ANTONY

Oh false ambitious pride in young and old: Hark how the heavens our follies hath controlled. If not religious fear, what may repress These wicked passion, wretched Citizens. Oh Room, poor Room, unmeet for these misdeeds, I see contempt of heavens will breed a cross: Sweet Cynna govern rage with reverence. Oh fellow Citizens, be more advised. Octavius these are scourges for our sins, These are but ministers to heap our plagues: These mutinies are gentle means and ways, Whereby the heavens our heavy errors charms, Then with content and humbled eyes, behold The crystal shining globe of glorious Jove: And since we perish through our own misdeeds, Go let us flourish in our fruitful prayers. My Lord, may courage wait on conquered men? Then to the downfall of my happiness, Then to the ruin of this City Room. But if mine inward ruth were laid in sighed, My streams of tears should drown my foes despite. Where state's oppressed by cruel tyrants be, Old Anthony, there is no place for thee. Hark, by this thundering noise of threatening drums, Marius with all his faction hither comes. I wonder why my peasant stays so long, And with my wonder hastes on my woe, And with my woe I am assailed with fear, And by my fear await with faintful breath The final perjod of my pains by death. Betrayed at last by witless oversight, Now Anthony, prepare thy self to die: Lo where the monstrous ministers of wrath Menace thy murder with their naked swords. Immortal powers that know the painful cares, That weight upon my poor distressed heart, Oh bend your brows and levill all your looks Of dreadful awe upon these daring men. And thou sweet niece of Atlas on whose lips And tender tongue, the pliant Muses fit, Let gentle course of sweet aspiring speech, Let honey flowing terms of weary woe, Let fruitful figures and delightful lines Enforce a spring of pity from their eyes, Amaze the murthrous passion of their minds, That they may favour woeful Anthony. O countrymen what shall become of Room, When reverend duty droops through disgrace? O Countrymen, what shall become of Room, When woeful nature widow of her joys, Weeps on our walls to see her laws depressed? O Romans hath not Anthony's discourse, Sealed up the Mouths of false seditious men, Assoiled the doubts and quaint controls of pour; Releeud the mournful matron with his pleasant? And will you seek to murder Anthony? The Lions brook with kindness their relief, The sheep reward the shepherd with their fleece: Yet Romans seek to murder Anthony. What envious eyes reflecting nought but rage, What barbarous heart refreshed with nought but blood, That rends not to behold the senseless trees In doaly season drooping without leaves? The shepherd sighs upon the barrain hills To see his bleating lambs with faintful looks. Behold the valleys robbed of springing flowers, That whilom wont to yield them yearly food. Even meanest things exchanged from former state, The virtuous mind with some remorse does mate. Can then your eyes with thundering threats of rage, Cast furious gleams of anger upon age? Can then your hearts with furies mount so High, As they should harm the Roman Anthony? I far more kind than senseless tree have le to A kindly ap to our declining , And Like a careful shepherd have foreseen The heavy dangers of this City Room, And made the citizens the happy flock Whom I have fed with counsels and advice, But now those locks that for their reverend white, Surpass the down on Aesculapius chin: But now that tongue whose terms and fluent style For number passed the hosts of heavenly fires: But now that head within whose brains The Queen of flowering eloquence did w h: These locks, this tongue, this head, the life and all, To please a tyrant traitorously must fallen. O blissful pain, now Anthony must die, Which served and loud Room and her Empery. moritur Stay Scylla, hear Anthony breath forth, The pleading plaints of sad declining Room. For Scillas hast, Oh whither wilt thou fly? Tell me my Scylla what dost thou take in hand? What wars are these thou stirrest up in Room? What fire is this is kindled by thy wrath! A fire that must be quenched by Romans blood, A war that will confound our Empery, And last and Act of fowl impiety. Brutus beasts nill break the mutual law of love, And birds affection will not violate, The senseless trees have concord amongst themselves, And stones agree in links of amity, If they my Scylla brook not to have jar, What then are men that gainst themselves do war Thoult say my Scylla honour stures thee up: Is't honour to infringe the laws of Room? Thoult say perhaps the titles thou hast won, It were dishonour for thee to forgo: Oh, is there any height above the high, Or any better than the best of all? Art thou not Consul? Art thou not Lord of Room? What greater Titles should our Scylla have? But thou wilt hence, thou wilt fight with Marius The man, the Senate, I and Room hath chosen. Think this before, thou never liftst aloft, And lettest fallen thy warlike hand adown, But thou dost raze and wound thy City Room: And look how many slaughtered souls he slain, Under thy Ensigns, and thy conquering Lance, so many murders makest thou of thy self. Unhappy Room and Romans thrice accursed, That oft with triumphs sild your City walls, With kings and conquering Rulers of the world, Now to eclipse in top of all thy pride, Through civil discords and domestic broils: Oh Romans weep the tears of sad lament, And rend your sacred Robes at this exchange, For Fortune makes our Room a banding ball, Tossed from her hand to take the greater fallen. But seek not Scylla in this quiet state, To work revenge upon and aged man, A senator, a sovereign of this town. My Scylla scarce those tears are dried up, That Roman Matrons wept to see this war: Along the holy streets the hideous groans, Of murdered men infect the weeping air: Thy foes are led not overtaken yet, And doubtful is the hazard of this war: Yea doubtful is the hazard of this war, For now our Legions draw their wasteful swords, To murder whom? Even Roman Citizens. To conquer whom? Even Roman Citizens. Then if that Scylla love these Citizens, If care of Room, if threat of foreign foes, If fruitful counsels of thy forward friends May take effect, go fortunate and driven, The king of Pontus out of Asia, Least while we dream on civil mutinies, Our wary foes assail our City walls. We wish both Scillas weal and honour too Why then the Senates name (whose reverence Hath blazed our virtues amid the Western I'll) Must be obseurde by Cynnas forced pour. Oh Citizens, are laws of Country left? Is justice banished from this Capitol? Must we poor father's see your trooping bans Enter the sacred Synod of this state. O brutish found presumptions of this age, Room would the mischiefs might obscure my life, So I might counsel Consuls to be wise. Why Countrymen wherein consists this strife? Forsooth the younger Citizens will rule, The old men's heads are dull and addle now: And in elections youth will bear the sway? Oh Cynna, see I not the woeful fruits Of these ambitious stratagems begun, Each flattering tongue that dallieth pretty words, Shall change our Fortune's and our states at once. Had I ten thousand tongues to talk the care, So many eyes to weep their woeful miss, So many pens to write these many wrongs: My tongue your thoughts, my eyes your tears should move, My pen your pains by reasons should approve. I but the milder passion show the For as the leaf does beautify the tree, The pleasant flowers bedeck the painted spring, Even so in men of greatest reach and pour, A mild and piteous thought augments renown Old Anthony did never see my Lord, A swelling shower that did continue long, A climbing tower that did not taste the wind, A wrathful man not wasted with repent, I speak of love my Scylla, and of joy To see how fortune lends a pleasant gale, Unto the spreading sails of thy desires: And loving thee must counsel thee withal, For as by cutting fruitful vines increase, So faithful counsels works a Princes peace. I talk not I to please or him or thee, But what I speak, I think and practice too: It better Scylla learned to mend in Room, Than Marius come to tyrannise in Room. Does Cynna Like to interrupt me then?