Jonson, Ben Prepared from 1611 Quarto (STC 14759) by Hugh Craig, D of English, U of Newcastle. OTA A-1435-A 1611 JonCati1.1 WDo'st thou not feele me, Rome? Not yet? Is night Wso heauy on thee, and my weight so light? WCan Sylla's Ghost arise within thy walles, WLesse threatning, then an earth-quake, the quicke falles WOf thee, and thine? shake not the frighted heads WOf thy steepe towers? or shrinke to their first beds? WOr, as their ruine the large Tyber fils, WMake that swell up, and drowne thy seuen proud hils? WWhat sleape is this doth seize thee, so like death, Wand is not it? Wake, feele her, in my breath. WBehold, I come, sent from the Stygian Sound, WAs a dire Vapor, that had cleft the ground, WTo ingender with the night, and blast the day; WOr like a Pestilence, that should display WInfection through the world: which, thus, I do. WPluto be at thy councels; and into WThy darker bosome enter Sylla's spirit: WAll, that was mine, and bad, thy brest inherit. WAlas, how weake is that, for Catiline! WDid I but say (vaine voice) all that was mine? WAll, that the Gracchi, Cinna, Marius would; WWhat now, had I a body againe, I could, WComming from hell; what Fiendes would wish should be; WAnd Hannibal could not have wish'd to see: WThink thou, and practise. Let the long-hid seedes WOf treason, in thee, now shoote forth in deedes, WRanker then horror; and thy former facts WNot all in mention, but to vrge new acts: WConscience of them prouoke thee on to more. WBe still thy Incests, Murders, Rapes before WThy sense; thy forcing first a Vestall Nunne; WThy parricide, late, on thine owne naturall Sonne, WAfter his Mother, to make empty way WFor thy last wicked Nuptials; worse, then they, WThat fame that act of thy incestuous life, WWhich got thee, at once, a Daughter, and a Wife. WI leaue the slaughters, that thou didst for me, WOf Senators; for which, I hid for thee WThy murder of thy Brother, (being so brib'd) WAnd writ him in the list of my proscrib'd WAfter thy fact, to saue thy little shame: WThy incest, with thy Sister, I not name. WThese are too light. Fate will have thee pursue WDeedes, after which no Mischiefe can be new; WThe ruine of thy Countrey: Thou wert built WFor such a worke, and borne for no lesse guilt: WWhat though defeated once thou hast beene, and knowne, WTempt it againe; That is thy act, or none. WWhat all the seuerall Ills, that visite earth, W(Brought forth by night, with a sinister birth) WPlagues, Famine, Fire could not reach vnto, WThe Sword, nor Surfets; let thy fury do: WMake all past, present, future ill thine owne; WAnd conquer all example, in thy one. WNor let thy thought finde any vacant time WTo hate an old, but still a fresher crime WDrowne the remembrance; Let not mischiefe cease, WBut, while it is in punishing, encrease. WConscience, and care die in thee; And be free WNot Heau'n it*selfe from thy impiety: WLet Night grow blacker with thy plots; and Day, WAt shewing but thy head forth, start away WFrom this halfe Spheare: and leaue Romes blinded walls WTo embrace lusts, hatreds, slaughters, funerals, WAnd not recouer sight, till their owne flames WDo light them to their ruines. All the names WOf thy Confederates, too, be no less great WIn hell, then here; That, when we would repeate WOur strengths in Muster, we may name you all, WAnd Furies, upon you, for Furies, call. WWhilst, what you do, doth strike them into feares, WOr make them grieue, and with your mischiefe theirs. JonCati1.2 AIt is decree'd. Nor shall thy Fate, o Rome, AResist my vow. Though Hils were set on Hils, AAnd Seas met Seas, to guarde thee; I would through: AAye, plough up rockes, steepe as the Alpes, in dust; AAnd laue the Tyrrhene waters, into cloudes; ABut I would reach thy head, thy head, proud Citty: AThe ills, that I have done, cannot be safe ABut by attempting greater; and I feele AA spirit, within me, chides my sluggish handes, AAnd sayes, they have beene innocent too long. AWas I a Man, bred great, as Rome her*selfe? AOne, form'd for all her honors, all her glories? AEquall to all her titles? That could stand AClose up, with Atlas; and sustaine her name AAs strong, as he doth Heau'n? And, was I, AOf all her brood, mark'd out for the repulse ABy her no voice, when I stood Candidate, ATo be Commander in the Ponticke warre? AI will, hereafter, call her Stepdame, euer. AIf she can loose her nature, I can loose AMy piety; and in her stony entrailes ADigge me a seate: where, I will liue, againe, AThe labour of her wombe, and be a burden AWeightier then all the Prodigies, and Monsters, AThat she hath teem'd with, since she first knew Mars. JonCati1.3 AWho is there? VIt is I. AAurelia? VYes. AAppeare, AAnd breake, like day, my beauty, to this circle: Aupbraid shy Pho*ebus, that he is so long AIn mounting to that point, which should give thee AThy proper splendour. Wherefore frownes my sweet? AHave I too long bene absent from these lips, AThis cheeke, these eyes? what is my trepasse? Speake. VIt seemes, you know, that can accuse your*selfe. AI will redeeme it. VStill, you say so. When? AWhen Orestilla by her bearing well AThese my retirements, and stolne times for thought AShall give their effects leaue to call her Queene AOf all the world, in place of humbled Rome. VYou court me, now. AAs I would alwaies, Loue, ABy this Ambrosiacke kisse, and this of Nectar, AWouldst thou but heare as gladly, as I speake. ACould my Aurelia think, I meant her lesse; AWhen, wooing her, I first remou'd a Wife, AAnd then a Sonne, to make my bed, and house ASpatious, and fit to embrace her? These were deeds ANot to have begunne with, but to end with more, AAnd greater: "He that, building, stayes at one A"Floore, or the second, hath erected none. AIt was how to raise thee, I was meditating; ATo make some act of mine answere thy loue: AThat loue, that, when my state was now quite sunke, ACame with thy wealth, and weighd it up againe, AAnd made my 'emergent Fortune once more looke AAboue the maine; which, now, shall hit the starres, AAnd sticke my Orestilla, there, amongst them, AIf any tempest can but make the billow, AAnd any billow can but lift her greatnesse. ABut, I must pray my loue, she will put on ALike habites with my*selfe. I have to do AWith many men, and many natures. Some, AThat must be blowne, and sooth'd; as Lentulus, AWhom I have heau'd, with magnifying his bloud, AAnd a vaine dreame, out of the Sybill's bookes, AThat a third man of that great family AWhereof he is descended, the Cornelij, AShould be a King in Rome: which I have hir'd AThe flatt'ring Augures to interpret him, ACinna, and Sylla dead. Then, bold Cethegus, AWhose valour I have turn'd into his poyson, AAnd prais'd so into daring, as he would AGoe on upon the Gods, kisse lightning, wrest AThe engine from the Cyclop's, and give fire AAt face of a full cloud, and stand his ire, AWhen I would bid him moue. Others there are AWhom enuie to the state drawes, and puts on, AFor contumelies receiu'd, (and such are sure ones) AAs Curius, and the fore-nam'd Lentulus, ABoth which have beene degraded, in the Senate, AAnd must have their disgraces, still, new rub'd, ATo make them smart, and labour of reuenge. AOthers, whom meete ambition fires, and dole AOf Prouinces abroade, which they have faind ATo their crude hopes, and I as amply promis'd: AThese, Lecca Vargunteius, Bestia, Autronius, ASome, whom their wants oppresse, as the idle Captaines AOf Sylla's troopes; and diuers Roman Knights A(The profuse wasters of their patrimonies) ASo threatned with debts, as they will, now, ARunne any desperate fortune, for a change. AThese, for a time, we must relieue, Aurelia, AAnd make our house their saue-gard. Like, for those, AThat feare the law, or stand within her gripe, AFor any act past, or to come. Such will AFrom their owne crimes, be factious, as from ours. ASome more there be slight Ayrelings, will be wonne, AWith dogs, and horses; or, perhaps, a whore; AWhich must be had: And, if they venter liues, AFor us, Aurelia, we must hazard honors AA little. Get thee store, and change of women, AAs I have boyes; and give them time, and place, AAnd all conniuence: Be thy*selfe, too, courtly; AAnd entertaine, and feast, sit up, and reuell; ACall all the great, the fayre, and spirited Dames AOf Rome about thee, and beginne a fashion AOf freedome, and community. Some will thanke thee, AThough the sowre Senate frowne, whose heads must ake AIn feare, and feeling too. We must not spare AOr cost, or modestie. It can but shew ALike one of Iuno's, or of Ioue's disguises AIn eyther thee, or me; and will as soone, AWhen things succeed, be throwne by, or let fall; AAs if a vaile put of, a visor chang'd, AOr the Scene shifted, in our Theaters. AWho is that? It is the voyce of Lentulus. VOr of Cethegus. AIn, my faire Aurelia, AAnd think upon these artes: They must not see, AHow farre you are trusted with these priuacies; AThough, by their shoulders, necks, and heads you rise. JonCati1.4 BIt is, mee*thinkes, a Morning, full of Fate. BIt riseth slowly, as her sollen carre BHad all the weights of sleepe, and death hung at it. BShe is not rosy-fingerd, but swolne blacke. BHer face is like a water, turnd to bloud, BAnd her sicke head is bound about with clouds, BAs if she threatned night, ere noone of day. BIt does not looke, as it would have a Hayle BOr Health, wish'd in it, as on other Mornes. CWhy, all the fitter, Lentulus: Our comming CIs not for salutation, we have businesse. ASaid nobly, braue Cethegus. Where is Autronius? CIs he not come? ANot here. CNot Vargunteius? ANeither. CA fire in their beds, and bosomes, CThat so will serue their sloth, rather then vertue. CThey are no Romanes, and at such high neede CAs now. BBoth they, Longinus, Lecca, Curius, BFulnius, Gabinius, gaue me word, last night, Bby Lucius Bestia, they would all be here, BAnd early. CYes. As you, had I not call'd you. CCome, we all sleepe, and are meere Dormice; Flies, CA little lesse then dead: More dulnesse hangs COn us, then on the Morne. We are spirit-bound, CIn ribs of ice; our whole blouds are one stone; CAnd Honour cannot thaw us; nor our wants, CThough they burne, hot as feuers, to our states. AI muse they would be tardy, at an houre AOf so great purpose. CIf the Gods had call'd CThem, to a purpose, they would iust have come CWith the same Tortoyse speed, that are thus slow CTo such an action, which the Gods will enuie. CAs asking no lesse meanes, then all their powers CConioyn'd, to effect. I would have seene Rome burn't, CBy this time; and her ashes in an Vrne: CThe Kingdome of the Senate, rent asunder; CAnd the degenerate, talking Gowne, runne frighted, COut of the ayre of Italy. ASpirit of men! AThou, heart of our great enterprise! how much AI Ioue these voyces in thee! CO the daies COf Sylla's sway, when the free sword tooke leaue CTo act all that it would! AAnd was familiar AWith entrailes, as our Augures! CSonnes kild Fathers, CBrothers their Brothers. AAnd had price and praise. AAll hate had licence giuen it; all rage raynes. CSlaughter bestrid the streets, and stretch'd himselfe CTo seeme more huge; whilst to his stayned thighes CThe gore he drew flow'd up: and carried downe CWhole heapes of limmes, and bodies, through his arch. CNo Age was spar'd, no Sexe. ANay, no Degree. CNot Infants, in the porch of life were free. CThe Sicke, the Old, that could but hope a day CLonger, by natures bounty, not let stay. CVirgins, and Widdowes, Matrons, pregnant Wiues, CAll dyed. AIt was crime enough, that they had liues. ATo strike but only those, that could do hurt, AWas dull, and poore. Some fel to make the number AAs some the prey. CThe rugged Charon fainted, CAnd ask'd a nauie, rather then a boate, CTo ferry ouer the sad world that came: CThe mawes, and dennes of beasts could not receiue CThe bodies, that those soules were frighted from; CAnd e'en the graues were fild with men yet liuing, CWhose flight, and feare had mix'd them, with the dead. AAnd this shall be againe, and more, and more, ANow Lentulus, the third Cornelius, AIs to stand up in Rome. BNay, vrge not that BIs so vncertaine. AHow! BI meane, not clear'd. BAnd, therefore, not to be reflected on. AThe Sybill's leaues vncertaine? or the Comments AOf our graue, deepe, diuining men not cleare? BAll Prophecies, you know, suffer the torture. ABut this, already, hath confess'd without. AAnd so beene weigh'd, examin'd, and compar'd, AAs it were malicious ignorance in him, AWould faint in the beliefe. BDo you beleeue it? ADo I loue Lentulus? or pray to see it? BThe Augures all are constant, I am meant. AThey had lost their science else. BThey count from Cinna. AAnd Sylla next, and so make you the third; AAll that can say the Sunne is ris'n, must think it. BMen marke me more, of late, as I come forth. AWhy, what can they do lesse? Cinna, and Sylla AAre set, and gone: And we must turne our eyes AOn him that is, and shines. Noble Cethegus, ABut view him with me, here: He lookes, already, AAs if he shooke a Scepter, o're the Senate, AAnd the aw'd purple dropt their roddes, and axes. AThe Statues melt againe; and houshold Gods AIn grones confesse the trauaile of the City; AThe very walles sweate blood before the change; AAnd stones start out to ruine, ere it comes. CBut he, and we, and all are idle still. BI am your creature, Sergius: And what*ere BThe great Cornelian Name shall winne to be, BIt is not Augury, nor the Sybils Bookes, BBut Catiline that makes it. AI am shadow ATo honor'd Lentulus, and Cethegus here, AWho are the heires of Mars. CBy Mars himselfe, CCatiline is more my parent: For whose vertue CEarth cannot make a shadow great inough, CThough Enuie should come too. O, there they are. CNow we shall talke more, though we yet do nothing. JonCati1.5 WHaile Lucius Catiline. WHaile noble Sergius. EHaile Publius Lentulus. DHaile the third Cornelius. FCaius Cethegus haile. CHaile sloth, and words, CInsteed of Men, and Spirits. ANay, deare Caius; CAre your eyes yet vnseel'd? Dare they looke day CIn the dull face? AHe is zealous, for the affaire; AAnd blames your tardy comming, Gentlemen. CVnlesse, we had sold our*selues to sleepe, and ease, CAnd would be our slaues slaues. APray you forbeare. CThe North is not so starke, and cold. ACethegus. HWe shall redeeme all, if your fire will let us. AYou are too full of lightning, noble Caius. ABoy, see all doores be shut, that none approch us, AOn this part of the house. Go you, and bid AThe Priest, he kill the slaue I mark'd last night; AAnd bring me of his bloud, when I shall call him: ATill then, waite all without. WHow is it, Autronius! WLonginus? ECurius? DLecca? WFeele you nothing? EA strange, vnwonted horror doth inuade me, EI know not what it is! FThe day goes backe, FOr else my senses! DAs at Atreus feast! GDarknesse growes more and more! BThe Vestall flame, BI think, be out. WWhat groane was that? COur phant'sies. CStrike fire, out of our*selues, and force a day. WAgaine it sounds! HAs all the Citie gaue it! CWe feare what our*selues faine. WWhat light is this? DLook forth BIt still grows greater FFrom whence comes it? EA Bloody arme it is, that holds a pine ELighted, aboue the Capitoll: And, now, EIt waues vnto us. ABraue, and omenous! AOur enterprise is seal'd. CIn spight of darknesse, CThat would discountenance it. Looke no more; CWe loose time, and our*selues: To what we came for, CSpeake Lucius, we attend you. ANoblest Romanes, AIf you were lesse, or, that your faith, and vertue ADid not hold good that title, which your bloud, AI should not, now, vnprofitably spend AMy*selfe in words, or catch at emptie hopes, ABy ayrie waies, for solide certainties. ABut since in many, and the greatest dangers, AI still have knowne you no lesse true, then valiant, AAnd that I tast, in you, the same affections, ATo will, or nill, to think things good, or bad, AAlike with me: (which argues your firme friendship) AI dare the boldlier, with you, set on foote, AOr leade, vnto this great, and goodliest action. AWhat I have thought of it afore, you all AHave heard apart; I then express'd my zeale AVnto the glory; Now, the neede enflames me: AWhen I fore-thinke the hard conditions, AOur states must vndergoe, except, in time, AWe do redeeme our*selues to liberty, AAnd breake the yron yoake, forg'd for our necks. AFor, what lesse can we call it? when we see AThe common-wealth engross'd so by a few, AThe Giants of the state, that do, by turnes, AEnioy her, and defile her. All the Earth; AHer Kings, and Tetrarchs, are their tributaries; APeople, and Nations pay them hourely stipends: AThe riches of the world flowes to their coffers, AAnd not, to Romes. While (but those few) the rest, AHow*euer great we are, honest, and valiant, AAre hearded with the vulgar; and so kept, AAs we were onely bred, to consume corne, AOr weare out wooll, to drinke the Cities water: AVngrac'd, without authoritie, or marke, ATrembling beneath their rods, to whom, (if all AWere well in Rome) we should come forth bright axes. AAll Places, Honors, Offices are theirs; AOr where they will conferre them: They leaue us AThe Dangers, the repulses, iudgements, wants; AWhich how long will you beare most valiant spirits? AWere we not better to fall, once, with vertue, AThen draw a wretched, and dishonor'd breath ATo loose with shame, when these mens pride will laugh? AI call the faith of Gods, and Men to question; AThe power is in our hands; our bodies able; AOur mindes as strong; On the contrary, in them, AAll things growne aged, with their wealth, and yeares. AThere wants, but onely to beginne the businesse, AThe issue is certaine. XOn, Let us go on. XGo on, braue Sergius. AIt doth strike my soule, A(And, who can scape the stroke, that hath a soule, AOr, but the smallest ayre of Man within him?) ATo see them swell with treasure; which they poure AOut in their riots, eating, drinking, building, AAye, in the sea: planing of Hilles with Valleyes; AAnd raysing Vallies aboue Hilles, whilst we AHave not, to give our Bodies Necessaries. AThey have their change of Houses, Manors, Lordships; AWe scarce a fire, or poor houshold Lar. AThey buy rare Atticke statues, Tyrian hangings, AEphesian pictures, and Corinthian plate, AAttalicke garments, and, now new-found, Gemmes ASince Pompey went for Asia; which they purchase AAt price of Prouinces. The Riuer Phasis ACannot affourd them Fowle; nor Lucrine Lake AOysters enow: Circei, too, is search'd ATo please the witty Gluttonie of a meale. ATheir ancient Habitations they neglect, AAnd set up new; Then, if the Echo like not AIn such a roome, they plucke downe those; build newer, AAlter them too; and, by all franticke waies, AVexe their wild wealth, as they molest the people, AFrom whom they force it; Yet, they cannot tame, AOr ouercome their riches: Not, by making, ABathes, Orchards, Fish-pooles, letting in of seas, AHere; and, then there, forcing them out againe, AWith mountaynous heapes; for which the Earth hath lost AMost of her ribbes, as entrayles, being now AWounded no lesse for Marble, then for gold. AWe, all this while, like calme, benum'd Spectators, ASit, till our seates do cracke; and do not heare AThe thundring ruines, whilst, at home, our wants, AAbroad, our debts do vrge us, our states daily ABending to bad, our hopes to worse: And, what AIs left, but to be crush'd? Wake, wake braue Friends, AAnd meete the liberty you oft have wish'd for, ABehold, renowne, riches, and glory court you. AFortune holds out these to you, as rewards. AMe*thinkes (thought I were dumbe) the affaire it*selfe AThe opportunity, your needes, and dangers, AWith the braue spoile the warre brings, should inuite you. AVse me your Generall, or Souldier: Neither, AMy Minde, nor Body shall be wanting to you. AAnd, being Consul, I not doubt to effect, AAll that you wish: If Trust not flatter me, AAnd you had, rather, still be slaues, then free. CFree, free. EIt is freedome. DFreedome we all stand for. AWhy, these are noble voices. Nothing wants then, ABut that we take a solemne, Sacrament, ATo strengthen our designe. CAnd so to act it. CDifferring hurts, where powers are most prepar'd. WYet, ere we enter into open act, W(With fauour) it were no losse, if it might be enquir'd WWhat the Condition of these Armes would be? WAye, and the meanes, to carry us through. AHow, Friendes! AThink you, that I would bid you, graspe the winde? AOr call you to the embracing of a cloude? APut your knowne valures of so deare a businesse, AAnd have no other second then the Danger, ANor other Gyrlond then the losse? Become AYour owne assurances. And, for the meanes, AConsider, first, the starke security AThe common*wealth is in, now; the whole Senate ASleepy, and dreaming no such violent blow; ATheir forces all abroade; of which the greatest, AThat might annoy us most, is fardest off, AIn Asia, vnder Pompey: Those, nearehand, ACommanded, by our friendes; one Army' in Spaine, ABy Cneus Piso; the other in Mauritania, ABy Nucerinus; both which I have firme, AAnd fast vnto our Plot. My*selfe, then, standing ANow to be Consul; with my hop'd Colleague ACaius Antonius, one, no lesse engag'd ABy his wants then we: And whom I have power to melt, AAn least in any mould. Beside, some others AThat will not yet be nam'd, (both sure, and Great ones) AWho, when the time comes, shall declare themselues, AStrong, for our party; for, that no resistance AIn nature can be thought. For our reward, then; AFirst, all our Debts are paid; Dangers of Law, AActions, Decrees, Iudgments against us quitted; AThe rich Men, as in Sylla's times, proscrib'd, AAnd Publication made of all their goods; AThat House is yours; That Land is his; Those Waters, AOrchards, and walkes a third's: He has that Honor, AAnd he that Office. Such a Prouince fals ATo Vargunteius: this to Autronius: That ATo bold Cethegus: Rome to Lentulus: AYou share the World, her Magistracies, Priest-hoods, AWealth, and Felicity amongst you, Friendes; AAnd Catiline your seruant. Would you, Curius, AReuenge the Contumelie stucke upon you, AIn being remoued from the Senate? Now, ANow, is your time. Would Publius Lentulus AStrike, for the like disgrace? Now, is his time. AWould stout Longinus walke the streets of Rome, AFacing the Pra*etor? Now, has he a time ATo spurne, and treade the Fasces, into dirt AMade of the Vsurers, and the Lictors braines. AIs there a Beauty, here in Rome, you loue? AAn Enemie you would kill? What Head is not yours? AWhose Wife, which Boy, whose Daughter, of what race, AThat the Husband, or glad Parents shall not bring you, AAnd boasting of the office? Only, spare AYour*selues, and you have all the earth beside, AA field, to exercise your longings in. AI see you rais'd, and reade your forward mindes AHigh, in your faces. Bring the wine, and blood AYou have prepar'd there. EHow! AI have kill'd a slaue, AAnd of his blood caus'd to be mixt with wine. AFill euery man his bowle. There cannot be AA fitter drinke, to make this Sanction in. AHere, I beginne that Sacrament to all. AO, for a clap of thunder now, as loud, AAs to be heard through-out the Vniuerse, ATo tell the world the fact, and to applaude it. ABe firme, my hand; not shed a drop: but poure AFiercenesse into me, with it; and fell thirst AOf more, and more: Till Rome be left as blood-lesse, AAs euer her feares made her, or the sword. AAnd, when I leaue to wish this to thee, Stepdame AOr stop, to effect if, with my powers fainting; ASo may my blood be drawne, and so drunke up AAs is this slaues. EAnd so be mine. BAnd mine. WAnd mine. WAnd mine. CCrowne me my bowle yet fuller. CHere, I do drinke this, as I would do Cato's. COr the new fellow Cicero's: with that vow CWhich Catiline hath giuen. DSo do I. FAnd I. HAnd I. GAnd I. WAnd all of us. AWhy, now is the businesse safe, and each man strengthned. ASirah, what aile you? WNothing. HSomewhat modest. ASlaue, I will strike your soule out, with my foote, ALet me but finde you againe with such a face: AYou Whelpe. HNay Lucius. AAre you coying it, AWhen I command you to be free, and generall ATo all? HYou will be obseru'd. AArise, and shew ABut any least auersion in your looke ATo him that bourdes you next, and your throate opens. ANoble Confederates, thus farre is perfect. AOnly your suffrages I will expect, AAt the assembly for the choosing Consuls. AAnd all the voices you can make by friendes ATo my election. Then let me worke out AYour fortunes, and mine owne. Mean while, all rest ASeal'd up, and silent, as when rigid frosts AHave bound up Brookes, and Riuers, forc'd wild beasts AVnto their caues, and birds into the woods, AClownes to their houses, and the Countrey sleepes; AThat, when the sodaine thaw comes, we may breake Aupon them like a deluge, bearing downe AHalfe Rome before us, and inuade the rest AWith cries, and noise able to wake the Vrnes AOf those are dead, and make their ashes feare. A"The horrors, that do strike the world, should come A"Loud, and vnlook'd for; Till they strike, be dumbe. COraculous Sergius: BGod-like Catiline. UCan nothing great, and at the height URemaine so long? but its owne weight UWill ruine it? Or, is it blinde Chance, UThat still desires new States to aduance, UAnd quit the old? Else, why must Rome UBe by it*selfe; now, ouercome? UHath she not foes inow of those, UWhom she hath made such, and enclose UHer round about? Or, are they none, UExcept she first become her owne? UO wretchednesse of greatest States, UTo be obnoxious to these Fates: UThat cannot keepe, what they do gaine; UAnd what they raise so ill sustaine. URome, now, is Mistresse of the whole UWorld, Sea, and Land, to either Pole; UAnd euen that Fortune will destroy UThe power that made it. She doth ioy USo much in plenty, wealth, and ease, UAs, now, the excesse is her disease. UShe builds in gold; And, to the Starres: UAs, if she threatned Heau'n with warres; UAnd seekes for Hell, in quarries deepe, UGiuing the fiends, that there do keepe, UA hope of day. Her Women weare UThe spoiles of Nations, in an eare, UChang'd for the treasure of a shell; UAnd, in their loose attires, do swell UMore light then sailes, when all windes play: UYet, are the men more loose then they, UMore kemb'd, and bath'd, and rub'd, and trim'd, UMore sleek'd, more soft, and slacker limm'd; UAs prostitute: so much, that kinde UMay seeke it*selfe there, and not finde. UThey eate on beds of silke, and gold; UAt yuorie tables; or, wood sold UDearer then it: and, leauing plate, UDo drinke in stone of higher rate. UThey hunt all grounds; and draw all seas; UFoule euery brooke, and bush; to please UTheir wanton tasts: and, in request UHave new, and rare things; not the best. UHence comes that wild, a vast expence, UThat hath enforc'd Romes vertue, thence, UWhich simple pouerty first made; UAnd, now, ambition doth inuade UHer state, with eating auarice, URiot, and euery other vice. UDecrees are bought, and Lawes are sold, UHonors, and Offices for gold; UThe peoples voices: And the free UTongues, in the Senate, bribed be. USuch ruine of her manners Rome UDoth suffer now, as she is become U(Without the Gods it soone gaine-say) UBoth her owne spoiler, and owne pray. USo, Asia, art thou cru'lly euen JonCati2.1 UWith us, for all the blowes thee giuen; UWhen we, whose vertue conquer'd thee, UThus, by thy vices, ruin'd be. IThose Roomes do smell extremely; Bring my glasse, IAnd table hither, Galla. KMadame. ILooke IWithin, in my blew Cabinet, for the pearle II had sent me last, and bring it. KThat from Clodius? IFrom Caius Ca*esar. You are for Clodius, still. IOr Curius. Sirha, if Quintus Curius come, II am not in fit moode; I keepe my Chamber: IGive warning so, without. KIs this it? Madame. IYes, helpe to hang it in mine eare. KBeleeue me, KIt is a rich one, Madame. II hope so: IIt should not be worne there else. Make an end, IAnd binde my haire up. KAs it was yesterday? INo, nor the the other day. When knew you me IAppeare, two dayes together, in one dressing? KWill you have it in the globe, or spire? IHow thou wilt; IAny way, so thou wilt do it, good Impertinence. IThy company, if I slept not very well IA*nights, would make me, an errant foole, with questions. KAlas Madam. INay gentle halfe of the Dialogue, cease. KI do it, indeed, but for your exercise, KAs your Phisician bids me. IHow! Does he bid you ITo anger me for exercise? KNot to anger you, KBut stirre your blood a little: There is difference KBetweene luke-warme, and boyling, Madame. IIoue! IShe meanes to cooke me, I think? Pray you, have done. KI meane to dresse you, Madame. IO my Iuno, IBe friend to me! Offring at wit, too? Why, Galla! IWhere hast thou been. KWhy, Madame? IWhat hast thou done IWith thy poore innocent selfe? KWherefore, sweet Madam? IThus to come forth, so sodainly, a wit-worme? KIt pleases you to flout one. I did dreame KOf Ladie Sempronia. IO, the wonder is out. IThat did infect thee? Well, and how? KMe*thought, KShe did discourse the best. IThat euer thou heard'st? KYes. IIn thy sleepe? Of what was her discourse? KOf the Republicke, Madame, and the State, KAnd how she was in debt, and where she meant KTo raise fresh summes: She is a great States-woman. IThou dreamp'tst all this? KNo, but you know she is Madame, KAnd both a Mistresse of the Latine tongue, KAnd of the Greeke. IAye, but I neuer dreampt it, Galla, IAs thou hast done, and therefore you must pardon me. KIndeede, you mocke me, Madame. IIndeede, no. IForth with your learned Ladie: She has a wit, too? KA very masculine one. IA she-Criticke, Galla? IAnd can compose, in verse, and make quicke iests, IModest, or otherwise? KYes Madame. IShe can sing, too? IAnd play on Instruments? KOf all kindes, they say. IAnd doth dance rarely? KExcellent. So well, KAs a bald Senator made a iest, and said, KIt was better, then an honest woman neede. ITut, she may beare that. Few wise womens honesties IWill do their courtship hurt. KShe is liberall too, Madam. IWhat of her money, or her honor, pray thee? KOf both, you know not which she doth spare least. IA comely commendation. KTroth, it is pitty KShe is in yeares. IWhy Galla? KFor it is. IO, is that all? I thought thou hadst had a reason. KWhy so I have. She has beene a fine Ladie, KAnd, yet, she dresses herselfe, (except you Madame) KOne of the best in Rome: and paints, and hides KHer decayes very well. IThey say, it is IRather a visor, then a face she weares. KThey wrong her verily Madame, she does sleeke KWith crums of bread, and milke, and lies a*nights KIn as neate gloues. But she is faine of late KTo seeke, more then she is sought to (the fame is) KAnd so spends that way. IThou knowst all. But Galla, IWhat say you to Catilines Ladie, Orestilla? IThere is the Gallant. KShe does well. She has KVery good sutes, and very rich: but, then, KShe cannot put them on. She knowes not, how KTo weare a garment. You shall have her all KIewels, and gold sometimes, so that her*selfe KAppeares the least part of her*selfe. No in troth, KAs I liue, Madame, you put them all downe KWith your meere strength of iudgement; and do draw, too, KThe world of Rome to follow you: you attire KYour*selfe so diuersly, and with that spirit, KStill to the noblest humors. They could make KLoue to your dresse, although your face were away, they say. IAnd body too, and have the better match of it? ISay they not so too, Galla? Now! What newes ITrauailes your count'nance with? WIf it please you, Madam WThe Ladie Sempronia is lighted at the gate; KCastor, my dreame, my dreame. WAnd comes to see you. KFor Venus sake, good Madame see her. IPeace IThe foole is wild, I think. KAnd heare her talke, KSweet Madame, of State-matters, and the Senate. JonCati2.2 JFvluia, good wench, how dost thou? IWell, Sempronia, IWhither are you thus early addrest? JTo see JAurelia Orestilla. She sent for me. JI came to call thee, with me; wilt thou goe? II cannot now, in troth, I have some letters ITo write, and send away. JAlas, I pitty thee. JI have bene writing all this night, (and am JSo very weary) vnto all the Tribes, JAnd Centuries, for their voyces, to helpe Catiline, JIn his election. We shall make him Consul JI hope, amongst us. Crassus, I, and Ca*esar JWill carry it for him. IDoes he stand for it? JHe is the chiefe Candidate. IWho stands beside? IGive me some wine, and poulder for my teeth. JHere is a good pearle in troth. IA prettie one. JA very orient one. There are Competitors, JCaius Antonius, Publius Galba, Lucius JCassius Longinus, Quinius Cornificius, JCaius Licinius, and that talker, Cicero. JBut Catiline, and Antonius will be chosen. JFor foure of the other, Licinius, Longinus, JGalba, and Cornificius will give way. JAnd Cicero they will not choose. INo? Why? JIt will be cross'd, by the Nobility. KHow she does vnderstand the common busines! JNor, were it fit. He is but a new fellow, JAn In-mate here in Rome (as Catiline calls him) JAnd, the Patricians should do very ill, JTo let the Consul-ship be so defil'd JAs it would be, if he obtain'd it? A meere upstarr, JThat has no pedigree, no house, no coate, JNo ensignes of a family? IHe has vertue. JHang vertue, where there is no blood: it is vice JAnd, in him, sawcinesse. Why should he presume JTo be more learned, or more eloquent, JThen the Nobility? or boast any quality JWorthie a Noble man, himselfe not noble? IIt was vertue onely, at first, made all men noble. JI yeeld you, it might, at first, in Romes poore age; JWhen both her Kings, and Consuls held the plough, JOr garden'd well: But, now, we have no need, JTo digge, or loose our sweat for it. We have wealth, JFortune and ease, and then their stocke, to spend on, JOf Name, for Vertue, which will beare us out J'Gainst all new commers: and can neuer faile us, JWhile the succession stayes. And, we must glorifie, JA Mushrome? one of yesterday? a fine speaker? J'Cause he has suck'd at Athens? and aduance him, JTo our owne losse? No Fuluia. There are they JCan speake Greeke too, if need were, Ca*esar and I JHave sate upon him; so hath Crassus, too; JAnd others. We have all decreed his rest, JFor rising farder. KExcellent rare Lady! ISempronia, you are beholden to my woman, here, IShe does admire you. JO good Galla, how dost thou? KThe better, for your learned Ladiship. JIs this grey poulder, a good Dentifrice? IYou see I vse it. JI have one is whiter. IIt may be so. JYet this smells well. KAnd clenses KVery well Madam, and resists the crudities. JFuluia, I pray thee, who comes to thee, now? JWhich of our great Patricians? IFaith, I keepe INo Catalogue of them. Sometimes I have one, ISometimes another, as the toy takes their blouds. JThou hast them all. Faith, when was Quintus Curius, JThy speciall seruant, here? IMy speciall seruant? JYes, thy Idolater, I call him. IHe may be yours, IIf you do like him. JHow! IHe comes, not, here, II have forbid him, hence. JVenus forbid! IWhy? JYour so constant Louer. ISo much the rather. II would have change. So would you too, I am sure. IAnd now, you may have him. JHe is fresh yet, Fuluia: JBeware, how you do tempt me. IFaith, for me, IHe is somewhat too fresh, indeed. The salt is gone, IThat gaue him season. His good gifts are done. IHe does not yeeld the crop that he was wont. IAnd, for the act, I can have secret fellowes, IWith backs worth ten of him, and shall please me I(Now that the Land is fled) a myriade better. JAnd those one may command. IIt is true, These Lordings, IYour noble Faunes, they are so imperious, saucy, IRude, and as boystrous as Centaures; leaping IA Ladie, at first sight. JAnd must be borne JBoth with, and out, they think. ITut, I will obserue INone of them all: nor humor them a iot ILonger, then they come laden in the hand, IAnd say, here is the one, for the tother. JDoes Ca*esar give well? IThey shall all give, and pay well, that come here IIf they will have it: and that iewels, pearle, IPlate, or round summes, to buy these. I am not taken IWith a Cob-Swan, or a high-mounting Bull, IAs foolish Leda, and Europa were, IBut the bright gold, with Danae. For such price, II would endure, a rough, harsh Iupiter, IOr ten such thundring Gamsters, and refraine ITo laugh at them, till they are gone, with my much suffring. JThou art a most happy wench, that thus canst make JVse of thy youth, and freshnesse, in the season: JAnd hast it to make vse of. I(Which is the happinesse.) JI am, now, faine to give to them, and keepe JMusique, and a continuall table, to invuite them; IYes, and they studie your kitchin, more then you: JEate my*selfe out with vsury, and my Lord, too, JAnd all my officers, and friends beside, JTo procure moneyes, for the needfull charge JI must be at, to have them: And, yet, scarce JCan I atchieue them, so. IWhy, that is because IYou affect yong faces onely, and smooth chinnes, ISempronia. If you would loue beards, and bristles, I(One with another, as others do) or wrinkles ~~ IWho is that? Looke Galla. KIt is the partie, Madame. IWhat party? Has he no name? KIt is Quintus Curius; IDid I not bid them, say, I kept my chamber? KWhy, so they do. JI will leaue you, Fuluia. INay, good Sempronia, stay. JIn*faith, I will not. IBy Iuno, I would not see him. JI will not hinder you. KYou know, he will not be kept out, Madam. JNo, JNor shall not, carefull Galla, by my meanes. IAs I do liue, Sempronia. JWhat needs this? IGo, say, I am asleepe, and ill at ease. JBy Castor, no; I will tell him, you are awake; JAnd very well. Stay Galla. Farewell Fuluia: JI know my manners. Why do you labour, thus, JWith action, against purpose? Quintus Curius, JShe is, yfaith, here, and in disposition: ISpight, with your courtesie. How shall I be tortur'd! JonCati2.3 DWhere are you, fayre one, that conceale your*selfe; DAnd keepe your beauty, within lockes, and barres, here, DLike a fooles treasure? ITrue, she was a foole, IWhen, first she shew'd it to a theefe. DHow prety Solennesse! DSo harsh, and short? IThe fooles Artillery, sir. DThen, take my gowne off, for the encounter. IStay sir. II am not in the moode. DI will put you into it. IBest, you put your*selfe, in your case againe, and keepe IYour furious appetite warme, against you have place for it. DWhat! do you coy it? INo sir. I am not proud. DI would you were. You think, this state becomes you? DBy Hercules, it does not. Looke in your glasse, now, DAnd see, how sciruely that countenance shewes; DYou would be loth to owne it. II shall not change it. DFaith, but you must; and slacke this bended brow; DAnd shoote lesse scorne: There is a Fortune comming DTowards you, Daintie, that will take thee, thus, DAnd set thee aloft, to tread upon the head DOf her owne statue here in Rome. II wonder, IWho let this Promiser in! Did you, good Diligence? IGive him his bribe, againe. Or if you had none, IPray you demand him, why he is so ventrous, ITo presse, thus, to my chamber, being forbidden IBoth, by my*selfe, and seruants? DHow! This is handsome! DAnd somewhat a new straine! IIt is not strain'd, Sir. IIt is very naturall. DI have known it otherwise, DBetweene the parties, though. IFor your fore-knowledge, IThanke that, which made it. It will not be so, IHereafter, I assure you. DNo, my Mistresse? INo though you bring the same materials. DHeare me, DYou ouer act when you should vnderdoe. DA little call your*selfe againe, and think. DIf you do this to practise on me or finde DAt what forc'd distance you can hold your seruant; DThat it be an artificiall tricke, to enflame, DAnd fire me more, fearing my loue may neede it, DAs, heretofore, you have done; why, proceede. IAs I have done, heretofore? DYes, when you would faine DYour husbands iealousie, your seruants watches, DSpeake softly, and runne often to the dore, DOr to the windore, forme strange feares that were not; DAs if the pleasure were lesse acceptable, DThat were secure. IYou are an impudent fellow. DAnd, when you might better have done it, at the gate, DTo take me in at the casement. II take you in? DYes, you my Lady. And, then, being abed with you, DTo have your well taught wayter, here, come running, DAnd cry, her Lord, and hide me without cause, DCrush'd in a chest, or thrust up in a chimney. DWhen he, tame Crow, was winking at his Farme; DOr, had he beene here, and present, would have kept DBoth eyes, and beake seal'd up, for sixe sesterces. IYou have a slanderous, beastly, vnwash'd tongue, IIn your rude mouth, and fauouring your*selfe, IVn-manner'd Lord. DHow now! IIt is your title, Sir. IWho (since you have lost your owne good name, and know not IWhat to loose more) care not, whose honor you wound, IOr fame you poyson with it. You should goe, IAnd vent your*selfe, in the region, where you liue, IAmong the Suburbe-Brothels, Baudes, and Brokers, IWhither your broken fortunes have design'd you. DNay, then I must stop your furie, I see; and plucke DThe tragicke visor off. Come, Ladie Cypris, DKnow your owne vertues, quickly. I will not be DPut to the woing of you thus, afresh, DAt euery turne, for all the Venus in you. DYeeld, and be pliant; or by Pollux ~~ How now? DWill Lais turne a Lucrece? INo, but by Castor, IHold off your Rauishers hands, I pierce your heart, else. II will not be put to kill my*selfe, as she did IFor you, sweet Tarquine. What? do you fall off? INay, it becomes you graciously. Put not up. IYou will sooner draw your weapon on me, I think it, IThen on the Senate, who have cast you forth IDisgracefully, to be the common tale IOf the whole Citty; base, infamous Man: IFor, were you other, you would there imploy IYour desperate dagger. DFuluia, you do know DThe strengths you have upon me; Do not vse DYour power too like a Tyran: I can beare, DAlmost vntill you breake me. II do know, Sir, ISo does the Senate, too, know, you can beare. DBy all the Gods, that Senate will smart deepe DFor your upbraidings. I should be right sorry DTo have the meanes so to be veng'd on you, D(At least, the will) as I shall shortly on them. DBut, goe you on still: Fare you well, deare Ladie; DYou could not still be faire' vnless you were proud. DYou will repent these moodes, and ere it be long, too. DI shall have you come about, againe. IDo you think so? DYes, and I know so. IBy what Augury? DBy the faire Entrailes of the Matrons chests, DGold, Pearle, and Iewels, here in Rome, which Fuluia DWill then (but late) say that she might have shar'd. DAnd, grieuing, misse. ITut, all your promis'd Mountaines, IAnd Seas, I am so stalely acquainted with ~~ . DBut, when you see the vniversall floud DRunne by your coffers; that my Lords, the Senators, DAre sold for slaues, their Wiues for bond-women, DTheir Houses, and fine Gardens giuen away, DAnd all their goods, vnder the Speare, at out-cry, DAnd you have none of this; but are still Fuluia, DOr perhaps lesse, while you are thinking of it: DYou will aduise then, Coynesse, with your cushion, DAnd looke on your fingers; say, how you were wish'd; DAnd so, he left you. ICall him again, Galla: IThis is not vsuall, something hangs on this IThat I must winne out of him. DHow now, melt you? ICome, you will laugh, now, at my easinesse? IBut, it is no miracle; Doues, they say, will bill, IAfter their pecking, and their murmuring. DYes, DAnd then it is kindly. I would have my Loue DAngry, sometimes, to sweeten off the rest DOf her behauiour. IYou do see, I study IHow I may please you, then. But you think, Curius IIt is couetise hath wrought me; If you loue me IChange that vnkinde concept. DBy my lou'd soule, DI loue thee, like to it; and it is my study, DMore then mine owne reuenge, to make thee happy. IAnd it is that iust reuenge doth make me happy ITo heare you prosequute: and which, indeede, IHath wonne me, to you, more, then all the hope IOf what can else be promis'd. I loue valour IBetter, then any Ladie loues her face, IOr dressing: then my*selfe does. Let me grow IStill, where I do embrace. But what good meanes IHave you to effect it? Shall I know your proiect? DThou shalt, if thou wilt be gracious. IAs I can be. DAnd wilt thou kisse me, then? IAs close as shels IOf Cockles meet. DAnd print them deep? IQuite through IOur subtle lips. DAnd often? II will sow them, IFaster then you can reape. What is your plot? DWhy, now my Fuluia lookes, like her bright name, DAnd is her*selfe. INay, answere me, your plot: II pray thee tell me, Quintius. DAye, these sounds DBecome a Mistresse. Here is harmony. DWhen you are harsh, I see, the way to bend you DIs not with violence, but seruice. Cruell, DA Lady is a fire, gentle, a light. IWill you not tell me, what I aske you? DAll, DThat I can think, sweet Loue, or my breast holds, DI will poure into thee. IWhat is your designe, then? DI will tell thee; Catiline shall now be Consull: DBut, you will heare more, shortly. INay, deare Loue. DI will speake it, in thine armes; Let us goe in. DRome will be sack'd, her wealth will be our prize; DBy publique ruine, priuate spirits must rise. UGreat Father Mars, and greater Ioue, UBy whose high auspice, Rome hath stood UOf your great Nephew, that then stroue UNot with his brother, but your Rites: UBe present to her now, as then, UAnd let not proud, and factious Men UAgainst your willes oppose their mights. UOur Consuls, now, are to be made; UO, put it in the publique voice UTo make a free, and worthy choice; UExcluding such as would inuade UThe Common*wealth. Let whom we name UHave wisedome, foresight, fortitude, UBe more with faith, then face endu'd, UAnd study conscience, aboue fame. USuch, as not seeke to get the start UIn State, by power, parts, or bribes, UAmbition's baudes; but moue the Tribes UBy vertue, modesty, desart. USuch, as to iustice will adha*ere, UWhat*euer great one it offend, UAnd from the embraced truth not bend UFor enuie, hatred, gifts, or feare. UThat, by their deedes, will make it knowne, UWhose dignity they do sustaine; UAnd life, state, glory, all they gaine, UCount the Republiques, not their owne. USuch the old Bruti, Decij were, UThe Cipi, Curtij, who did give UThemselues for Rome: And would not liue, UAs men, good, only for a yeare, USuch were the great Camilli, too; UThe Fabij, Scipio's; that still thought UNo worke, at price inough, was bought, UThat for their Countrey they could do. UAnd, to her honor, so did knit; UAs all their acts, were vnderstood UThe sinewes of the Publique good: UAnd they themselues, one soule, with it. UThese men were truely Magistrates; UThese neither practis'd force, nor formes; UNor did they leaue the helme, in stormes: UAnd such they are make happy States. JonCati3.1 LGreat Honors are great burdens: But, on whom LThey are cast with enuy, he doth beare two loades. LHis cares must still be double to his ioyes, LIn any Dignity; where, if he erre LHe findes no pardon: and, for doing well LA most small praise, and that wrung out, by force. LI speake this, Romanes, knowing what the weight LOf the high charge, you have trusted to me, is. LNot, that thereby I would with art decline LThe good, or greatnesse of your benefit; LFor, I ascribe it to your singular grace LAnd vow, to owe it to no title else, LExcept the Gods, that Cicero' is your Consul. LI have no vrnes; no dustie moniments; LNo broken images of ancestors, LWanting an eare, or nose; no forged tables LOf long descents, to boast false honors from; LOr be my vndertakers to your trust. LBut a new Man (as I am stil'd in Rome) LWhom you have dignified; and more, in whom LYou have cut a way, and left it ope for vertue LHereafter, to that place, which our Great men LHeld shut up, with all rampires, for themselues. LNor have but few of them, in time bene made LYour Consuls so; New men, before me, none: LAt my first suite; In my iust yeare: Preferd LTo all Competitors; and some the noblest. PNow the vaine swels. Qup glory. LAnd to have LYour lowde consents, from your owne vtter'd voyces; LNot silent bookes: nor from the meaner tribes, LBut first, and last, the vniuersall concourse. LThis is my ioy, my gladnesse. But my care, LMy industrie, and vigilance now must worke, LThat still your counsell of me be approu'd; LBoth, by your*selues, and those, to whom you have, LWith grudge, prefer'd me: Two things I must labour, LThat neither they upbraid, nor you repent you. LFor euery lapse of mine will, now, be call'd LYour error; if I make such: But, my hope is, LSo to beare through, and out, the Consulship, LAs spight shall ne're wound you, though it may me. LAnd, for my*selfe, I have prepar'd this strength, LTo do so well; as, if there happen ill LVnto me, it shall make the Gods to blush, LAnd be their crime, not mine, that I am enui'd; QO confidence! more new, then is the Man! LI know well, in what termes I do receiue LThe Common*wealth, how vexed, how perplex'd: LIn which, there is not that mischiefe, nor ill fate, LThat good men feare not, wicked men expect not. LI know, beside, some turbulent practises LAlreadie on foote, and rumors of more dangers, POr you will make them, if there be none. LLast, LI know, it was this, which made the enuy, and pride LOf the Great Romane bloud bate, and give way LTo my election. NMarcus Tullius, true; NOur neede made thee our Consull, and thy vertue. QCato, you will vndoe him, with your praise. NCa*esar will hurt himselfe, with his owne enuie. UThe voyce of Cato is the voyce of Rome. NThe voyce of Rome is the consent of Heauen; NAnd that hath plac'd thee, Cicero, at the helme, NWhere thou must render, now thy*selfe a Man, NAnd Master of thy art. Each pettie hand NCan steere a ship becalm'd; but he that will NGouerne, and carry her to her endes, must know NHis tides, his currents; how to shift his sayles; NWhat she will beare in foule, what in faire weathers; NWhere her springs are, her leakes; and how to stop them; NWhat sands, what shelues, what rocks do threaten her; NThe forces, and the natures of all winds, NGusts, stormes, and tempests; when her keele ploughs hell NAnd decke knocks heauen: then, to manage her NBecomes the name, and office of a Pilot. LWhich I will performe, with all the diligence, LAnd fortitude I have; nor for my yeare, LBut for my life; except my life be lesse, LAnd that my yeare conclude it: If it must, LYour will, lou'd Gods. This heart shall yet employ LA day, an houre is left me, so, for Rome. LAs it shall spring a life, out of my death, LTo shine, for*euer glorious in my facts; L"The vicious count their yeares, vertuous their acts. UMost noble Consul! Let us wait him home. QMost popular Consul he is growne, me*thinkes. PHow the rout cling to him! QAnd Cato leads them! PYou, his colleague, Antonius, are not look't on. MNot I, nor do I care. QHe enioyes rest, QAnd ease, the while: Let the others spirit toyle, QAnd wake it out, that was inspir'd for turmoyle. OIf all reports be true, yet, Caius Ca*esar, OThe time hath neede of such a watch, and spirit: QReports? Do you beleeve them Catulus, QWhy, he does make, and breed them for the people; QTo endeare his seruice to them. Do you not tast QAn art, that is so common? Popular men, QThey must create strange Monsters, and then quell them; QTo make their artes seeme something. Would you have QSuch an Herculean Actor in the Scene, QAnd not his Hydra? They must sweat no lesse QTo fit their properties, then to expresse their parts. P"Treasons, and guiltie men are made in States P"Too oft, to dignifie the Magistrates. O"Those States be wretched, that are forc'd to buy O"Their Rulers fame, with their owne infamy. PWe therefore, should prouide that ours do not. QThat will Antonius make his care. MI shall. QAnd watch the watcher. OHere comes Catiline. OHow does he brooke his late repulse. QI know not, QBut hardly sure. NLonginus, too, did stand? QAt first: But he gaue way vnto his friend. OWho is that come? Lentulus? QYes. He is againe QTaken into the Senate. MAnd made Pra*etor. NI know it. He had my suffrage, next the Consuls; QTrue, you were there, Prince of the Senate, then. JonCati3.2 AHayle noblest Romanes. The most worthy Consul, AI gratulate your Honor. MI could wish MIt had beene happier, by your fellowship, MMost noble Sergius, had it pleas'd the people. AIt did not please the Gods; who instruct the people. AAnd their vnquestion'd pleasures must be seru'd. AThey know what is fitter for us, then our*selues; AAnd it were impiety, to think against them. OYou beare it rightly, Lucius; and, it glads me, OTo find your thoughts so euen. AI shall still AStudie to make them such to Rome, and Heauen. AI would withdraw with you, a little, Iulius. QI will come home to you: Crassus would not have you QTo speake to him, 'fore Quintus Catulus. AI apprehend you. No, when they shall iudge AHonors conuenient for me, I shall have them, AWith a full hand: I know it. In meane time, AThey are no lesse part of the Common-wealth, AThat do obey, then those, that do command. OO, let me kisse your forehead, Lucius. OHow are you wrongd! ABy whom? OPublicke report. OThat giues you out, to stomacke your repulse; OAnd brooke it deadly. ASir: she brookes not me. ABelieue me rather, and your*selfe, now, of me; AIt is a kinde of slander, to trust rumour. OI know it. And I could be angrie with it. ASo may not I. Where it concernes himselfe, AWho is angry at a slander, makes it true. OMost noble Sergius! This your temper melts me. PWill you do office to the Consul, Quintus? QThat Cato, and the Rout have done the other? OI waite, when he will goe. Be still your*selfe. OHe wants no state, or honors, that hath vertue, ADid I appeare so tame, as this man thinks me? ALook'd I so poore, so dead? So like that nothing, AWhich he calls vertuous? O my breast, breake quickly; AAnd shew my friends my in-parts, least they think AI have betraid them. EWhere is Gabinius? BGone. EAnd Vargunteius? BSlipt away; all shrunke: BNow he mist the Consul-ship. AI am AThe scorne of bond-men; who are next to beasts. AWhat can I worse pronounce my*selfe, that is fitter? AThe Owle of Rome, whom Boyes, and Girles will hout; AThat were I set up, for that woodden God, AThat keepes our gardens, could not fright the crowes, AOr the least Bird from muting on my head, EIt is strange how he should misse it. BIs it not stranger, BThe upstart Cicero should carry it so, BBy all consents, from men so much his Masters? EIt is true. ATo what a shadow, am I melted! EAntonius wan it but by some few voyces. AStrooke through, like ayre, and feele it not. My wounds AClose faster, then they are made. FThe whole designe, FAnd enterprise is lost by it. All handes quit it, Fupon his fayle. AI grow mad at my patience. AIt is a Visor that hath poyson'd me. AWould it had burnt me up, and I died inward: AMy heart first turn'd to ashes. EHere is Cethegus yet. JonCati3.3 ARepulse upon repulse? An In-mate, Consul? AThat I could reach the axell, where the pinnes are, AWhich bolt this frame; that I might pull them out, AAnd plucke all into Chaos; with my*selfe. CWhat, are we wishing now? AYes, my Cethegus. AWho would not fall with all the world about him? CNot I, that would stand on it, when it falles; CAnd force new Nature out, to make another. CThese wishing taste of woman, not of Romane. CLet us seeke other armes. AWhat should we do? CDo, and not wish; something, that wishes take not: CSo sodaine, as the Gods should not preuent, CNor scarce have time, to feare. AO noble Caius! CIt likes me better, that you are not Consul. CI would not goe through open dores, but breake them; CSwim to my ends, through bloud; or build a bridge COf carcasses; make on, upon the heads COf men, strooke downe, like piles; to reach the liues COf those remaine, and stand: Then is it a pray, CWhen Danger stoppes, and Ruine makes the way. AHow thou dost vtter me, braue soule, that may not, AAt all times, shew such as I am; but bend AVnto occasion? Lentulus, this man, AIf all our fire were out, would fetch downe new, AOut of the hand of Ioue; and riuet him ATo Caucasus, should he but frowne: and let AHis owne gaunt Eagle flie at him, to tire. BPeace, here comes Cato. ALet him come, and heare. AI will no more dissemble. Quit us all; AI, and my lou'd Cethegus here, alone AWill vndertake this Giants warre, and cary it. BWhat needs this, Lucius? ESergius be more wary. ANow, Marcus Cato, our new Consuls spie, AWhat is your sowre austerity sent to explore. NNothing in thee, licentious Catiline: NHalters, and racks cannot expresse from thee NMore, then thy deeds. It is onely iudgement waits thee. AWhose? Cato's? shall he iudge me? NNo, the Gods, NWho, euer, follow those, they go not with: NAnd Senate; who, with fire, must purge sicke Rome NOf noysome Citizens, whereof thou art one. NBe gone, or else let me. It is bane to draw NThe same ayre with thee. CStrike him. BHold good Caius; CFearst thou not, Cato? NRash Cethegus, no. NIt were wrong with Rome, when Catiline and thou NDo threat, if Cato feard. AThe fire you speake of AIf any flame of it approach my fortunes, AI will quench it, not with water, but with ruine. NYou heare this, Romanes. ABeare it to the Consul. CI would have sent away his soule, before him. CYou are too heauie, Lentulus, and remisse; CIt is for you we labour, and the Kingdome CPromis'd you by the Sibyll's. AWhich his Pra*etorship, AAnd some small flattery of the Senate more, AWill make him to forget. BYou wrong me, Lucius. EHe will not need these spurres. CThe action needs them. C"These things, when they proceed not, they goe backward. BLet us consult then. CLet us, first, take armes. CThey that denie us iust things, now, will give CAll that we aske; if once they see our swords. OOur obiects must be sought with wounds, not words. JonCati3.4 LIs there a Heauen? and Gods? and can it be LThey should so slowly heare, so slowly see? LHath Ioue no thunder? or is Ioue become LStupide as thou art? o neare-wretched Rome, LWhen both thy Senate, and thy Gods do sleepe, LAnd neither thine, nor their owne States do keepe! LWhat will awake thee, Heauen? what can excite LThine anger, if this practise be too light? LHis former drifts partake of former times, LBut this last plot was only Catilines. LO, that it were his last. But he, before LHath safely done so much, he will still dare more. LAmbition, like a torrent, nere lookes backe; LAnd is a swelling, and the last affection LA high minde can put off: being both a Rebell LVnto the soule, and reason, and enforceth LAll lawes, all conscience, treades upon religion, LAnd offereth violence to Natures selfe. LBut here, is that transcends it. A blacke purpose LTo confound Nature: and to ruine that, LWhich neuer Age, nor Mankinde can repaire. LSit downe, good Lady; Cicero is lost LIn this your fable: for, to think it true LTempteth my reason. It so farre exceedes LAll insolent fictions of the tragicke Scene. LThe Commonwealth, yet panting, vnderneath LThe stripes, and wounds of a late ciuill warre, LGasping for life, and scarce restor'd to hope; LTo seeke to oppresse her, with new cruelty, LAnd vtterly extinguish her long name, LWith so prodigious, and vnheard-of fiercenesse! LWhat sinke of Monsters, wretches of lost minds, LMad after change, and desp'rate in their states, LWearied, and gall'd with their necessities, L( For all this I allow them) durst have thought it? LWould not the barbarous deeds have beene beleeu'd, LOf Marius, and Sylla, by our Children, LWithout, this fact had rise forth greater, for them? LAll, that they did, was piety, to this. LThey, yet, but murdred Kinsfolke, Brothers, Parents, LRauish'd the Virgins, and, perhaps, some Matrons; LThey left the Citty standing, and the Temples: LThe Gods, and Maiesty of Rome were safe yet. LThese purpose to fire it, to dispoile them, L(Beyond the other euils,) and lay wast LThe farre-triumphed world: For, vnto whom LRome is too little, what can be inough? IIt is true, my Lord, I had the same discourse. LAnd, then, to take a horride Sacrament LIn humane blood, for execution LOf this their dire designe; which might be call'd LThe height of wickednesse: but that, that was higher, LFor which they did it. II assure your Lordship, IThe extreme horror of it almost turn'd me ITo aire, when first I heard it; I was all IA vapor, when it was told me; and I long'd ITo vent it any*where; It was such a secret, II thought, it would have burnt me up. LGood Fuluia, LFeare not your act; and lesse repent you of it. II do not, my good Lord. I know to whom II have vtter'd it. LYou have discharg'd it, safely. LShould Rome, for whom you have done the happy seruice, LTurne most ingrate; yet were your vertue paid LIn conscience of the fact: so much good deedes LReward themselues. IMy Lord, I did it not ITo any other ayme, but for it*selfe. ITo no ambition. LYou have learn'd the difference LOf doing office to the publike weale, LAnd priuate friendship, and have shewne it, Lady. LBe still your*selfe. I have sent for Quintus Curius, Land (for your vertuous sake) if I can winne him, LYet, to the common*wealth; He shall be safe too. II will vndertake, my Lord, he will be wonne. LPray, you ioyne with me, then: And helpe to worke him. JonCati3.5 LHow now? Is he come? WHe is here, my Lord. LGoe presently, LPray my Colleague Antonius, I may speake with him, LAbout some present businesse of the State; LAnd (as you goe) call on my brother Quintus, LAnd pray him, with the Tribunes to come to me. LBid Curius enter. Fuluia, you will aide me? IIt is my duty. LO, my noble Lord! LI have to chide you, yfaith. Give me your hand. LNay, be not troubled; it shall be gently, Curius. LYou looke upon this Lady? What? Do you ghesse LMy businesse, yet? Come, if you growne, I thunder: LTherefore, put on your better lookes, and thoughts. LThere is nought but faire, and good intended to you; LAnd I would make those your complexion. LWould you, of whom the Senate had that hope, LAs, on my knowledge, it was in their purpose, LNext sitting, to restore you: as they have done LThe stupide, and vngratefull Lentulus; L(Excuse me, that I name you thus, together, LFor, yet, you are not such) would you, I say, LA person both of Blood and Honor, stock't LIn a long race of vertuous Ancestors, LEmbarke your*selfe for such a hellish action, LWith Parricides, and Traitors, men turn'd Furies, LOut of the wast, and ruine of their fortunes; L(For it is despaire, that is the mother of madnesse) LSuch as want (that, which all Conspirators, LBut they, have first) meere colour for their mischiefe? LO, I must blush with you. Come, you shall not labour LTo extenuate your guilt, but quit it cleane; L"Bad men excuse their faults, good men will leaue them. L"He acts the third crime, that defends the first. LHere is a Lady, that hath got the start, LIn piety, of us all; and, for whose vertue, LI could almost turne Louer, againe: but that LTerentia would be iealous. What an honor LHath she atchieued to herselfe! What voices, LTitles, and loud applauses will pursue her, LThrough euery street! What windores will be fill'd, LTo shoote eyes at her! What enuy, and griefe in Matrons, LThey are not she! When this her act shall seeme LWorthier a Chariot, then if Pompey came, LWith Asia chain'd! All this is while she liues. LBut dead, her very name will be a Statue, LNot wrought for time, but rooted in the minds LOf all posterity; when Brasse, and Marble, LAye, and the Capitol it*selfe is dust. IYour Honor thinks too highly of me. LNo: LI cannot think inough. And I would have LHim emulate you. It is no shame, to follow LThe better precedent. She shewes you, Curius, LWhat claime your Countrey laies to you; and what duty LYou owe to it: Be not afraid, to breake LWith Murderers, and Traytors, for the sauing LA life, so neare, and necessary to you, LAs is your Countries. Think but on her right. L"No Child can be too naturall to his Parent. LShe is our common Mother, and doth challenge LThe prime part of us; Do not stop, but give it: L"He, that is void of feare, may soone be iust, L"And no Religion binds men to be Traitors. IMy Lord, he vnderstands it; and will follow IYour sauing counsell. But his shame, yet, stayes him. II know, that he is comming. DDo you know it? IYes, let me speake with you. DO you are -- . IWhat am I? DSpeake not so loud. II am, what you should be, ICome, do you think, I would walke in any plot, IWhere Madame Sempronia should take place of me, IAnd Fuluia come in the rere or on the by? IThat I would be her second, in a businesse, IThough it might vantage me all the Sunne sees? IIt was a seely phant'sie of yours. Apply IYour*selfe to me, and the Consul, and be wise; IFollow the fortune I have put you into: IYou may be something this way, and with safety. LNay, I must tolerate no whisperings, Lady. ISir, you may heare. I tell him, in the way, IWherein he was, how hazardous his course was. LHow hazardous? how certaine to all ruine. LDid he, or do, yet, any of them imagine LThe Gods would sleepe, to such a Stygian practise, LAgainst that Commonwealth, which they have founded LWith so much labour, and like care have kept, LNow neare seuen hundred yeares? It is a madnesse, LWherewith Heauen blinds them, when it would confound them, LThat they should think it. Come, my Curius, LI see your nature is right; you shall no more LBe mention'd with them: I will call you mine, LAnd trouble this good shame, no farder. Stand LFirme for your Countrey; and become a man LHonor'd, and lou'd. It were a noble life, LTo be found dead, embracing her. Know you, LWhat thanks, what titles, what rewards the Senate LWill heape upon you, certaine, for your seruice? LLet not a desperate action more engage you, LThen safety should; and wicked friendship force LWhat honesty, and vertue cannot worke. IHe tels you right, sweete friend: It is sauing counsaile. DMost noble Consul, I am yours, and hers; DI meane my Countries: you have form'd me new. DInspiring me, with what I should be, truely. DAnd I intreate, my faith may not seeme cheaper DFor springing out of penitence. LGood Curius, LIt shall be dearer rather, and because LI would make it such, heare how I trust you more. LKeepe still your former face; and mixe againe LWith these lost spirits. Runne all their mazes with them; LFor such are treasons. Finde their windings out, LAnd subtle turnings, watch their snaky waies, LThrough brakes, and hedges, into woods of darkenesse, LWhere they are faine to creepe upon their breasts LIn pathes nere trod by Men, but Wolues, and Panthers. LLearne, beside Catiline, Lentulus, and those, LWhose names I have, what new ones they draw in; LWho else are likely; what those Great ones are, LThey do not name; what waies they meane to take; LAnd whither their hopes point; to warre: or ruine, LBy some surprize. Explore all their intents, LAnd what you finde may profit the Republique, LAcquaint me with it, either, by your*selfe, LOr this your vertuous friend, on whom I lay LThe care of vrging you; I will see, that Rome LShall proue a thankefull, and a bounteous Mother: LBe secret as the night. DAnd constant Sir. LI do not doubt it. Though the time cut off LAll vowes. "The dignity of truth is lost, LWith much protesting: Who is there! This way, LLeast you be seene, and met. And when you come, LBe this your token; to this fellow. Light them. LO Rome, in what a sicknesse art thou fall'n! LHow dangerous, and deadly! when thy head LIs drown'd in sleepe, and all thy body feu'ry! LNo noise, no pulling, no vexation wakes thee, LThy Lethargie is such: or if, by chance, LThou heau'st thy eye-lids up, thou dost forget LSooner, then thou wert told, thy proper danger. LI did vnreuerendly, to blame the Gods, LWho wake for thee, though thou snore to thy*selfe. LIs it not strange, thou shouldst be so diseas'd, LAnd so secure? But more, that the first symptomes LOf such a malady, should not rise out LFrom any worthy member, but a base LAnd common strumpet, worthlesse to be nam'd LA haire, or part of thee? Think, think, hereafter, LWhat thy needes were, when thou must vse such meanes: LAnd lay it to thy breast, how much the Gods Lupbraid thy foule neglect of them; by making LSo vile a thing, the Author of thy safety. LThey could have wrought by nobler waies: have strooke LThy foes which forked lightning; or ramm'd thunder; LThrowne hilles upon them, in the act; have sent LDeath, like a dampe, to all their families; LOr caus'd their consciences to burst them. But, LWhen they will shew thee what thou art, and make LA scornefull difference 'twixt their power, and thee, LThey helpe thee by such aides, as Geese, and Harlots. LHow now? What answere? Is he come? WYour Brother, WWill streight be here; and your Colleague Antonius WSaid, coldly, he would follow me. LAye, that LTroubles me somewhat, and is worth my feare; LHe is a man, 'gainst whom I must prouide, LThat (as he will do no good) he do no harme; LHe, though he be not of the plot, will like it, LAnd wish it should proceede; for, vnto men, LPrest with their wants, all change is euer welcome. LI must with offices, and patience winne him; LMake him, by art, that which he is not borne, LA friend vnto the publique; and bestow LThe Prouince on him; which is by the Senate LDecreed to me: That benefit will bind him. LIt is well, if some men will do well, for price; L"So few are vertuous, when the reward is away: LNor must I be vnmindfull of my priuate; LFor which I have call'd my Brother, and the Tribunes, LMy Kins-folke, and my Clients to be neare me; L"He that stands up 'gainst Traitors, and their ends, L"Shall neede a double guard, of law, and friends: L"Especially, in such an enuious State, L"That sooner will accuse the Magistrate, L"Then the Delinquent; and will rather grieue L"The Treason is not acted, then beleeue. JonCati3.6 QThe night growes on; and you are for your meeting: QI will therefore end in few. Be resolute, QAnd put your enterprise in act: The more Q"Actions of depth, and danger are consider'd, Q"The lesse assuredly they are perform'd. QAnd thence it hapneth, that the brauest plots Q(Not executed straight) have been discouer'd. QSay, you are constant, or another, a third, QOr more; there may be yet one wretched spirit, QWith whom the feare of punishment shall worke Q'Boue all the thoughts of honor, and reuenge. QYou are not, now, to think what is best to do, QAs in beginnings; but, what must be done, QBeing thus entred: and slip no aduantage QThat may secure you. Let them call it mischiefe; Q"When it is past, and prosper'd, it will be vertue. Q"They are petty crimes are punish'd, great rewarded. QNor must you think of perill; since, "Attempts, Q"Begunne with danger, still do end with glory: Q"And, when neede spurres, despaire will be call'd wisdome. QLesse ought the care of men, or fame to fright you; Q"For they, that winne, do seldome receiue shame Q"Of victory: how*ere it be atchiu'd; QAnd vengeance, least. For who, besieg'd with wants, QWould stop at death, or any*thing beyond it? QCome, there was neuer any great thing thing, yet, QAspired, but by violence, or fraud: QAnd he that stickes (for folly of a conscience) QTo reach it -- . AIs a good religious foole. QA superstitious slaue, and will die beast. QGood night. You know what Crassus thinks, and I, QBy this: Prepare you wings, as large as sayles, QTo cut through ayre, and leaue no print behind you. QA Serpent, ere he comes to be a Dragon, QDoes eate a Bat: and so must you a Consul, QThat watches. What you do, do quickly Sergius. QYou shall not stir for me. AExcuse me, lights there. QBy no meanes. AStay then. All good thoughts to Ca*esar. AAnd like to Crassus. QMind but your friends counsels. JonCati3.7 AOr, I will beare no mind. How now, Aurelia? AAre your confederates come? the Ladies? VYes. AAnd is Sempronia there? VShe is. AThat is well. AShe has a sulphurous spirit, and will take ALight at a sparke. Breake with them, gentle loue, AAbout the drawing as many of their Husbands, AInto the plot, as can: if not, to rid them. AThat will be the easier practise, vnto some, AWho have bene tir'd with them long. Sollicite ATheir aydes, for money; and their Seruants helpe, AIn firing of the Citie, at the time AShall be design'd. Promise them States, and Empires, AAnd men, for Louers, made of better clay, AThen euer the old Potter Titan knew. AWho is that? O, Porcius Lecca! are they met? FThey are all, here. ALoue, you have your instructions. AI will trust you with the stuffe you have to worke on. AYou will forme it? Porcius, fetch the siluer Eagle AI gave you in charge. And pray them, they will enter. JonCati3.8 AOur Friends, your faces glad me. This will be AOur last, I hope, of consultation. CSo, it had need. DWe loose occasion, daily. AAye, and our meanes: whereof one woundes me most, AThat was the fairest. Piso is dead, in Spaine. CAs we are, here. EAnd, as it is thought, by enuy EOf Pompey's followers. BHe too is comming backe, BNow, out of Asia. ATherefore, what we intend AWe must be swift in. Take your seates, and heare. AI have, alreadie, sent Septimius AInto the Picene territorie; and Iulius, ATo rayse force, for us, in Apulia: AManlius at Fesula is (by this time) up, AWith the old needie troopes, that follow'd Sylla; AAnd all do but expect, when we will give AThe blow at home. Behold this siluer Eagle, AWas Marius standard, in the Cimbrian warre, AFatall to Rome; and, as our Augures tell me, AShall still be so: For which one omenous cause, AI have kept it safe, and done it sacred rites, AAs to a Godhead; in a Chappell built AOf purpose to it. Pledge then all your hands, ATo follow it, with vowes of death, and ruine, AStrooke silently, and home. So waters speake AWhen they runne deepest. Now is the time, this yeare, AThe twenti'th, from the firing of the Capitol, AAs fatall too, to Rome, by all predictions; AAnd, in which, honor'd Lentulus must rise AA King, if he pursue it. DIf he do not, DHe is not worthy the great destiny. BIt is too great for me, but what the Gods, BAnd their great loues decree me, I must not BSeeme carelesse of. ANo nor we enuious. AWe have enough beside, all Gallia, Belgia, AGreece, Spayne, and Africke. DAye and Asia too, DNow Pompey is returning. ANoblest Romanes, AMe*thinkes our lookes, are not so quicke and high, AAs they were wont. DNo? whose is not? AWe have ANo anger in our eyes, no storme, no lightning; AOur hate is spent, and fum'd away in vapor, ABefore our hands be at worke. I can accuse ANot any one, but all of slacknesse. CYes, CAnd be your*selfe such, while you do it. AHa? AIt is sharply answerd, Caius, CTruly, truly. BCome, let us each one know his part to do, BAnd then be accus'd. Leaue these vntimely quarrels. DI would there were more Romes then one, to ruine. CMore Romes? More Worlds. DNay then more Gods, and Natures, DIf they tooke part. BWhen shall the time be, first? AI think the Saturnals. CIt will be too long. AThey are not now farre off, it is not a month. CA weeke, a day, an houre is too farre off, CNow, were the fitest time. AWe have not laid AAll things so safe, and readie. CWhile we are laying, CWe shall all lie; and grow to earth. Would I CWere nothing in it, if not now. These things CThey should be done, e're thought. ANay, now your reason AForsakes you, Caius. Think, but what commodity AThat time will minister; the Cities custome AOf being, then, in mirth, and feast. BLoos'd whole BIn pleasure and securitie. WEach house WResolu'd in freedome. DEuery slaue a master. EAnd they too no meane aides. DMade from their hope DOf liberty. BOr hate vnto their Lords. WIt is sure, there cannot be a time found out WMore apt, and naturall. BNay, good Cethegus, BWhy do your passions, now, disturbe our hopes? CWhy do your hopes delude your certainties? AYou must lend him his way. Think, for the order, AAnd processe of it. EYes. BI like not fire: BIt will too much wast my Citie. AWere it embers, AThere will be wealth enough, rak't out of them, ATo spring a new: It must be fire, or nothing. EWhat else should fright, or terrefie them? WTrue. WIn that confusion, must be the chiefe slaughter. DThen we shall kill them brauest. WAnd in heapes. WStrew Sacrifices. DMake the Earth an Altar. EAnd Rome the fire. FIt will be a noble night. WAnd worth all Sylla's daies. DWhen Husbands, Wiues, DGrandsires, and Nephewes, Seruants, and their Lords, DVirgins, and Priests, the Infant, and the Nurse DGo all to hell, together, in a fleete. AI would have you, Longinus, and Statilius, ATo take the charge of the firing, which must be, AAt a signe giuen with a trumpet, done AIn twelue chiefe places of the Citie, at once. AThe flaxe, and sulphure, are alreadie laid AIn, at Cethegus house. So are the weapons. AGabinius, you, with other force, shall stop AThe pipes, and conduits: And kill those that come AFor water. DWhat shall I do? AAll will have AEmployment, feare not: Ply the execution. DFor that, trust me, and Cethegus. AI will be AAt hand, with the army, to meete those that scape. AAnd Lentulus, begirt you Pompey's house, ATo seise his sonnes aliue: for they are they AMust make our peace with him. All else cut off, AAs Tarquin did the Poppey heads; or mowers AA field of thistles; or else, up, as ploughes ADo barren lands; and strike together flints, AAnd clods; the ungratefull Senate, and the People: ATill no rage, gone before, or comming after AMay weigh with yours, though Horror leapt her*selfe AInto the scale: but, in your violent acts, AThe fall of torrents, and the noyse of tempests, AThe boyling of Charybdis, the Seas wildnesse, AThe eating force of flames, and wings of winds, ABe all outwrought, by your transcendent furies. AIt had bene done, ere this, had I bene Consul; AWe had had no stop, no let. BHow find you Antonius? AThe other has wonne him lost, that Cicero AWas borne to be my opposition, AAnd stands in all our waies. DRemoue him first. CMay that, yet, be done sooner? AWould it were done. DI will do it. CIt is my prouince; none vsurpe it. BWhat are your meanes? CEnquire not. He shall die. CShall, was too slowly said. He is dying. That CIs, yet, too slow. He is dead. ABraue, only Romane, AWhose soule might be the worlds soule, were that dying; ARefuse not, yet, the aydes of these your friends: BHere is Vargunteius holds good quarter with him. AAnd vnder the pretext of clientele AAnd visitation, with the morning Hayle, AWill be admitted. CWhat is that to me? WYes, we may kill him in his bed, and safely. CSafe is your way, then; take it. Mine is mine owne. AFollow him, Vargunteius, and perswade, AThe morning is the fittest time. EThe night EWill turne all into tumult. BAnd perhaps BMisse of him too. AIntreat, and coniure him. AIn all our names. BBy all our vowes, and friendships. JonCati3.9 JWhat! is our Councell broke up first? WYou say, WWomen are greatest talkers. JWe have done; JAnd are now fit for action. EWhich is passion. EThere is your best actiuity, Lady. JHow JKnowes your wise fatnesse that? EYour Mothers daughter EDid teach me, Madam. CCome Sempronia, leaue him: CHe is a Giber. And our present businesse CIs of more serious consequence. Aurelia CTells me, you have done most masculinely within, CAnd plaid the Orator. WBut we must hasten WTo our designe as well, and execute: WNot hang still, in the feuer of an accident. AYou say well, Lady. JI do like our plot JExceeding well, it is sure; and we shall leaue JLittle to fortune, in it. AYour banquet stayes. AAurelia take her in. Where is Fuluia? JO the two Louers are coupling. DIn good faith, DShe is very ill, with sitting up. JYou would have her JLaugh, and lie downe. INo, faith, Sempronia, II am not well; I will take my leaue, it drawes IToward the morning. Curius shall stay with you. IMadam, I pray you pardon me, my health II must respect. WFarewell, good Fuluia. DMake hast, and bid him get his guards about him. DFor Vargunteius, and Cornelius DHave vndertane it, should Cethegus misse: DTheir reason, that they think his open rashnesse DWill suffer easier discouerie, DThen their attempt; so vailed vnder friendship. DI will bring you to your Coach. Tell him, beside, DOf Ca*esars comming forth, here. AMy sweete Madam, AWill you be gone? II am, my Lord, in truth, IIn some indisposition. AI do wish AYou had all your health, sweet Lady. Lentulus, AYou will do her seruice. BTo her coach, and duty. JonCati3.10 AWhat ministers men must, for practise, vse! AThe rash, the ambitious, needy, desperate, AFoolish, and wretched, eu'n the dregs of Mankinde, ATo whores, and women! Still, it must be so. AEach have their proper place; and, in their roomes, AThey are the best. Groomes fittest kindle fires, ASlaues carry burdens, Butchers are for slaughters, AApothecaries, Butlers, Cookes for poysons; AAs these for me: Dull, stupide Lentulus, AMy stale, with whom I stalke; the rash Cethegus, AMy executioner; and fat Longinus, AStatilius, Curius, Ceparius, Cimber. AMy laborers, pioners, and incendiaries; AWith these domesticke traitors, bosome theeues, AWhom custome hath call'd Wiues; the readiest helpes, ATo strange head-strong Husbands; rob the easie; AAnd lend the moneyes, on returnes of lust. AShall Catiline not do, now, with these aides, ASo sought, so sorted, something shall be call'd ATheir labor, but his profit? and make Ca*esar ARepent his ventring counsels, to a spirit, ASo much his Lord in mischiefe? when all these, AShall, like the Brethren sprung of Dragons teeth, ARuine each other; and he fall amongst them: AWith Crassus, Pompey, or who else appeares, ABut like, or neare a great one. May my braine AResolue to water, and my bloud turne phlegme, AMy hands, drop off, vnworthy of my sword, AAnd that be inspired, of it*selfe, to rip AMy breast, for my lost entrailes; when I leaue AA soule, that will not serue. And who will, are AThe same with slaues; such clay I dare not feare. AThe cruelty, I meane to act, I wish AShould be call'd mine, and tary in my name; AWhil'st after Ages do toyle out themselues AIn thinking for the like, but do it lesse: AAnd, were the power of all the fiends let loose, AWith Fate to boote, it should be, still, example. AWhen, what the Gaule or Moore could not effect, ANor a*emulous Carthage, with their length of spight, AShall be the worke of one, and that my night. JonCati3.11 LI thanke your vigilance. Where is my brother, Quintus? LCall all my seruants up. Tell noble Curius, LAnd say it to your*selfe, you are my Sauers; LBut that is too little for you, you are Rome's: LWhat could I then, hope lesse? O brother! now, LThe engines I told you of, are working; LThe machine 'gin's to moue. Where are your weapons? LArme all my houshold presently. And charge LThe Porter, he let no man in, till day. WNot Clients, and your friends? LThey weare those names, LThat come to murther me. Yet send for Cato, LAnd Quintus Catulus; those I dare trust; LAnd Flaccus, and Pomtinius, the Pra*etors, LBy the backe way. WTake care, good brother Marcus, WYour feares be not form'd greater, then they should; WAnd make your friends grieue, while your enemies laugh. LIt is brothers counsell, and worth thankes. But do LAs I intreat you. I prouide, not feare. LWas Ca*esar there, say you? ICurius sayes, he met him, IComming from thence. LO, so. And, had you a counsell LOf Ladies too? Who was your Speaker, Madam? IShe that would be, had there bene fortie more; ISempronia, who had both her Greeke, and Figures; IAnd, euer and anone, would aske us, if IThe witty Consul could have mended that? IOr Orator Cicero could have said it better? LShe is my gentle enemy. Would Cethegus LHad no more danger in him. But, my guards LAre you, great powers; and the vnbated strengths LOf a firme conscience, which shall arme each step LTane for the State; and teach me slacke no pace LFor feare of malice. How now, Brother? WCato, WAnd Quintus Catulus were comming to you, WAnd Crassus with them. I have let them in, WBy the garden. LWhat would Crassus have? WI heare WSome whispering 'bout the gate; and making doubt, WWhither it be not yet too early, or no? WBut I do think, they are your friendes, and Clients, WAre fearefull to disturbe you. LYou will change LTo another thought, anone. Have you giu'n the Potter LThe charge, I will'd you? WYes. LWithdraw, and hearken. JonCati3.12 WThe dore is not open, yet. WYou were best to knocke. WLet them stand close, then: And, when we are in, WRush after us. WBut where is Cethegus? WHe WHas left it, since he might not do it his way. WWho is there? WA friend, or more. WI may not let WAny man in, till day. WNo? why? WThy reason? WI am commanded so. WBy whom? WI hope WWe are not discouer'd. WYes, by reuelation. WPray thee good slaue, who has commanded thee? WHe that may best, the Consull. WWe are his friends, WAll is one. WBest give your name. WDost thou heare, fellow? WI have some instant businesse with the Consull. WMy name is Vargunteius. LTrue, he knoes it; LAnd for what friendly office you are sent. LCornelius, too, is there? WWe are betraid. LAnd desperate Cethegus, is he not? WSpeake you, he knowes my voice. LWhat say you to it? WYou are deceau'd Sir. LNo, it is you are so; LPoore, misled men. Your states are yet worth pitty, LIf you would heare, and change your sauage minds. LLeaue to be mad; forsake your purposes LOf Treason, Rapine, Murder, Fire, and Horror: LThe common*wealth hath eyes, that wake as sharply LOuer her life, as yours do for her ruine. LBe not deceiu'd, to think her lenity LWill be perpetuall; or, if Men be wanting, LThe gods will be, to such a calling cause. LConsider your attempts, and while there is time, LRepent you of them. It doth make me tremble LThere should those spirits yet breath, that when they cannot LLiue honestly, would rather perish basely. WYou talke too much to them, Marcus, They are lost. WGoe forth, and apprehend them. OIf you proue OThis practise; what should let the Common-wealth OTo take due vengeance? WLet us shift, away. WThe darknesse hath conceal'd us, yet: We will say WSome have abus'd our names. WDenie it all. NQuintus, what guards have you? Call the Tribunes aide, NAnd raise the City. Consul, you are too mild, N"The foulenesse of some facts takes thence all mercy: NReport it to the Senate. Heare: The Gods NGrow angry with your patience. "It is their care, N"And must be yours, that guilty men escape not. N"As crimes do grow, Iustice should rouse it*selfe. UWhat is it, Heauens, you prepare UWith so much swiftnesse, and so sodaine rising? UThere are no Sonnes of earth, that dare, UAgaine, rebellion: or the Gods surprising? UThe World doth shake, and Nature feares, UYet is the tumult, and the horror greater UWithin our minds, then in our eares, USo much Romes faults (now growne her Fate) do threat her. UThe Priests, and People runne about, UEach Order, Age, and Sexe amaz'd at other; UAnd, at the ports, all thronging out, UAs if their safety were to quit their Mother: UYet finde they the same dangers there, UFrom which they make such hast to be preserued; UFor guilty States do euer beare UThe plagues about them, which they have deserued. UAnd, till those plagues do get aboue UThe mountaine of our faults, and there do sit; UWe see them not; Thus, still we loue UThe euill we do, vntill we suffer it. UBut, most, ambition, that neare vice UTo vertue, hath the fate of Rome prouoked; UAnd made, that now Rome's selfe no price, UTo free her from the death, wherewith she is yoked. UThat restlesse Ill, that still doth built Uupon successe; and endes not in aspiring: UBut there beginnes. And nere is fill'd, UWhile ought remaines that seemes but worth desiring. UWherein the Thought, vnlike the Eye, UTo which things farre, seemed smaller then they are, UDeemes all contentment plac'd on high: UAnd thinks there is nothing great, but what is farre. UO, that in time, Rome did not cast UHer errors up, this fortune to preuent; UTo have seene her crimes' ere they were past: UAnd felt her faults, before her punishment. JonCati4.1 WCan these men feare? who are not only ours, WBut the worlds masters? Then I see, the Gods Wupbraid our suffrings, or would humble them; WBy sending these affrights, while we are here: WThat we might laugh at their ridiculous feare, WWhose names, we trembled at, beyond the Alpes. WOf all that passe, I do not see a face WWorthy a man, that dares looke up, and stand WOne thunder out; but downeward all, like beasts, WRunning away from euery flash is made. WThe falling world could not deserue such basenesse. WAre we emploid here, by our miseries, WLike superstitious fooles (or rather slaues) WTo plaine our griefes, wrongs, and oppressions, WTo a meere clothed Senate whom our folly WHath made, and still intends to keepe our Tyrannes? WIt is our base petitionary breath WThat blowes them to this greatnesse; which this pricke WWould soone let out, if we were bold, and wretched. WWhen they have taken all we have; our goods, WCrop, lands, and houses, they will leaue us this: WA weapon, and an arme will still be found, WThough naked left, and lower then the ground. JonCati4.2 NDo; vrge thine anger, still; good Heauen, and iust. NTell guilty men, what powers are aboue them. NIn such a confidence of wickednesse, NIt was time, they should know something fit to feare. OI neuer saw a morne more full of horror. NTo Catiline, and his: but, to iust men, NThough Heauen should speake, with all his wrath at once, NThat, with his breath, the hinges of the world NDid cracke; we should stand upright, and vnfear'd. LWhy, so we do, good Cato. Who be these? OAmbassadours, from the Allobroges, OI take them, by their habits. WAye, these men WSeeme of another race; Let us sue to these WThere is hope of iustice, with their fortitude. LFriends of the Senate, and of Rome, to*day LWe pray you to forbeare us: on the morrow LWhat sute you have, let us, by Fabius Sanga, L(Whose Patronage your State doth vse) but know it, LAnd, on the Consull's word, you shall receiue LDispatch, or else an answere, worth your patience. WWe would not hope for more, most worthy Consul. WThis Magistrate hath strooke an awe into me, WAnd, by his sweetnesse, wonne a more reguard WVnto his place, then all the boistrous moodes WThat ignorant Greatnesse practiseth, to fill WThe large, vnfit authority it weares. WHow easie is a noble spirit discern'd WFrom harsh, and sulphurous matter, that flies out WIn contumelies, makes a noise, and stinkes. WMay we finde good, and great men, that know how WTo stoupe to wants, and meete necessities, WAnd will not turne from any equall suites. W"Such men, they do not succour more the cause, W"They vndertake, with fauor, and successe; W"Then, by it, their owne iudgments they do raise, W"In turning iust mens needes, into their praise. 004:02;063<'> THE SENATE JonCati4.3 WRoome for the Consuls. Fathers, take your places. WHere, in the house of Iupiter, the STAYER, WBy edict from the Consull, Marcus Tullius, WYou are met, a frequent Senate. Heare him speake. LWhich may be happy, and auspicious still LTo Rome, and hers. Honor'd and Conscript Fathers, LIf I were silent, and that all the dangers LThreatning the State, and you, were yet so hid LIn night, or darkenesse, thicker in their breats, LThat are the blacke contriuers; so, that no LBeame of the light could pierce them: Yet the voice LOf Heau'n, this morning, hath spoke loud inough, LTo instruct you with a feeling of the horror; LAnd wake you from a sleepe, as dead, as death. LI have, of late, spoke often in this Senate, LTouching this argument, but still have wanted LEither your eares, or faith: so incredible LTheir plots have seem'd, or I so vaine, to make LThese things for mine owne glory, and false greatnesse, LAs hath beene giuen out. But be it so: LWhen they breake forth, and shall declare themselues, LBy their too foule effects, then, then, the enuy LOf my iust cares will finde another name. LFor me, I am but one: And this poore life, LSo lately aim'd at, not an houre yet since, LThey cannot with more eagernesse pursue, LThen I with gladnesse would lay downe, and loose, LTo buy Romes peace, if that would purchase it. LBut when I see, they would make it but the step LTo more, and greater; vnto yours, Romes, all: LI would with those preserue it, or then fall. QAye, aye, let you alone, cunning Artificer! QSee, how his gorget peeres aboue his gowne; QTo tell the people, in what danger he was. QIt was absurdly done of Vargunteius, QTo name himselfe, before he was got in. PIt matters not, so they denie it all: PAnd can but carry the lie constantly. PWill Catiline be here? QI have sent for him. PAnd have you bid him to be confident? QTo that his owne necessity will prompt him. PSeeme to beleeue nothing at all, that Cicero PRelates us. QIt will mad him. PO, and helpe PThe other party. Who is that? His Brother? PWhat new intelligence has he brought him now? QSome cautions from his Wife, how to behaue him. LPlace some of them without, and some bring in. LThanke their kinde loues. It is a comfort yet, LThat all depart not from their Countries cause. QHow now, what meanes this Muster? Consul, Antonius? MI do not know, aske my Colleague, he will tell you. MThere is some reason in state, that I must yeeld to; MAnd I have promis'd him: Indeede he has bought it, MWith giuing me the Provuince. LI professe, LIt grieues me. Fathers, that I am compell'd LTo draw these armes, and aides for your defence; LAnd, more, against a Citizen of Rome, LBorne here amongst you, a Patrician, LA man, I must confesse, of no meane house, LNor no small vertue, if he had employ'd LThose excellent gifts of Fortune, and of Nature, LVnto the good, not ruine of the State. LBut being bred in his fathers needy fortunes, LBrought up in his sisters prostitution, LConfirm'd in ciuill slaughter, entring first LThe Common-wealth, with murder of the gentry; LSince, both by study, and custome, conuersant LWith all licentiousnesse: what could be hop'd LIn such a field of riot, but a course LExtreme pernicious? Though, I must protest, LI found his mischiefs, sooner, with mine eyes, LThen with my thought; and with these hands of mine LBefore they touch'd, at my suspicion. QWhat are his mischiefs, Consul? you declame QAgainst his manners, and corrupt your owne; Q"No wise man should, for hate of guilty men, Q"Loose his owne innocence. LThe noble Ca*esar LSpeakes Godlike truth. But, when he heares, I can LConuince him, by his manners, of his mischiefs, LHe might be silent: And not cast away LHis sentences in vaine, where they scarse looke. LToward his subiect. NHere he comes himselfe. NIf he be worthy any good mans voice, NThat good man sit downe, by him: Cato will not. OIf Cato leaue him. I will not keepe aside. AWhat face is this, the Senate here puts on, AAgainst me, Fathers! Give my modesty ALeaue, to demand the cause of so much strangenesse. QIt is reported here, you are the head QTo a strange faction, Lucius. LAye, and will LBe prou'd against him. ALet it be. Why, Consul, AIf in the Common-wealth, there be two bodies, AOne leane, weake, rotten, and that hath a head; AThe other strong, and healthfull, but hath none: AIf I do give it one, do I offend? ARestore your*selues vnto your temper, Fathers; AAnd, without perturbation, heare me speake: ARemember who I am, and of what place AWhat petty fellow this is, that opposes; AOne, that hath exercis'd his eloquence, AStill to the bane of the Nobility: AA boasting, insolent tongue-man. NPeace leud Traitor, NOr wash thy mouth. He is an honest man NAnd loues his Countrey; would thou didst so, too. ACato, you are too zealous for him. NNo, NThou art too impudent. OCatiline be silent. ANay then, I easily feare, my iust defence AWill come too late, to so much preiudice. QWill he sit downe? AYet, let the world forsake me, AMy innocence must not. NThou innocent? NSo are the Furies. LYes, and Ate, too. LDo'st thou not blush, pernicious Catiline? LOr, hath the palenesse of thy guilt drunke up LThy blood, and drawne thy vaines, as drie of that, LAs is thy heart of truth, thy breast of vertue? LWhither at length wilt thou abuse our patience? LStill shall thy fury mocke us? To what licence LDares thy vnbridled boldnesse runne it*selfe? LDo all the nightly guards, kept on the Palace, LThe Cities watches, with the Peoples feares, LThe concourse of all Good men, this so strong LAnd fortified seate here of the Senate, LThe present lookes upon thee, strike thee nothing? LDo'st thou not feele thy Councels all laid open? LAnd see thy wild Conspiracy bound in LWith each mans knowledge? which of all this Order LCanst thou think ignorant (if they will but vtter LTheir conscience to the right) of what thou didst LLast night, what on the former, where thou were, LWhom thou didst call together, what your plots were? LO Age, and Manners! This the Consul sees, LThe Senate vnderstands, yet this man lives! LLiues? Aye, and comes here into Councell with us; LPartakes the publique cares: and with his eye LMarkes, and points out each man of us to slaughter. LAnd we, good men, do satisfie the State, LIf we can shunne but this mans sword, and madnesse. LThere was that vertue, once, in Rome, when good men LWould, with more sharpe coercion, have restrain'd LA wicked Citizen, then the deadliest Foe. LWe have that law still, Catiline, for thee; LAn act as graue, as sharpe: The State is not wanting, LNor the authority of this Senate; we, LWe, that are Consuls, onely fayle our*selues. LThis twentie daies, the edge of that decree LWe have let dull, a rust; kept it shut up, LAs in a sheath, which drawne should take thy head. LYet still thou liu'st; and liu'st not to lay by LThy wicked confidence, but to confirme it. LI could desire, Fathers, to be found LStill mercifull, to seeme in these maine perils, LGrasping the state, a man remisse, and slacke; LBut then, I should condemne my*self of sloth, LAnd treachery. Their Campe is in Italy, LPitch'd in the iawes, here, of Hetruria; LTheir numbers daily increasing, and their Generall LWithin our walles: nay in our Councell, plotting LHowerly some fatall mischiefe to the Publique. LIf, Catiline, I should command thee, now, LHere, to be taken, kill'd; I make iust doubt, LWhether all good men would not think it done LRather too late, then any man too cruell. NExcept he were of the same meale, and batch. LBut that, which ought to have bene done long since, LI will, and (for good reason) yet forbeare. LThen will I take thee, when no man is found LSo lost, so wicked, nay so like thy*selfe, LBut shall professe, it is done of neede, and right. LWhile there is one, that dares defend thee, liue; LThou shalt have leaue; but so, as now thou liu'st: LWatch'd at a hand, besieged, and opprest LFrom working least commotion to the State. LI have those eyes, and eares, shall still keepe guard, LAnd spiall on thee, as they have euer done, LAnd thou not feele it. What, then, canst thou hope? LIf neither Night can, with her darknesse; hide LThy wicked meetings; nor a priuate House LCan, in her walles, containe the guiltie whispers LOf thy conspiracy: If all breake out, LAll be discouered, change thy minde at last, LAnd loose thy thoughts of ruine, flame, and slaughter. LRemember, how I told, here, to the Senate, LThat such a day, thy Lictor, Caius Manlius, LWould be in armes. Was I deceiued, Catiline, LOr in the fact, or in the time? the hower? LI told too, in this Senate, that thy purpose LWas, on the fifth, the Kalends of Nouember, LTo have slaughterd this whole Order: which my caution LMade many leaue the Citie. Canst thou here LDenie, but this thy blacke designe was hindred, LThat very day, by me, thy*selfe clos'd in LWithin my strengths, so that thou could'st not moue LAgainst a publique reed? when thou wert heard LTo say, upon the parting of the rest, LThou would'st content thee, with the murder of us, LThat did remaine. Had'st thou not hope, beside, LBy a surprize, by night, to take Pra*eneste? LWhere when thou canst, didst thou not finde the place LMade good against thee, with my aides, my watches? LMy Garrisons fortified it. Thou dost nothing, Sergius, LThou canst endeuour nothing, nay not think, LBut I both see, and heare it; and am with thee, LBy, and before, about, and in thee, too. LCall but to minde thy last nights businesse. Come, LI will vse no circumstance: at Lecca's house, LThe shop, and mint of your conspiracie, LAmong your Sword-men, where so many associates LBoth of thy mischiefe, and thy madnesse, met. LDar'st thou denie this? wherefore art thou silent? LSpeake, and this shall conuince thee: Here they are, LI see them, in this Senate, that were with thee. LO you immortall Gods! In what clime are we? LWhat region do we liue in? in what ayre? LWhat Common-wealth, or State is this we have? LHere, here, amongst us, our owne number, Fathers, LIn this most holy Councell of the world, LThey are, that seeke the spoyle of me, of you, LOf ours, of all; what I can name is too narrow: LFollow the Sunne, and find not their ambition. LThese I behold, being Consull; Nay, I aske LTheir counsels of the State, as from good Patriots: LWhom it were fit the axe should hew in pieces, LI not so much as wound, yet, with my voyce. LThou wast, last night, with Lecca, Catiline, LYour shares, of Italy, you there diuided; LAppointed who and whither, each should goe; LWhat men should stay behind, in Rome, were chosen; LYour offices set downe; the parts mark'd out, LAnd places of the Citie, for the fire; LThy*selfe (thou affirmd'st) wast readie to depart, LOnely, a little let there was, that stay'd thee, LThat I yet liu'd: upon the word, stept forth LThree of thy crew, to rid thee of that care; LTwo vndertooke this morning, before day, LTo kill me in my bed. All this I knew, LYour conuent scarce dismiss'd, arm'd all my seruants, LCall'd both my brother, and friends, shut out your clients, LYou sent to visite me; whose names I told LTo some there, of good place, before they came. NYes, I, and Quintus Catulus can affirme it. QHe is lost, and gone. His spirits have forsooke him. LIf this be so, why, Catiline, dost thou stay? LGoe, where thou meanst: The Ports are open; forth. LThe Campe abroad wants thee, their Chiefe, too long. LLead with thee all thy troupes out. Purge the Citie. LDraw drie that noysome, and pernicious sinke, LWhich left, behind thee, would infect the world. LThou wilt free me of all my feares, at once, LTo see a wall betweene us. Dost thou stop LTo do that now, commanded; which before, LOf thine owne choise, thou wert prone to? goe. The Consul LBids thee, an enemy, to depart the Citie. LWhither, thou wilt aske? to exile? I not bid LThee that. But aske my counsell, I perswade it. LWhat is there, here , in Rome, that can delight thee? LWhere not a soule, without thine owne soule knot, LBut feares, and hates thee. What domesticke note LOf priuate filthinesse, but is burnt in LInto thy life? What close, and secret shame, LBut is growne one, with thy knowne infamy? LWhat lust was euer absent from thine eyes? LWhat lewd fact from thy hands? what wickednesse LFrom thy whole body? where is that youth drawne in LWithin thy nets, or catch'd up with thy baytes, LBefore whose rage, thou hast not borne a sword, LAnd to whose lusts thou hast not held a torch? LThy latter Nuptials I let passe in silence; LWhere sinnes incredible, on sinnes, were heapt: LWhich I not name, lest, in a ciuill State, LSo monstrous facts should eyther appeare to be, LOr not to be reueng'd. Thy Fortunes, too, LI glance not at, which hang but till next Ides. LI come to that, which is more knowne, more publick; LThe life, and safety of us all, by thee LThreatned, and sought. Stood'st thou not in the field, LWhen Lepidus, and Tullus were our Consuls, Lupon the day of choyse, arm'd, and with forces, LTo take their liues, and our chiefe Citizens; LWhen, not thy feare, nor conscience chang'd thy mind, LBut the meere fortune of the Common-wealth LWithstood thy actiue malice? Speake but right. LHow often hast thou made attempt on me? LHow many of thy assaults have I declin'd LWith shifting but my bodie, (as we would say) LWrested thy dagger from thy hand, how oft? LHow often hath it falne, or slip't by chance? LYet can thy side not want it: which, how vow'd, LOr with what rites, it is sacred of thee, I know not, LThat still thou mak'st it a necessitie, LTo fixe it in the bodie of a Consul. LBut let me loose this way, and speake to thee, LNot as one mou'd with hatred, which I ought, LBut pitty, of which none is owing thee. NNo more then vnto Tantalus, or Tityus. LThou cam'st, ere while, into this Senate. Who LOf such a frequency, so many friends, LAnd kindred thou hast here, saluted thee? LWere not the seates made bare, upon thy entrance? LRiss' not the Consular men? and left their places, LSo soone as thou sat'st downe? and fled thy side, LLike a plague, or ruine; knowing, how oft LThey had bene, by thee, mark'd out for the Shambles? LHow dost thou beare this? Surely, if my Slaues LAt home fear'd me, with halfe the affright, and horror, LThat, here, thy fellow Citizens do thee, LI should soone quit my house, and think it need too. LYet thou dar'st tary here? Go forth, at last; LCondemne thy*selfe to flight, and solitude. LDischarge the Common-wealth, of her deepe feare. LGoe; into banishment, if thou wait'st the word. LWhy do'st thou looke? They all consent vnto it. LDo'st thou expect the authority of their voyces, LWhose silent willes condemne thee? While they sit, LThey approue it; while they suffer it, they decree it; LAnd while they are silent to it, they proclaime it. LProue thou there honest, I will endure the enuie. LBut there is no thought, thou should'st be euer he, LWhom eyther shame should call from filthinesse, LTerror from danger, or discourse from fury. LGoe; I intreat thee: yet, why do I so? LWhen I already know, they are sent afore, LThat tarry for thee in armes, and do expect thee LOn the Aurelian way. I know the day LSet downe, twixt thee, and Manlius; vnto whom LThe siluer Eagle too is sent, before: LWhich I do hope shall proue, to thee as banefull, LAs thou conceiu'st it to the Common-wealth. LBut, may this wise, and sacred Senate say, LWhat mean'st thou Marcus Tullius? If thou know'st LThat Catiline be look'd for, to be Chiefe LOf an intestine warre; that he is the Author LOf such a wickednesse; the Caller out LOf men of marke in mischiefe, to an action LOf so much horror; Prince of such a treason; LWhy do'st thou send him forth? why let him scape? LThis is to give him liberty, and power: LRather, thou should'st lay hold upon him, send him LTo deseru'd death, and a iust punishment. LTo these so holy voyces, thus I answere. LIf I did think it timely, Conscript Fathers, LTo punish him with death, I would not give LThe Fencer vse of one short hower, to breath; LBut when there are in this graue Order, some, LWho, with soft censures, still do nource his hopes; LSome, that with not beleeuing, have confirm'd LHis designes more, and whose authoritie LThe weaker, as the worst men, too, have follow'd: LI would now send him, where they all should see LCleare, as the light, his heart shine; where no man LCould be so wickedly, or fondly stupide, LBut should cry out he saw, touch'd, felt, and grasp't it. LThen, when he hath runne out himselfe; led forth LHis desp'rate partie with him; blowne together LAids of all kinds, both shipwrack'd minds and fortunes: LNot onely the growne euill, that now is sprung, LAnd sprouted forth, would be pluck'd up, and weeded; LBut the stocke, roote, and seed of all the mischiefes, LChoking the Common-wealth. Where, should we take LOf such a swarme of traytors, onely him, LOur cares, and feares might seeme a while relieu'd, LBut the maine perill would bide still enclos'd LDeepe, in the veines, and bowels of the State. LAs humane bodies, laboring with feuers, LWhile they are tost with heate, if they do take LCold water, seeme for that short space much eas'd, LBut afterward, are ten times more afflicted. LWherefore, I say, let all this wicked crew LDepart, diuide themselues from good men, gather LTheir forces to one head; as I said oft, LLet them leaue off attempts, upon the Consul, LIn his owne house; to circle in the Pra*etor; LTo girt the Court with weapons; to prepare LFire, and balles, swords, torches, sulphure, brands: LIn short, let it be writ in each mans forehead LWhat thoughts he beares the Publike. I here promise, LFathers Conscript, to you, and to my*selfe, LThat diligence in us Consulls, for my honour'd LColleague, abroad, and for my*selfe, at home; LSo great authority in you; so much LVertue, in these, the Gentlemen of Rome; LWhom I could scarce restraine to*day, in zeale, LFrom seeking out the Parricide, to slaughter; LSo much consent in all good men, and minds, LAs on the going out of this one Catiline, LAll shall be cleare, made plaine, oppress'd, reueng'd. LAnd, with this omen, go, pernicious plague, LOut of the Citie, to the wish'd destruction LOf thee, and those, that, to the ruine of her, LHave tane that bloudy, and blacke sacrament. LThou Iupiter, whom we do call the STAYER LBoth of this Citie, and this Empire, wilt L(With the same auspice thou didst raise it first) LDriue from thy Altars, and all other Temples, LAnd Buildings of this City; from our Walles; LLiues, states, and fortunes of our Citizens; LThis fiend, this fury, with his complices. LAnd all the offence of good men (these knowne traitors LVnto their countrey, theeues of Italie, LIoynd'd in so damn'd a league of mischiefe) thou LWilt with perpetuall plagues, aliue, and dead, LPunish for Rome, and saue her innocent head. AIf an Oration, or high language, Fathers, ACould make me guilty, here is one, hath done it: AHe has stroue to a*emulate this mornings thunder, AWith his prodigious rhetoricke. But I hope, AThis Senate is more graue, then to give credit ARashly to all he vomits, 'gainst a man AOf your owne Order, a Patrician; AAnd one, whose ancestors have more deseru'd AOf Rome, then this mans eloquence could vtter, ATurn'd the best way, as still, it is the worst. NHis eloquence hath more deseru'd to*day, NSpeaking thy ill, then all thy ancestors NDid, in their good: And that the State will finde, NWhich he hath sau'd. AHow he? were I that enemy, AThat he would make me: I would not wish the State AMore wretched, then to neede his preseruation. AWhat do you make him, Cato, such a Hercules? AAn Atlas? A poore petty In-mate. NTraitor. AHe saue the State? A Burgesse sonne of Arpinum. AThe Gods would rather twenty Romes should perish, AThen have that contumely stucke upon them, AThat he should share with them, in the preseruing AA shed, or signe-post. NPeace, thou prodigie. AThey would be runne themselues, againe, and lost AIn the first, rude, and indigested heape; AEre such a wretched name, as Cicero, AShould sound with theirs. OAway, thou impudent head. ADo you all backe him? are you silent too? AWell, I will leaue you Fathers; I will goe. ABut -- my fine dainty speaker. -- LWhat now Fury? LWilt thou assault me here? UHelpe, aide the Consul, ASee Fathers, laugh you not? who threatned him? AIn vaine thou do'st conceiue, ambitious Orator, AHope of so braue a death, as by this hand. NOut, of the Court, with the pernicious traytor. AThere is no title, that this flattering Senate, ANor honor, the base multitude can give thee, AShall make thee worthy Catilines anger. NStop, NStop that portentous mouth. AOr, when it shall, AI will looke thee dead. NWill none restraine the Monster? OParricide. WButcher, Traytor, leaue the Senate. AI am gone, to banishment, to please you Fathers. AThrust head-long forth? NStil, dost thou murmure, Monster? ASince, I am thus put out, and made a -- LWhat? ONot guiltier then thou art. AI will not burne AWithout my funerall pile. WSing out Scrich-owle. AIt shall be in -- OSpeake thy imperfect thoughts. AThe common fire, rather then mine owne. AFor fall I will with all, ere fall alone. PHe is lost, there is no hope of him. QVnlesse QHe presently take armes; and give a blow, QBefore the Consuls forces can be leuie'd. LWhat is your pleasure, Fathers, shall be done? OSee, that the Common-wealth receiue no losse. NCommit the care thereof vnto the Consuls. PIt is time. QAnd need. LThanks to this frequent LBut what decree they, vnto Curius, LAnd Fuluia? OWhat the Consul shall think meete. LThey must receiue reward, though it be not knowne; LLest when a State needes ministers, they have none. NYet, Marcus Tullius, do not I beleeue, NBut Crassus, and this Ca*esar here ring hollow. LAnd would appeare so, if that we durst proue them. NWhy dare we not? What honest act is that, NThe Roman Senate should not dare, and do? LNot an vnprofitable, dangerous act, LTo stirre too many Serpents up at once. LCa*esar, and Crassus, if they be ill men, LAre mighty ones; and, we must so prouide, LThat, while we take one head, from this foule Hydra, LThere spring not twenty more. NI 'proue your Counsell. LThey shall be watch'd, and look'd too. Till they do LDeclare themselues, I will not put them out LBy any question. There they stand. I will make LMy*selfe no enemies, nor the State, no traitors. JonCati4.4 AFalse to our*selues? All our designes discouer'd ATo this State-Cat? CAye, had I had my way, CHe had mew'd in flames, at home, not in the Senate: CI had sing'd his furres, by this time. AWell, there is, now, ANo time of calling backe, or standing still. AFriends, be your*selues; keepe the same Roman hearts, AAnd ready minds, you had yesternight: Prepare ATo execute, what we resolu'd. And let not ALabor, or danger, or discouery fright you. AI will to the army: you (the while) mature AThings, here, at home. Draw to you any aides, AThat you think fit, of men of all conditions, AOr any fortunes, that may helpe a warre. AI will bleede a life, or winne an Empire for you. AWithin these few dayes, looke to see my ensignes, AHere, at the walles: Be you but firme within. AMeane time, to draw an enuy on the Consull, AAnd give a lesse suspicion of our course, ALet it be giuen out, here in the Citty, AThat I am gone, an innocent man, to exile, AInto Massilia, willing to give way ATo fortune, and the times; being vnable ATo stand so great a faction, without troubling AThe Common-wealth: whose peace I rather seeke, AThen all the glory of contention, AOr the support of mine owne innocence. AFarewell the noble Lentulus, Longinus, ACurius, the rest; and thou, my better Genius, AThe braue Cethegus: when we meete againe, AWe will sacrifice to Liberty. CAnd Reuenge. CThat we may praise our hands once. BO you Fates, BGive Fortune now her eyes, to see with whom BShe goes along, that she may nere forsake him. DHe needs not her, nor them. Goe but on, Sergius. D"A valiant man is his owne Fate, and Fortune. EThe Fate, and Fortune of us all goe with him. XAnd euer guard him. AI am all your Creature. BNow friends, it is left with us. I have already BDealt, by Vmbrenus, with the Allobroges, BHere resiant in Rome; whose State, I heare, BIs discontent with the great vsuries, BThey are oppress'd with: and have made complaints BDiuers, vnto the Senate, but all vaine. BThese men, I have thought, both for their owne oppressions, BAs also that, by nature, they are a people BWarlike, and fierce, still watching after change, BAnd now, in present hatred with our State, BThe fittest, and the easiest to be drawne BTo our society, and to aide the warre. BThe rather, for their seate: being next bordrers BOn Italie: and that they abound with horse, BOf which one want our Campe doth only labor. BAnd I have found them comming. They will meete BSoone at Sempronia's house, where I would pray you BAll to be present, to confirme them more. BThe sight of such spirits hurt not, nor the store. WI will not Faile. WNor I. DNor I. CWould I CHad somewhat by my*selfe, apart, to do. CI have no genius to these many counsels. CLet me kill all the Senate, for my share, CI will do it at the next sitting. BWorthy Caius, BYour presence will adde much. CI shall marre more. JonCati4.5 LThe State is beholden to you, Fabius Sanga, Lfor this great care: And those Allobroges LAre more then wretched, if they lend a listning LTo such perswasion. WThey, most worthy Consul, WAs men employ'd here, from a grieued State, WGroaning beneath a multitude of wrongs, WAnd being told, there was small hope of ease WTo be expected, to their euils, from hence; WWere willing, at the first to give an eare WTo any*thing, that sounded liberty: WBut since, on better thoughts, and my vrg'd reasons, WThey are come about, and wonne, to the true side. WThe fortune of the Common-wealth hath conquer'd. LWhat is that same Vmbrenus, was the Agent? WOne that hath had negotiation WIn Gallia oft, and knowne vnto their State. LAre the Ambassadours come with you? WYes. LWell, bring them in, if they be firme, and honest, LNeuer had men the meanes so to deserue LOf Rome, as they. A happy, wish'd occasion, LAnd thrust into my hands, for the discouery, LAnd manifest conuiction of these traytors. LBe thank'd; o Iupiter. My worthy Lords, LConfederates of the Senate, you are welcome. LI vnderstand by Quintus Fabius Sanga, LYour carefull Patron here, you have been lately LSollicited against the Common-wealth, LBy one Vmbrenus (take a seate, pray you) LFrom Publius Lentulus, to be associates LIn their intended warre. I could aduise, LThat men, whose fortunes are yet flourishig, LAnd are Romes friends, would not, without a cause, LBecome her enemies; and mixe themselues LAnd their estates, with the lost hopes of Catiline, LOr Lentulus, whose meere despaire doth arme them: LThat were to hazard certainties, for ayre, LAnd vndergoe all danger, for a voyce. LBeleeue me, friends; "Loud tumults are not laid L"With halfe the easinesse that they are rais'd. L"All may beginne a warre, but few can end it. LThe Senate have decreed, that my Colleague LShall leade their army, against Catiline, LAnd have declar'd both him, and Manlius traitors. LMetellus Celer hath already giuen LPart of their troopes defeate. Honors are promis'd LEuen to slaues, that can detect their courses. LHere, in the City, I have by the Pra*etors, LAnd Tribunes, plac'd my guards, and watches so, LThat not a foote can treade, a breath can whisper, LBut I have knowledge. And be sure, the Senate, LAnd People of Rome, of their accustom'd greatnesse, LWill sharply, and seuerely vindicate, LNot only any fact, but any practise LOr purpose, 'gainst the State. Therefore, my Lords, LConsult of your owne waies, and think which hand LIs best to take. You, now, are present suters LFor some redresse of wrongs; I will vndertake LNot only that shall be assur'd you, but LWhat grace or priuiledge else, Senate, or People LCan cast upon you, worthy such a seruice, LAs you have now the way, and meanes, to do them; LIf but your willes consent, with my designes. WWe couet nothing more, most worthy Consul. WAnd how*so*ere we have beene tempted lately, WTo a defection, that not makes us guilty: WWe are not yet so wretched in our fortunes, WNor in our willes so lost, as to abandon WA friendship, prodigally, of that price, WAs is the Senate, and the People of Romes, WFor hopes, that do pra*ecipitate themselues. LYou then are wise, and honest. Do but this, then: LWhen shall you speake with Lentulus, and the rest? WWe are to meete anone, at Brutus house. LWho? Decius Brutus? He is not in Rome. WO, but his wife, Sempronia. LYou instruct me, LShe is a Chiefe. Well, faile not you to meete them, LAnd to expresse the best affection LYou can put on, to all that they intend. LLike it, applaud it, give the Common-wealth LAnd Senate, lost to them. Promise any aides LBy armes, or counsell. What they can desire LI would have you preuent. Only, say this, LYou have had dispatch, in priuate, by the Consull LOf your affaires, and for the many feares LThe State is now in, you are will'd by him, this euening, LTo depart Rome: which you, by all sought meanes, LWill do, of reason to decline suspicion. LNow, for the more authority of the businesse LThey have trusted to you, and to give it credit LWith your owne State, at home, you would desire LTheir letters to your Senate, and your People, LWhich shewne, you durst engage both life, and honor, LThe rest should euery way answere their hopes. LThose had, pretend sodaine departure you, LAnd, as you give me notice, at what Port LYou will goe out, I will have you intercepted, LAnd all the letters taken with you: So LAs you shall be redeem'd in all opinions, LAnd they conuicted of their manifest treason. L"Ill deedes are well turn'd backe, upon their Authors: L"And 'gainst an Iniurer, the reuenge is iust. LThis must be done, now. WChearfully, and firmely. WWe are they, would rather hast to vndertake it, WThey stay, to say so. LWith that confidence, goe: LMake your*selues happy, while you make Rome so. LBy Sanga, let me have notice from you. WYes. JonCati4.6 JWhen come these Creatures, the Ambassadors? JI would faine see them. Are they any Schollers? BI think not, Madame. JHave they no Greeke? BNo surely. JFie, what do I here, wayting on them then? JIf they be nothing but meere States-men. BYes, BYour Ladyship shall obserue their grauity, BAnd their reseruednesse, their many cautions, BFitting their persons. JI do wonder much, JThat States, and Common-wealths employ not women, JTo be Ambassadors, sometimes: we should JDo as good publike seruice, and could make JAs honorable Spies (for so Thucidides JCalls all Ambassadors.) Are they come, Cethegus? CDo you aske me? Am I your scout, or baud? BO Caius, it is no such businesse. CNo? CWhat does a woman at it then? JGood Sir, JThere are of us can be as exquisite Traytors, JAs ere a male-Conspirator of you all. CAye, at smock-treason, Matron, I beleeue you; CAnd if I were your husband; But when I CTrust to your cobweb-bosomes any other CLet me there die a Flie; and feast you, Spider. BYou are too sowre, and harsh Cethegus. CYou CAre kinde, and courtly. I would be torne in pieces, CWith wilde Hippolytus, nay proue the death, CEuery limbe ouer, ere I would trust a woman, CWith wind, could I retaine it. JSir. They will be trusted JWith as good secrets, yet, as you have any, JAnd cary them too, as close, and as conceald, JAs you shall for your heart. CI will not contend with you CEyther in tongue, or cariage, good Calipso: EThe Ambassadors are come. CThanks to thee Mercury, CThat so hast rescu'd me. BHow now, Volturtius? WThey do desire some speech with you, in priuate. BO! it is about the prophecie, belike, BAnd promise of the Sibylls; WIt may be. JShunne they, to treat at with me, too? WNo, good Lady, WYou may partake: I have told them, who you are. JI should be loath to be left out, and here too. CCan these, or such, be any aydes, to us? CLooke they, as they were built to shake the world, COr be a moment to our enterprise? CA thousand, such as they are, could not make COne Atome of our soules. They should be men CWorth Heauens feare, that looking up, but thus, CWould make Ioue stand upon his guard, and draw CHimselfe within his Thonder; which, amaz'd, CHe should discharge in vaine, and they vnhurt. COr, if they were, like Capaneus, at Thebes, CThey should hang dead, upon the highest spires, CAnd aske the second charge, to be throwne downe. CWhy, Lentulus, talke you so long? This time CHad bene enough, to have scatter'd all the Starres. CTo have quench'd the Sunne, and Moone, and made the World CDespaire of day, or any light, but ours. BHow do you like this spirit? In such men, BMankind doth liue. They are such soules, as these, BThat moue the world. JAye, though he beare me hard, JI, yet, must do him right. He is a spirit JOf the right Martian breed. WHe is a Mars. WWould we had time to liue here, and admire him. BWell, I do see you would preuent the Consul. BAnd I commend your care: It was but reason, BTo aske our Letters, and we had prepar'd them. BGoe in, and we will take an oath, and seale them. BYou shall have Letters, too, to Catiline, BTo visite him in the way, and to confirme BThe association. This our friend, Volturtius, BShall goe along with you. Tell our great Generall, BThat we are readie here; that Lucius Bestia BThe Tribune, is prouided of a speach, BTo lay the enuie of the warre on Cicero; BThat all but long for his approach, and person: BAnd then, you are made Freemen, as our*selues. JonCati4.7 LI cannot feare the warre but to succeede well, LBoth for the honor of the cause, and worth LOf him that doth commaund. For my Colleague, LBeing so ill affected with the goute, LWill not be able to be there in person; LAnd then Petreius, his Lieutenant, must LOf neede take charge of the army: who is much LThe better souldier, hauing bene a Tribune, LPrefect, Lieutenant, Pra*etor in the warre, LThese thirtie yeares, so conuersant in the army, LAs he knowes all the souldiers, by their names. WThey will fight then, brauely, with him. WAye, and he WWill lead them on, as brauely. LThey have a foe LWill aske their braueries, whose necessities LWill arme him like a fury. But, how*euer, LI will trust it to the mannage, and the fortune LOf good Petreius, who is a worthy Patriot. LMetellus Celer, with three Legions, too, LWill stop their course, for Gallia. How now, Fabius? WThe trayne hath taken. You must instantly WDispose your guards upon the Miluian bridge: WFor, by that way, they meane to come. LThen, thither LPomtinius, and Flaccus, I must pray you LTo lead that force you have; and seise them all: LLet not a person scape. The Ambassadours LWill yeeld themselues. If there be any tumult LI will send you ayde. I, in meane time will call LLentulus to me, Gabinius, and Cethegus, LStatilius, Ceparius, and all these LBy seuerall messengers: who no doubt will come, LWithout sense, or suspicion. "Prodigall men L"Feele not their owne stocke wasting. When I have them, LI will place those guards, upon them, that they start not, WBut what will you do with Sempronia? L"A State L"Should not take knowledge eyther of Fooles, or Women. LI do not know whether my ioy or care LOught to be greater; that I have discouer'd LSo foule a treason: or must vndergone LThe enuie of so many great mens fate. LBut, happen what there can, I will be iust, LMy fortune may forsake me, not my vertue: LThat shall goe with me, and before me, still, LAnd glad me, doing well, though I heare ill. JonCati4.8 WStand, who goes there? WWe are the Allobroges, WAnd friends of Rome. WIf you be so, then yeeld WYour*selues vnto the Pra*etors, who in name WOf the whole Senate, and the people of Rome, WYet, till you cleare your*selues, charge you of practise WAgainst the State. WDie friends, and be not taken. WWhat voyce is that? Downe with them all. WWe yeeld. WWhat is he stands out? Kill him there. WHold, hold, hold. WI yeeld upon conditions. WWe give none WTo traytors, strike him downe. WMy name is Volturtius: WI know Pomtinius. WBut he knowes not you, WWhile you stand out upon these trayterous termes. WI will yeeld upon the safety of my life. WIf it be forfeyted, we cannot saue it. WPromise to do your best. I am not so guilty, WAs many others, I can name; and will: WIf you will grant me fauour. WAll we can WIs to deliuer you to the Consul. Take him, WAnd thanke the Gods, that thus have saued Rome. UNow, do our eares, before our eyes, ULike men in mistes, UDiscouer, who would the State surprise, UAnd who resists? UAnd, as these clouds do yeeld to light, UNow, do we see, UOur thoughts of things, how they did fight, UWhich seem'd to agree? UOf what strange pieces are we made, UWho nothing know; UBut, as new Ayres our eares inuade, UStill censure so? UThat now do hope, and now do feare, UAnd now enuie; UAnd then do hate, and then loue deare, UBut know not, why: UOr, if we do, it is so late, UAs our best moode, UThough true, is then thought out of date, UAnd empty of good. UHow have we chang'd, and come about UIn euery doome, USince wicked Catiline went out, UAnd quitted Rome? UOne while, we thought him innocent; UAnd, then we accus'd UThe Consul, for his malice spent; UAnd power abus'd. USince, that we heare, he is in Armes, UWe think not so: UYet charge the Consul, with our harmes, UThat let him goe. USo, in our censure of the state, UWe still do wander; UAnd make the carefull Magistrate UThe marke of slaunder. UWhat age is this, where honest men; UPlac'd at the helme, UA Sea of some foule mouth, or pen, UShall ouerwhelme? UAnd call their diligence, deceipt; UTheir vertue, vice; UTheir watchfullnesse, but lying in waite: UAnd bloud, the price. UO, let us plucke till euill seede UOut of our spirits; UAnd give, to euery noble deede, UThe name it merits. ULeast we seeme falne (if this endures) UInto those times, UTo loue disease: and brooke the cures UWorse, then the crimes. JonCati5.1 WIt is my fortune, and my glory, Souldiers, WThis day, to lead you on; the worthy Consul WKept from the honor of it, by disease: WAnd I am proud, to have so braue a cause WTo exercise your armes in. We not, now, WFight for how long, how broad, how great, and large WThe extent, and bounds of the people of Rome shall be; WBut to retaine what our great Ancestors, WWith all their labours, counsels, arts, and actions, WFor us, were purchasing so many yeares. WThe quarrell is not, now, of fame, of tribute, WOr of wrongs, done vnto Confederates, WFor which, the Army of the people of Rome WWas wont to moue: but for your owne Republique, WFor the rais'd Temples of the immortall Gods, WFor all your Fortunes, Altars, and your Fires, WFor the deere soules of your lou'd Wiues, and Children, WYour Parents tombes, your Rites, Lawes, Liberty, WAnd, briefly, for the safety of the World: WAgainst such men, as onely by their crimes WAre knowne; thrust out by riot, want, or rashnesse. WOne sort, Sylla's old troopes, left here in Fesula*e, WWho sodainly made rich, in those dire times, WAre since, by their vnbounded, vast expence, WGrowne needie; and poore, and have but left to expect, WFrom Catiline, new Billes, and new Proscriptions. WThese men (they say) are valiant; yet, I think them WNot worth your pause: For either their old vertue WIs, in their sloth, and pleasures lost; or, if WIt tarry with them, so ill match to yours, WAs they are short in number, or in cause. WThe second sort are of those (Citty-beasts, WRather then Citizens) who whilst they reach WAfter our fortunes, have let flie their owne; WThese, whelm'd in wine, swell'd up with meates, and weakned WWith hourely whoredomes, neuer left the side WOf Catiline, in Rome; nor, here, are loos'd WFrom his embraces: Such, as (trust me) neuer WIn riding, or in vsing well their armes, WWatching, or other militarie labor, WDid exercise their youth; but learn'd to loue, WDrinke, dance, and sing, make feasts, and be fine gamsters. WAnd there will wish more hurt to you, then they bring you. WThe rest are a mixt kinde, all sort of furies; WAdulterers, Dicers, Fencers, Outlawes, Theeues, WThe Murderers of their Parents, all the sinke, WAnd plague of Italie, met in one torrent, WTo take, to*day, from us the punishment, WDue to their mischiefs, for so many yeares. WAnd who, in such a cause, and 'gainst such fiends, WWould not now wish himselfe all arme, and weapon? WTo cut such poysons from the earth, and let WTheir blood out, to be drawne away in cloudes, WAnd pour'd, on some inhabitable place, WWhere the hot Sunne, and Slime breedes nought but Monsters? WChiefly, when this sure ioy shall crowne our side, WThat the least man, that falles upon our party WThis day (as some must give their happy names WTo fate, and that eternall memory WOf the best death, writ with it, for their Countrey) WShall walke at pleasure, in the tents of rest; WAnd see farre off, beneath him, all their host WTormented after life: and Catiline, there, WWalking a wretched, and lesse Ghost, then he. WI will vrge no more: Moue forward, with your Eagles, WAnd trust the Senates, and Romes cause to Heauen. XTo thee; great Father Mars, and greater Ioue. JonCati5.2 QI Euer look'd for this of Lentulus, QWhen Catiline was gone. PI gaue them lost, PMany dayes since. QBut, wherefore did you beare QTheir letter to the Consul, that they sent you, QTo warne you from the City? PDid I know PWhether he made it? It might come from him, PFor ought I could assure me: if they meant, PI should be safe, among so many, they might PHave come, as well as writ. QThere is no losse QIn being secure. I have, of late, too, ply'd him, QThicke, with intelligences, but they have beene QOf things he knew before. PA little serues PTo keepe a man upright, on these State-bridges, PAlthough the passage were more dangerous. PLet us now take the standing part. QWe must, QAnd be as zealous for it, as Cato. Yet QI would faine helpe these wretched men. PYou cannot. PWho would saue them, that have betraid themselues? JonCati5.3 LI will not be wrought to it, Brother Quintus. LThere is no mans priuate enmity shall make LMe violate the dignity of another. LIf there were proofe 'gainst Ca*esar, or who*euer, LTo speake him guilty, I would so declare him. LBut Quintus Catulus, and Piso both, LShall know, the Consul will not, for their grudge, LHave any man accus'd, or named falsly. WNot falsly, but if any circumstance, WBy the Allobroges, or from Volturtius, WWould carry it. LThat shall not be sought by me, LIf it reueale it*selfe, I would not spare LYou, Brother, if it pointed at you, trust me. WGood Marcus Tullius (which is more, then great) WThou had'st thy education, with the Gods. LSend Lentulus, forth, and bring away the rest. LThis office, I am sorry, Sir, to do you. 005:03;091<'> THE SENATE JonCati5.4 LWhat may be happy still, and fortunate, LTo Rome, and to this Senate: Please you, Fathers, LTo breake these letters, and to view them round. LIf that be not found in them, which I feare, LI, yet, intreate, at such a time, as this, LMy diligence be not contemn'd. Have you brought LThe weapons hither, from Cethegus house? WThey are without. LBe ready, with Volturtius, LTo bring him, when the Senate calls; And see LNone of the rest, conferre together. Fathers, LWhat do you reade? Is it yet worth your care, LIf not your feare, what you finde practis'd there? QIt hath a face of horror. PI am amaz'd. NLooke there. WGods! Can such men draw common aire? LAlthough the greatnesse of the mischiefe, Fathers, LHath often made my faith small, in this Senate, LYet, since my casting Catiline out (for now LI do not feare the enuy of the word, LVnlesse the deede be rather to be fear'd, LThat he went hence aliue; when those I meant LShould follow him, did not) I have spent both daies, LAnd nights, in watching, what their fury and rage LWas bent on, that so staid, against my thought: LAnd that I might but take them in that light, LWhere, when you met their treason, with your eyes, LYour minds, at length, would think for your owne safety. LAnd, now, it is done. There are their hands, and seales. LTheir persons, too, are safe, thankes to the Gods. LBring in Volturtius, and the 'Allobroges. LThese be the men, were trusted with their letters. WFathers, beleeue me, I knew nothing: I WWas trauailing for Gallia, and am sorry -- LQuake not Volturtius, speake the truth, and hope LWell of this Senate, on the Consuls word. WThen, I knew all. But truely I was drawne in WBut the other day. QSay, what thou know'st, and feare not. QThou hast the Senates faith, and Consuls word, QTo fortifie thee. WI was sent with letters -- WAnd had a message too -- from Lentulus -- WTo Catiline -- that he should vse all aides -- WSeruants, or others -- and come with his army, WAs soon, vnto the Citty as he could -- WFor they were ready, and but staid for him -- WTo intercept those, that should flee the fire -- WThese Men, the Allobroges, did heare it too. WYes Fathers, and they tooke an oath, to us. WBesides their letters, that we should be free; WAnd vrg'd us, for some present aide of horse. LNay, here be other testimonies, Fathers, LCethegus Armoury. PWhat, not all these? LHere is not the hundred part. Call in the Fencer, LThat we may know the armes to all these weapons. LCome, my braue Sword-player, to what actiue vse, LWas all this steele prouided? CHad you ask'd CIn Syllas dayes, it had beene to cut throtes; CBut, now, it was to looke on, only: I lou'd CTo see good blades, and feele their edge, and points. CTo put a helme upon a blocke, and cleaue it, CAnd, now and then, to stabbe an armour through. LKnow you that paper? That will stabbe you through. LIs it your hand? Hold, saue the peeces. Traytor, LHath thy guilt wak'd thy fury? CI did write, CI know not what; nor care not: That foole Lentulus CDid dictate, and I the other Foole, did signe it. LBring in Statilius: Does he know his hand too? LAnd Lentulus. Reach him that letter. WI WConfesse it all. LKnow you that seale yet, Publius? BYes, it is mine. LWhose image is that, on it? BMy Grandfathers. LWhat, that renowm'd good man, LThat did so only' embrace his Countrey', and lou'd LHis fellow Citizens! Was not his picture, LThough mute, of power to call thee from a fact, LSo foule. -- BAs what, impetuous Cicero? LAs thou art, for I do not know what is fouler. LLooke upon these. Do not these faces argue LThy guilt, and impudence? BWhat are these to me? BI know them not. WNo Publius? we were with you, WAt Brutus house. WLast night. BWhat did you there? BWho sent for you? WYour*selfe did. We had letters WFrom you, Cethegus, this Statilius here, WGabinius Cimber, all, but from Longinus, WWho would not write, because he was to come WShortly, in person, after us (he said) WTo take the charge of the horse, which we should leuy. LAnd he is fled, to Catiline, I heare. BSpies? spies? WYou told us too, of the Sibylls bookes, WAnd how you were to be a King, this yeare, WThe twentieth, from the burning of the Capitol. WThat three Cornelij were to raigne, in Rome, WOf which you were the last: and prais'd Cethegus, WAnd the great spirits, were with you, in the action. CThese are your honorable Ambassadors, CMy Soueraigne Lord. NPeace, that too bold Cethegus. WBesides Gabinius, your Agent, nam'd WAutronius, Seruius Sulla, Vargunteius, WAnd diuers others. WI had letters from you, WTo Catiline, and a message, which I have told WVnto the Senate, truly, word for word: WFor which, I hope, they will be gracious to me. WI was drawne in, by that same wicked Cimber, WAnd thought no hurt at all. LVolturtius, peace. LWhere is thy visor, or thy voyce, now, Lentulus? LArt thou confounded? Wherefore speak'st thou not? LIs all so cleare, so plaine, so manifest, LThat both thy eloquence, and impudence, LAnd thy ill nature, too, have left thee, at once? LTake him aside. There is yet one more. Gabinius, LThe Enginer of all. Shew him that paper, LIf he do know it? WI know nothing. LNo? WNo. Nor I will not know. NImpudent head? NSticke it into his throate; were I the Consul, NI would make thee eate the mischiefe, thou hast vented. WIs there a Law for it, Cato? NDost thou aske NAfter a Law, that would'st have broke all lawes, NOf Nature, Manhood, Conscience, and Religion. WYes, I may aske for it. NNo, pernicious Cimber. N"The inquiring after good, does not belong N"Vnto a wicked person. WAye, but Cato WDoes nothing, but by Law. PTake him aside. PThere is proofe enough, though he confesse not. WStay WI will confesse. All is true, your spies have told you. WMake much of them. CYes, and reward them well, CFor feare you get no more such. See, they do not CDie in a ditch, and stinke, now you have done with them; COr beg, of the bridges, here in Rome, whose Arches CTheir actiue industrie hath sau'd. LSee, Fathers, LWhat mindes, and spirits these are, that, being conuicted LOf such a treason, and by such a cloud LOf witnesses, dare yet retaine their boldnesse? LWhat would their rage have done, if they had conquerd? LI thought, when I had thrust out Catiline, LNeither the State, nor I, should need to have fear'd LLentulus sleepe here, or Longinus fat, LOr this Cethegus rashnesse; It was he, LI only watch'd, while he was in our walles, LAs one, that had the braine, the hand, the heart. LBut now, we finde the contrary. Where was there LA People grieu'd, or a State discontent, LAble to make, or helpe a warre 'gainst Rome, LBut these, the Allobroges, and those they found? LWhom had not the iust Gods beene pleas'd to make LMore friends vnto our safety, then their owne, LAs it then seem'd, neglecting these mens offers, LWhere had we beene? or where the Common-wealth? LWhen their great Chiefe had beene call'd home; This man, LTheir absolute King, (whose noble Grandfather, LArm'd in pursute of the seditious Gracchus, LTooke a braue wound, for deare defence of that, LWhich he would spoile) had gather'd all his aides LOf Ruffins, Slaues, and other Slaughter-men; LGiuen us up for murder, to Cethegus; LThe other ranke of Citizens, to Gabinius; LThe Citty, to be fir'd by Cassius; LAnd Italie, nay the world, to be laid wast LBy cursed Catiline, and his complices. LLay but the thought of it, before you, Fathers, LThink but with me you saw this glorious Citty, LThe Light of all the earth, Tower of all Nations, LSodainly falling in one flame. Imagine, LYou view'd your Countrey buried with the heapes LOf slaughter'd Citizens, that had no graue; LThis Lentulus here, raigning, (as he dreamp't) LAnd those his purple Senate; Catiline come LWith his fierce army; and the cries of Matrons; LThe flight of Children, and the rape of Virgines, LShriekes of the liuing, with the dying grones LOn euery side to inuade your sense; vntill LThe blood of Rome, were mixed with her ashes. LThis was the Spectacle these fiends intended LTo please their malice. CAye, and it would CHave bene a braue one, Consul. But your part CHad not then bene so long, as now it is: CI should have quite defeated your Oration; CAnd slit that fine rhetoricall pipe of yours, CIn the first Scene. NInsolent Monster! LFathers, LIs it your pleasures, they shall be committed LVnto some safe, but a free custodie, LVntill the Senate can determine farder? XIt pleaseth well. LThen, Marcus Crassus, LTake you charge of Gabinius: send him home LVnto your house. You Ca*esar, of Statilius. LCethegus shall be sent to Cornificius; LAnd Lentulus, to Publius Lentulus Spinther, LWho now is A*Edile. NIt were best, the Pra*etors NCaried them to their houses, and deliuered them. LLet it be so. Take them from hence. QBut, first, QLet Lentulus put off his Pra*etorship. BI do resigne it here vnto the Senate. QSo, now, there is no offence done to religion. NCa*esar, it was piously, and timely vrg'd. LWhat do you decree to the Allobroges? LThat were the lights to this discouery? PA free grant from the State, of all their suites. QAnd a reward, out of the publicke treasure. WAye, and the title of honest men, to crowne them. LWhat to Volturtius? QLife, and fauor's well. WI aske no more. NYes, yes, some money, thou need'st it. NIt will keepe thee honest: Want made thee a knaue. WLet Flaccus, and Pomtinius, the Pra*etors, WHave publicke thankes, and Quintus Fabius Sanga, WFor their good seruice. PThey deserue it all. NBut what do we decree vnto the Consul, NWhose vertue, counsell, watchfulnesse, and wisedome, NHath free'd the Common-wealth, and without tumult, NSlaughter, of bloud, or scarce raysing a force, NRescu'd us all out of the iawes of Fate? PWe owe our Liues vnto him, and our Fortunes. QOur Wiues, our Children, Parents, and our Gods. WWe all are saued, by his fortitude. NThe Common-wealth owes him a ciuicke gyrland. NHere is the onely Father of his Countrey. QLet there be publike prayer, to all the Gods, QMade in that name, for him. PAnd in these words, PFor that he hath, by his vigilance, preseru'd PRome from the flame, the Senate from the sword, PAnd all her Citizens from massacre. LHow are my labours more then paid, graue Fathers, LIn these great titles, and decreed honors! LSuch, as to me, first, of the ciuill robe, LOf any man, since Rome was Rome, have hap'ned; LAnd from this frequent Senate: which more glads me, LThat I now see, you have sense of your owne safety. LIf those good daies come no lesse gratefull to us, LWherein we are preseru'd from some great danger, LThen those, wherein we are borne, and brought, to light, LBecause the gladnesse of our safety is certaine, LBut the condition of our birth not so; LAnd that we are sau'd with pleasure, but are borne LWithout the sense of ioy: why should not, then, LThis day, to us, and all posteritie LOf ours, be had in equall fame, and honor, LWith that, when Romulus first reard these walles, LWhen so much more is saued, then he built? QIt ought. PLet it be added to our Fasti. LWhat tumult is that? WHere is one Tarquinius taken, WGoing to Catiline; and sayes he was sent WBy Marcus Crassus: whom he names, to be WGuilty of the Conspiracy. LSome lying varlet. LTake him away, to prison. PBring him in, PAnd let me see him. LHe is not worth it, Crassus. LKeepe him up close, and hungry, till he tell, LBy whose pernicious counsell, he durst slander LSo great, and good a Citizen. PBy yours PI feare, it will proue. WSome of the Traytors, sure, WTo give their action the more credit, bid him WName you, or any man. LI know my*selfe, LBy all the tracts, and courses of this businesse, LCrassus, is noble, iust, and loues his Countrey. WHere is a Libell too, accusing Ca*esar, WFrom Lucius Vectius, and confirm'd by Curius. LAway with all, throw it out of the Court. QA tricke on me, too? LIt is some mens malice. LI said to Curius, I did not beleeue him. QWas not that Curius your spie, that had QReward decreed vnto him, the last Senate, QWith Fuluia, upon your priuate motion? LYes. QBut he has not that reward, yet? LNo. LLet not this trouble you, Ca*esar, none beleeues it. QIt shall not, if that he have no reward. QBut if he have, sure I shall think my*selfe QVery vntimely, and vnsafely honest, QWhere such, as he is, may have pay to accuse me. LYou shall have no wrong done you, noble Ca*esar, LBut all contentment. QConsul, I am silent. JonCati5.5 AI Neuer yet knew, Souldiers, that, in fight, AWords added vertue vnto valiant men; AOr, that a Generals oration made AAn Army fall, or stand: But how much prowesse AHabituall, or naturall each mans breast AWas owner of, so much in act it shew'd. A"Whom neither glory' or danger can excite A"It is vaine to attempt with speech: For the minds feare A"Keepes all braue sounds from entring at that eare. AI, yet, would warne you some few things, my Friends, AAnd give you reason of my present counsailes. AYou know, no less then I, what state, what point AOur affaires stand in; And you all have heard, AWhat a calamitous misery the sloth, AAnd sleepineese of Lentulus, hath pluck'd ABoth on himselfe, and us: How, whilst our aides AThere, in the Citty look'd for, are defeated, AOur entrance in Gallia, too, is stopt. ATwo Armies waite us: One from Rome, the other AFrom the Gaule-Prouinces. And, where we are, A(Although I most desire it) the great want AOf corne, and victuall, forbids longer stay. ASo that, of neede, we must remoue, but whither AThe sword must both direct, and cut the passage. AI only, therefore, wish you, when you strike, ATo have your valours, and your soules, about you; AAnd think, you carry in your laboring hands AThe things you seeke, glory, and liberty, AYour Countrey, which you want now, with the Fates, AThat are to be instructed, by our swords, AIf we can give the blow, all will be safe to us. AWe shall not want prouision, nor supplies. AThe Colonies, and free Townes will lie open. AWhere, if we yeeld to feare, expect no place, ANor friend, to shelter those, whom their owne Fortune, AAnd ill vs'd Armes have left without protection. AYou might have liu'd in seruitude, or exile, AOf safe at Rome, depending on the great ones; ABut that you thought those things vnfit for men. AAnd, in that thought, you then were valiant, AFor no man euer yet chang'd peace for warre, ABut he, that meant to conquer. Hold that purpose. AThere is more necessity, you should be such, AIn fighting for your*selues, then they for others. A"He is base, that trusts his feete, whose hands are arm'd. AMe*thinks, I see Death, and the Furies, waiting AWhat we will do; and all the Heauen' at leysure AFor the great Spectacle. Draw, then, your swords: AAnd, if our desteny enuy our vertue AThe honor of the day, yet let us care ATo sell our*selues, at such a price, as may AVndoe the world to buy us; and make Fate, AWhile she tempts ours, feare her own estate. 005:06;100<'> THE SENATE. JonCati5.6 WWhat meanes this hasty calling of the Senate? WWe shall know straight. Waite, till the Consul speakes. WFathers Conscript, bethinke you of your safeties, WAnd what to do, with these Conspirators; WSome of their Clients, their Free'd men, and Slaues W'Ginne to make head: There is one of Lentulus Bauds WRunnes up and downe the shops, through euery street, WWith money to corrupt, the poore artificers, WAnd needy tradesmen, to their aide. Cethegus WHath sent, too, to his seruants; who are many, WChosen, and exercis'd in bold attemptings, WThat forthwith they should arme themselues, and proue WHis rescue: All will be in instant uproare, WIf you preuent it not, with present counsailes. WWe have done what we can, to meete the fury, WAnd will do more. Be you good to your*selues. LWhat is your pleasure, Fathers, shall be done? LSyllanus, you are Consul next design'd. LYour sentence, of these men. WIt is short, and this. WSince they have sought to blot the name of Rome, WOut of the world; and raze this glorious Empire WWith her owne hands, and armes, turn'd on her*selfe: WI think it fit they die. And, could my breath WNow execute them, they should not enioy WAn article of time, or eye of light, WLonger, to poyson this our common aire. WI think so too. WAnd I. WAnd I. WAnd I. LYour sentence, Caius Ca*esar. QConscript Fathers, QIn great affaires, and doubtfull, it behooues QMen, that are ask'd their sentence, to be free QFrom either hate, or loue, anger, or pitty: QFor, where the least of these do hinder, there QThe minde not easily discernes the truth. QI speake this to you, in the name of Rome, QFor whom you stand; and to the present cause: QThat this foule fact of Lentulus, and the rest, QWeigh not more with you, then your dignity; QAnd you be more indulgent to your passion, QThen to your honor. If there could be found QA paine, or punishment, equall to their crimes, QI would deuise, and helpe: But if the greatnesse QOf what they have done, exceede all mans inuention, QI think it fit, to stay, where our lawes do. QPoore petty States may alter, upon humor, QWhere, if they offend with anger, few do know it, QBecause they are obscure; their Fame, and Fortune QIs equall, and the same: But they, that are QHead of the world, and liue in that seene height, QAll Mankinde knowes their actions. So we see QThe greater fortune hath the lesser licence. QThey must nor sauor, hate, and least be angry: QFor what with others is call'd anger, there, QIs cruelty, and pride. I know Syllanus, QWho spoke before me, an iust, valiant Man, QA louer of the State, and one that would not, QIn such a businesse, vse or grace, or hatred; QI know, too, well his manners, and his modesty: QNor do I think his sentence cruell (for Q'Gainst such delinquents, what can be too bloody?) QBut that it is is abhorring from our state; QSince to a Citizen of Rome, offending, QOur Lawes give exile, and not death. Why then QDecrees he that? It were vaine to think, for feare; QWhen, by the diligence of so worthy a Consul, QAll is made safe, and certaine. Is it for punishment? QWhy Death is the end of euils, and a rest, QRather then torment: It dissolues all griefes. QAnd beyond that, is neither care, nor ioy, QYou heare, my sentence would not have them die. QHow then? set free, and increase Catilines Armie? QSo will they, being but banish'd. No, graue Fathers, QI iudge them, first, to have their states confiscate, QThen, that their persons remaine prisoners QIn the free townes, farre off from Rome, and seuerd': QWhere they might neither have relation, QHereafter, to the Senate, or the People. QOr; if they had, those townes, then to be mulcted, QAs enemies to the State, that had their guard. WIt is good, and honourable, Ca*esar, hath vtterd. LFathers, I see your faces, and your eyes LAll bent on me, to note of these two censures LWhich I encline to. Eyther of them are graue, LAnd answering the dignitie of the speakers, LThe greatnesse of the affaire, and both seuere. LOne vrgeth death: And he may well remember LThis State hath punish'd wicked Citizens so. LThe other bonds and those perpetuall, which LHe thinkes found out for the more singular plague. LDecree which you shall please. You have a Consul LNot readier to obey, then to defend LWhat*euer you shall act, for the Republique; LAnd meete with willing shoulders any burden, LOr any fortune, with an euen face, LThough it were death: which to a valiant man LCan neuer happen foule, nor to a Consul LBe immature, or to a wise man wretched. WFathers, I spake, but as I thought: the needes WOf the Common-wealth requird. NExcuse it not. LCato, speake you your sentence. NThis it is. NYou here dispute, on kinds of punishment, NAnd stand consulting, what you should decree N'Gainst those, of whom, you rather should beware. NThis mischiefe is not like those common facts, NWhich, when they are done, the lawes may prosequute. NBut this, if you prouide not, ere it happen, NWhen it is happen'd, will not waite your iudgment. NGood Caius Ca*esar, here, hath very well, NAnd subtilly discours'd of life, and death, NAs if he thought those things, a prety fable, NThat are deliuer'd us of Hell, and Furies, NOr of the diuers way, that ill men goe NFrom good, to filthy, darke, and ougly places. NAnd therefore he would have these liue; and long too; NBut farre from Rome, and in the small free Townes, NLest, here, they might have rescue: As if Men, NFit for such acts, were only in the City, NAnd not throughout all Italie? or that boldnesse NCould not do more, where it found least resistance? NIt is a vaine Counsaile, if he think them dangerous. NWhich, if he do not, but that he alone NIn so great feare of all men, stand vnfrighted, NHe giues me cause, and you, more to feare him. NI am plaine, Fathers. Here you looke about, NOne at another, doubting what to do; NWith faces, as you trusted to the Gods, NThat still have sau'd you; and they can do it: But NThey are not wishings, or base womanish prayers NCan draw their aides; but vigilance, counsell, action: NWhich they will be ashamed to forsake, NIt is sloth they hate, and cowardise. Here you have NThe Traytors in your houses, yet you stand NFearing what to do with them; Let them loose, NAnd send them hence with armes too; that your Mercy NMay turne your misery, as soone as it can. NO, but, they, are great men, and have offended NBut through ambition. We would spare their honor: NAye, if themselues had spar'd it, or their fame, NOr modestie, or eyther God, or Man: NThen I woud spare them. But, as things now stand, NFathers, to spare these men, were to commit NA greater wickednesse, then you would reuenge. NIf there had bene but time, and place for you, NTo have repair'd this fault, you should have made it; NIt should have bene your punishment, to have felt NYour tardie error: But necessity, NNow, bids me say let them not liue an hower, NIf you meane Rome should liue a day. I have done. WCato hath spoken like an Oracle. PLet it be so decreed. WWe all were fearefull. WAnd had bene base, had not his vertue rais'd us. WGo forth, most worthy Consul, we will assist you. QI am not yet changd in my sentence, Fathers. NNo matter. What be those? WLetters, for Ca*esar. NFrom whom? let them be read, in open Senate; NFathers, they come from the Conspirators. NI craue to have them read, for the Republique. QCato, reade you it. It is a Loue-letter, QFrom your deare sister, to me: though you hate me. QDo not discouer it. NHold thee dronkard. Consul. NGoe forth, and confidently. QYou will repent QThis rashnesse, Cicero. WCa*esar shall repent it. LHold friends. WHe is scarce a friend vnto the Publicke. LNo violence. Ca*esar be safe. Leade on: LWhere are the publicke Executioners? LBid them waite on us. On to Spinthers house. LBring Lentulus forth. Here, you, the sad reuengers LOf capitall crimes, against the Publicke, take LThis man vnto your iustice: strangle him. BThou dost well, Consul It was a cast at dice BIn Fortune's hand, not long since, that thy*selfe BShould'st have heard these, or other words as fatall. LLeade on to Quintus Cornificius house; LBring forth Cethegus. Take him to the due LDeath, that he hath deserud: and let it be LSaid, He was once. CA beast, or, what is worse, CA slaue, Cethegus. Let that be the name CFor all that is base hereafter: That would let CThis worme pronounce on him; and not have trampled CHis bodie into -- Ha! Art thou not mou'd? L"Iustice is neuer angrie: Take him hence. CO the whore Fortune! and her bauds the Fates! CThat put these trickes on men, which knew the way CTo death by a sword. Strangle me, I may sleepe: CI shall grow angrie with the Gods, else. LLeade LTo Caius Ca*esars, for Statilius. LBring him, and rude Gabinius out. Here, take them LTo your cold hands, and let them feele death from you: WI thanke you, you do me a pleasure. WAnd me too. NSo, Marcus Tullius, thou maist now stand up, NAnd call it happie Rome, thou being Consul. NGreat Parent of thy Countrie, goe, and let NThe Old men of the Citie, ere they die, NKisse thee; the Matrons dwell about thy necke; NThe Youths, and Maids lay up, 'gainst they are old NWhat kind of man thou wert, to tell their Nephewes, NWhen, such a yeare, they reade, within our Fasti, NThy Consulship. Who is this? Petreius? LWelcome, LWelcome renowned Souldier. What is the newes? LThis face can bring no ill with it, vnto Rome. LHow does the worthy Consull, my Colleague? WAs well as victory can make him, Sir. WHe greetes the Fathers, and to me hath trusted WThe sad relation of the Ciuill strife, WFor, in such warre, the conquest still is blacke. LShall we withdraw into the House of Concord? NNo, happy Consul, here; let all eares take NThe benefit of this tale. If he had voice, NTo spreade vnto the Poles, and strike it through NThe Center, to the Antipodes; It would aske it. WThe streights, and needes of Catiline being such, WAs he must fight, with one of the two Armies, WThat then had neare enclos'd him; It pleas'd Fate, WTo make us the obiect of his desperate choise, WWherein the danger almost paiz'd the honor: WAnd as he riss', the day grew blacke with him; WAnd Fate descended nearer to the earth, WAs if she meant to hide the name of things WVnder her wings, and make the world her quarry. WAt this we rous'd, least one small minutes stay WHad left it to be 'enquir'd, what Rome was. WAnd (as we ought) arm'd in the confidence WOf our great cause, in forme of battaile, stood, WWhilst Catiline came on, not with the face WOf any man, but of a publique ruine: WHis Count'nance was a ciuill warre it*selfe. WAnd all his host had standing in their lookes WThe palenesse of the death, that was to come. WYet cryed they out like Vultures, and vrg'd on, WAs if they would pra*ecipitate our fates. WNor staid we longer for them; But himselfe WStrooke the first stroke: And, with it, fled a life. WWhich cut, it seem'd a narrow necke of land WHad broke betweene two mighty Seas; and either WFlow'd into other; for so did the slaughter: WAnd whirl'd about, as when two violent Tides WMeete, and not yeeld. The Furies stood, on hilles WCircling the place, and trembled to see men WDo more, then they: whilst Piety left the field, WGrieu'd for that side, that, in so bad a cause, WThey knew not, what a crime their valour was. WThe Sunne stood still, and was, behinde the cloud WThe battaile made, seene sweating, to driue up WHis frighted Horse, whom still the noise droue backward. WAnd now had fierce Enyo, like a flame, WConsum'd all it could reach, and then it*selfe; WHad not the Fortune of the Common-wealth WCome Pallas-like, to euery Roman thought. WWhich, Catiline seeing, and that now his Troopes WCouer'd that earth, they had fought on, with their trunkes. WAmbitious of great fame, to crowne his ill, WCollected all his fury, and ranne in W(Arm'd with a glory, high as his despaire) WInto our battaile, like a Lybian Lion, WUpon his hunters, scornefull of our weapons, WCarelesse of wounds, plucking downe liues about him, WTill he had circled in himselfe with death: WThen fell he too, to embrace it where it lay. WAnd as, in that rebellion 'gainst the Gods, WMinerua holding forth Medusa's head, WOne of the Gyant Brethren felt himselfe WGrow marble at the killing sight, and now, WAlmost made stone, beganne to inquire, what flint, WWhat rocke it was, that crept through all his limmes, WAnd, ere he could think more, was that he fear'd; WSo Catiline, at the sight of Rome in us, WBecame his Tombe: yet did his looke retaine WSome of his fiercenesse, and his hands still mou'd, WAs if he labor'd, yet to graspe the State, WWith those rebellious parts. NA braue bad death. NHad this beene honest now, and for his Countrey, NAs it was against it, who had ere fallen greater? LHonor'd Petreius, Rome, not I must thanke you. LHow modestly has he spoken of himselfe! NHe did the more. LThanks to the immortall Gods, LRomans, I now am paid for all my labors, LMy watchings, and my dangers. Here conclude LYour praises, triumphes, honors, and rewards LDecreed to me: only the memory LOf this glad day, if I may know it liue LWithin your thoughts, shall much affect my conscience, LWhich I must alwaies study before fame. L"Though both be good, the latter yet is worst, L"And euer, first.