erall,
Or melts in womanish compassion:
To see _Pharsalias_ fieldes to change their hewe 270
And siluer streames be turn'd to lakes of blood?
Why _Caesar_ oft hath sacrific'd in _France_,
Millions of Soules, to _Plutoes_ grisly dames:
And made the changed coloured _Rhene_ to blush,
To beare his bloody burthen to the sea.
And when as thou in mayden _Albion_ shore
The _Romaine_, AEgle brauely didst aduance,
No hand payd greater tribute vnto death,
No heart with more couragious Noble fire
And hope, did burne with glorious great intent. 280
And now shall passion base that Noble minde,
And weake euents that courrage ouercome?
Let _Pompey_ proud, and _Pompeys_ Complices
Die on our swords, that did enuie our liues,
Let pale _Tysiphone_ be cloyd with bloud:
And snaky furies quench their longing thirst,
And _Caesar_ liue to glory in their end.
_Caes._ They say when as the younger _Affrican_,
Beheld the mighty Carthage wofull fall:
And sawe her stately Towers to smoke from farre, 290
He wept, and princely teares ran downe his cheekes,
Let pity then and true compassion,
Moue vs to rue no traterous _Carthage_ fall,
No barbarous periurd enemies decay,
But _Rome_ our natiue Country, haples _Rome_,
Whose bowels to vngently we haue peerc'd,
Faire pride of _Europe_, Mistresse of the world,
Cradle of vertues, nurse of true renowne,
Whome _Ioue_ hath plac'd in top of seauen hils:
That thou the lower worldes seauen climes mightst rule. 300
Thee the proud _Parthian_ and the cole-black _Moore_,
The sterne _Tartarian_, borne to manage armes,
Doth feare and tremble at thy Maiesty.
And yet I bred and fostered in thy lappe,
Durst striue to ouerthrowe thy Capitol:
And thy high Turrets lay as low as hell.
_Dolo._ O _Rome_, and haue the powers of Heauen decreed,
When as thy fame did reach vnto the Skie,
And the wide _Ocean_ was thy Empires boundes,
And thou enricht with spoyles of all the world, 310
Was waxen proud with peace and soueraine raigne:
That Ciuill warres should loose what Forraine won,
And peace his ioyes, be turn'd to luckles broyles.
_Lord._ O _Pompey_, cursed cause of ciuill warre,
Which of those hel-borne sterne _Eumenides_:
Inflam'd thy minde with such