Certaine small poems lately printed with the tragedie of Philotas. Written by Samuel Daniel.

ACTVS QVINTVS.

Dolabella. Titius.

Dol.

COme tell me Titius eu'ry circumstance How Cleopatra did receiue my newes: Tell eu'ry looke, each gesture, countenance, That she did in my Letters reading vse.

Tit.

I shall my Lord, so farre as I could note, Or my conceit obserue in any wise. It was the time when as she hauing got Leaue to her Deerest dead to sacrifice; And now was issuing out the monument

With odors, incense, garlands in her hand, When I approacht (as one from Caesar sent,) And did her close, thy message t'vnderstand.

She turnes her backe, and with her takes me in, Reades in thy lines thy strange vnlookt for tale: And reades, and smiles, and staies, and doth begin Againe to read, then blusht, and then was pale. And hauing ended with a sigh, refoldes Thy Letter vp: and with a fixed eye, (Which stedfast her imagination holds) She mus'd a while, standing confusedly: At length. Ah friend, saith she) tell thy good Lord, How deere I hold his pittying of my case: That out of his sweete nature can affoord A miserable woman so much grace. Tell him how much my heauy soule doth grieue; Mercilesse Caesar should so deale with me: Pray him that he would all the counsell giue, That might diuert him from such crueltie. As for my loue, say Antony hath all, Say that my hart is gone into the graue With him, in whom it rests and euer shall: I haue it not my selfe, not cannot haue. Yet tell him, he shall more command of me Then any, whosoeuer liuing can. Hee that so friendly shewes himselfe to be A right kinde Roman, and a Gentleman. Although his Nation (fatall vnto me,) Haue had mine age a spoile, my youth a pray, Yet his affection must accepted be, That fauours one distrest in her decay.

Ah. he was worthy then to haue been lou'd, Of Cleopatra whiles her glory lasted; Before she had declining fortune prou'd, Or seen her honour wrackt, her flowre thus blasted. Now there is nothing left her but disgrace, Nothing but her affliction that can moue, Tell Dolabella, one that's in her case. (Poore soule) needs rather pity now then loue. But shortly shall thy Lord heare more of me. And ending so her speech, no longer stai'd, But hasted to the tombe of Antonie, And this was all she did, and all she said.

Dol.

Ah sweete distressed Lady. What hard hart Could chuse but pity thee, and loue thee too? Thy worthines, the state where in thou art Requireth both, and both I vow to doo. Although ambition lets not Caesar see The wrong he doth thy maiesty and sweetnesse. Which makes him now exact so much of thee, To adde vnto himselfe to grace his greatnesse, He knowes thou canst no hurt procure vs now, Sith all thy strength is seizd into our hands: Nor seares he that, but rather labours how He might shew Rome so great a Queene in bands: That our great Ladies (enuying thee so much That stain'd them all, and held them in such wonder,) Might ioy to see thee, and thy fortune such, Thereby extolling him that brought thee vnder, But I will seeke to stay it what I may; I am but one, yet one that Caesar loues, And O if now I could do more then pray,

Then should'st thou know how farre affection moues, But what my powre and prayer may preuaile, Ile ioyne them both, to hinder thy disgrace: And euen this present day I will not faile To doe my best with Caesar in this case.

Tit.

And sir, euen now herselfe hath letters sent. I met her messenger as I came hither, With a dispatch as he to Caesar went, But know not what imports her sending thither. Yet this he told, how Cleopatra late Was come from sacrifice. How richly clad Was seru'd to dinner in most sumptuous state, With all the brauest ornaments she had. How hauing din'd, she writes, and sends away Him strait to Caesar, and commanded than All should depart the Tombe, and none to stay But her two maides, and one Poore countriman.

Dol.

Why then I know she sends t'haue audience now, And meanes t'experience what her state can do: To see it maiestie will make him bow To what affliction could not moue him too. And O, if now she could but bring a view Of that fresh beauty she in youth possest (The argument wherewith she ouerthrew The wit of Iulius Caesar, and the rest,) Then happily Augustus might relent. Whilst powrefull Loue, (farre stronger then ambition) Might worke in him, a minde to be content To condescend vnto her small petition But being as she is, yet doth she merite To be respected for her hauing been,

The wonder of her kinde, of so rare spirit, A glorious Lady, and a mighty Queene. And now, but by a little weakenesse ••alling To do that which perhaps sh'was forst to do: Alas, an errour past, is past recalling, Take away weakenesse, and take women too. But now I go•• to be thy aduocate, Sweete Cleopatra, now ••le vse mine arte. Thy presence will me greatly animate, Thy face will teach my tongue, thy loue my hart.

SCENA SECVNDA.

Nuntius.

AM I ordain'd the carefull Messenger, And sad newes-bringer of the strangest death, Which selfe hand did vpon it selfe inferre, To free a captiue soule from seruile breath? Must I the lamentable wonder shew, Which all the world may grieue and maruell at? The rarest forme of death on earth below, That euer pitty, glory, wonder gat.

Cho.

What newes bringst thou, can Egipt yet yeeld more, Of sorrow than it hath? what can it adde Vnto th'already ouerflowing store Of sad affliction, matter yet more sad? Haue we not seene our worst calamity? Is there behind yet something of distresse Vnknowne? if there be greater misery Relate it, that we do not waile the lesse.

Tell vs what so it be, and tell at first, For sorrow euer longs to heare her worst.

Nu.

Well then, the strangest thing relate I will, That euer eye of mortall man hath seene.

I (as you know) euen from my youth, haue still Attended on the person of the Queene: And euer in all fortunes good or ill, With her as one of chiefest trust haue beene. And now in these so great extremities, That euer could to maiesty be fall, I did my best in what I could deuise, And left her not, till now she left vs all.

Cho.

What is she gone. Hath Caesar forst her so?

Nun.

Yea, she is gone, and hath deceiu'd him too.

Cho.

What, fled to India; to go find her sonne?

Nun.

No, not to India, but to finde her sonne.

Cho.

Why thē there's hope she may her state recouer

Nun.

Her state? nay rather honour, and her Louer.

Cho.

Her Louer? him she cannot haue againe.

Nun.

Wel, him she hath, with him she doth remaine

Cho.

Why thē she's dead Ist so? why speakst not thou

Nun.

You gesse aright, and I will tell you how. When she perceiu'd all hope was cleane bereft, That Caesar meant to send her strait away, And saw no meanes of reconcilement left, Worke what she could, she could not worke to stay: She calls me to her, and she thus began. O thou, whose trust hath euer beene the same, And one in all my fortunes, faithfull man, Alone conten•• t'attend disgrace and shame. Thou, whom the fea••efull ruine of my fall,

Neuer deterr'd to leaue calamitie: As did those others smooth state-pleasers all, Who followed but my fortune, and not me. Tis thou must do a seruice for thy Queene, Wherein thy faith and skill must do their best: Thy honest care and d••uy shal be seene, Performing this, more then in all the rest. For all what thou hast done, may die with thee, Although tis pitty that such faith should die. But this shall euermore remembred be, A rare example to posterity. And looke how long as Cleopatra shall In after ages liue in memory. So long shall thy cleere same endure withall, And therefore thou must not my sute deny Nor contradict my will. For what I will I am resolu'd•• and this now must it be: Go find me out with all thy art and skill Two Aspicks, and conuay them close to me. I haue a worke to do with them in hand, Enquire not what, for thou shalt soone see what, If th'heauens do not my disseigns withstand, But do thy charge, and let me shift with that.

Being thus coniur'd by her t'whom I had vow'd My true perpetuall seruice, forth I went, Deuising how my close attempt to shrowde, So that there might no art my art preuent. And so disguisd in habite as you see, Hauing found out the thing for which I went, I soone return'd againe, and brought with me The Aspicks, in a basket closely pent.

Which I had filld with Figges, and leaues vpon. And comming to the guard that kept the dore, What hast thou there? said they, and lookt thereon. Seeing the figges, they deem'd of nothing more, But said, they were the fayrest they had seene. Taste some, said I, for they are good and pleasant. No, no, said they, go beare them to thy Queene, Thinking me some poore man that brought a present. Well, in I went, wherebrighter then the Sunne, Glittering in all her pompous rich aray, Great Cleopatra sate, as if sh'had wonne Caesar, and all the world beside this day: Euen as she was when on thy cristall streames. Cleere Cydnos she did shew what earth could shew. When Asia all ama'zd in wonder deemes Venus from heauen was come on earth below, Euen as she went at first to meet her Loue, So goes she now at last againe to find him. But that first, did her greatnesse onely proue, This last her loue, that could not liue behind him. Yet as she sate, the doubt of my good speed, Detracts much from the sweetnesse of her looke: Cheere-marrer Care, did then such passions breed, That made her eye bewray the griefe she tooke. But she no sooner sees me in the place, But strait her sorrow-clouded brow she cleeres, Lightning a smile from out a stormie face. Which all her tempest-beaten sences cheeres.

Looke how a strayed perplexed traueller, When chasd by theeues, and euen at point of ••••king, Descrying sodainly some towne not far,

Or some vnlookt for aide to him-warde making; Cheeres vp his tyred sprites, thrusts forth his strength To meete that good, that comes in so good houre: Such was her ioy perceiuing now at length, Her honour was t'escape so proud a power. Forth from her seate she hastes to meete the present, And as one ouer-ioy'd, she caught it strait. And with a smiling cheere in action pleasant, Looking among the figs, findes the deceit. And seeing there the vgly venemous beast, Nothing dismaid, she fayes and views it well, At length th'extreamest of her passion ceast, When she began with words her ioy to tell.

O rarest beast (saith she) that Affrick breeds, How deerely welcome art thou vnto me? The fearest creature that faire Nylus feedes Me thinks I see, in now beholding thee. What though the euer-erring world doth deeme That angred Nature fram'd thee bu•• in spight? Little they know what they of light esteeme, That neuer learn'd the wonder of thy might. Better then Death, Deaths office thou dischargest. That with on•• gentle touch canst free our breath: And in a pleasing sleepe our soule inlargest, Making our selues not priuy to our death, If Nature err'd, O then how happy e••••or, Thinking to make thee worst, she made the best: Sith thou best freest vs from our liues worst terror, In sweetly bringing; soules to quiet rest. When that inexorable Monster Death That follows Fortune, flies the poore distressed,

Tortures our bodies ere he takes our breath, And loads with paines th'already weake oppressed. How oft haue I begg'd praid. intreated him To take my life, which he would neuer do, And when he comes, he coms so vgly grim, Attended on with hidious torments to. Therefore come thou, of wonders wonder chiefe That open canst with such a•• easiekey The doore of life, come gentle cunning thiefe, That from our selues so steal'st our selues away. Well did our Priests discerne somthing diuine Shadow'd in thee, and therefore first they did Offrings and worships due to thee assigne, In whom they found such mysteries were hid. Comparing thy swift motion to the Sunne, That mou'st without the instruments that moue: And neuer waxing old, but alwayes one, Doost therein a diuinity approue. And therefore too, the rather vnto thee In zeale I make the offring of my bloud, Calamity confirming now in me A sure beliefe that piety makes good. Which happy men neglect, or hold ambiguous, And only the afflicted are religious.

And here I sacrifice these armes to Death, That Lust late dedicated to Delights: Offring vp for my last, this last of breath, The complement of my loues dearest rites, With that she bares her arme, and offer makes To touch her death, yet at the touch with drawes, And seeming more to speake, occasion takes,

Willing to die, and willing too to pause. Looke how a mother at her sonnes departing For some farre voyage bent to get him fame, Doth entertaine him with an idle pa••ling And still doth speake, and still speakes but the same; Now bids farewell, and now recalles him backe, Tells what was told, and bids againe farewell, And yet againe recalles; for still doth lacke Something that Loue would faine and cannot tell. Pleas'd 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 shew that life desir'd delay. Faine would she entertaine the time as now. And now would faine that Death would seize vpō her, Whilst I might see presented in her brow, The doubtfull combate tride twixt Life and Honor. Life bringing Legions of fresh hopes with her, Arm'd with the proofe of time, which yeeldes we say Comfort and helpe, to such as doe referre All vnto him, and can admit delay. But Honour scorning Life, loe forth leades hee Cleere Immorralitie arm'd all in flames: Through whose bright shining rayes of glory, she Might see how base was life that her defames. Besides she saw whole armies of reproches, And base Disgraces, Furies fearfull, sad, Marching therewith, and Shame that still incroches Vpon her face, in blushing colours clad. Which representments seeing, farre worse then death Shee deem'd to yeeld to Life, and therefore chose

To render all to Honour, heart and breath: And that with speede, least that her inward foes False flesh and bloud, ioyning with life and hope, Should mutinie against her resolution. And to the end she would not giue them scope, Shee presently proceeds to th'execution. And sharpely blaming of her rebell powres, False flesh (saith she) and what dost thou conspire With Caesar too, as thou wert none of ours, To worke my shame, and hinder my desire? Wilt thou retaine in closure of thy vaines, That enemy base life, to let my good? No, know there is a greater powre constraines Then can be counterchekt with fearefull blood. For to the minde that's great, nothing seemes great•• And seeing death to be the last of woes, And life lasting disgrace, which I shall get, What doe I lose, that haue but life to lose?

This hauing said, strengthned in her owne hart. And vnion of her selfe, sences in one Charging together, she performes that part That hath so great a part of glory wonne, And so receiues the deadly poys'ning tuch; That touch that tride the gold of her loue, pure, And hath confirm'd her honour to be such, As must a wonder to all worlds endure. Now not an yeelding shrinke or touch of feare, Consented to bewray least sence of paine: But still in one same sweete vnalired cheere, Her honour did her dying thoughts retaine.

Well, now this worke is done (saith she) heere ends

This act of Life, that part the Fares assign'd: What glory of disgraces this world lends, Both haue I had, and both I leaue behind. And now ô earth, the Theater where I Haue acted this, witnesse I die vnforst. Witnesse my soule partes free to Antony, And now prowde Tyrant Caesar do thy worst.

This said, she staies, and makes a sodaine pause, As if to feele w••••••her the poyson wrought: Or rather else the working might be cause That made her stay, and intertain'd her thought. For in that instant I might well perceiue The drowsie humour in her falling brow: And how each powre, each part opprest did leaue Their former office, and did sencelesse grow. Looke how a new pluckt branch against the Sunne, Declines his fading leaues in feeble sort; So her disioyned ioyn•• ures as vndone, Let fall her weake dissolued limbes support. Yet loe that face the wonder of her life, Retaines in death, a grace that graceth death, Colour so liuely, cheere so louely rise, That none would think such beauty could wāt breath. And in that cheere th'impression of a smile, Did seeme to shew 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 soone she went, She went with such a will, and did so haste it, That sure I thinke shee did her paine preuent, Fore-going paine, or staying not to taste it,

And sencelesse, in her sincking downe she wries The Diademe which on her head she wore, Which Charmion (poore weake feeble maid) espies, And hastes to right it as it was before. For Eras now was dead, and Charmion too Euen at the point, for both would immitate Their Mistresse glory, striuing like to doo. But Charmion would in this exceed her mate, For she would haue this honour to be last, That should adorne that head that must be seene To weare that Crowne in death, which life held fast, That all the world might know she dide a Queene, And as she stood setting it fitly on, Loe, in rush Caesars messengers in haste, Thinking to haue preuented what was done. But yet they came too late, for all was past. For there they found stretcht on a bed of gold, Dead Cleopatra, and that prowdly dead, In all the rich attire procure she could, And dying Charmion trimming of her head, And Eras at her feete, dead in like case. Charmion, is this well done? said one of them. Yea, well said she, and her that from the race Of so great Kings descends, doth best become. And with that word, yeelds to, her faithfull breath, To passe th'assurance of her loue with death.

Cho.

But how knew Caesar of her close intents

Nun.

By Letters which before to him she sent. For when she had procur'd this meanes to die, She writes, and earnestly intreates, she might Be buried in one Tombe with Antony,

Whereby then Caesar gess'd all went not right. And forthwith sends, yet ere the message came She was dispatcht, he crost in his intent. Her prouidence had ordred so the same, That she was sure none should her plot preuent.

CHORVS.

THen thus we haue beheld Th'accomplishment of woes The full of ruine and The worst of worst of ills: And seene all hope expeld, That euer sweete repose Shall repossesse the Land, That Desolation fills, And where Ambition spills With vncontrouled hand, All th'issue of all those That so long rule haue held: To make vs no more vs, But cleane confound vs thus.

And canst O Nylus thou, Father of flouds indure, That yellow Tyber should With sandy streames rule thee? Wilt thou be pleas'd to bow To him those feete so pure, Whose vnknowne head we hold A powre diuine to be? Thou that didst euer see

Thy free bankes vncontrould, Liue vnder thine owne care: Ah wilt thou beare it now? And now wilt yeeld thy streames A prey to other Reames?

Draw backe thy waters flo To thy concealed head: Rockes strangle vp thy waues, Stop Cataractes thy fall. And turne thy courses so, That sandy Desarts dead, (The world of dust that craues To swallow thee vp all, May drinke so much as shall Reuiue from vastie graues A liuing greene which spred Far florishing, may gro On that wide face of Death, Where nothing now drawes breath,

Fatten some people there, Euen as thou vs hast done, With plenties wanton store, And feeble luxurie: And them as vs prepare Fit for the day of mone Respected not before. Leaue leuell'd Egypt drie, A barren prey to lie, Wasted for euer-more, Of plenties yeelding none

To recompence the care Of Victors greedy lust, And bring forth nought but dust.

And so O leaue to be, Sith thou art what thou art: Let not our race possesse Th'inheritance of shame, The fee of sinne, that we Haue left them for their part: The yoake of whose distresse Must still vpbraid our blame, Telling from whom it came, Our weight of wantonnesse Lies heauie on their hart, Who neuer-more shall see The glory of that worth They left, who brought vs forth.

O thou all-seeing light, High President of heauen, You magistrates the starres Of that eternall Court Of Prouidence and Right Are these the bounds y'haue giuen Th'vntranspassable barres, That limit pride so short, Is greatnesse of this sort, That greatnesse greatnesse marres, And wracks it selfe, selfe driuen On Rocks of her owne might? Doth Order order so Disorders ouer-thro?