aught beside:
_Pompey_ was neuer wont his head to hide 80
Flie where thou wilt, thou bearst about thee smart,
Shame at thy heeles and greefe lies at thy heart.
_Tit._ But see _Titinius_ where two warriers stand,
Casting their eyes downe to the cheareles earthe:
Alasse to soone I know them for to bee
_Pompey_ and _Brutus_, who like _Aiax_ stand,
When as forsooke of Fortune mong'st his foes,
Greife stopt his breath nor could he speake his woes,
_Pom._ Accursed _Pompey_, loe thou art descried.
But stay; they are thy friends that thou behouldest, 90
O rather had I now haue met my foes:
Whose daggers poynts might straight haue piercd my woes
Then thus to haue my friends behold my shame.
Reproch is death to him that liu'd in Fame,
_Bru._ _Brutus_ Cast vp thy discontented looke:
And see two Princes thy two noble friends,
Who though it greeues me that I thus them see,
Yet ioy I to bee seene they liuing be. _He speakes vnto them._
Let not the change of this succesles fight,
(O noble Lords,) dismay these daunteles mindes, 100
Which the faire vertue not blind chance doth rule,
_Caesar_ not vs subdued hath, but _Rome_,
And in that fight twas best be ouerthrowne.
Thinke that the Conqueror hath won but smale,
Whose victory is but his Countries fal,
_Pom._ O Noble _Brutus_, can I liue and see,
My Souldiars dead, my friends lie slaine in field,
My hopes cast downe, mine Honors ouerthrowne,
My Country subiect to a Tirants rule,
My foe triumphing and my selfe forlorne. 110
Oh had I perished in that prosperous warre
Euen in mine Honors height, that happy day,
When _Mithridates_ fall did rayse my fame:
Then had I gonne with Honor to my graue.
But _Pompey_ was by envious heauens reseru'd,
Captiue to followe _Caesars_ Chariot wheeles
Riding in triumph to the Capitol:
And _Rome_ oft grac'd with Trophies of my fame,
Shall now resound the blemish of my name.
_Bru._ Oh what disgrace can taunt this worthinesse, 120
Of which remaine such liuing monuments
Ingrauen in the eyes and hearts of men.
Although the oppression of distressed _Rome_
And our owne ouerthrow, might well drawe forth,
Distilling teares from faynting cowards eyes,
Yet should no weake effem