CATILINE

Aurelia? I will redeem it. When Orestilla by her bearing well These my retirements, and stolen times for thought Shall give their effects leave to call her Queen Or all the world, in place of humbled Room. As I would always, Love, By Ambrosiac kiss e, and this of Nectar, Wouldst thou but hear as gladly, as I speak. Could my Aurelia think, I meant her less; When, wooing her, I first removed a Wife, And then a Son, to make my bed, and house Spacious, and sir embrace her? These were deeds Not to-have begun with, but to end with more, And great r: " He that, building, stays at one " Floor, or the second, hath erected none. 'Twas how to raise thee, I was meditating; To make some act of mine answer thy love: That love, that, when my state was now quite sunk, Came with thy wealth, and weighed it up again, And made my 'emergent Fortune once more look Above the main; which, now, shall hit the stars, And stick my Orestilla, there, amongst them, If any tempest can but make the billow, And any billow can but lift her greatness. But, I must pray my love, she will put on Like habits with my self. I have to do With many men, and many nature's. Some, That must be blown, and soothed; as Lentulus, Whom I have heaved, with magnifying his blood, And a vain dream, out of the Sybill's books, That a third man, of that great family Whereof he is descended, the Cornelii, Should be a King in Room: which I have hired The flattering Augurs to interpret him, Cinna, and Sulla dead. Then, bold Cethegus, Whose valour I have turned into his poison, And praised so into daring, as he would Go on upon the Gods, kiss e lightning, wrest The engine from the Cyclop's, and give fire At face of a full cloud, and stand his ire, When I would bid him move. Others there are Whom envy to the state draws, and pu S on, For contumelies received, (and such are sure ones) As Curius, and the forenamed Lentulus, Both which have been degraded, in the Senate, And must have their disgraces, still, new rubbed, To make them smart, and labour of revenge. Others, whom mere ambition fires, and dole Of Provinces abroad, which they have feigned To their crude Hope's, and I as amply promised: The e, Lecca Vargunteius, Bestiam, Autronius, Some, whom their wants oppress, as Idle Captains Of Sylla's troops; and diverse Roman Knights (The profuse wasters of their patrimonies) So threatened with debts, as they will, now, Run any desperate fortune, for a change. These, for a time, we must r lieve, Aurelia, And make our house their safeguard. Like, for those, That fear the law, or stand within her gripe, For any act passed, or to come. Such will From their own crimes, be factious, as from ours. Some more there be flight Ayrelings, will be won, With dogs, and horses; or, perhaps, a whore; Which must be had: And, if they venture lives, For us Aurelia, we must hazard honours A little. Get thee store, and change of women, As I have boys; and give them time, and place, And all connivance: Be thy self, too, courtly; And entertain, and feast, fit up, and revel; Call all the great, the fair, and spirited Dams Of Room about thee, and begin a fashion Of freedom, & community. Some will thank thee, Though the sour Senate frown, whose heads must ache In fear, and feeling too. We must not spare Or cost, or modesty. It can but show Like one of Juno's, or of Jove's disguises In either thee, or me; and will as soon, When things succeed, be thrown by, or let fallen; As is a veil put of, a visor changed, Or the Scene shifted, in our Theaters. Who's that? It is the voice of Lentulus. In, my fair Aurelia, And think upon these arts: They must not see, How far you are trusted with these privacies; Though, by their shoulders, necks, & heads you rise. IT is, me thinks, a Morning, full of Fate. It riseth slowly, as her sollen car Had all the weights of sleep, and death hung at it. She is not rosy-fingerd, but swollen black. Her face is Like a water, turned to blood, And her sick head is bound about with clouds, As if she threatened night, ere noon of day. It does not look, as it would have a Hail Or Health, wished in it, as on other Morns. Said nobly, brave Cethegus. Where's Autronius? Not here. Neither. I muse they would be tardy, at and hour Of so great purpose. Spirit of men! Thou, heart of our great enterprise! how much I lou these voices in thee! And was familiar With entrails, as our Augurs! And had price and praise. All hate had licence given it; all rage reins. Nay, no Degree. 'Twas crime enough, that they had lives. To strike but only those, that could do hurt, Was dull, and poor. Some fell to make the number As some the prey. And this shall be again, and more, and more, Now Lentulus, the third Cornelius, Is to stand up in Room. How! The Sybill's leaves uncertain? or the Comments Of our graven, deep, divining men no clear? But this, already, hath confessed without. And so been weighed, examined, and compared, As it were malicious ignorance in him, Wou worser aint in the belief. Do I love Lentulus? or pray to see it? They had lost their science else. And Sulla nex , and so make you the third; All that can say the Sun is ris'n, must think it. Why, what can they do less? Cinna, and Sulla Are set, and gone: And we must turn our eyes On him that is, and shines. Noble Cethegus, But view him with me, here: He looks, already, As if he shook a Sceptre, over the Senate, And the awed purple dropped their rods, and axes. The Statues melt again; and household Gods In groans confess the travail of the City; The very walls sweat blood before the change; And stones start out to ruin, ere it comes. I am shadow To honoured Lentulus, and Cethegus here, Who are the heirs of Mars. Nay, deer Caius; He's zealous, for the'affaire; And blames your tardy coming, Gentlemen. Pray you forbear. Cethegus. You are too full of lightning, noble Caius. Boy, see all doors be shut, that none approach us, On this partly of the house. Go you, and bid The Priest, he kill the slave I marked last night; And bring me of his blood, when I shall call him: Till then, wait all without. Brave, and ominous! Our enterprise is sealed. Noblest Romans, If you were less, or, that your faith, and virtue Did not hold good that title, with your blood, I should not, now, unprofitably spend My self in words, or catch at empty Hope's, By airy ways, for solid certainties. But since in many, and the greatest dangers, I still have known you no less true, then valiant, And that I taste, in you, the same affections, To will, or nill, to think things good, or bade, Alike with me: (which argues your firm friendship) I dare the boldlier, with you, set on foot, Or lead, unto this great, and goodliest Actium. What I have thought of it afore, you all Have herd apart; I then expressed my zeal Unto the glory; Now, the need enflames me : When I forethink the hard conditions, Our states must undergo, except, in time, We do redeem our selves to liberty, And break the iron yoke, forged for our necks. For, what less can we call it? when we see The commonwealth engrossed so by a few, The Giants of the state, that do, by turns, Enjoy her, and defile her. All the Earth, Her Kings, and Tetrarchs, are their tributaries; People, and Nations pay them hourly stipends: The riches of the world flows to their coffers, And not, to Rome's. While (but those few) the rest, How ever great we are, honest, and valiant, Are hearded with the vulgar; and so kept, As we were only bred, to consume corn, Or wear out wool, to drink the Cities water: Ungraced, without authority, or mark, Trembling beneath their rods, to whom, (if all Were well in Room ) we should come forth bright axes. All Places, Honours, Offices are theirs; Or where they will confer them: They leave us The dangers, the repulses, judgements, wants; Which how long will you bear most valiant spirits? Were we not better to fallen, once, with virtue, Then draw a wretched, and dishonoured breath To lose with shame, when these men's pride will laugh? I call the faith of Gods, and Men to question; The power is in our hands; our bodies able; Our minds as strong; O'th' contrary, in them, All things grown aged, with their wealth, and years. There wants, but only to begin the business, The issue is certain. It does strike my soul, (And, who can escape the stroke, that hath a soul, Or, but the smallest air of Man within him?) To see them swell with treasure; which they pour Out i'their riots, eating, drinking, building, I, in the sea: planing of Hills with Valleys; And raising Valleys above Hills, while we Have not, to give our Bodies Necessaries. They have their change of Houses, Manors, Lordship's; We scarce a fire, or poor household Lar. They buy rare Atticke statues, Tyrian hangings, Ephesian pictures, and Corinthian plate, Attalicke garments, and, now newfound, Gems Since Pompey went for Asia; which they purchase At price of Provinces. The River Phasis Cannot afford them Foul; nor Lucrine Lake Oysters enough: Circei, too, is searched To please the witty Gluttony of a meal. Their ancient Habitations they neglect, And set up new; Then, if the Echo Like not In such a room, they pluck down those; built newer, Altar them too; and, by all frantic ways, Vex their wild wealth, as they molest the people, From whom they force it; Yet, they cannot tame, Or overcome their riches: Not, by making, Baths, Orchards, Fishpools, letting in of seas, Here; and, then there, forcing them out again, With mountainous heaps; for which the Earth hath lost Most of her ribs, as entrails, being now Wounded no less for Marble, then for gold. We, all this while, Like calm, benumbed Spectators, Fit, till our seats do crack; and do not hear The thundering ruins, while, at home, our wants, Abroad, our debts do urge us, our states daily Bending to bade, our Hope's to worse: And, what Is left, but to be crushed? Wake, wake brave Friends, And meet the liberty you oft have wished for. Behold, renown, riches, and glory court you. Fortune holds out these to you, as rewards. Me thinks (though I were dumb) th'affaire it self The opportunity, your needs, and dangers, With the brave spoil the war brings, should invite you. Use me your General, or Soldier: Neither, My Mind, nor Body shall be wanting to you. And, being Consul, I not doubt t'effect, All that you wish: If Trust not flatter me, And you had, rather, still be slaves, then free. Why, these are noble voices. Nothing wants then, But that we take a solemn Sacrament, To strengthen our design. How, Friends! Think you, that I would bid you, grasp the wind? Or call you to th'embracing of a cloud? Put your known valures on so deer a business, And have no other second then the Danger, Nor other Garland then the lose? Become Your own assurances. And, for the means, Consider, first, the stark security The common wealth is in, now; the whole Senate Sleepy, and dreaming no such violent blow; Their forces all abroad; of which the greatest, That might annoy us most, is farthest off, In Asia, under Pompey: Those, near hand, Commanded, by our friends; one Army' in Spain, By Cneus Piso; th'other in Mauritania, By Nucerin S; both which I have firm, And fast unto our Plot. My self, then, standing Now to be Consul; with my hoped Colleague Caius Antonius, one, no less engaged By his wants then we: And whom I'haue power to melt, And cast in any mould. Beside, some others That will not yet be named, (both sure, and Great ones) Who, when the time comes, shall declare themselves, Strong, for our party; so, that no resistance In nature can be thought. For our reward, then; First, all our Debts are paid; Dangers of Law, Actions, Decrees, Judgments against us quit; The rich Men, as in Sylla's times, proscribed, And Publication made of all their goods; That House is yours; That Land is his; Those Waters, Orchards, and uva kes a third's: He'has that Honour, And he that Office. Such a Province falls To Vargunleius: This to Autronius: That To bold Cethegus: Room to Lentulus: You share the World, her Magistracies, Priesthoods, Wealth, and Felicity amongst you, Friends; And Catiline your servant. Would you, Curius, Revenge the Contumely stuck upon you, In being removed from the Senate? Now, Now, is your time. Would Publius Lentulus Strike, for the Like disgrace? Now, is his time. Would stout Longinus walk the streets of Room, Facing the Praetor? Now, has he a time To spurn, and tread the Fasces, into dirt Made of the Usurers, and the Lictors brains. Is there a Beauty, here in Room, you love? And Enemy you would kill? What Head's not yours? Whose Wife, which Boy, whose Daughter, of what raze, That husband, or glad Parents shall not bring you, And boasting of the office? Only, spare Your selves, and you have all the earth beside, A field, to exercise your longings in. I see you raised, and read your forward minds High, in your faces. Bring the wine, and blood You have prepared there. I have killed a slave, And of his blood caused to be mixed with wine. Fill every man his bowl. There cannot be A fitter drink, to make this Sanction in. Here, I begin the Sacrament to all. Oh, for a clap of thunder now, as loud, As to be herd throughout the Universe, To tell the world the fact, and to applaud it. Be firm, my hand; not shed a drop: but pour Fierceness e into me, with it; and fell thirst Of more, and more: Till Room be left as bloodless, As ever her fears made her, or the sword. And, when I leave to wish this to thee, Stepdame Or stop, to effect it, with my powers fainting; So may my blood be drawn, and so drunk up As is this slaves. Why, now's the business safe, & each man strengthened. Sirrah, what ail you? Slave, I will strike your soul out, with my foot, Let me but find you again with such a face: You Whelp. Are you coying it, When I command you to be free, and general To all? Arise, and show But any least aversion in your look To him that bourds you next, and your throat opens. Noble Confederates, thus far is perfect. Only your suffrages I will expect, At the assembly for the choosing Consuls, And all the voices you can make by friends To my election. Then let me work out Your Fortune's, and mine own. Mean while, all rest Sealed up, and silent, as when rigid frosts Have bound up Brooks, and Rivers, forced wild beasts Unto their caves, and birds into the woods, Clowns to their houses, and the Country sleeps; That, when the sudden thaw comes, we may break Upon them Like a deluge, bearing down Half Room before us, and invade the rest With cries, and noise able to wake the Urns Of those are dead, and make their ashes f are. " The horrors, that do strike the world, should come " Loud, and unlooked for; Till they strike, be dumb. Marcus Tullius, true; Our need made thee our Consul, and thy virtue. Caesar will hurt himself, with his own envy. The voice of Room is the consent of Heaven; And that hath placed thee, Cicero, at the helm, Where thou must render, now, thy self a Man, And Master of thy art. Each petty hand Can steer a ship becalmed; but he that will Govern, and carry her to her ends, must know His tides, his currents; how to shift his sails; What she will be are in foul, what in fair weathers; Where her springs are, her leaks; & how to stop them; What sands, what shelves, what rocks to threat ̄ her; The forces, and the nature's of all winds, Gusts, storms, & tempests; when her keel ploughs hell And deck knocks heaven: then, to manage her Becomes the name, and office of a Pilot. Longinus, too, did stand? I know't. He had my suffrage, next the Consuls; Let him come, and hear. I will no more dissemble. Quit us all; I, and my loved Cethegus here, alone Will undertake this Giants war, and carry it. No, the Gods " Who, ever, follow those, they go not with: And Senate; who, with fire, must purge sick Room Of noisome Citizens, whereof thou art one. Be gone, or else let me. 'Tis bane to draw The same air with thee. Our objects must be sought with wounds, not words. IS there a Heaven? and Gods? and can it be They should so slowly hear, so slowly see? Hath Jove no thunder? or is Jove become Stupid as thou art? o near-wretched Room, When both thy Senate, and thy Gods do sleep, And neither thine, not their own States do keep! What will awake thee, Heaven? what can excite Thine anger, if this practice be too light? His former drifts partake of former times, But this last plot was only Catiline. Oh, that it were his last. But he, before Hath safely done so much, hee'll still dare more. Ambition, Like a torrent, never looks back; And is a swelling, and the last affection A high mind can put off: being both a Rebel Unto the soul, and reason, and enforceth All laws, all conscience, treads upon religion, And offereth violence to Nature's self. But here, is that transcends it. A black purpose To confound Nature: and to ruin that, Which never Age, nor Mankind can repair. Fit down, good Lady; Cicero is lost In this your fable: for, to think it true Tempts my reason. It so far exceeds All insolent fictions of the tragic Scene. The Commonwealth, yet panting, underneath The stripes, and wounds of a late civil war, Gasping for life, and scarce restored to hope; To seek oppress her, with new cruelty, And utterly extinguish her long name, With so prodigious, and unheard-of fierceness What sink of Monsters, wretches of lost minds, Mad after change, and desperate in their states, Wearied, and galled with their necessities, (For all this I allow them) durst have thought it? Would not the barbarous deeds have been believed, Of Marius, and Sulla, by our Children, Without, this fact had rise forth greater, for them? All, that they did, was piety, to this. They, yet, but murdered Kinsfolk, Brother's, Parents, Ravished the Virgins, and, perhaps, some Matrons; They left the City standing, and the Temples: The Gods, and Majesty of Room were safe yet. These purpose to fire it, to despoil them, (Beyond the other evils,) and lay wast The farre-triumphed world: For, unto whom Room is too little, what can be enough? Is a good religious fool. Excuse me, lights there. Stay then. All good thoughts to Caesar. And Like to Crassus. And is Simpronia there? That's well. She ha a sulphurous spirit, and will take Light at a spark. Break with them, gentle love, About the drawing as many of their Husbands, Into the plot, as can: If not, to rid them. That will be the easier practice, unto some, Who have be tired with them long. Solicit Their aids, for money; and their Servants help, In firing of the City, at the time Shall be designed. Promise them States, and Empires, And men, for Lovers, made of better clay, Then ever the old Potter Titan knew. Who's that? Oh, Porcius Lecca! are they met? Love, you have your instructions: I'll trust you with the stuff you have to work on. You'll form it? Porcius, fetch the silver Eagle I give you in charge. And pray them, they will enter. Oh Friends, your faces glad me. This will be Our last, I hope, of consultation. So, it had needs. I, and our means: whereof one wounds me most, That was the fairest. Piso is dead, in Spain. Therefore, what we 'intend We must be swift in. Take your seats, and hear. I have, already, sent Septimius Into the Picene territory; and Julius, To raise force, for us, in Apulia: Manlius at Fesulae is (by this time) up, With the old needy troops, that followed Sulla; And all do but expect, when we will give The blow at home. Behold this silver Eagle, Was Marius standard, in the Cimbrian war, Fatal to Room; and, as our Augurs tell me, Shall still be so: For which one ominous cause, I have kept it safe, and done it sacred rites, As to a Godhead; in a Chapel built Of purpose to it. Pledge then all your hands, To follow it, with vows of death, and ruin, Struck silently, and home. So waters speak When they run deepest. Now's the time, this year, The twenti'th, from the firing of the Capitol, As fatal too, to Room, by all predictions; And, in wh changed, honoured Lentulus must rise A King, if he pursue it. No nor we envious. We have enough beside, all Gallia, Belgia, Greece Spain, and Africa. Noblest Romans, Me thinks our looks, are not so quick and high, As they were wont. We have No anger in our eyes no storm, no lightning: Our hate is spent, and fumed away in vapor, Before our hands be'at work. I can accuse Not any one, but all of slackness. Would? 'Tis sharply answered, Caius, I think the Saturnals. They are not now far off, it's not a month. We have not laid All things so safe, and ready. Nay, now your re son Forsakes you, Caius. Think, but what commodity That time will minister; the Cities custom Of being, then, I mirth, and feast. You must lend him his way. Think, for the order, And process of it. Were it embers There will be wealth enough, raked out of them, To spring a new: It must be fire, or nothing. I would have you, Longinus, and Statilius, To take the charge of the firing, which must be, At a sign given with a trumpet, done In twelve chief places of the City, at once. The flax, and sulphur, are already laid In, at Cethegus house. So are the weapons. Gabinius, you, with other force, shall stop The pipes, and conduits: And kill those that come For water. All will have Employment, fear not: Ply the execution. I will be At hand, with the army, to meet those that escape. And Lentulus, begirt you Pompey is house, To seize his sons alive: for they are they Must make our peace with him. All else cut off, As Tarqu did the Poppey heads; or mowers A field of thistles; or else, up, as ploughs Do barren lands; and strike together flints, And clods; th'ungratefull Senate, and the People: Till no rage, gone before, or coming after May weigh with yours, though Horror leapt her self Into the scale: but, in your violent acts, The fallen of torrents, and the noise of tempests, The boiling of Charybdis, the Seas wildness The eating force of flames, and wings of winds, Be all outwrought, by your transcendent furies. It had be done, ere this, had I be Consul; We'had had no stop, n let. The'other ha won him lost, that Cicero Was born to be my opposition, And stands in all our ways. Would it were done. Brave, only Roman, Whose soul might be the world's soul, were that dying; Refuse not, yet, the aids of these your friends: And under the pretext of clientele And visitation, with the morning Hail, Will be admitted. Follow him, Vargunteius, and persuade, The morning is the fittest time. Entreat, and conjure him. In all our names. You say well, Lady. Your banquet stays. Aurelia take her in. Where's Full In? My sweet Madam, Will you be gone? I do wish You had all your health, sweet Lady. Lentulus, You'll do her service. Here he comes himself. If he be woe thy any good men voice, That good man fit down, by him: Cato will not. Let it be. Why, Consul, If in the Commonwealth, there be two bodies, One lean, weak, rotten, and that hath a head; The other strong, and healthful, but hath none: If I do give it one, do I offend? Restore your selves, unto your temper, Father's; And, without perturbation, hear me speak: Remember who I am, and of what place, What petty fellow this is, that opposes; One, that hath exercised his eloquence, S ill to the bane of the Nobility: A boasting, insolent tongue-man. No more then unto Tantalus, or Tityus. Well, there's, now, No time of calling back, or standing still. Friends, be your selves; keep the same Roman hearts, And ready minds, you' had yesternight: Prepare To execute, what we resolved. And let not Labour, or danger, or discovery fright you. I'll to the army: you (the while) mature Things, here, at home. Draw to you any aides, That you think fit, of men of all conditions, Or any Fortune's, that may help a war. I'll bleed a life, or win and Empire for you. Within these few days, look to see my ensigns, Here, at the walls: Be you but firm within. Mean time, to draw and envy on the Consul, And give a less suspicion of our course, Let it be given out, here in the City, That I am gone, and innocent man, to exile, Into Massilia, willing to give way To fortune, and the times; being unable To stand so great a faction, without troubling The Commonwealth: whose peace I rather seek, Then all the glory of contention, Or the support of mine own innocence. Farewell the noble Lentulus, Longinus, Curius, the rest; and thou, my better Genius, The brave Cethegus: when we meet again, Wee'll sacrifice to Liberty. I am all your Creature. Peace, that too bold Cethegus. Impudent head? Stick it into his throat; were I the Consul, Ill make thee eat the mischief, thou haft vented. Dost thou ask After a Law, that wouldst have broke all laws, Of Nature, Manhood, Conscience, and Religion. No, pernicious Cimber, " Inquiring after good, do's not belong " Unto a wicked person. Insolent Monster! It were best, the Praetors Carried them to their houses, and delivered them. Caesar, 'twas piously, and timely urged. I, and the title of honest men, to crown them Yes, yes, some money, thou needest it. It'll keep thee honest: Want made thee a knave. But what do we decree unto the Consul, Whose virtue, counsel, watchfulness, and wisdom, Hath freed the Commonwealth, and without tumult, Slaughter, or blood, or scarce raising a force, Rescued us all out of the jaws of Fate? The Commonwealth owes him a civic gyrland. He is the only Father of his Country. Excuse it not. This it is. You here dispute, on kinds of punishment, And stand consulting, what you should decree against those, of whom, you rather should beware. This mischief is not Like those common facts, Which, when they are done, the laws may prosequute. But this, if you provide not, ere it happen, When it is happened, will not wait your judgement. Good Caius Caesar, here, hath very well, And subtly discoursed of life, and death, As if he thought those things, a pretty fable, That are delivered us of Hell, and Furies, Or of the diverse way, that ill men go From good, to filthy, dark, and ugly places. And therefore he would have these live; and long too; But far from Room, and in the small free Towns, Lest, here, they might have rescue: As if Men, Fit for such acts, were only in the City, And not throughout all Italy? or that boldness Could not do more, where it found least resistance? 'Tis a vain Counsel, if he think them dangerous. Which, if he do not, but that he alone In so great fear of all men, stand unfrighted, He gium S me cause, and you, more to fear him. I am plain, Father's. Here you look about, One at another, doubting what to do: With faces, as you trusted to the Gods, That still have saved you; and they can do't: But They are not wishings, or base womanish prayers Can draw their aides: but vigilance, counsel, Actium: Which they will be ashamed to forsake 'Tis sloth they hate, and cowardice. Here you have The Traitors in your houses, yet you stand Fearing what to do with them; Let them lose, And send them hence with arms too; that your Mercy May turn your misery, as soon as't can. Oh, but, they, are great men, and have offended But through ambition. We would spare their honour: I, if themselves had spared it, or their fame, Or modesty, or either God, or Man: Then I would spare them. But, as things now stand, Father's, to spare these men, were to commit A greater wickedness, then you would revenge. If there had be but time, and place for you, To have repaired this fault, you should have made it; It should have be your punishment, to'haue felt Your tardy error: But necessity, Now, bids me say let them not live and hour, If you mean Room should live a day. I have done. No matter. What be those? From whom? let'hem be read, in open Senate; Father's, they come from the Conspirators. I crave to have them read, for the Republic. Hold thee drunkard. Consul. Go forth, and confidently. So, Marcus Tullius, thou mayest now stand up, And call it happy Room, thou being Consul. Great Parent of thy Country, go, and let The Old men of the City, ere they die, Kiss thee; the Matrons dwell about thy neck; The Youths, and Maids lay up, against they are old What kind of man thou Wertenberg, to tell their Nephews, When, such a year, they read, within our Fasti, Thy Consulship. Who's this? Petreius? No, happy Consul, here; let all ears take The benefit of this tale. If he had voice, To spread unto the Poles, and strike it through The Centre, to the Antipodes; It would ask it. A brave bade death. Had this been honest now, and for his Country, As 'twas against it, who had ere fallen greater? He did the more. It did not please the Gods; who'instruct the people. And their unquestioned pleasures must be served. They know what's fitter for us, then our selves; And 'twere impiety, to think against them. I shall still Study to make them such to Room, and Heaven. I would withdraw with you, a little, Julius. I apprehend you. No, when they shall judge Honours convenient for me, I shall have them, With a full hand: I know it. In mean time, They are no less partly of the Commonwealth, That do obey, then those, that do command. By whom? So may not I. Where it concerns himself, Who's angry at a slander, makes it true. Did I appear so tame, as this man thinks me? Looked I so poor, so dead? So Like that nothing, Which he calls virtuous? Oh my breast, break quickly; And show my friends my in-parts, least they think I have betrayed them. I am The scorn of bondmen; who are next to beasts. What can I worse pronounce my self, that's fitter? The Owl of Room, whom Boys, and Girls will hout; That were I set up, for that wooden God, That keeps our gardens, could not fright the crows, Or the least Bird from muting on my head. To what a shadow, am I melted! Struck through, Like air, and feel it not. My wounds Close faster, then they're made. I grow mad at my patience. It is a Visor that hath poisoned me. Would it had burned me up, and I died inward: My heart first turned to ashes. Yes, my Cethegus. Who would not fallen with all the world about him? What should we do? Oh noble Caius! How thou dost utter me, brave soul, that may not, At all times, show such as I am; but bend Unto occasion? Lentulus, this man, If all our fire were out, would fetch down new, Out of the hand of Jove; and rivet him To Caucasus, should he but frown: and let His own gaunt Eagle fly at him, to tire. Now, Marcus Cato, our new Consuls spy, What is your sour austerity sent to explore. Whose? Cato's? shall he judge me? The fire you speak of If any flame of it approach my Fortune's, I'll quench it, not with water, but with ruin. Bear it to the Consul. Which his Praetorship, And some small flattery of the Senate more, Will make him to forget. What face is this, the Senate here puts on, Against me, Father's! Give my modesty Leave, to demand the cause of so much strangeness. Cato, you are too zealous for him. Nay then, I easily fear, my joust defence Will come too late, to so much prejudice. Yet, let the world forsake me, My innocence must not. If and Oration, or high language, Father's, Could make me guilty, here is one, hath done it: He has strove to aemulate this morning's thunder, With his prodigious rhetoric. But I hope, This Senate is more graven, then to give credit Rashly to all he vomits, against a man Of your own Order, a Patrician; And one, whose ancestors have more deserved Of Room, then this men eloquence could utter, Turned the best way, as still, it is the worst. How he? were I that enemy, That he would make me: Ill not wish the State More wretched, then to need his preservation. What do you make him, Cato, such a Hercules? And Atlas? A poor petty In- mate. He save the State? A Burgess son of Arpinum. The Gods would rather twenty Rome's should perish, Then have that contumely stuck upon them, That he should share with them, in the preserving A shed, or signpost. They would be run themselves, again, and lost In the first, rude, and indigested heap; Ere such a wretched name, as Cicero, Should found with theirs. Do you all back him? are you silent too? Well, I will leave you Father's; I will go. But—my fine dainty speaker.— See Father's, laugh you not? who threatened him? In vain thou dost conceive, ambitious Orator, Hope of so brave a death, as by this hand. There is no title, that this flattering Senate, Nor honour, the base multitude can give thee, Shall make thee worthy Catiline anger. Or, when it shall, I'll look thee dead. In am gone, to banishment, to please you Father's. Thrust headlong forth? Since, I am thus put out, and made a.— I will not burn Without my funeral pile. I will have matter, timber. It shall be in The common fire, rather then mine own. For fallen I will with all, ere fallen alone. IT is decreed. Nor shall thy Fate, o Room, Resist my vow. Though Hills were set on Hills, And Seas met Seas, to Guard thee; I would through: I, plough up rocks, steep as the Alps, in dust; And laue the Tyrrhene waters, into clouds; But I would reach thy head, thy head, proud City: The ills, that I have done, cannot be safe But by attempting greater; and I feel A spirit, within me, chides my sluggish hands. And says, they have been innocent too long. Was I a Man, bred great, as Room her self? One, formed for all her honours, all her glories? Equal to all her titles? That could stand Close up, with Atlas; and sustain her name As strong, as he does Heaven? And, was I, Of all her brood, marked out for the repulse By her no voice, when I stood Candidate, To be Commander in the Ponticke war? I will, hereafter, call her Stepdame, ever. If she can lose her nature, I can lose My piety; and in her stony entrails Dig me a seat: where, I will live, again, The labour of her womb, and be a burden Weightier then all the Prodigies, and Monsters, That she hath teemed with, since she first knew Mars. WHo's there? WHat ministers men must, for practice, use! The rash, the ambitious, needy, desperate, Foolish, and wretched, even the dregs of Mankind, To whores, and women! Still, it must be so. Each have their proper place; and, in their rooms. They are the best. Grooms fittest kindle fires Slaves carry burdens, Butchers are for slaughters, Apothecaries, Butlers, Cooks for poisons; As these for me: Dull, stupid Lentulus, My stale, with whom I stalk; the rash Cethegus, My executioner; and at Longinus, Statilius, Curius, Ceparius, Cimber. My laborers, pioneers, and incendiaries; With these domestic traitors, bosom thieves, Whom custom hath called Wives; the readiest helps, To strangle headstrong Husbands; rob the easy; And lend the moneys, on returns of lust. Shall Catiline not do, now, with these aides, So sought, so sorted, something shall be called Their labour, but his profit? and make Caesar Repent his venturing counsels, to a spirit, So much his Lord in mischief? when all these Shall, Like the Brothers sprung of Dragons teeth Ruin each other; and he fallen amongst them: With Crassus, Pompey, or who else appears, But Like, or near a great one. May my brain Resolve to water, and my blood turn phlegm, My hands, drop off, unworthy of my sword, And that be inspired, of it self, to rip My breast, for my lost entrails; when I leave A soul, that will not serve. And who will, are The same with slaves; such clay I dare not fear. The cruelty, I mean to act, I wish Should be called mine, and tarry in my name; Whilst after Ages do toil out themselves In thinking for the Like, but do it less: And, were the power of all the fiends let lose, With Fate to boot, it should be, still, example. When, what the Gaul, or More could not effect, Nor aemulous Carthage, with their length of spite, Shall be the work of one, and that my night. I Thank your vigilance. Where's my brother, Quintus? Call all my servants up. Tell noble Curius, And say it to your self, you are my Sau S; But that's too little for you, you are Rome's: What could I then, hope less? Oh brother! now, The engines I told you of, are working; The machine 'gin's to move. Where are your weapons? Arm all my household presently. And charge The Porter, he let no man in, till day. Sir: she brooks not me. Believe me rather, and your self, now, of me; It is a kind of slander, to trust rumour. May that, yet, be done sooner?