<Text id=JonCati>
<Author>Jonson, Ben</Author>
<Title>Catiline</Title>
<Edition>Prepared from 1611 Quarto (STC 14759) by Hugh Craig, D of English, U of Newcastle. OTA A-1435-A</Edition>
<Date>1611</Date>
<body>
<loc><locdoc>JonCati1.1</locdoc>
<div0 type=act n=1>
<div1 type=scene n=1>
<l n=1.1.><sp>W</sp>Do'st thou not feele me, Rome? Not yet? Is night</l>
<l n=1.1.><sp>W</sp>so heauy on thee, and my weight so light?</l>
<l n=1.1.><sp>W</sp>Can Sylla's Ghost arise within thy walles,</l>
<l n=1.1.><sp>W</sp>Lesse threatning, then an earth-quake, the quicke falles</l>
<l n=1.1.><sp>W</sp>Of thee, and thine? shake not the frighted heads</l>
<l n=1.1.><sp>W</sp>Of thy steepe towers? or shrinke to their first beds?</l>
<l n=1.1.><sp>W</sp>Or, as their ruine the large Tyber fils,</l>
<l n=1.1.><sp>W</sp>Make that swell up, and drowne thy seuen proud hils?</l>
<l n=1.1.><sp>W</sp>What sleape is this doth seize thee, so like death,</l>
<l n=1.1.><sp>W</sp>and is not it? Wake, feele her . . .
