Behold _Cambises_, and his fatall day, Where murder’s mischiefe, mirour like, is left, While hee his brother _Mergus_ cast to slay, A dreadfull thing, his wits were him bereft: A sword hee caught, wherewith hee perced eft His body gored, which hee of life benooms: So iust is God in all his dreadfull dooms. 16. O, bloudy _Brutus_, rightly didst thou rue, And thou, O[1583] _Cassius_, iustly came thy fall, That with the sword, wherewith thou _Cæsar_ slue, Murdredst thyselfe, and reft thy life withall: A miroir let him bee vnto you all That murdrers bee, of murder to your meede: For murder cryes[1584] out vengeaunce on your seede. 17. Loe, _Bessus_, hee that armde with murdrer’s[1585] knife, And traytrous[1586] heart agaynst his royall king, With bloudy hands bereft his maister’s life, Aduert the fine his foule offence did bring: And lothing murder as most lothly thing, Behold in him the iust deserued fall That euer hath, and shall betyde them all. 18. What booted him his false vsurped raygne? Wherto by murder hee did so ascend, When like a wretch, led in an yron chayne, He was presented, by his chiefest frend, Unto the foes of him whom hee had slayne: That euen they should venge[1587] so foule a gilt, That rather sought to haue his bloud yspilt. 19. Take heede ye princes and ye prelates all Of this outrage, which though it sleepe a while And not disclosde, as it doth seeld befall, Yet God, that suffreth[1588] silence to beguile Such gilts, wherewith both earth and ayre ye file, At last discryes them to your fowle deface, You see th’examples[1589] set before your face. 20. And deeply graue within your stony harts, The drery dewle that mighty _Macedo_, With teares vnfoulded, wrapt in deadly smarts, When hee the death of _Clitus_ sorrowed so, Whom erst hee murdred[1590] with the deadly blowe Raught in his rage vpon his frend so deare, For which beholde, loe, how his panges appeare. 21. The launsed speare hee wrythes out of the wound, From which the purple bloud spins in[1591] his face: His heynous gilt when hee returned found, Hee throwes himselfe vpon the corps, alas, And in his armes how oft doth hee imbrace His murdred frend? and kissing him, in vayne Forth flowe the fluds of salt repentant rayne. 22.