LECTORIUS

Why how now Marius, will you mate us thus; That with content adventure for your love? Why Noble youth resolve your self on this, That son and father both have friends in Room That seek old Marius rest and your relief. It should be Cinnas slave or else I err, For in his forehead I behold the scar, Wherewith he marks still his barbarous swains. Sirrah art thou of Room? Without perhaps say Sirrah is it so? To sea my Lord, seek your warlike Sire, Send back this peasant with your full pretence, And think already that our pains have end, Since Cynna with his followers is your friend. Fie Marius, are you discontented still, When as occasion favoureth your desire? Are not these noble Romans come from Room? Hath not the state recalled your father home? My Lord, take heart, no doubt this stormy slawe That Neptune sent to cast us on this shore. Shall end these discontentments at the last. I have noble Consul. O Romans, Marius sleeps among the dead, And Room laments the lose of such a friend. My Lord, here in the next adjoining port, Our ships are rigged and ready for to sail. What, can your Grace indu e these cursed scoffs! Though swollen with sighs my heart for sorrow burst, And tongue with tears and plaints be choked up, Yet will I furrow forth with forced breath A speedy passage to my pensive speech. Our Consul Marius, worthy soldiers, Of late within a pleasant plot of ground, Sat down for pleasure ere a crystal spring, Accompanied with many Lords of Room: Bright was the day, and on the spreading trees The frolic citizens of forest lung Their lays and merry notes on perching boughs: When suddenly appeared in the East, Seven mighty Eagles with their talents fierce, Who waving oft about our Consuls head, At last with hideous cry did S are away. When suddenly old Marius all aghast, With reverent smile determinde with a sighs The doubtful silence of the standers by. Romans (said he) old Marius now must die. These seven fair Eagles, birds of mighty Jove, That at my birth day on my cradle sat, Now at my last day arm me to my death: And lo I feel the deadly pangs approach. What should I more? in brief, with many prayers For Room, his son, his goods and lands disposed, Our worthy Consul to our wonder died. The City is amazed, for Scylla hasts To enter Room with fury, sword, and fire. Go, place that head upon the Capitol, And to your wards, for dangers are at hand. Exit.