2020

_Anth._ Now martiall friends competitors in armes,
You that will follow _Anthony_ to fight,
Whome stately _Rome_ hath oft her Consull seene,
Grac'd with eternall trophes of renowne,
With _Libian_ triumphes and _Iiberian_ spoyles,
Who scorns to haue his honour now distaind,
Or credit blemisht by a Boyes disgrace,
Prepare your dauntles stomakes to the fight,
Where without striking you shall ouer come.
_Octa._ Fellowes in war-faire which haue often serued, 2030
Vnder great _Caesar_ my disceased sier,
And haue return'd the conquerors of the world,
Clad in the Spoyles of all the Orient:
That will not brooke that any _Roman_ Lord,
Should iniure mighty _Iulius Caesars_ sonne,
Recall your wonted vallour and these hearts,
That neuer entertaynd Ignoble thoughts
And make my first warre-faire and fortunate:
_Ant._ Stike vp drums, and let your banners flie,
Thus will we set vpon the enemy. 2040
_Gho._ Cease Drums to strike, and fould your banners vp,
Wake not _Bellona_ with your trumpets Clange,
Nor call vnwilling _Mars_ vnto the field:
See _Romaines_, see my wounds not yet clos'd vp,
The bleeding monuments of _Caesars_ wronges.
Haue you so soone for got my life and death?
My life wherein I reard your fortunes vp.
My death wherein my reared fortune fell,
My life admir'd and wondred at of men?
My death which seem'd vnworthy to the Gods, 2050
My life which heap'd on you rewards and gifts,
My death now begges one gift; a iust reueng.
_Ant._ A Chilly cowld possesseth all my Ioyntes,
And pale wan feare doth cease my fainting heart,
_Octa._ O see how terrible my Fathers lookes?
My haire stands stiffe to see his greisly hue:
Alasse I deare not looke him in the face,
And words do cleaue to my benummed Iawes.
_Gho._ For shame weake _Anthony_ throw thy weapons downe
Sonne sheath thy sword, not now for to be drawne, 2060
_Brutus_ must feele the heauy stroke thereof:
But if that needes you will into the field,
And that warrs enuie pricks your forward hate.
To slacke your fury with each others blood,
Then forward on to your prepared deaths
Let sad _Alecto_ sound her fearefull trump,
_Reueng_ a rise in lothsome sable weedes,
Light-shining Treasons