæsars comming forth, here.
A
My sweete Madam,
Will you be gone?
I
I am, my Lord, in truth,
In some indisposition.
A
I do wish
You had all your health, sweet Lady. Lentulus,
You will do her seruice.
B
To her coach, and duty.
Scene 3.10
A
What ministers men must, for practise, vse!
>The rash, the ambitious, needy, desperate,
>Foolish, and wretched, eu'n the dregs of Mankinde,
>To whores, and women! Still, it must be so.
>Each have their proper place; and, in their roomes,
>They are the best. Groomes fittest kindle fires,
>Slaues carry burdens, Butchers are for slaughters,
>Apothecaries, Butlers, Cookes for poysons;
>As these for me: Dull, stupide Lentulus,
>My stale, with whom I stalke; the rash Cethegus,
>My executioner; and fat Longinus,
>Statilius, Curius, Ceparius, Cimber.
>My laborers, pioners, and incendiaries;
>With these domesticke traitors, bosome theeues,
>Whom custome hath call'd Wiues; the readiest helpes,
>To strange head-strong Husbands; rob the easie;
>And lend the moneyes, on returnes of lust.
>Shall Catiline not do, now, with these aides,
>So sought, so sorted, something shall be call'd
>Their labor, but his profit? and make Cæsar
>Repent his ventring counsels, to a spirit,
>So much his Lord in mischiefe? when all these,
>Shall, like the Brethren sprung of Dragons teeth,
>Ruine each other; and he fall amongst them:
>With Crassus, Pompey, or who else appeares,
>But like, or neare a great one. May my braine
>Resolue to water, and my bloud turne phlegme,
>My hands, drop off, vnworthy of my sword,
>And that be inspired, of it selfe, to rip
>My breast, for my lost entrailes; when I leaue
>A soule, that will not serue. And who will, are
>The same with slaues; such clay I dare not feare.
>The cruelty, I meane to act, I wish
>Should be call'd mine, and tary in my name;
>Whil'st after Ages do toyle out themselues
>In thinking for the like, but do it lesse:
>And, were the power of all the fiends let loose,
>With Fate to boote, it should be, still, example.
>When, what the Gaule or Moore could not effect,
>Nor æmulous Carthage, with their length of spight,
>Shall be the worke of one, and that my night.
Scene 3.11
L
I thanke your vigilance. Where is my brother, Quintus?
>Call all my seruants up. Tell noble Curius,
>And say it to your selfe, you are my Sauers;
>But that is too little for you, you are Rome's:
>What could I then, hope lesse? O brother! now,
>The engines I told you of, are working;
>The machine 'gin's to moue. Where are your weapons?
>Arme all my houshold presently. And charge
>The Porter, he let no man in, till day.
>
W
Not Clients, and your friends?
>
L
They weare those names,
>That come to murther me. Yet send for Cato,
>And Quintus Catulus; those I dare trust;
>And Flaccus, and Pomtinius, the Prætors,
>By the backe way.
>
W
Take care, good brother Marcus,
>Your feares be not form'd greater, then they should;
>And make your friends grieue, while your enemies laugh.
>
L
It is brothers counsell, and worth thankes. But do
>As I intreat you. I prouide, not feare.
>Was Cæsar there, say you?
>
I
Curius sayes, he met him,
>Comming from thence.
>
L
O, so. And, had you a counsell
>Of Ladies too? Who was your Speaker, Madam?
>
I
She that would be, had there bene fortie more;
>Sempronia, who had both her Greeke, and Figures;
>And, euer and anone, would aske us, if
>The witty Consul could have mended that?
>Or Orator Cicero could have said it better?
>
L
She is my gentle enemy. Would Cethegus
>Had no more danger in him. But, my guards
>Are you, great powers; and the vnbated strengths
>Of a firme conscience, which shall arme each step
>Tane for the State; and teach me slacke no pace
>For feare of malice. How now, Brother?
>
W
Cato,
>And Quintus Catulus were comming to you,
>And Crassus with them. I have let them in,
>By the garden.
>
L
What would Crassus have?
>
W
I heare
>Some whispering 'bout the gate; and making doubt,
>Whither it be not yet too early, or no?
>But I do think, they are your friendes, and Clients,
>Are fearefull to disturbe you.
>
L
You will change
>To another thought, anone. Have you giu'n the Potter
>The charge, I will'd you?
>
W
Yes.
>
L
Withdraw, and hearken.
Scene 3.12
W
The dore is not open, yet.
>You were best to knocke.
>Let them stand close, then: And, when we are in,
>Rush after us.
>But where is Cethegus?
>He
>Has left it, since he might not do it his way.
>Who is there?
>A friend, or more.
>I may not let
>Any man in, till day.
>No? why?
>Thy reason?
>I am commanded so.
>By whom?
>I hope
>We are not discouer'd.
>Yes, by reuelation.
>Pray thee good slaue, who has commanded thee?
>He that may best, the Consull.
>We are his friends,
>All is one.
>Best give your name.
>Dost thou heare, fellow?
>I have some instant businesse with the Consull.
>My name is Vargunteius.
>
L
True, he knoes it;
>And for what friendly office you are sent.
>Cornelius, too, is there?
>
W
We are betraid.
>
L
And desperate Cethegus, is he not?
>
W
Speake you, he knowes my voice.
>
L
What say you to it?
>
W
You are deceau'd Sir.
>
L
No, it is you are so;
>Poore, misled men. Your states are yet worth pitty,
>If you would heare, and change your sauage minds.
>Leaue to be mad; forsake your purposes
>Of Treason, Rapine, Murder, Fire, and Horror:
>The common wealth hath eyes, that wake as sharply
>Ouer her life, as yours do for her ruine.
>Be not deceiu'd, to think her lenity
>Will be perpetuall; or, if Men be wanting,
>The gods will be, to such a calling cause.
>Consider your attempts, and while there is time,
>Repent you of them. It doth make me tremble
>There should those spirits yet breath, that when they cannot
>Liue honestly, would rather perish basely.
>
W
You talke too much to them, Marcus, They are lost.
>Goe forth, and apprehend them.
>
O
If you proue
>This practise; what should let the Common-wealth
>To take due vengeance?
>
W
Let us shift, away.
>The darknesse hath conceal'd us, yet: We will say
>Some have abus'd our names.
>Denie it all.
>
N
Quintus, what guards have you? Call the Tribunes aide,
>And raise the City. Consul, you are too mild,
>``The foulenesse of some facts takes thence all mercy:
>Report it to the Senate. Heare: The Gods
>Grow angry with your patience. ``It is their care,
>``And must be yours, that guilty men escape not.
>``As crimes do grow, Iustice should rouse it selfe.
>
U
What is it, Heauens, you prepare
>With so much swiftnesse, and so sodaine rising?
>There are no Sonnes of earth, that dare,
>Againe, rebellion: or the Gods surprising?
>The World doth shake, and Nature feares,
>Yet is the tumult, and the horror greater
>Within our minds, then in our eares,
>So much Romes faults (now growne her Fate) do threat her.
>The Priests, and People runne about,
>Each Order, Age, and Sexe amaz'd at other;
>And, at the ports, all thronging out,
>As if their safety were to quit their Mother:
>Yet finde they the same dangers there,
>From which they make such hast to be preserued;
>For guilty States do euer beare
>The plagues about them, which they have deserued.
>And, till those plagues do get aboue
>The mountaine of our faults, and there do sit;
>We see them not; Thus, still we loue
>The euill we do, vntill we suffer it.
>But, most, ambition, that neare vice
>To vertue, hath the fate of Rome prouoked;
>And made, that now Rome's selfe no price,
>To free her from the death, wherewith she is yoked.
>That restlesse Ill, that still doth built
>upon successe; and endes not in aspiring:
>But there beginnes. And nere is fill'd,
>While ought remaines that seemes but worth desiring.
>Wherein the Thought, vnlike the Eye,
>To which things farre, seemed smaller then they are,
>Deemes all contentment plac'd on high:
>And thinks there is nothing great, but what is farre.
>O, that in time, Rome did not cast
>Her errors up, this fortune to preuent;
>To have seene her crimes' ere they were past:
>And felt her faults, before her punishment.
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