NUNTIUS

Well then, the strangest thing relate I will, That ever eye of mortal man hath seen. I (as you know) even from my youth, have still Attended on the person of the Queen. And ever in all Fortune's good or ill, With her as one of chiefest trust have been. And now in these so great extremities, That ever could to Majesty befall, I did my best in what I could devise, And left her not, till now she left us all. Yea, she is gone, and hath deceived him to. No, not to India, but to find her son. Her state? nay rather honour, and her Lover. Well, him she hath, w him she does remain. You guess aright, and I will tell you how. When ̄ she perceived all hope was clean bereft her, That Caesar meant to send her straight away, And saw no means of reconcilement left her, Work what she could, she could not work to stay. She calls me to her, and she thus began. Oh thou whose trust hath ever been the same And one in all my Fortune's, faithful man, Alone content t'attend disgrace and shame. Thou, whom the fearful ruin of my fallen, Never deterred to leave calamity: As did those other smooth state-pleasers all, Who followed but my fortune, and not me. 'Tis thou must do a service for thy Queen, Wherein thy faith and skill must do their best: Thy honest care and duty shall be seen Performing this, more then in all the rest. For all what thou hast done, may die with thee, Although 'tis pity that such faith should die. But this shall evermore remembered be, A rare example to posterity. And look how long as Cleopatra shall In after ages live in memory, So long shall thy clear fame endure withal, And therefore thou must not my suit deny; Nor contradict my will. For what I will I am resolved: and this 'tis thou must do me: Go find me out with all thy art and skill To Aspicqs, and convey them close unto me. I have a work to do with them in hand, Inquire not what, for thou shalt soon see what, If the heavens do not my designs withstand, But do thy charge, and let me shift with that. Being thus conjured, by her whom I'had vowed My true perpetual service, forth I went, Devising how my close attempt to shroud, So that there might no art my art prevent. And so disguised in habit as you see, Having fou ̄ and out the thing for which I went, I soon returned again, and brought with me The Aspicqs, in a basket closely penned. Which I had filled with figs, and leaves upon. And coming to the Guard that kept the door, What hast thou there? said they, and looked thereon. Seeing the figgs, they deemed of nothing more, But said, they were the fairest they had seen. Taste some, said I, for they are good and pleasant. No, no, said they, go bear them to thy Queen. Thinking me some poor man y to brought a Present. Well, in I went, where brighter then the Sun, Glittering in all her pompous rich array, Great Cleopatra sat; as if she'had won Caesar and all the world beside this day. Even as she was when on thy crystal streams, Oh CYDNOS she did show what earth could show. When Asia all amazed in wonder, deems VENUS from heaven was come on earth below. Even as she went at first to meet her Love, So goes she now at last again to find him. But that first, did her greatness only prove. This last her love, that could not live behind him. Yet as she sat, the doubt of my good speed, Detracts much from the sweetness of her look: Cheer-marrer Care, did then such passion breed, That made her eye bewray the care she took. But she no sooner sees me in the place, But straight her sorrow-clouded brow she clears, Lightning a smile from out a stormy face, Which all her tempest-beaten senses cheers. Look how a strayed perplexed traveler, When chased by thiefs, and even at point of taking, Descrying suddenly some town not far, Or some unlooked-for aid to himward making; Cheers up his tired spirits, thrusts forth his strength To meet that good, that comes in so good hour: Such was her joy, perceiving now at length, Her honour was escape so proud a pour. Forth from her seat she hastes to meet the present, And as one overjoyed, she caught it straight. And with a smiling cheer in Actium pleasant, Looking among the figs, finds the deceit. And seeing there the ugly venomous beast, Nothing dismayed, she stays and views it well. At length, th'extreamest of her passion ceased, When she began with words her joy to tell. Oh rarest Beast (say she) that Afric breeds, How dearly welcome art thou unto me? The fairest creature that fair Nylus feeds Me thinks I see, in now beholding thee. What though the ever-erring world does deem That angered Nature framed thee but in spite: Little they know what they so light esteem, That never learned the wonder of thy might. Better then Death, Deaths office thou dischargest, That with one gentle touch canst free our breath: And in a pleasing sleep our soul inlargest, Making our selves not privy to our death. If Nature erred, o then how happy error, Thinking to make thee worst, she made thee best: Sith thou best freest us from our lives worst terror, In sweetly bringing souls to quiet rest. When that inexorable Monster Death That follows Fortune, flies the poor distressed, Tortures our bodies ere he takes our breath, And loads with pains th'already weak oppressed. How oft have I begged, prayed, entreated him To take my life, and yet could never get him? And when he comes, he comes so ugly grim, That who is he (if he could choose) would let him? Therefore come thou, of wonders wonder chief, That open canst with such and easy key The door of life, come gentle cunning thief, That from our selves so stealest our selves away. Well did our Priests discern something divine Shadowed in thee, and therefore first they did Offerings and worships endue to thee assign, In whom they found such mysteries were hid. Comparing thy sweet motion to the Sun, That movest without the instruments that move: And never waxing old, but always one, Dost sure thy strange divinity approve. And therefore to, the rather unto thee In zeal I make the offering of my blood, Calamity confirming now in me A sure belief that piety makes good. Which happy men neglect, or hold ambiguous, And only the afflicted are religious. And here I sacrifice these arms to Death, That Lust late dedicated to Delights: Offling up for my last, this last of breath, The compliment of my loves dearest rites. With that she bares her arm, and offer makes To touch her death, yet at the touch withdraws, And seeming more to speak, occasion takes, Willing to die, and willing to to pause. Look how a Mother at her sons departing For some far voyage, bent to get him fame, Does entertain him with and idle parling. And still does speak, and still speaks but the same; Now bids farewell, and now recalls him back, Tells what was told, and bids again farewell, And yet again recalls; for still does lack Something that love would feign and cannot tell. Pleased he should go, yet cannot let him go. So she, although she knew there was no way But this, yet this she could not handle so But she must show that life desired delay. Fain would she entertain the time as now, And now would feign y to Death would seize upon ̄ her. While I might see presented in her brow, The doubtful combat tried betwixt Life and Honour. Life bringing Legions of fresh Hope's with her, Armed with the propose of Time, which yields we say Comfort and Help, to such as do refer All unto him, and can admit delay. But Honour scorning Life, lo forth leads he Bright Immortality in shining armour: Thorough the rays of whose clear glory, she Might see Life's baseness, how much it might harm her. Beside, she saw whole Armies of Reproaches, And base Disgraces, Furies fearful sad, Marching with Life, and Shame that still incroches Upon her face, in bloody colours clad. Which representments seeing worse then death She deemed to yield to Life, and therefore chosen To render all to Honour, heart and breath; And that with speed, least that her inward foes False flesh and blood, joining with life and hope, Should mutiny againsther resolution. And to the end she would not give them scope, She presently proceeds to execution. And sharply blaming of her rebel powers, False flesh, (say she,) and what dost thou continued ̄ spire With Caesar to, as thou Wertenberg none of ours, To work my shame, and hinder my desire? Wilt thou retain in closure of thy veins, That enemy Base life, to let my good? No, know there is a greater pour constrains Then can be counterchecked with fearful blood. For to the mind that's great, nothing seems great. And seeing death to be the last of woes, And life lasting disgrace, which I shall get, What do I loose, that have but life to loose? This having said, strengthened in her own heart, And union of her self senses in one Charging together, she performs that partly That hath so great a partly of glory won. And so receives the deadly poisoning touch. That touch that tried the gold of her love pure, And hath confirmed her honour to be such, As must a wonder to all world's endure. Now not and yielding shrink or touch of fear. Consented to bewray least sense of pain: But still in one same sweet unaltered cheer, Her honour did her dying thoughts retain. Well, now this work is done (says she,) here ends This act of life, that partly of Fates assigned me: What glory or disgrace here this world lends, Both have I had, and both I leave behind me. And now o Earth, the Theater where I Have acted this, witness I die unforced. Witness my soul parts free to Anthony, And now proud Tyrant Caesar do thy worst. This said, she stays, and makes a sudden pause, As it to feel whither the poison wrought: Or rather else the working might be cause That made her stay, as likewise may be thought. For in that instant I might well perceive, The drowsy humour in her falling brow: And how each pour, each partly oppressed did leave Their former office, and did senseless grow. Look how a new-pluckt branch against the Sun, Declines his fading leaves in feeble sort, So her disjoined jointures as undone. Let fallen her weak dissolved limbs support. Yet lo that face the wonder of her life, Retains in death, a grace that graceth death, Couller so lively, cheer so lovely rife, That none would think such beauty could want breath. And in that cheer, th'impression of a smile Did seem to show she scorned Death and Caesar, As glorying that she could them both beguile, And telling death how much her death did please her. Wonder it was to see how soon she went, She went with such a will, and did so haste it, That sure I think she did her pain prevent, Foregoing pain, or staying not to taste it. And senseless, in her sinking down she wries The Diadem which on her head she wore, Which Charmion (poor weak feeble maid) espies, And hastes to right it as it was before. For Eras now was dead, and Charmion too Even at the point, for both would imitate Their Mistress glory, striving Like to do. But Charmion would in this exceed her mate, For she would have this honour to be last, That should adorn that head that must be seen To wear a Crown in death, that life held fast, That all the world might know she died a Queen. And as she stood setting if fitly on, Lo in rush Caesars Messengers in haste, Thinking to have prevented what was done, But yet they came too late, for all was passed. For there they found stretched on a bed of gold, Dead Cleopatra, and that proudly dead, In all the rich attire procure she could, And dying Charmion trimming of her head. And Eras at her feet, dead in Like case. Charmion, is this well done? said one of them. Yea, well said she, and her that from the raze Of so great Kings descends, does best become. And with that word, yields too her faithful breath, To pass th'assurance of her love with death. By Letters which before to him she sent. For when she had procured this means to die, She writes, and earnestly intreats, she might Be buried in one Tomb with Anthony. Whereby then Caesar guessed all went not right. And forthwith sends, yet ere the message came She was dispatched, he crossed in his intent, Her providence had ordered so the same That she was sure none should her plot prevent.