Act 3

Scene 3.1

L

Great Honors are great burdens: But, on whom They are cast with enuy, he doth beare two loades.

His cares must still be double to his ioyes, In any Dignity; where, if he erre He findes no pardon: and, for doing well A most small praise, and that wrung out, by force.

I speake this, Romanes, knowing what the weight Of the high charge, you have trusted to me, is.

Not, that thereby I would with art decline The good, or greatnesse of your benefit; For, I ascribe it to your singular grace And vow, to owe it to no title else, Except the Gods, that Cicero' is your Consul.

I have no vrnes; no dustie moniments; No broken images of ancestors,

Wanting an eare, or nose; no forged tables Of long descents, to boast false honors from; Or be my vndertakers to your trust.

But a new Man (as I am stil'd in Rome) Whom you have dignified; and more, in whom You have cut a way, and left it ope for vertue Hereafter, to that place, which our Great men Held shut up, with all rampires, for themselues.

Nor have but few of them, in time bene made Your Consuls so; New men, before me, none: At my first suite; In my iust yeare: Preferd To all Competitors; and some the noblest.

P

Now the vaine swels.

Q

Up glory.

L

And to have

Your lowde consents, from your owne vtter'd voyces; Not silent bookes: nor from the meaner tribes, But first, and last, the vniuersall concourse.

This is my ioy, my gladnesse. But my care, My industrie, and vigilance now must worke, That still your counsell of me be approu'd; Both, by your selues, and those, to whom you have, With grudge, prefer'd me: Two things I must labour, That neither they upbraid, nor you repent you.

For euery lapse of mine will, now, be call'd Your error; if I make such: But, my hope is, So to beare through, and out, the Consulship, As spight shall ne're wound you, though it may me.

And, for my selfe, I have prepar'd this strength, To do so well; as, if there happen ill Vnto me, it shall make the Gods to blush, And be their crime, not mine, that I am enui'd; Q

O confidence! more new, then is the Man!

L

I know well, in what termes I do receiue The Common wealth, how vexed, how perplex'd: In which, there is not that mischiefe, nor ill fate, That good men feare not, wicked men expect not.

I know, beside, some turbulent practises Alreadie on foote, and rumors of more dangers, P

Or you will make them, if there be none.

L

Last,

I know, it was this, which made the enuy, and pride Of the Great Romane bloud bate, and give way To my election.

N

Marcus Tullius, true;

Our neede made thee our Consull, and thy vertue.

Q

Cato, you will vndoe him, with your praise.

N

Cæsar will hurt himselfe, with his owne enuie.

U

The voyce of Cato is the voyce of Rome.

N

The voyce of Rome is the consent of Heauen; And that hath plac'd thee, Cicero, at the helme, Where thou must render, now thy selfe a Man, And Master of thy art. Each pettie hand Can steere a ship becalm'd; but he that will Gouerne, and carry her to her endes, must know His tides, his currents; how to shift his sayles; What she will beare in foule, what in faire weathers; Where her springs are, her leakes; and how to stop them; What sands, what shelues, what rocks do threaten her; The forces, and the natures of all winds, Gusts, stormes, and tempests; when her keele ploughs hell And decke knocks heauen: then, to manage her Becomes the name, and office of a Pilot.

L

Which I will performe, with all the diligence, And fortitude I have; nor for my yeare, But for my life; except my life be lesse, And that my yeare conclude it: If it must, Your will, lou'd Gods. This heart shall yet employ A day, an houre is left me, so, for Rome.

As it shall spring a life, out of my death, To shine, for euer glorious in my facts;

``The vicious count their yeares, vertuous their acts.

U

Most noble Consul! Let us wait him home.

Q

Most popular Consul he is growne, me thinkes.

P

How the rout cling to him!

Q

And Cato leads them!

P

You, his colleague, Antonius, are not look't on.

M

Not I, nor do I care.

Q

He enioyes rest,

And ease, the while: Let the others spirit toyle, And wake it out, that was inspir'd for turmoyle.

O

If all reports be true, yet, Caius Cæsar, The time hath neede of such a watch, and spirit: Q

Reports? Do you beleeve them Catulus, Why, he does make, and breed them for the people; To endeare his seruice to them. Do you not tast An art, that is so common? Popular men, They must create strange Monsters, and then quell them; To make their artes seeme something. Would you have Such an Herculean Actor in the Scene, And not his Hydra? They must sweat no lesse To fit their properties, then to expresse their parts.

P

``Treasons, and guiltie men are made in States

``Too oft, to dignifie the Magistrates.

O

``Those States be wretched, that are forc'd to buy

``Their Rulers fame, with their owne infamy.

P

We therefore, should prouide that ours do not.

Q

That will Antonius make his care.

M

I shall.

Q

And watch the watcher.

O

Here comes Catiline.

How does he brooke his late repulse.

Q

I know not,

But hardly sure.

N

Longinus, too, did stand?

Q

At first: But he gaue way vnto his friend.

O

Who is that come? Lentulus?

Q

Yes. He is againe

Taken into the Senate.

M

And made Prætor.

N

I know it. He had my suffrage, next the Consuls; Q

True, you were there, Prince of the Senate, then.