CHORUS

Upon thy back (where misery does fit) Oh Room, the heavens with their wrathful hand, Revenge the crimes thy father's did commit. But if (their further fury to withstand, Which over thy walls thy wrack sets menacing) Thou dost not seek to calm heavens ireful king, A further plague will pester all the land. "The wrath of heaven (though urged,) we see is slow "In punishing the evils we have done: "For what the Father hath deserved, we know "Is spared in him, and punished in the son. "But to forgive the apter that they be, "They are the more displeased when they see, "That we continue our offence begun. "Then from her loathsome Cave does Plague repair, "That breathes her heavy poisons down to hell: "Which with their noisome fallen corrupt the air, "Or maigre famine, which the weak foretell, "Or bloody war, (of other woes the worst,) "Which where it lights does show the Land accursed, "And never did good where ever it befell. War that hath sought Th'Ausonian fame to rear, In warlike Emonye, (now grown so great With Soldiers bodies that were buried there,) Which yet to sack us toils in bloody sweat: T'enlarge the bounds of conquering Thessaly, Through murder, discord, wrath, and enmity, Even to the peaceful Indians pearled seat. Whose entrails fyerd with rancour, wrath and rage, The former petty combats did displace, And Camp to Camp did endless battles wage: Which on the Mountain tops of warlike Thrace, Made thundering Mars (Dissensions common friend,) Amongst the forward Soldiers first descend, Armed with his blood-besmeared keen Coutelace. Who first attempted to excite to Arms, The troops enraged with the Trumpets found, Headlong to run and reck no after harms, Where in the flowered Meads dead men were found; Falling as thick (through warlike cruelty,) As ears of Corn for want of husbandry; That (wasteful) shed their grain upon the ground. Oh war, if thou were subject but to death, And by desert mighst fallen to Phlegiton, The torment that Ixion suffers, Or his whose soul the Vulture seizeth on, Were all too little to reward thy wrath: Nor all the plagues, that fiery Pluto hath The most outrageous sinners laid upon. Accursed Caitiffs, wretches that we are, Perceive we not that for the fatal dumb, The Fates make hast enough: but we (by war) Must seek in Hell to have a hapless room. Or fast enough do foolish men not die, But they (by murder of themselves) must High, Hopeless to hide them in a hapless tomb? All sad and desolate our City lies, And (for fair Corn-ground are our fields surcloid) With worthless Gorse, that yearly fruitless die; And choke the good which else we bade enjoyed. Death dwells within us, and if gentle Peace Descend not soon, our sorrows to surcease, Latium (already quailed) will be destroyed. "WHat ever the massy Earth hath fraught, "Or on her nurse-like back sustains, "Upon the will of Heaven does wait, "And does no more then it ordains. "All Fortune's, all felicities, "Upon their motion do depend. "And from the stars does still arise, "Both their beginning and their end. "The Monarchies that cover all "This earthly round with Majesty, "Have both their rising and their fallen, "From heaven and heavens variety. "Frail men, or men more frail defence, "Had never power, to practice stays "Of this celestial influence, "That governeth and guides our days. "No cloud but will be overcast. "And what now flourisheth, must fade. "And that that fades, revive at last, "To flourish as it first was made. "The forms of things do never die, "because the matter that remains, "Reforms another thing thereby, "That still the former shape retains. The roundness of two bouls cross-cast, '(so they with equal pace be aimed,) 'Showes their beginning by their last, which by old nature is new-fram'd. So peopled cities that of yore were desert fields where none would bide, 'Become forsaken as before, yet after are reedified. Perceive we not a petty vain, cut from a spring by chance or art, Engendereth fountains, whence-again, those fountains do to floods convert? Those floods to waves, those waves to seas, that oft exceed their wonted bounds: And yet those seas (as heavens please) return to springs by under-grounds. Even so our city (in her prime) prescribing Princes every thing, Is now subdu'de by conquering Time: and lives subject to a King. And yet perhaps the sun-bright crown, that now the Tyrants head does deck, May turn to Room with true renown, If fortune chance but once to check. The stately walls that once were reared, and by a shepherds hands erect, (With hapless brother's blood besmeared) shall show by whom they were infect. And once more unjust Tarquin's frown, (with arrogance and rage inflamed) Shall keep the Roman valour down; and Room it self a while be tamed. And chastest Lucrece once again, (because her name dishonoured stood) Shall by herself be careless slain, and make a river of her blood; Scorning her soul a seat should build within a body, basely seen. By shameless rape to be defiled, that erst was clear as heavens Queen. But heavens as tyranny shall yoke our basterd hearts, with servile thrall; So grant your plagues (which they provoke,) may light upon them once for all. And let another Brutus rise, bravely to fight in Rome's defence, To free our Town from tyranny, and tyrannous proud insolence. "FOrtune in pour imperious, "Used over the world and worldlings thus "to tyrannise, "When she hath heaped her gifts on us, "away she flies. "Her feet more swift then is the wind, "Are more inconstant in their kind "then Autumn blasts, "A woman's shape, a woman's mind, "that seldom lasts. "One while she bends her angry brow, "And of no labour will allow. "Another while, "She fleres again, I know not how, "still to beguile. "Fickle in our adversities, "And fickle when our Fortune's rise, "she scoffs at us: "That (blind herself) can blear our eyes, "to trust her thus. "The Sun that lends the earth his light, "Beheld her never over night "lie calmly down, "But in the morrow following, might "perceive her frown. "She hath not only power and will, "T'abuse the vulgar wanting skill, "but when she list, "To Kings and Clowns does equal ill. "without resist. "Mischance that every man abhors, "And cares for crowned Emperor's "she does reserve, "As for the poorest labourers "that work or starve. "The Merchant that for private gain, "Does send his Ships to pass the main, "upon the shore, "In hope he shall his wish obtain, "does thee adore. "Upon the sea, or on the Land, "Where health or wealth, or vines do stand, "thou canst do much, "And often helpest the helps hand, "thy power is such. "And many times (disposed to jest) "Gainst one whose power and cause is best, "(thy power to try,) "To him that never put spear in rest "givest victory. "For so the Lybian Monarchy, "That with Ausonian blood did die "our warlike field, "To one that never God victory, "was urged to yield. "So noble Marius, Arpins friend, "That did the Latin state defend "from Cymbrian rage, "Did prove thy fury in the end "which nought could suage. "And Pompey whose days haply led, "So long thou seemedst to-have favoured, "in vain t'is said "When the Pharsalian field be led "implored thine aid. "Now Caesar swollen with honours heat, "Sits signiorizing in her seat, "and will not see, "That Fortune can her Hope's defeat "what ever they be. "From chance is nothing franchized. "And till the time that they are dead, "is no man blessed. "He only that no death does dread, "does live at rest. Oh poor Cornelia, have not we good cause, For former wrongs to furnish us with tears? Wherein can Fortune further injure us, Now we have lost our conquered liberty, Our Commonwealth, our Empire, and our honours, Under this cruel Tarquin's tyranny? Under his outrage now are all our goods, Where scattered they run by Land and Sea (Like exiled us) from fertile Italy, To proudest Spain, or poorest Getulie. What fear you Madam? Our lose (I hope) hath satisfied their ire. Fortune is fickle. The more unlike she should continue ever. Why suffer you vain dreams your head to trouble? That of our spyrit are but illusions. We dream by night what we by day have thought. "These are vain thoughts, or melancholy shows, "That wont to haunt and trace by cloistered tombs: "Which eath's appear in sad and strange disguises. "To pensive minds deceived, (with their shadows) "They counterfeit the dead in voice and figure; "Deuining of our future Misery's. "For when our soul the body hath disgaged, "It seeks the common passage of the dead, "Down by the fearful gates of Acheron. "Where when it is by Aeacus adjudged, "It either turns to the Stygian Lake, "Or stays for ever in th'Elisian fields; "And never returns to the Corpse interred; "To walk by night, or make the wise afeard. "None but inevitable conquering Death, "Descends to hell, with hope to rise again; "For ghosts of men are locked in fiery gates, "Fast-guarded by a fell remorseless Monster. "And therefore think not it was Pompey's sprite, "But some false Daemon that beguiled your sighed. "Who prodigally spends his blood, "Bravely to do his country good, "And lives to no other end, "But resolutely to attempt What may the innocent defend, And bloody Tyrants rage prevent; And he that in his soul assured, Hath waters force, and fire endured, And passed the pikes of thousand hosts, To free the truth from tyranny, And fearless scowres in danger coasts, "T'enlarge his countries liberty, "Were all the world his foes before, "Now shall they love him evermore. "His glory spread abroad by Fame, "On wings of his posterity, "From obscure death shall free his name, "To live in endless memory. "All after ages shall adore, "And honour him with hymns therefore. "Yearly the youth for joy shall bring, "The fairest flowers that grow in Room. "And yearly in the Summer sing, "Over his heroic kingly Tomb. "For so the two Athenians, "That from their fellow citizens, "Did freely chase vile servitude, "Shall live for valiant prowess blessed. "No Sepulcher shall ere exclude, "Their glory equal with the best. "But when the vulgar, mad and rude, "Repay good with ingratitude, "Hardly then they them reward: "That to free them from the hands "Of a Tyrant, never regard "In what plighted their person stands. "For high Jove that guideth all, "When he lets his joust wrath fallen, "To revenge proud Diadems, "With huge cares does cross Kings lives, "Raising treasons in their Realms, "By their children, friends or wives. "Therefore he whom all men fear, "Fears all men every where. "Fear that does engender hate, "(Hate enforcing them thereto) "Makes many undertake, "Many things they would not do. "Oh how many mighty Kings "Live in fear of petty things. "For when Kings have sought by wars, "Stranger Towns to have overthrown, "They have caught deserved skarrs, "Seeking that was not their own. "For no Tyrant commonly, "Living ill, can kindly die. "But either traitorously surprised "Does coward poison quail their breath, "Or their people have devised, "Or their Guard to seek their death. "He only lives most happily, "That free and far from majesty, "Can live content, although unknown: "He fearing none, none fearing him. "Meddling with nothing but his own, "While gazing eyes at crowns grow dim. Scipio hath lost the day. But hope the best, and harken to his news. Is this th'vndaunted heart that is required in extremities? Be more confirmed. And Madam, let not grief abuse your wisdom like a vulgar wit. Haply the news is better then the noise, Let's hear him speak. He is saved perhaps. Now I see the heavens, are heaped with rage and horror gainst this house. Why wail you so? Assure your self that Scipio bravely died, And such a death excels a servile life. Say Messenger, The manner of his end will haply comfort this your discontent. Madam never fear. Nor let a senseless Idol of the night, Increase a more then needful fear in you.