+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + @ I never saw the like, she's no more stirr'd, No more another Woman, no more alter'd With any hopes or promises laid to her (Let\'em be ne're so weighty, ne're so winning) Than I am with the motion of mine own legs. @ Chilax, You are a stranger yet in these designs, At least in Rome; tell me, and tell me truth, Did you ere know in all your course of practice, In all the wayes of Women you have run through (For I presume you have been brought up Chilax, As we to fetch and carry.) @ True I have so. @ Did you I say again in all this progress, Ever discover such a piece of beauty, Ever so rare a Creature, and no doubt One that must know her worth too, and affect it, #I and be flatter'd, else 'tis none: and honest? Honest against the tide of all temptations, Honest to one man, to her Husband only, And yet not eighteen, not of age to know Why she is honest? @ I confess it freely, I never saw her fellow, nor e're shall, For all our Grecian Dames, all I have tri'd, (And sure I have tri'd a hundred, if I say two I speak within my compass) all these beauties, And all the constancy of all these faces, Maids, Widows, Wives, of what degree or calling, So they be Greeks, and fat, for there's my cunning, I would undertake and not sweat for't, Proculus, Were they to try again, say twice as many, Under a thousand pound, to lay 'em bedrid; But this Wench staggers me. @ Do you see these Jewels? You would think these pretty baits; now i'le assure ye Here's half the wealth of Asia. @ These are nothing To the full honours I propounded to her; I bid her think, and be, and presently What ever her ambition, what the Counsel Of others would add to her, what her dreams Could more enlarge, what any President Of any Woman rising up to glory, And standing certain there, and in the highest, Could give her more, nay to be Empress. @ And cold at all these offers? @ Cold as Crystal, Never to be thaw'd again @ I tri'd her further, And so far, that I think she is no Woman, At least as Women go now. @ Why what did you? @ I offered that, that had she been but Mistris Of as much spleen as Doves have, I had reach'd her; A safe revenge of all that ever hates her, The crying down for ever of all beauties That may be thought come near her. @ That was pretty. @ I never knew that way fail, yet I'le tell ye I offer'd her a gift beyond all yours, That, that had made a Saint start, well consider'd, The Law to be her creature, she to make it, Her mouth to give it, every creature living From her aspect, to draw their good or evil Fix'd in\'em spight of Fortune; a new Nature She should be called, and Mother of all ages, Time should be hers, and what she did, lame vertue Should bless to all posterities: her Air Should give us life, her earth and water feed us. And last, to none but to the Emperour, (And then but when she pleas'd to have it so) She should be held for mortal. @ And she heard you? @ Yes, as a Sick man hears a noise, or he That stands condemn'd his judgment, let me perish, But if there can be vertue, if that name Be anything but name and empty title, If it be so as fools have been pleas'd to feign it, A power that can preserve us after ashes, And make the names of men out reckon ages, This Woman has a God of vertue in her. @ I would the Emperor were that God. @ She has in her All the contempt of glory and vain seeming Of all the Stoicks, all the truth of Christians, And all their Constancy: Modesty was made When she was first intended: when the blushes It is the holiest thing to look upon; The purest temple of her sect, that ever Made Nature a blest Founder. @ Is there no way To take this Phenix? @ None but in her ashes. @ If she were fat, or any way inclining To ease or pleasure, or affected glory, Proud to be seen and worship'd, 'twere a venture; But on my soul she is chaster than cold Camphire. @ I think so too; for all the waies of Woman, Like a full sail she bears against: I askt her After my many offers walking with her, And her as many down-denyals, how If the Emperour grown mad with love should force her, She pointed to a Lucrece, that hung by, And with an angry look, that from her eyes Shot Vestal fire against me, she departed. @ This is the first wench I was ever pos'd in, Yet I have brought young loving things together This two and thirty years. @ I find by this wench Th calling of a Bawd to be a strange, A wise, and subtile calling; and for none But staid, discreet, and understanding people: And as the Tutor to great Alexander, Would say, a young man should not dare to read His moral books, till after five and twenty, So must that he or she, that will be bawdy, (I mean discreetly bawdy, and be trusted) If they will rise, and gain experience Well steept in years, and discipline, begin it, I take it 'tis no Boys play. @ Well, what's thought of? @ The Emperour must know it. @ If the woman should chance to fail too. @ As 'tis ten to one. @ Why what remains, but new nets for the purchase @ Let's go consider then: and if all fail, This is the first quick Eele, that sav'd her tail. + @ You still insist upon that Idol, Honour, Can it renew your youth, can it add wealth, That takes off wrinkles: can it draw mens eyes, To gaze upon you in your age? can honour, That truly is a Saint to none but Souldiers, And look'd into, bears no reward but danger, Leave you the most respected person living? Or can the common kisses of a Husband, (Which to a sprightly Lady is a labour) Make ye almost Immortal? ye are cozen'd, The honour of a woman is her praises; The way to get these, to be seen, and sought too, And not to bury such a happy sweetness Under a smoaky roof. @ I'le hear no more. @ That white, and red, and all that blessed beauty, Kept from the eyes, that make it so, is nothing; Then you are rarely fair, when men proclaim it; The Phenix, were she never seen, were doubted; That most unvalued Horn the Unicorn Bears to oppose the Huntsman, were it nothing But tale, and meer tradition, would help no man; But when the vertue's known, the honour's doubled: Vertue is either lame, or not at all, And love a Sacriledge, and not a Saint, When it bars up the way to mens Petitions. @ Nay ye shall love your Husband too; we come not to make a Monster of ye. @ Are ye women? @ You'll find us so, and women you shall thank too If you have grace to make your use. @ Fye on ye. @ Alas poor bashful Lady, by my soul, Had ye no other vertue, but your blushes, And I am man, I should run mad for those: How daintily they set her off, how sweetly! @ Come Goddess, come, you move too near the earth, It must not be, a better Orb stayes for you: Here: be a Maid, and take\'em. @ Pray leave me. @ That were a sin sweet Lady, and a way To make us guilty of your melancholy: You must not be alone; in conversation Doubts are resolv'd, and what sticks near the conscience Made easie, and allowable. @ Ye are Devils, @ That you may one day bless for your damnation. @ I charge ye in the name of Chastity, Tempt me no more; how ugly ye seem to me? There is no wonder men defame our Sex, And lay the vices of all ages on us, When such as you shall bear the names of women; If ye had eyes to see yourselves, or sence Above the base rewards ye play the bawds for: If ever in your lives ye heard of goodness, (Though many Regions off, as men hear Thunder) If ever ye had Mothers, and they souls: If ever Fathers, and not such as you are; If ever anything were constant in you, Besides your sins, or coming, but your courses; If ever any of your Ancestors Dyed worth a noble deed, that would be cherish'd; Soul-frighted with this black infection, You would run from one another, to repentance, And from your guilty eyes drop out those sins, That made ye blind, and beasts. @ Ye speak well, Lady; A sign of fruitful education, If your religious zeal had wisdom with it. @ This Lady was ordain'd to bless the Empire, And we may all give thanks for't. @ I believe ye. @ If any thing redeem the Emperour From his wild flying courses, this is she; She can instruct him if ye mark; she is wise too. @ Exceeding wise, which is a wonder in her, And so religious, that I well believe, Though she would sin she cannot. @ And besides, She has the Empires cause in hand, not loves; There lies the main consideration, For which she is chiefly born. @ She finds that point Stronger than we can tell her, and believe it I look by her means for a reformation, And such a one, and such a rare way carried That all the world shall wonder at. @ 'Tis true; I never thought the Emperor had wisdom, Pity, or fair affection to his Country, Till he profest this love: gods give\'em Children, Such as her verutes merit, and his zeal. I look to see a Numa from this Lady, Or greater than Octavius. @ Do you mark too, Which is a Noble vertue, how she blushes, And what a flowing modesty runs through her, When we but name the Emperour? @ But mark it, Yes, and admire it too, for she considers, Though she be fair as Heaven, and vertuous As holy truth, yet to the Emperour She is a kind of nothing but her service, Which she is bound to offer, and she'll do it, And when her Countries cause commands affection, She knows obedience is the key of vertues, Then flye the blushes out like Cupid's arrows, And though the tye of Marriage to her Lord Would fain cry, stay Lucina, yet the cause And general wisdom of the Princes love, Makes her find surer ends and happier, And if the first were chaste, this is twice doubled. @ Her tartness unto us too. @ That's a wise one. @ I rarely like, it shews a rising wisdom, That chides all common fools as dare enquire What Princes would have private. @ What a Lady Shall we be blest to serve? @ Go get ye from me: Ye are your purses Agents, not the Princes: Is this the vertuous Lore ye train'd me out to? Am I a woman fit to imp your vices? But that I had a Mother, and a woman Whose ever living fame turns all it touches, Into the good it self is, I should now Even doubt my self, I have been search't so near The very soul of honour: why should you two, That happily have been as chaste as I am, Fairer, I think, by much, for yet your faces Like ancient well built piles, shew worthy ruins, After that Angel age, turn mortal Devils? For shame, for woman hood, for what ye have been, For rotten Cedars have born goodly branches, If ye have hope of any Heaven, but Court, Which like a Dream, you'l find hereafter vanish, Or at the best but subject to repentance, Study no more to be ill spoken of; Let women live themselves, if they must fall, Their own destruction find\'em, not your Fevours. @ Madam, ye are so excellent in all, And I must tell it you with admiration, So true a joy ye have, so sweet a fear, And when ye come to anger, 'tis so noble, That for mine own part, I could still offend, To hear you angry; women that want that, And your way guided (else I count it nothing) Are either Fools, or Cowards. @ She were a Mistris for no private greatness; Could she not frown a ravish'd kiss from anger, And such an anger as this Lady learns us, Stuck with such pleasing dangers. Gods (I ask ye) Which of ye all could hold from? @ I perceive ye, Your own dark sins swell with ye, and that price You fell the chastity of modest wives at Runs to diseases with your bones: I scorn ye, And all the nets ye've pitcht to catch my vertues Like Spiders Webs, I sweep away before me. Go tell the Emperour, ye have met a woman, That neither his own person, which is God-like, The world he rules, nor what that world can purchase, Nor all the glories subject to a Caesar, The honours that he offers for my body, The hopes, gifts, everlasting flatteries, Nor any thing that's his, and apt to tempt me, No not to be the Mother of the Empire, And Queen of all the holy fires he worships, Can make a Whore of. @ You mistake us Lady. @ Yet tell him this has thus much weaken'd me, That I have heard his Knaves, and you his Matrons, Fit Nurses for his sins, which gods forgive me; But ever to be leaning to his folly, Or to be brought to love his lust, assure him, And from her mouth, whose life shall make it certain, I never can: I have a noble Husband, Pray tell him that too, yet a noble name, A Noble Family, and last a Conscience: Thus much for your answer: For your selves, Ye have liv'd the shame of women, dye the better. @ What's now to do? @ Ev'n as she said, to dye, For there's no living here, and women thus, I am sure for us two. @ Nothing stick upon her? @ We have lost a mass of mony; Well Dame Vertue, Yet ye may halt if good luck serve. @ Worms take her, She has almost spoil'd our trade. @ So godly; This is ill breeding, Phorba. @ If the women Should have a longing now to see this Monster, And she convert 'em all. @ That may be, Phorba, But if it be, I'll have the young men gelded; Come, let's go think, she must not 'scape us thus; There is a certain season, if we hit, That women may be rid without a Bit. + @ I cannot blame the Nations, noble friend, That they fall off so fast from this wild man, When (under out Allegiance be it spoken, And the most happy tye of our affections) The worlds weight groans beneath him; Where lives vertue, Honour, discretion, wisdom? who are call'd And chosen to the steering of the Empire But Bawds, and singing Girls? O my Aecius The glory of a Souldier, and the truth Of men made up for goodness sake, like shells Grow to the ragged walls for want of action; Only your happy self, and I that love you, Which is a larger means to me than favour. @ No more, my worthy friend, though these be truths, And though these truths would ask a Reformation, At least a little squaring: yet remember, We are but Subjects, Maximus; obedience To what is done, and grief for what is ill done, Is all we can call ours: The hearts of Princes Are like the Temples of gods; pure incense, Until unhallowed hands defile those offerings, Burns ever there; we must not put\'em out, Because the Priests that touch those sweets, are wicked; We dare not, dearest Friend, nay more, we cannot, While we consider who we are, and how, To what laws bound, much more to what Law-giver; Whilest Majesty is made to be obeyed, And not to be inquired into, whilst gods and angels Make but a rule as we do, though a stricter; Like desperate and unseason'd Fools let flye Our killing angers, and forsake our honours. @ My noble Friend, from whose instructions I never yet took surfeit, weigh but thus much, Nor think I speak it with ambition, For by the gods, I do not; why Aecius, Why are we thus, or how become thus wretched? @ You'll fall again into your fit. @ I will not; Or are we now no more the Sons of Romans, No more the followers of their happy fortunes, But conquer'd Gauls, or Quivers for the Parthians? Why, is this Emperour, this man we honour, This God that ought to be? @ You are too curious. @ Good, give me leave, why is this Author of us? @ I dare not hear ye speak thus. @ I'll be modest, Thus led away, thus vainly led away, And we Beholders? misconceive me not, I sow no danger in my words; But wherefore, And to what end, are we the Sons of Fathers Famous and fast to Rome? why are their Vertues Stampt in the dangers of a thousand Battels? For goodness sake, their honours, time outdaring? I think for our example. @ Ye speak nobly. @ Why are we seeds of these then, to shake hands With Bawds and base informers, kiss discredit, And court her like a Mistriss? 'pray, your leave yet; You'll say the Emperour is young, and apt To take impression rather from his pleasures Than any constant worthiness, it may be, But why do these, the people call his pleasures, Exceed the moderation of a man? Nay to say justly, friend, why are they vices, And such as shake our worths with forreign Nations? @ You search the sore too deep, and I must tell ye In any other man this had been boldness, And so rewarded; 'pray depress your spirit, For though I constantly believe you honest, Ye were no friend for me else, and what now Ye freely spake, but good you owe to th' Empire, Yet take heed, worthy Maximus, all ears Hear not with that distinction mine do, few You'll find admonishers, but urgers of your actions, And to the heaviest (friend;) and pray consider We are but shadows, motions others give us, And though our pities may become the times, Justly our powers cannot; make me worthy To be your friend ever in fair Allegiance, But not in force; For durst mine own soul urge me, (And by that Soul I speak my just affections) To turn my hand from Truth, which is obedience, And give the helm my Vertue holds, to Anger; Though I had both the Blessings of the Bruti, And both their instigations, though my Cause Carried a face of Justice beyond theirs, And as I am a servant to my fortunes, That daring soul, that first taught disobedience, Should feel the first example: say the Prince, As I may well believe, seems vicious, Who justly knows 'tis not to try our honours? Or say he be an ill Prince, are we therefore Fit fires to purge him? No, my dearest friend, The Elephant is never won with anger, Nor must that man that would reclaim a Lion, Take him by th' teeth. @ I pray mistake me not. @ Our honest actions, and the light that breaks Like morning from our service, chaste and blushing, Is that that pulls a Prince back; then he sees, And not till then truly repents his errours, When Subjects Crystal Souls are Glasses to him. @ My ever honour'd friend, I'll take your counsel, The Emperour appears, I'll leave ye to him. And as we both affect him, may he flourish. @ Is that the best news? @ Yet the best we know, Sir. @ Bid Maximus come to me, and be gone then; Mine own head be my helper, these are fools: How now Aecius, are the Souldiers quiet? @ Better I hope, Sir, than they were. @ They are pleas'd, I hear, To censure me extreamly for my pleasures, Shortly they'll fight against me. @ Gods defend, Sir. And for their censures they are such shrew'd Judgers; A donative of ten Sestertias I'll undertake shall make 'em ring your praises More than they sang your pleasures. @ I believe thee; Art thou in love, Aecius, yet? @ O no Sir; I am too course for Ladies; my embraces, That only am acquainted with Alarms, Would break their tender Bodies. @ Never fear it, They are stronger than ye think they'll hold the Hammer. My Empress swears thou art a lusty Souldier, A good one I believe thee. @ All that goodness Is but your Graces Creature. @ Tell me truly, For thou dar'st tell me. @ Any thing concerns ye, That's fit for me to speak and you to pardon. @ What say the Souldiers of me, and the same words, Mince 'em not, good Aecius, but deliver The very forms and tongues they talk withal. @ I'll tell your Grace, but with this caution You be not stir'd, for should the gods live with us, Even those we certainly believe are righteous, Give\'em but drink, they would censure them too. @ Forward. @ Then to begin, they say you sleep too much, By which they judge your Majesty too sensual, Apt to decline your strength to ease and pleasures, And when you do not sleep, you drink too much, From which they fear suspicions first, then ruines; And when ye neither drink nor sleep, ye wench much, Which they affirm first breaks your understanding, Then takes the edge of Honour, makes us seem, That are the ribs, and rampires of the Empire, Fencers, and beaten Fools, and so regarded; But I believe 'em not; for were these truths, Your vertue can correct them. @ They speak plainly. @ They say moreover (since your Grace will have it, For they will talk their freedoms, though the Sword Were in their throat) that of late time, like Nero, And with the same forgetfulness of glory, You have got a vein of fidling, so they term it. @ Some drunken dreams, Aecius. @ So I hope Sir: And that you rather study cruelty, And to be fear'd for blood, than lov'd for bounty, Which makes the Nations, as they say, despise ye, Telling your years and actions by their deaths, Whole truth and strength of duty made you Caesar: They say besides you nourish strange devourers, Fed with the fat o'th' Empire, they call Bawds, Lazie and lustful Creatures that abuse ye, A People as they term 'em, made of paper, In which the secret sins of each man's monies Are seal'd and sent #a working. @ What sin's next? For I perceive they have no mind to spare me. @ Nor hurt you o' my soul, Sir; but such People (Nor can the power of man restrain it) When they are full of meat and ease, must prattle. @ Forward. @ I have spoken too much, Sir. @ I'll have all. @ It fits not Your ears should hear their Vanities; no profit Can justly rise to you from their behaviour, Unless ye were guilty of those crimes. @ It may be I am so, therefore forward. @ I have ever Learn'd to obey, nor shall my life resist it. @ No more Apologies. @ They grieve besides, Sir, To see the Nations, whom out ancient Vertue With many a weary march and hunger conquer'd, With loss of many a daring life subdu'd, Fall from their fair obedience, and even murmur To see the warlike Eagles mew their honours In obscure Towns, that wont to prey on Princes, They cry for Enemies, and tell the Captains The fruits of Italy are luscious, give us Egypt, Or sandy Africk to display our valours, There where our Swords may make us meat, and danger Digest our well got Vyands; here our weapons And bodies that were made for shining brass, Are both unedg'd and old with ease and women. And then they cry again, where are the Germans, Lin'd with hot Spain, or Gallia, bring 'em on, And let the Son of War, steel'd Mithridates, Lead up his winged Parthians like a storm, Hiding the face of heaven with showrs of Arrows? Yet we dare fight like Romans; then as Souldiers Tir'd with a weary march, they tell their wounds, Even weeping ripe they were no more nor deeper, And glory in those scars that make them lovely, And sitting where a Camp was, like sad Pilgrims They reckon up the times, and living labours Of Julius or Germanicus, and wonder That Rome, whose Turrets once were topt with Honours, Can now forget the Custom of her Conquests; And then they blame your Grace, and say Who leads us, Shall we stand here like Statues? were our Fathers The Sons of lazie Moors, our Princes Persians, Nothing but silks and softness? Curses on\'em That first taught Nero wantoness and blood, Tiberius doubts, Caligula all vices; For from the spring of these, succeeding Princes = Thus they talk, Sir. @ Well, Why do you hear these things? @ Why do you do\'em? I take the gods to witness, with more sorrow, And more vexation do I hear these tainters Than were my life dropt from me through an hour glass. @ Belike then you believe\'em, or at least Are glad they should be so; take heed, you were better Build your own Tomb, and run into it living, Than dare a Princes anger. @ I am old, Sir, And ten years more addition, is but nothing; Now if my life be pleasing to ye, take it, Upon my knees, if ever any service, (As let me brag some have been worthy notice) If ever any worth, or trust ye gave me Deserv'd a fair respect, if all my actions, The hazards of my youth, colds, burnings, wants, For you, and for the Empire, be not vices; By that stile ye have stampt upon me, Souldier, Let me not fall into the hands of Wretches. @ I understand you not. @ Let not this body That has look'd bravely in his blood for Caesar, And covetous of wounds, and for your safety, After the 'scape of Swords, Spears, Slings, and Arrows, 'Gainst which my beaten body was mine armour, The Seas and thirsty Desarts now be purchase For Slaves, and base Informers; I see anger, And death look through your Eyes; I am markt for slaughter, A man clean lost to this World; I embrace it; Only my last Petition, sacred Caesar, Is, I may dye a Roman. @ Rise, my friend still, And worthy of my love, reclaim the Souldier, I'll study to do so upon my self too, Go, keep your Command, and prosper. @ Life to Caesar = @ Lord Maximus attends your Grace. @ Go tell him I'll meet him in the Gallery: The honesty of this Aecius, Who is indeed the Bull-wark of the Empire, Has div'd so deep into me, that of all The sins I covet, but this Womans beauty, With much repentance now I could be quit of; But she is such a pleasure, being good, That though I were a god, she'd fire my blood. + @ Nay ye shall set my hand out, 'tis not just I should neglect my fortune now 'tis prosperous. @ If I have any thing to set your Grace, But Cloaths or good conditions, let me perish. You have all my money, Sir. @ And mine. @ And mine too. @ Unless your Grace will credit us. @ No bare board. @ Then at my Garden-House. @ The Orchard too. @ And't please your Grace. @ Have at\'em. @ They are lost. @ Why, farewel Fig-trees. @ Who sets more? @ At my horse, Sir. @ The dapl'd Spaniard? @ He. @ He's mine. @ He is so. @ Your short horse is soon curried. @ So it seems, Sir, So may your Mare be too, if luck serve. @ Ha? @ Nothing my Lord, but grieving at my fortune. @ Come Maximus, you were not wont to flinch thus. @ I have lost all. @ There's a ring yet. @ This was not made to lose, Sir. @ Some love token; Set it I say. @ I do beseech your Grace, Rather name any house I have. @ How strange And curious you are grown of toys! redeem't If so I win it, when you please, #to morrow, Or next day, as you will, I care not, But only for my lucks sake; 'tis not Rings Can make me richer. @ Will you throw, Sir? there 'tis. @ Why, then have at it fairly, mine. @ Your Grace Is only ever fortunate; #to morrow, And't be your pleasure, Sir, I'll pay the price on't. @ #To morrow you shall have it without price, Sir, But this day 'tis my Victory; good Maximus, Now I bethink my self, go to Aecius, And bid him muster all the Cohorts presently; They mutiny for pay I hear, and be you Assistant to him; when you know their numbers, Ye shall have monies for 'em, and above, Something to stop their tongues withal. @ I will Sir, And gods preserve you in this mind still. @ Shortly I'll see\'em march my self. @ Gods ever keep ye = @ To what end do you think this Ring shall serve now? For ye are Fellows only know by rote, As Birds record their lessons. @ For the Lady. @ But how for her? @ That I confess I know not. @ Then pray for him that does: fetch me an Eunuch That never saw her yet; and you two see The Court made like a Paradise. @ We will, Sir. @ Full of fair shews and Musicks; all your arts (As I shall give instructions) screw to th' highest; For my main piece is now a doing; and for fear You should not take, I'll have another Engine, Such as if vertue be not only in her; She shall not chuse but lean to, let the Women Put on a graver shew of welcome. @ Well Sir. @ They are a thought too eager. @ Here's the Eunuch. @ Long life to Cesar. @ I must use you, Lycias: Come, let's walk in, and then I'll shew ye all, If women may be frail, this wench shall fall. + @ Sirrah, what ails my Lady that of late She never cares for Company? @ I know not, Unless it be that Company causes Cuckolds. @ That were a childish fear. @ What were those Ladies, Came to her lately From the Court? @ The same wench, Some grave instructors on my life, they look For all the world like old hatcht hilts. @ 'Tis true, Wench, For here and there, and yet they painted well too, One might discover where the Gold was worn, Their iron ages. @ If my judgement fail not, They have been sheathed like rotten ships. @ It may be. @ For if you mark their rudders, they hang weakly. @ They have past the line belike; wouldst live Claudia, Till thou wert such as they are? @ Chimney pieces: Now heaven have mercy upon me, and young men, I had rather make a drallery till thirty, While I am able to endure a tempest, And bear my fights out bravely, till my tackle Whistl'd i'th' Wind, and held against all weathers, While I were able to bear with my tyres, And so discharge\'em, I would willingly, Live, Marcellina, not till barnacles, Bred in my sides. @ Thou art i'th' right, Wench; For who would live whom pleasures had forsaken, To stand at mark, and cry a Bow short, Seigneur? Were there not men came hither too? @ Brave fellows: I fear me Bawds of five i'th' Pound. @ How know you? @ They gave me great lights to it. @ Take heed, Claudia. @ Let them take heed, the spring comes on. @ To me now They seem'd as noble Visitants. @ To me now Nothing less, Marcellina, for I markt\'em, And by this honest light, for yet 'tis morning, Saving the reverence of their gilded doublets, And Millan skins. @ Thou art a strange Wench, Claudia. @ Ye are deceiv'd, they shew'd to me directly Court Crabs that creep #a side-way for their living, I know 'em by the Breeches that they beg'd last. @ Peace, my Lady comes; what may that be? @ A Sumner That cites her to appear. @ No more of that wench. @ Madam, what answer to your Lord? @ Pray tell him, I am subject to his will. @ Why weep you Madam? Excellent Lady, there are none will hurt you. @ I do beseech you tell me Sir. @ What, Lady? @ Serve ye the Emperor? @ I do. @ In what place? @ In's chamber Madam. @ Do ye serve his will too? @ In fair and just commands. @ Are ye a Roman? @ Yes noble Lady, and a Mantuan. @ What office bore your parents? @ One was Pretor. @ Take heed then how you stain his reputation. @ Why worthy Lady? @ If ye know, I charge ye, Ought in this Message, but what honesty, The trust and fair obedience of a servant May well deliver, yet take heed, and help me. @ Madam, I am no Broker. @ I'le be hang'd then. @ Nor base procurer of mens lusts, Your husband, Pray'd me to do this office, I have done it, It rests in you to come, or no. @ I will Sir. @ If ye mistrust me, do not. @ Ye appear so worthy, And to all my sense so honest, And this is such a certain sign ye have brought me, That I believe. @ Why should I cozen you? Or were I brib'd to do this villany, Can mony prosper, or the fool that takes it, When such a vertue falls? @ Ye speak well Sir; Would all the rest that serve the Emperour, Had but your way. @ And so they have ad unguem. @ Pray tell my Lord, I have receiv'd his Token, And will not fail to meet him; yet good Sir, thus much Before you goe, I do beseech ye too, As little notice as ye can, deliver Of my appearance there. @ It shall be Madam, And so I wish you happiness. @ I thank you = + @ Temper your self Aecius. @ Hold my Lord, I am a Roman and a Souldier. @ Pray Sir. @ Thou art a lying Villain, and a Traytor; Give me my self, or by the Gods my friend You'll make me dangerous; how dar'st thou pluck The Souldiers to sedition, and I living, And sow Rebellion in 'em, and even then When I am drawing out to action? @ Hear me. @ Are ye a man? @ I am a true hearted, Maximus, And if the Villain live, we are dishonour'd. @ But hear him what he can say. @ That's the way, To pardon him; I am so easie natur'd, That if he speak but humbly I forgive him. @ I do beseech ye noble General. @ Has found the way already, give me room, One stroak, and if he scape me then #h'as mercy. @ I do not call ye noble, that I fear ye, I never car'd for death; if ye will kill me, Consider first for what, not what you can do; 'Tis true, I know ye for my General, And by that great Prerogative may kill: But do it justly then. @ He argues with me, A made up Rebel. @ Pray consider. What certain grounds ye have for this. @ What grounds? Did I not take him preaching to the Souldier How lazily they liv'd and what dishonours It was to serve a Prince so full of woman? Those were his very words, friend. @ These, Aecius, Though they were rashly spoke, which was an errour (A great one Pontius) yet from him that hungers For wars, and brave imployment, might be pardon'd. The heart, and harbour'd thoughts of ill, make Traytors, Not spleeny speeches. @ Why should you protect him? Goe to, it shews not honest. @ Taint me not, For that shews worse Aecius; All your friendship And that pretended love ye lay upon me, Hold back my honesty, is like a favour You do your slave #to day, #to morrow hang him, Was I your bosome piece for this? @ Forgive me, The nature of my zeal and for my Country, Makes me sometimes forget my self; for know; Though I most strive to be without my passions, I am no God: For you Sir, whose infection Has spread it self like poyson through the army, And cast a killing fog on fair allegiance, First thank this noble Gentleman, ye had dy'd else; Next from your place, and honour of a Souldier, I here seclude you. @ May I speak yet? @ Hear him. @ And while Aecius holds a reputation, At least command, ye bear no arms for Rome Sir. @ Against her I shall never: the condemn'd man Has yet that priviledge to speak, my Lord; Law were not equall else. @ Pray hear Aecius, For happily the fault he has committed, Though I believe it mighty, yet considered, If mercy may be thought upon, will prove Rather a hastie sin, than heynous. @ Speak. @ 'Tis true my Lord, ye took me tir'd with peace, My words almost as ragged as my fortunes. 'Tis true I told the Souldier, whom we serv'd, And then bewail'd, we had an Emperour Led from us by the flourishes of Fencers; I blam'd him too for women. @ To the rest Sir. @ And like enough I blest him then as Souldiers Will do sometimes: 'Tis true I told 'em too, We lay at home, to show our Country We durst goe naked, durst want meat, and mony, And when the slave drinks wine, we durst be thirstie: I told 'em this too, that the Trees and Roots Were our best pay-masters; the Charity Of longing women, that had bought our bodies, Our beds, fires, Taylers, Nurses. Nay I told 'em, (For you shall hear the greatest sin, I said Sir) By that time there be wars again, our bodies Laden with scarrs, and aches, and ill lodgings, Heats, and perpetual wants, were fitter prayers And certain graves, than cope the foe on crutches: 'Tis likely too, I counsell'd\'em to turn Their warlike pikes to plough-shares, their sure Targets And Swords hatcht with the bloud of many Nations, To Spades, and pruning Knives, for those get mony, Their warlike Eagles, into Daws, or Starlings, To give an Ave Caesar as he passes, And be rewarded with a thousand drachma's, For thus we get but years and beets. @ What think you, Were these words to be spoken by a Captain, One that should give example? @ 'Twas too much. @ My Lord, I did not wooe 'em from the Empire, Nor bid 'em turn their daring steel 'gainst Caesar, The Gods for ever hate me, if that motion Were part of me: Give me but imployment Sir; And way to live, and where you hold me vicious, Bred up in mutiny, my Sword shall tell ye, And if you please, that place I held, maintain it, 'Gainst the most daring foes of Rome, I am honest, A lover of my Country, one that holds His life no longer his, than kept for Caesar. Weigh not (I thus low on my knee beseech you) What my rude tongue discovered, 'twas my want, No other part of Pontius: you have seen me, And you my Lord, do something for my Country, And both beheld the wounds I gave and took, Not like a backward Traytor. @ All this language Makes but against you Pontius, you are cast, And by mine honour and my love to Caesar, By me shall never be restor'd; In my Camp I will not have a tongue, though to himself Dare talk but near sedition; as I govern, All shall obey, and when they want, their duty And ready service shall redress their needs, Not prating what they would be. @ Thus I leave ye, Yet shall my prayers still, although my fortunes Must follow you no more, be still about ye, Gods give ye where ye fight the Victory, Ye cannot cast my wishes. @ Come my Lord, Now to the Field again. @ Alas poor Pontius. = + @ How how? @ She's come. @ Then I'le to'th' Emperour. = @ Do; Is the Musick placed well? @ Excellent. @ Licinius, you and Proclus receive her In the great Chamber, at her entrance, Let me alone; and do you hear Licinius, Pray let the Ladies ply her further off, And with much more discretion: one word more. @ Well. @ Are the Jewels, and those ropes of Pearl, Laid in the way she passes? @ Take no care man = @ What is she come? @ She is Sir; but 'twere best, Your Grace were seen last to her. @ So I mean; Keep the Court emptie Proculus. @ 'Tis done Sir. @ Be not too sudden to her. @ Good your Grace, Retire, and man youself; let us alone, We are no children this way: do you hear Sir? 'Tis necessary that her waiting women Be cut off in the Lobby, by some Ladies, They'd break the business else. @ 'Tis true, they shall. @ Remember your place Proculus. @ I warrant ye. = @ She enters: who are waiters there? the Emperour Calls for his Horse to air himself. @ I am glad, I come so happily to take him absent, This takes away a little fear; I know him, Now I begin to fear again: O honour, If ever thou hadst temple in weak woman, And sacrifice of modesty burnt to thee, Hold me fast now, and help me. @ Noble Madam, Ye are welcom to the Court, most nobly welcom, Ye are a stranger Lady. @ I desire so. @ A wondrous stranger here, Nothing so strange: And therefore need a guide I think. @ I do Sir, And that a good one too. @ My service Lady, Shall be your guide in this place; But pray ye tell me, Are ye resolv'd a Courtier? @ No I hope Sir. @ You are, Sir? @ Yes my fair one. @ So it seems, You are so ready to bestow your self, Pray what might cost those Breeches? @ Would you wear\'em? Madam ye have a witty woman. @ Two Sir, Or else ye underbuy us. @ Leave you talking: But is my Lord here, I beseech ye, Sir? @ He is sweet Lady, and must take this kindly, Exceeding kindly of ye, wondrous kindly Ye come so far to visit him: I'le guide ye. @ Whither? @ Why to your Lord. @ Is it so hard Sir, To find him in this place without a Guide? For I would willingly not trouble you. @ It will be so for you that are a stranger; Nor can it be a trouble to do service. To such a worthy beauty, and besides = @ I see he will goe with us. @ Let him amble. @ It fits not that a Lady of your reckoning Should pass without attendants. @ I have two Sir. @ I mean without a man; You'l see the Emperour? @ Alas I am not fit Sir. @ You are well enough, He'l take it wondrous kindly: Hark. @ Ye flatter, Good Sir, no more of that. @ Well, I but tell ye. @ Will ye goe forward, since I must be man'd, Pray take your place. @ Cannot ye man us too Sir? @ Give me but time. @ And you'l try all things. @ No: I'le make no such promise. @ If ye do Sir, Take heed ye stand to't. @ Wondrous merry Ladies. @ The wenches are dispos'd, pray keep your way Sir. + @ She is coming up the stairs; Now the Musick; And as that stirs her, let's set on: perfumes there. @ Discover all the Jewels. @ Peace. Now the lusty Spring is seen, Golden yellow, gaudy Blew, Daintily invite the view. Every where, on every Green, Roses blushing as they blow, And inticing men to pull, Lillies whiter than the snow, Woodbines of sweet hony full. All Loves Emblems and all cry, Ladys, if not pluckt we dye. Yet the lusty Spring hath staid, Blushing red and purest white, Daintily to love invite, Every Woman, every Maid, Cherries kissing as they grow; And inviting men to taste, Apples even ripe below, Winding gently to the waste, All loves emblems and all cry, Ladies, if not pluckt we dye. Hear ye Ladies that despise What the mighty Love has done, Fear examples, and be wise, Fair Calisto was a Nun, Laeda sailing on the stream, To deceive the hopes of man, Love accounting but a dream, Doted on a silver Swan, Danae in a Brazen Tower, Where no love was, lov'd a Showr. Hear ye Ladys that are coy, What the mighty Love can do, Fear the fierceness of the Boy, The chaste Moon be makes to wooe: Vesta kindling holy fires, Circled round about with spies, Never dreaming loose desires, Doting at the Altar dies. Ilion in a short hour higher, He can build, and once more fire. @ Pray Heaven my Lord be here, for now I fear it, Well Ring, if thou bee'st counterfeit, or stoln, As by this preparation I suspect it, Thou hast betrai'd thy Mistris: pray Sir forward, I would fain see my Lord. @ But tell me Madam, How do ye like the Song? @ I like the air well, But for the words, they are lascivious, And over light for Ladies. @ All ours love 'em. @ 'Tis like enough, for yours are loving Ladies. @ Madam, ye are welcom to the Court. Who waits? Attendants for this Lady. @ Ye mistake Sir; I being no triumph with me. @ But much honour. @ Why this was nobly done; and like a neighbour, So freely of your self to be a visitant, The Emperour shall give ye thanks for this. @ O no Sir; There's nothing to deserve\'em. @ Yes, your presence. @ Good Gentlemen be patient, and believe I come to see my husband, on command too, I were no Courtier else. @ That's all one Lady, Now ye are here, y'are welcom, and the Emperour Who loves ye, but too well. @ No more of that Sir. I came not to be Catechiz'd. @ Ah Sirrah; And have we got you here? faith Noble Lady, We'l keep you one month Courtier. @ Gods defend Sir, I never lik'd a trade worse. @ Hark ye. @ No Sir. @ Ye are grown the strangest Lady. @ How? @ By Heaven, 'Tis true I tell ye, and you'l find it. @ I? I'le rather find my grave, and so inform him. @ Is it not pity Gentlemen, this Lady, (Nay I'le deal roughly with ye, yet not hurt ye) Shold live alone, and give such heavenly beauty Only to walls, and hanging? @ Good Sir, patience: I am no wonder, neither come to that end, Ye do my Lord an injury to stay me, Who though ye are the Princes, yet dare tell ye He keeps no wife for your wayes. @ Well, well Lady; However you are pleas'd to think of us, Ye are welcom, and ye shall be welcome. @ Shew it In that I come for then, in leading me Where my lov'd Lord is, not in flattery: Nay ye may draw the Curtain, I have seen\'em, But none worth half my honesty. @ Are these Sir, Laid here to take? @ Yes, for your Lady, Gentlewomen. @ We had been doing else. @ Meaner Jewels Would fit your worths. @ And meaner clothes your bodies. @ The Gods shall kill me first. @ There's better dying; I'th' Emperours arms goe to, but be not angry = These are but talks sweet Lady. @ Where is this stranger? rushes, Ladys, rushes, Rushes as green as Summer for this stranger. @ Here's Ladies come to see you. @ You are gone then? I take it 'tis your Qu. @ Or rather manners, You are better fitted Madam, we but tire ye, Therefore we'l leave you for an hour, and bring Your much lov'd Lord unto you = @ Then I'le thank ye, I am betrai'd for certain; well Lucina, If thou do'st fall from vertue, may the Earth That after death should shoot up gardens of thee, Spreading thy living goodness into branches, Fly from thee, and the hot Sun find thy vices. @ You are a welcom woman. @ Bless me Heaven, How did you find the way to Court? @ I know not, Would I had never trod it. @ Prethee tell me, Good noble Lady, and good sweet heart love us, For we love thee extreamly; is not this place, A Paradice to live in? @ To those people That know no other Paradise but pleasure, That little I enjoy contents me better. @ What, heard ye any Musick yet? @ Too much. @ You must not be thus froward; what, this gown Is one o'th' prettiest by my troth Ardelia, I ever saw yet; 'twas not to frown in Lady, Ye put this gown on when ye came. @ How do ye? Alas poor wretch how cold it is! @ Content ye; I am as well as may be, and as temperate, If ye will let me be so: where's my Lord? For there's the business that I came for Ladies. @ We'l lead ye to him, he's i'th' Gallery. @ We'l shew ye all the Court too. @ Shew me him, And ye have shew'd me all I come to look on. @ Come on, we'l be your guides, and as ye goe, We have some pretty tales to tell ye Lady, Shall make ye merry too; ye come not here, To be a sad Lucina. @ Would I might not. = + @ Now the soft Musick; Balbus run = @ I flye Boy = @ The women by this time are worming of her = If she can hold out them, the Emperour Takes her to task: he has her; hark the Musick. @ Good your Grace, Where are my women Sir? @ They are wise, beholding What you think scorn to look on, the Courts bravery: Would you have run away so slily Lady, And not have seen me? @ I beseech your Majestie, Consider what I am, and whose. @ I do so. @ Believe me, I shall never make a whore Sir. @ A friend ye may, and to that man that loves ye, More than you love your vertue. @ Sacred Caesar. @ You shall not kneel to me sweet. @ Look upon me, And if ye be so cruel to abuse me, Think how the Gods will take it; does this beauty Afflict your soul? I'le hide it from you ever, Nay more, I will become so leprous, That ye shall curse me from ye : My dear Lord Has serv'd ye ever truly, fought your Battels, As if he daily long'd to dye for Caesar, Was never Traytor Sir, nor never tainted In all the actions of his life. @ I know it. @ His fame and family have grown together, And spred together like to sailing Cedars, Over the Roman Diadem; O let not, As ye have any flesh that's humane in you, The having of a modest wife decline him, Let not my vertue be the wedge to break him, I do not think ye are lascivious, These wanton men belye ye, you are Caesar, Which is the Father of the Empires honour, Ye are too near the nature of the Gods, To wrong the weakest of all creatures, women. @ I dare not do it here, rise fair Lucina, I did but try your temper, ye are honest, And with the commendations wait on that I'le lead ye to your Lord, and give you to him: Wipe your fair eyes: he that endeavours ill, May well delay, but never quench his hell. = . + @ 'Tis done Licinius. @ How? @ I shame to tell it, If there be any justice, we are Villains, And must be so rewarded. @ If it be done, I take it 'tis no time now to repent it, Let's make the best o'th' trade. @ Now vengeance take it, Why should not he have setled on a beauty, Whose honesty stuck in a piece of tissue, Or one a Ring might rule, or such a one That had an itching husband to be honourable, And ground to get it: if he must have women, And no allay without\'em, why not those That know the misery, and are best able To play a game with judgement? such as she is, Grant they be won with long siege, endless travel, And brought to opportunity with millions, Yet when they come to motion, their cold vertue Keeps 'em like cakes of Ice; I'le melt a Crystal, And make a dead flint fire himself, e're they Give greater heat, than new departing embers Give to old men that watch\'em. @ A good Whore Had sav'd all this, and happily as wholsom, I, and the thing once done too, as well thought of, But this same chastity forsooth. @ A Pox on't, Why should not women be as free as we are? They are, but not in open, and far freer, And the more bold ye bear your self, more welcom, And there is nothing you dare say, but truth, But they dare hear. = @ The Emperour! away, And if we can repent, let's home and pray. @ Your only vertue now is patience, Take heed, and save your honour; if you talk. @ As long as there is motion in my body, And life to give me words, I'le cry for justice. @ Justice shall never hear ye, I am justice. @ Wilt thou not kill me, Monster, Ravisher, Thou bitter bane o'th' Empire, look upon me, And if thy guilty eyes dare see these ruines, Thy wild lust hath laid level with dishonour, The sacrilegious razing of this Temple, The mother of thy black sins would have blush'd at, Behold and curse thy self; the Gods will find thee, That's all my refuge now, for they are righteous, Vengeance and horror circle thee; the Empire, In which thou liv'st a strong continued surfeit, Like poyson will disgorge thee; good men raze thee For ever being read again, = but vicious Women, and fearful Maids, make vows against thee: Thy own Slaves, if they hear of this, shall hate thee; And those thou hast corrupted first fall from thee; And if thou let'st me live, the Souldier, Tir'd with thy Tyrannies, break through obedience, And shake his strong Steel at thee. @ This prevails not; Nor any Agony ye utter Lady, If I have done a sin, curse her that drew me, Curse the first cause, the witchcraft that abus'd me, Curse those fair eyes, and curse that heavenly beauty, And curse your being good too. @ Glorious thief, What restitution canst thou make to save me? @ I'le ever love, and honour you. @ Thou canst not, For what which was mine honour, thou hast murdered, And can there be a love in violence? @ You shall be only mine. @ Yet I like better Thy villany, than flattery, that's thine own, The other basely counterfeit; flye from me, Or for thy safety sake and wisdom kill me, For I am worse than thou art; thou maist pray, And so recover grace; I am lost for ever, And if thou let'st me live, th'\art lost thy self too. @ I fear no loss but love, I stand above it. @ Call in your Lady Bawds, and guilded Pander's And let them triumph too, and sing to Caesar, Lucina's faln, the chast Lucina's conquer'd; Gods! what a wretched thing has this man made me? For I am now no wife for Maximus, No company for women that are vertuous, No familie I now can claim, nor Country, Nor name, but Caesar's whore; O sacred Caesar, (For that should be your title) was your Empire, Your Rods, and Axes, that are types of Justice, Those fires that ever burn, to beg you blessings, The peoples adoration, fear of Nations, What victory can bring ye home, what else The usefull Elements can make your servants, Even light it self, and suns of light, truth, Justice, Mercy, and starlike pietie sent to you, And from the gods themselves, to ravish women? The curses that I owe to Enemies, Even those the Sabines sent, when Romulus, (As thou hast me) ravish'd their noble Maids, Made more, and heavier, light on thee. @ This helps not. @ The sins of Tarquin be remember'd in thee, And where there has a chast wife been abus'd, Let it be thine, the shame thine, thine the slaughter, And last for ever thine, the fear'd example. Where shall poor vertue live, now I am faln? What can your honours now, and Empire make me, But a more glorious Whore? @ A better woman, But if ye will be blind, and scorn it, who can help it? Come leave these lamentations, they do nothing, But make a noyse, I am the same man still, Were it to do again; therefore be wiser, By all this holy light, I should attempt it, Ye are so excellent, and made to ravish, There were no pleasure in ye else. @ Oh villian. @ So bred for mans amazement, that my reason And every help to hold me right has lost me; The God of love himself had been before me, Had he but power to see ye; tell me justly, How can I choose but err then? if ye dare Be mine, and only mine, for ye are so pretious, I envie any other should enjoy ye, Almost look on ye; and your daring husband Shall know #h'as kept an offring from the Empire, Too holy for his Altars; be the mightiest, More than my self I'le make it: if ye will not Sit down with this, and silence, for which wisdom Ye shall have use of me, and much honour ever, And be the same you were; if ye divulge it Know I am far above the faults I do, And those I do I am able to forgive too; And where your credit in the knowledge of it, May be with gloss enough suspected, mine Is as mine own command shall make it: Princes though they be sometime subject to loose whispers, Yet wear they two edged swords for open censures: Your husband cannot help ye, nor the Souldier; Your husband is my creature, they my weapons, And only where I bid 'em strike; I feed\'em, Nor can the Gods be angry at this action, For as they make me most, they mean me happiest, Which I had never been without this pleasure: Consider, and farewell: you'l find your women At home before ye, they have had some sport too, But are more thankful for it = @ Destruction find thee. Now which way must I go? my honest house Will shake to shelter me, my husband flee me, My Family, because they are honest, and desire to be so, Must not endure me, not a neighbour know me: What woman now dare see me without blushes, And pointing as I pass, there, there, behold her, Look on her little Children, that is she, That handsome Lady, mark; O my sad fortunes, Is this the end of goodness, this the price Of all my early prayers to protect me, Why then I see there is no God but power, Nor vertue now alive that cares for us, But what is either lame or sensual, How had I been thus wretched else? @ Let Titius Command the company that Pontius lost, And see the Fosses deeper. @ How now sweet heart, What make you here, and thus? @ Lucina weeping! This must be much offence. @ Look up and tell me, Why are you thus? My Ring? O friend, I have found it, Ye are at Court, sweet. @ Yes, this brought me hither. @ Rise, and goe home: I have my fears Aecius; Oh my best friend, I am ruin'd; go Lucina, Already in thy tears I have read thy wrongs, Already found a Caesar; go thou Lilly, Thou sweetly drooping flower: go silver Swan, And sing thine own sad requiem: goe Lucina, And if thou dar'st, outlive this wrong. @ I dare not. @ Is that the Ring ye lost? @ That, that, Aecius, That cursed Ring, my self, and all my fortunes: 'Thas pleas'd the Emperour, my noble master, For all my services, and dangers for him, To make me mine own Pander, was this justice? Oh my Aecius, have I liv'd to bear this? @ Farewel for ever Sir. @ That's a sad saying, But such a one becomes ye well Lucina: And yet me thinks we should not part so lightly, Our loves have been of longer growth, more rooted Than the sharp word of one farewel can scatter, Kiss me: I find no Caesar here; these lips Taste not of Ravisher in my opinion. Was it not so? @ O yes. @ I dare believe thee, For thou wert ever truth it self, and sweetness; Indeed she was, Aecius. @ So she is still. @ Once more, O my Lucina, O my Comfort, The blessing of my Youth, the life of my life. @ I have seen enough to stagger my obedience; Hold me ye equal Gods, this is too sinful. @ Why wert thou chosen out to make a Whore of? To me thou wert too chaste; fall Crystal Fountains, And ever feed your streams you rising sorrows, Till you have dropt your Mistris into Marble: Now go for ever from me. @ Long farewel, Sir. And as I have been loyal, gods think on me. @ Stay, let me once more bid farewel, Lucina, Farewel thou excellent example of us, Thou starry Vertue, fare thee well, seek Heaven, And there by Cassiopea shine in Glory, We are too base and dirty to preserve thee. @ Nay, I must kiss too; such a kiss again, And from a Woman of so ripe a Vertue, Aecius must not take; Farewel thou Phoenix, If thou wilt dye, Lucina; which well weigh'd, If you can cease #a while from these strange thoughts, I wish were rather alter'd. @ No. @ Mistake not; I would not stain your honour for the Empire, Nor any way decline you to discredit, 'Tis not my fair profession, but a Villains; I find and feel your loss as deep as you do, And am the same, Aecius, still as honest, The same life I have still for Maximus, The same Sword wear for you, where Justice wills me, And 'tis no dull one; therefore misconceive me not; Only I would have you live a little longer, But a short year. @ She must not. @ Why so long, Sir, Am I not grey enough with grief already? @ To draw from that wild man a sweet repentance, And goodness in his days to come. @ They are so, And will be ever coming, my Aecius. @ For who knows but the sight of you, presenting His swoln sins at the full, and your fair vertues, May like a fearful Vision fright his follies, And once more bend him right again? which blessing (If your dark wrongs would give you leave to read) Is more than death, and the reward more glorious; Death only eases you, this, the whole Empire; Besides, compell'd and forc'd with violence, To what ye have done, the deed is none of yours, No, nor the justice neither; ye may live, And still a worthier Woman, still more honoured; For are those trees the worse we tear the fruits from? Or should the eternal gods desire to perish Because we daily violate their truths, Which is the Chastity of Heaven? No, Lady, If ye dare live, ye may; and as our sins Make them more full of equity and justice, So this compulsive wrong makes you more perfect: The Empire too will bless you. @ Noble Sir, If she were any thing to me but honour, And that that's wedded to me too, laid in, Not to be worn away without my being; Or could the wrongs be hers alone, or mine, Or both our wrongs, not ty'd to after issues, Not born anew in all our names and kindreds, I would desire her live, nay more, compel her: But since it was not Youth, but Malice did it, And not her own, nor mine, but both our losses, Nor stays it there, but that our names must find it, Even those to come; and when they read, she liv'd, Must they not ask how often she was ravish'd, And make a doubt she lov'd that more than Wedlock? Therefore she must not live. @ Therefore she must live, To teach the world, such deaths are superstitious. @ The tongues of Angels cannot alter me, For could the World again restore my Credit, As fair and absolute as first I bred it, That world I should not trust again: The Empire By my life, can get nothing but my story, Which whilst I breath must be but his abuses, And where ye counsel me to live, that Caesar, May see his errours and repent, I'll tell ye, His penitance is but encrease of pleasures, His prayers never said but to deceive us, And when he weeps (as you think) for his Vices, 'Tis but as killing drops from baleful Yew-Trees, That rot their honest Neighbour; If he can grieve, As one that yet desires his free Conversion And almost glories in his penitence, I'll leave him Robes to mourn in, my sad ashes. @ The farewels then of happy souls be with thee, And to thy memory be ever sung The praises of a just and constant Lady, This sad day whilst I live, a Souliers tears I'll offer on thy Monument, and bring Full of thy noble self with tears untold yet, Many a worthy Wife, to weep they ruine, @ All that is chaste upon thy Tomb shall flourish, All living Epitaphs be thine, Time, Story; And what is left behind to piece our lives Shall be no more abus'd with tales and trifles, But full of thee, stand to eternity. @ Once more farewel, go find Elyzium, There where the happy Souls are crown'd with blessings, There where 'tis ever Spring and ever Summer. @ There where no bedrid justice comes; truth, honour Are keepers of that blessed Place; go thither, For here thou liv'st chaste Fire in rotten Timber. @ And so our last farewels. @ Gods give thee Justice = @ His thoughts begin to work, I fear him, yet He ever was a noble Roman, but I know not what to think on't, he hath suffered Beyond a man if he stand this. @ Aecius, Am I alive, or has a dead sleep seiz'd me? It was my Wife the Emperour abus'd thus, And I must say I am glad I had her for him; Must I not, my Aecius? @ I am stricken With such stiff amazement that no answer Can readily come from me, nor no comfort; Will ye go home, or go to my house? @ Neither; I have no home, and you are mad, Aecius, To keep me company, I am a fellow My own Sword would forsake, not tyed unto me; A Pander is a Prince, to what I am faln; I dare do nothing. @ Ye do better. @ I am made a branded Slave, Aecius, And yet I bless the Maker; Death o' my Soul, must I endure this tamely? Must Maximus be mention'd for his tales? I am a Child too; what should I do railing? I cannot mend my self, 'tis Caesar did it, And what am I to him? @ 'Tis well consider'd; However you are tainted, be no Traitor Time may outwear the first, the last lives ever. @ O that thou wert not living, and my friend. @ I'll bear a wary Eye upon your actions, I fear ye, Maximus, nor can I blame thee If thou break'st out, for by the gods thy wrong Deserves a general ruine: do ye love me? @ That's all I have to live on. @ Then go with me, Ye shall not to your own house. @ Nor to any. My griefs are greater far than Walls can compass, And yet I wonder how it happens with me, I am not dangerous, and o' my Conscience, Should I now see the Emperour i'th' heat on't, I should not chide him for't, an awe runs through me, I feel it sensibly that binds me to it, 'Tis at my heart now, there it sits and rules, And methinks 'tis a pleasure to obey it. @ 'This is a mask to cozen me; I know ye, And how far ye dare do; no Roman farther, Nor with more fearless Valour; and I'll watch ye, Keep that obedience still. @ Is a Wifes loss (For her abuse much good may do his Grace, I'll make as bold with his Wife, if I can) More than the fading of a few fresh colours, More than a lusty spring lost? @ No more, Maximus, To one that truly lives. @ Why, then I care not, I can live well enough, Aecius: For look you friend, for vertue, and those trifles, They may be bought they say. @ He's craz'd a little, His grief has made him talk things from his Nature. @ But Chastity is not a thing I take it To get in Rome, unless it be bespoken A hundred years before; Is it Aecius? By'r Lady, and well handled too i'th' breeding. @ Will ye go any way? @ I'll tell thee, friend; If my Wife for all this should be a Whore now, A kind of Kicker out of sheets, 'twould vex me, For I am not angry yet; the Emperour Is young and handsome, and the Woman Flesh, And may not these two couple without scratching? @ Alas, my noble friend. @ Alas not me, I am not wretched, for there's no man miserable But he that makes himself so. @ Will ye walk yet? @ Come, come, she dare not dye, friend, that's the truth on't, She knows the inticing sweets and delicacies Of a young Princes pleasures, and I thank her, She has made a way for Maximus so rise by. Will't not become me bravely? why do you think She wept, and said she was ravish'd? keep it here And I'll discover to you. @ Well. @ She knows I love no bitten flesh, and out of that hope She might be from me, she contriv'd this knavery; Was it not monstrous, friend? @ Does he but seem so, Or is he mad indeed? @ Oh gods, my heart! @ Would it would fairly break. @ Methinks I am somewhat wilder than I was, And yet I thank the gods I know my duty. @ Nay, you may spare your tears; she's dead. She is so. @ Why, so it should be: how? @ When first she enter'd Into her house, after a world of weeping, And blushing like the Sun-set, as we see her, Dare I, said she, defile this house with Whore, In which his noble Family has flourish'd? At which she fell, and stir'd no more; we rub'd her. @ No more of that; be gone ; now my Aecius, If thou wilt do me pleasure, weep a little, I am so parch'd I cannot: Your example Has brought the rain down now: now lead me friend, And as we walk together, let's pray together truly, I may not fall from faith. @ That's nobly spoken. @ Was I not wild, Aecius? @ Somewhat troubled. @ I felt no sorrow then; Now I'll go with ye, But do not name the Woman; fye, what fool Am I to weep thus? Gods, Lucina, take thee, For thou wert even the best and worthiest Lady. @ Good Sir, no more, I shall be melted with it. @ I have done, and good Sir comfort me; Would there were wars now. @ Settle your thoughts, come. @ So I have now, friend, Of my deep lamentations here's an end. + @ By my faith, Captain Pontius, besides pity Of your faln fortunes, what to say I know not, For 'tis true the Emperour desires not, But my best master, any souldier near him. @ And when he understands, he cast your fortunes For disobedience, how can we incline him, (That are but under persons to his favours) To any fair opinion? Can ye sing? @ Not to please him, Aretus, for my Songs Go not to th' Lute, or Viol, but to th' Trumpet, My tune kept on a Target, and my subject The well struck wounds of men, not love, or women. @ And those he understands not. @ He should, Phidias. @ Could you not leave this killing way a little? You must, if here you would plant your self, and rather Learn as we do, to like what those affect That are above us; wear their actions, And think they keep us warm too; what they say, Though oftentimes they speak a little foolishly, Not stay to construe, but prepare to execute, And think however the end falls, the business Cannot run empty handed. @ Can ye flatter, And if it were put to you, lye a little? @ Yes, if it be a living @ That's well said then. @ But must these lies and flatteries be believ'd then? @ Oh yes, by any means. @ By any means then I cannot lie nor flatter. @ Ye must swear too, If ye be there. @ I can swear if they move me. @ Cannot ye forswear too? @ The Court for ever, If it be grown so wicked. @ You should procure a little too. @ What's that? Mens honest sayings for my truth? @ Oh no, Sir; But womens honest actions for your trial. @ Do you do all these things? @ Do you not like\'em? @ Do you ask me seriously, or trifle with me? I am not so low yet to be your mirth. @ You do mistake us, Captain, for sincerely, We ask you how you like\'em? @ Then sincerely, I tell ye I abhor 'em; they are ill ways, And I will starve before I fall into 'em, The doers of 'em Wretches, their base hungers Care not whose Bread they eat, nor how they get it. @ What then, Sir? @ If you profess this wickedness, Because ye have been Souldiers, and born Arms, The Servants of the brave Aecius, And by him put to th'\Emperour, give me leave, Or I must take it else, to say ye are Villains, For all your Golden Coats, debosh'd, base Villains, Yet I do wear a Sword to tell you so, Is this the way you mark out for a Souldier, A Man that has commanded for the Empire, And born the Reputation of a Man? Are there not lazie things enough call'd fools and cowards, And poor enough to be prefer'd for Panders, But wanting Souldiers must be Knaves too? ha! This the trim course of life; were not ye born Bawds, And so inherit but your Rights? I am poor, And may expect a worse; yet digging, pruning, Mending of broken ways, carrying of water, Planting of Worts and Onions, any thing That's honest, and a Mans, I'll rather chuse, #I, and live better on it, which is juster, Drink my well gotten water with more pleasure, When my endeavours done, and wages paid me, Than you do wine, eat my course Bread, not curst, And mend upon't, your diets are diseases, And sleep as soundly, when my labour bids me, As any forward Pander of ye all, And rise a great deal honester; my Garments, Though not as yours, the soft sins of the Empire, Yet may be warm, and keep the biting wind out, When every single breath of poor opinion Finds you through all your Velvets. @ You have hit it, Nor are we those we seem, the Lord Aecius Put us good men to th'\Emperour, so we have serv'd him, Though much neglected for it; So dare be still; Your Curses are not ours; we have seen your fortune, But yet know no way to redeem it: Means, Such as we have, ye shall not want, brave Pontius, But pray be temperate, if we can wipe out The way of your offences, we are yours, Sir; And you shall live at Court an honest Man too. @ That little meat and means we have, we'll share it, Fear not to be as we are; what we told ye, Were but meer tryals of your truth: y'are worthy, And so we'll ever hold ye; suffer better, And then you are a right Man, Pontius, If my good Master be not ever angry, Ye shall command again. @ I have found two good men: use my life, For it is yours, and all I have to thank ye = + @ There's no way else to do it, he must dye, This friend must dye, this soul of Maximus, Without whom I am nothing but my shame, This perfectness that keeps me from opinion, Must dye, or I must live thus branded ever: A hard choice, and a fatal, Gods ye have given me A way to credit, but the ground to go on, Ye have levell'd with that precious life I love most, Yet I must on, and through, for if I offer To take my way without him, like a Sea He bears his high Command 'twixt me and vengeance, And in mine own road sinks me, he is honest, Of a most constant loyalty to Caesar, And when he shall but doubt, I dare attempt him, But make a question of his ill, but say What is a Caesar, that he dare do this, Dead sure he cuts me off; Aecius dyes, Or I have lost my self: why should I kill him? Why should I kill my self? for 'tis my killing, Aecius is my root, and wither him, Like a decaying Branch I fall to nothing, Is he not more to me than Wife, than Caesar? Though I had now my safe revenge upon him, Is he not more than rumour, and his friendship Sweeter than the love of women? what is honour We all so strangely are bewitch'd withal? Can it relieve me if I want? he has; Can honour 'twixt the incensed Prince and Envy, Bear up the lives of worthy men? he has; Can honour pull the wings of fearful Cowards, And make\'em turn again like Tigers? he has; And I have liv'd to see this, and preserv'd so: Why should this empty word incite me then To what is ill and cruel? let her perish. A friend is more than all the world, than honour, She is a woman and her loss the less, And with her go my griefs; but hark ye Maximus, Was she not yours? Did she not dye to tell ye She was a ravish'd woman? Did not justice Nobly begin with her that not deserv'd it, And shall he live that did it? Stay a little Can this abuse dye here? Shall not mens tongues Dispute it afterward, and say I gave (Affecting dull obedience, and tame duty, And led away with fondness of a friendship) The only vertue of the world to slander? Is not this certain, was not she a chaste one, And such a one, that no compare dwelt with her, One of so sweet a vertue that Aecius, Even he himself, this friend that holds me from it, Out of his worthy love to me, and justice, Had it not been on Caesar, had reveng'd her? He told me so; what shall I do then? Can other men affect it, and I cold? I fear he must not live. @ My Lord, the General Is come to seek ye. @ Go, entreat him to enter; O brave Aecius, I could wish thee now As far from friendship to me, as from fears, That I might cut thee off, like that I weigh'd not, Is there no way without him to come near it? For out of honesty he must destroy me If I attempt it, he must dye as others, And I must lose him; 'tis necessity, Only the time and means is the difference; But yet I would not make a murther of him, Take him directly for my doubts; he shall dye, I have found a way to do it, and a safe one, It shall be honour to him too: I know not What to determine certain, I am so troubled, And such a deal of conscience presses me; Would I were dead my self. @ You run away well; How got you from me, friend? @ That that leads mad men, A strong imagination made me wander. @ I thought you had been more setled. @ I am well, But you must give me leave a little sometimes To have a buzzing in my brains. @ Ye are dangerous, But I'll prevent it if I can; ye told me You would go to th' Army. @ Why, to have my throat cut? Must he not be the bravest man, Aecius, That strikes me first? @ You promised me a freedom From all these thoughts, and why should any strike you? @ I am an Enemy, a wicked one, Worse than the foes of Rome, I am a Coward, A Cuckold, and a Coward, that's two causes Why every one should beat me. @ Ye are neither, And durst another tell me so, he dyed for't, For thus far on mine honour, I'le assure you No man more lov'd than you, and for your valour, And what ye may be, fair; no man more follow'd. @ A doughty man indeed: but that's all one, The Emperour nor all the Princes living, Shall find a flaw in my Coat; I have suffer'd, And can yet; let them find inflictions, I'le find a body for\'em, or I'le break it. 'Tis not a Wife can thrust me out, some look't for't, But let\'em look till they are blind with looking, They are but fools; yet there is anger in me, That I would fain disperse, and now I think on't, You told me, friend, the Provinces are stirring, We shall have sport I hope then, and what's dangerous, A Battle shall beat from me. @ Why do ye eye me, With such a setled look? @ Pray tell me this, Do we not love extreamly? I love you so. @ If I should say I lov'd not you as truly, I should do that I never durst do, lye. @ If I should dye, would it not grieve you much? @ Without all doubt. @ And could you live without me? @ It would much trouble me to live without ye. Our loves, and loving souls have been so us'd, But to one houshold in us: but to dye Because I could not make you live, were woman, Far much too weak, were it to save your worth, Or to redeem your name from rooting out, To quit you bravely fighting from the foe, Or fetch ye off, where honour had ingag'd ye, I ought, and would dye for ye. @ Truly spoken. What beast but I, that must, could hurt this man now? Would he had ravish'd me, I would have paid him, I would have taught him such a trick, his Eunuchs Nor all his black-eyed Boys dreamt of yet; By all the Gods I am mad now; now were Caesar Within my reach, and on his glorious top The pile of all the world, he went to nothing; The Destinies, nor all the dames of Hell, Were I once grappl'd with him, should relieve him, No not the hope of mankind more, all perished, But this is words, and weakness. @ Ye look strangely. @ I look but as I am, I am a stranger. @ To me? @ To every one, I am no Roman; Nor what I am do I know. @ Then I'le leave ye. @ I find I am best so, if ye meet with Maximus Pray bid him be an honest man for my sake, You may do much upon him; for his shadow, Let me alone. @ Ye were not wont to talk thus, And to your friend; ye have some danger in you, That willingly would run to action, Take heed, by all our love take heed. @ I danger? I, willing to do anything, I dig. Has not my Wife been dead two dayes already? Are not my mournings by this time moth-eaten? Are not her sins dispers'd to other Women, And many one ravish'd to relieve her? Have I shed tears these twelve hours? @ Now ye weep. @ Some lazie drops that staid behind. @ I'le tell ye And I must tell ye truth, were it not hazard, And almost certain loss of all the Empire, I would join with ye, were it any mans But his life, that is life of us, he lost it, For doing of this mischief: I would take it, And to your rest give ye a brave revenge, But as the rule now stands, and as he rules, And as the Nations hold in disobedience, One pillar failing, all must fall; I dare not, Nor is it just you should be suffer'd in it, Therefore again take heed: On forraign foes We are our own revengers, but at home On Princes that are eminent and ours, 'Tis fit the Gods should judge us: be not rash, Nor let your angry steel cut those ye know not, For by this fatal blow, if ye dare strike it, As I see great aims in ye, those unborn yet, And those to come of them, and these succeeding Shall bleed the wrath of Maximus : for me As ye now bear your self, I am your friend still, If ye fall off I will not flatter ye, And in my hands, were ye my soul, you perish'd: Once more be careful, stand, and still be worthy, I'le leave you for this hour. @ Pray do, 'tis done: And friendship, since thou canst not hold in dangers, Give me a certain ruin, I must through it. . + @ Dead? @ So 'tis thought, Sir. @ How? @ Grief, and disgrace, As people say. @ No more, I have too much on't, Too much by you, you whetters of my follies, Ye Angel formers of my sins, but Devils; Where is your cunning now? you would work wonders, There was no chastity above your practice, You would undertake to make her love her wrongs, And doate upon her rape: mark what I tell ye, If she be dead = @ Alas Sir. @ Hang ye Rascals, Ye blasters of my youth, if she be gone, 'Twere better ye had been your Fathers Camels, Groan'd under daily weights of wood and water; Am I not Caesar? @ Mighty and our Maker. @ Than thus have given my pleasures to destruction. Look she be living, slaves. @ We are no Gods Sir, If she be dead, to make her new again. @ She cannot dye, she must not dye; are those I plant my love upon but common livers? Why do ye flatter a belief into me That I am all that is, the world's my creature, The Trees bring forth their fruits when I say Summer, The Wind that knows no limit but his wildness, At my command moves not a leaf; the Sea With his proud mountain waters envying Heaven, When I say still, run into Crystal mirrors, Can I do this and she dye? Why ye bubbles That with my least breath break, no more remembred; Ye moths that fly about my flame and perish, Ye golden canker-worms, that eat my honours, Living no longer than my spring of favour: Why do ye make me God that can do nothing? Is she not dead? @ All Women are not with her. @ A common Whore serves you, and far above ye, The pleasures of a body lam'd with lewdness; A meer perpetual motion makes ye happy: Am I a man to traffick with Diseases? Can any but a chastity serve Caesar? And such a one that Gods would kneel to purchase? You think because you have bred me up to pleasures, And almost run me over all the rare ones, Your Wives will serve the turn: I care not for\'em, Your Wives are Fencers Whores, and shall be Footmens, Though sometimes my nice will, or rather anger Have made ye Cuckolds for variety; I would not have ye hope, nor dream ye poor ones Alwaies so great a blessing from me; go Get your own infamy hereafter Rascals, I have done too nobly for ye, ye enjoy Each one an heir, the Royal seed of Caesar, And I may curse ye for't; your wanton Gennets That are so proud, the wind get's 'em with fillies, Taught me this foul intemperance: Thou Licinius, Hast such a Messalina, such a Lais, The backs of Bulls cannot content, nor Stallions, The sweat of fifty men a night do's nothing. @ Your Grace but jests I hope. @ 'Tis Oracle. The sins of other Women put by hers Shew off like sanctities: Thine's a fool, Chilax, Yet she can tell to twenty, and all lovers, And all lien with her too, and all as she is, Rotten, and ready for an Hospital. Yours is an holy Whore, friend Balbus. @ Well Sir. @ One that can pray away the sins she suffers, But not the punishments: she has had ten Bastards, Five of 'em now are Lictors, yet she prayes; She has been the Song of Rome, and common Pasquil; Since I durst see a Wench, she was Camp Mistris, And muster'd all the cohorts, paid\'em too, They have it yet to shew, and yet she prayes; She is now to enter old men that are Children, And have forgot their rudiments: am I Left for these withered vices? and but one, But one of all the world that could content me, And snatch'd away in shewing? If your Wives, Be not yet Witches, or your selves now be so And save your lives, raise me this noble beauty As when I forc'd her, full of constancy, Or by the Gods = @ Most sacred Caesar. @ Slaves. @ Good Proculus. @ You shall not see it, It may concern the Empire. @ Ha: what said'st thou? Is she not dead? @ Not any one I know, Sir; I come to bring your Grace a Letter, here Scatter'd belike i'th' Court: 'tis sent to Maximus And bearing danger in it. @ Danger? where? Double our Guard. @ Nay no where, but i'th' Letter. @ What an afflicted Conscience do I live with, And what a beast I am grown? I had forgotten To ask Heaven mercy for my fault, and was now Even ravishing again her memory, I find there must be danger in this deed: Why do I stand disputing then and whining? For what is not the gods to give, they cannot Though they would link their powers in one, do mischief. This letter may betray me, get ye gone And wait me in the Garden, guard the house well, And keep this from the Empress: the name Maximus Runs through me like a feavour, this may be Some private Letter upon private business, Nothing concerning me: why should I open't? I have done him wrong enough already; yet It may concern me too, the time so tells me; The wicked deed I have done, assures me 'tis so. Be what it will, I'le see it, if that be not Part of my fears, among my other sins, I'le purge it our in prayers: How? What's this? Lord Maximus, you love Aecius, And are his noble friend too; bid him be less, I mean less with the people, times are dangerous: The Army's his, the Emperour in doubts; And as some will not stick to say, declining, You stand a constant man in either fortune; Perswade him, he is lost else: Though ambition Be the last sin he touches at, or never; Yet what the people mad with loving him, And as they willingly desire another May tempt him to, or rather force his goodness, Is to be doubted mainly: he is all, (As he stand now) but the meer name of Caesar, And should the Emperour inforce him lesser, Not coming from himself, it were more dangerous: He is honest, and will hear you: doubts are scatter'd, And almost come to growth in every houshold: Yet in my foolish judgement, were this master'd, The people that are now but rage, and his, Might be again obedience: you shall know me When Rome is fair again; till when I love you. No name! this may be cunning, yet it seems not; For there is nothing in it but is certain, Besides my safety. Had not good Germanicus, That was as loyal, and as straight as he is, If not prevented by Tiberius, Been by the Souldiers forc'd their Emperour? He had, and 'tis my wisdom to remember it. And was not Corbulo, even that Corbulo, That ever fortunate and living Roman, That broke the heart strings of the Parthians, And brought Arsaces line upon their knees, Chain'd to the awe of Rome, because he was thought (And but in wine once) fit to make a Caesar, Cut off by Nero? I must seek my safety: For 'tis the same again, if not beyond it: I know the Souldier loves him more than Heaven, And will adventure all his gods to raise him; Me he hates more than peace: what this may breed, If dull security and confidence Let him grow up, a fool may find and laugh at. But why Lord Maximus I injur'd so, Should be the man to counsel him, I know not; More than he has been friend, and lov'd allegeance: What now he is I fear, for his abuses Without the people dare draw blood; who waits there. @ Your Grace. @ Call Phidias and Aretus hither. I'le find a day for him too; times are dangerous, The Army his, the Emperour in doubts: I find it is too true; did he not tell me As if he had intent to make me odious, And to my face; and by a way of terror, What vices I was grounded in, and almost Proclaim'd the Souldiers hate against me? is not The sacred name and dignity of Caesar (Were this Aecius more than man) sufficient To shake off all his honesty? He's dangerous Though he be good, and though a friend, a fear'd one, And such I must not sleep by: are they come yet? I do believe this fellow, and I thank him; 'Twas time to look about, if I must perish, Yet shall my fears go formost. @ Life to Caesar. @ Is Lord Aecius waiting? @ Not this morning, I rather think he's with the Army. @ Army? I do not like that Army: go unto him, And bid him straight attend me, and do ye hear, Come private without any; I have business Only for him. @ Your Graces pleasure = @ Go; What Souldier is the same, I have seen him often, That keeps you company, Aretus? @ Me Sir? @ #I you, Sir. @ One they call Pontius, And't please your Grace. @ A Captain? @ Yes, he was so; But speaking something roughly in his want, Especially of Wars, the Noble General One of strict allegiance cast his fortunes. @ #H'as been a valiant fellow. @ So he's still. @ Alas, the General might have pardon'd follies, Souldiers will talk sometimes. @ I am glad of this. @ He wants perferment as I take it. @ Yes Sir; And for that noble Grace his life shall serve. @ I have a service for him: I shame a Souldier should become a Begger: I like the man Aretus. @ Gods protect ye. @ Bid him repair to Proculus, and there He shall receive the business, and reward for't: I'le see him setled too, and as a Souldier, We shall want such. @ The sweets of Heaven still crown ye. @ I have a fearful darkness in my soul, And till I be deliver'd, still am dying. + @ My way has taken: all the Court's in guard, And business every where, and every corner Full of strange whispers: I am least in rumour, And so I'le keep my self. Here comes Aecius, I see the bait is swallow'd: If he be lost He is my Martyr, and my way stands open, And honour on thy head, his blood is reckon'd. @ Why how now friend, what make ye here unarm'd? Are ye turn'd Merchant? @ By your fair perswasions, And such a Merchant trafficks without danger; I have forgotten all, Aecius, And which is more, forgiven. @ Now I love ye, Truly I do, ye are a worthy Roman. @ The fair repentance of my Prince to me Is more than sacrifice of bloud and vengeance, No eyes shall weep her ruins, but mine own. @ Still ye take more love from me: vertuous friend The gods make poor Aecius worthy of thee. @ Only in me y'are poor Sir: and I worthy Only in being yours: But why your arm thus, Have ye been hurt Aecius? @ Bruis'd a little: My horse fell with me friend: which till this morning I never knew him do. @ Pray gods it boad well; And now I think on't better, ye shall back, Let my perswasions rule ye. @ Back, why Maximus? The Emperour commands me come. @ I like not At this time his command. @ I do at all times, And all times will obey it, why not now then? @ I'le tell ye why, and as I have been govern'd, Be you so, noble friend: The Court's in Guard, Arm'd strongly, for what purpose, let me fear; I do not like your going. @ Were it fire; And that fire certain to consume this body, If Caesar sent, I would goe; never fear man, If he take me, he takes his arms away, I am too plain and true to be suspected. @ Then I have dealt unwisely. @ If the Emperour, Because he meerely may, will have my life, That's all he has to work on, and all shall have: Let him, he loves me better: here I wither, And happily may live, till ignorantly I run into a fault worth death: nay more, dishonour. Now all my sins, I dare say those of duty Are printed here, and if I fall so happy, I bless the grave I lye in, and the gods Equals, as dying on the Enemy, Must take me up a Sacrifice. @ Goe on then, And I'le goe with ye. @ No, ye may not friend. @ He cannot be a friend, bars me Aecius, Shall I forsake ye in my doubts? @ Ye must. @ I must not, nor I will not; have I liv'd Only to be a Carpet friend for pleasure? I can endure a death as well as Cato. @ There is no death nor danger in my going, Nor none must goe along. @ I have a sword too, And once I could have us'd it for my friend. @ I need no sword, nor friend in this, pray leave me; And as ye love me, do not overlove me; I am commanded none shall come: at supper I'le meet ye, and weel drink a cup or two, Ye need good Wine, ye have been sad: Farewel. @ Farewel my noble friend, let me embrace ye E're ye depart; it may be one of us Shall never do the like again. @ Yes often. @ Farewel good dear Aecius. @ Farewel Maximus Till night: indeed you doubt too much. = @ I do not: Goe worthy innocent, and make the number Of Caesars sins so great, Heaven may want mercy: I'le hover hereabout to know what passes: And if he be so devilish to destroy thee, In they bloud shall begin his Tragedy. = + @ Besides this, if you do it, you enjoy The noble name Patrician: more than that too, The friend of Caesar ye are stil'd: there's nothing Within the hopes of Rome, or present being, But you may safely say is yours. @ Pray stay Sir; What has Aecius done to be destroy'd? At least I would have a colour. @ Ye have more, Nay all that may be given, he is a Traitor, One, any man would strike that were a subject. @ Is he so foul? @ Yes, a most fearfull Traytor. @ A fearfull plague upon thee, for thou lyest; I ever thought the Souldier would undoe him With his too much affection. @ Ye have hit it, They have brought him to ambition. @ Then he is gone. @ The Emperour out of a foolish pitie, Would save him yet. @ Is he so mad? @ He's madder! Would goe to'th' Army to him. @ Would he so? @ Yes Pontius; but we consider = @ Wisely. @ How else man, that the state lies in it. @ And your lives too. @ And every mans. @ He did me All the disgrace he could. @ And scurvily. @ Out of a mischief meerly: did you mark it? @ Yes well enough. Now ye have means to quit it, The deed done, take his place. @ Pray let me think on't, 'Tis ten to one I do it. @ Do and be happy. = @ This Emperour is made of nought but mischief, Sure, Murther was his Mother: none to lop, But the main link he had? upon my conscience The man is truly honest, and that kills him; For to live here, and study to be true, Is all one to be Traitors: why should he die? Have they not Slaves and Rascals for their Offrings In full abundance; Bawds more than beasts for slaughter? Have they not singing whores enough, and knaves too, And millions of such Martyrs to sink Charon, But the best sons of Rome must fail too? I will shew him (since he must dye) a way to do it truly: And though he bears me hard, yet shall he know, I am born to make him bless me for a blow. = + @ Yet ye may 'scape to th' Camp, we'l hazard with ye. @ Lose not your life so basely Sir: ye are arm'd, And many when they see your sword out, and know why, Must follow your adventure. @ Get ye from me: Is not the doom of Caesar on this body, Do not I bear my last hour here, now sent me? An I not old Aecius, ever dying? You think this tenderness and love you bring me, 'Tis treason, and the strength of disobedience, And if ye tempt me further, ye shall feel it: I seek the Camp for safety, when my death Ten times more glorious than my life, and lasting Bids me be happy? Let the fool fear dying, Or he that weds a woman for his honour, Dreaming no other life to come but kisses; Aecius is not now to learn to suffer: If ye dare shew a just affection, kill me, I stay but those that must: why do ye weep? Am I so wretched to deserve mens pities? Goe give your tears to those that lose their worths, Bewail their miseries, for me wear Garlands, Drink wine, and much; sing Peans to my praise, I am to triumph friends, and more than Caesar, For Caesar fears to die, I love to die. @ O my dear Lord! @ No more, goe, goe I say; Shew me not signs of sorrow, I deserve none: Dare any man lament, I should die nobly? Am I grown old to have such enemies? When I am dead, speak honourably of me, That is, preserve my memory from dying; There if you needs must weep your ruin'd Master, A tear or two will seem well: this I charge ye, (because ye say you yet love old Aecius) See my poor body burnt, and some to sing About my Pile, and what I have done and suffer'd, If Caesar kill not that too: at your banquets When I am gone, if any chance to number The times that have been sad and dangerous, Say how I fell, and 'tis sufficient: No more I say, he that laments my end By all the gods dishonours me; be gone And suddainly, and wisely from my dangers, My death is catching else. @ We fear not dying. @ Yet fear a wilfull death, the just Gods hate it, I need no company to that that Children Dare do alone, and Slaves are proud to purchase; Live till your honesties, as mine has done, Make this corrupted age sick of your vertues, Then dye a sacrifice, and then ye know The noble use of dying well, and Roman. @ And must we leave ye Sir? @ We must all die, All leave our selves, t matters not where, when, Nor how, so we die well: and can that man that does so, Need lamentation for him? Children weep Because they have offended, or for fear; Woman for want of will, and anger; is there In noble man, that truly feels both poyses Of life and death, so much of this wet weakness, To drown a glorious death in child and woman? I am asham'd to see ye; yet ye move me, And were it not my manhood would accuse me, For covetous to live, I should weep with ye. @ O we shall never see you more. @ 'Tis true; Nor I the miseries that Rome shall suffer, Which is a benefit life cannot reckon: But what I have been, which is just, and faithfull; One that grew old for Rome, when Rome forgot him, And for he was an honest man durst die, Ye shall have daily with ye: could that dye too, And I return no traffick of my travels, No pay to have been Souldier, but this Silver, No Annals of Aecius, but he liv'd, My friends, ye had cause to weep, and bitterly; The common overflows of tender women, And children new born crying, were too little To shew me then most wretched: if tears must be, I should in justice weep\'em, and for you, You are to live, and yet behold those slaughters The drie, and wither'd bones of death would bleed at: But sooner, than I have time to think what must be, I fear you'l find what shall be; If you love me, Let that word serve for all, be gone and leave me; I have some little practice with my soul, And then the sharpest sword is welcom'st; goe, Pray be gone, ye have obey'd me living, Be not for shame now stubborn; so I thank ye, And fare ye well, a better fortune guide ye = I am a little thirstie, not for fear, And yet it is a kind of fear, I say so; It is to be a just man now again, And leave my flesh unthought of? 'tis departed: I hear\'em come, who strikes first? I stay for ye: Yet I will dye a Souldier, my sword drawn, But against none: Why do ye fear? come forward. @ You were a Souldier Chilax. @ Yes, I muster'd But never saw the Enemy. @ He's Drawn, By heaven I dare not do it. @ Why do ye tremble? I am to die, come ye not now from Caesar To that end, speak? @ We do, and we must kill ye, 'Tis Caesars will. @ I charge you put your sword up, That we may do it handsomly. @ Ha, ha, ha, My sword up, handsomly? where were ye bred? Ye are the merriest murderers my masters I ever met withal; Come forward fools, Why do ye stare? upon mine honour Bawds, I will not strike ye. @ I'le not be first. @ Nor I. @ You had best die quietly: the Emperour Sees how you bear your self. @ I would die Rascals, If you would kill me quietly. @ = of Proculus, He promis'd us to bring a Captain hither, That has been used to kill. @ I'le call the Guard, Unless you will kill me quickly, and proclaim What beastly, base, and cowardly companions The Emperour has trusted with his safetie: Nay I'le give out, ye fell of my side, villains, Strike home ye bawdy slaves. @ He will kill us, I mark'd his hand, he waits but time to reach us, Now do you offer. @ If ye do mangle me, And kill me not at two blows, or at three, Or not so stagger me, my senses fail me, Look to your selves @ I told ye. @ Strike me manly, And take a thousand strokes. = @ Here's Pontius. @ Not kill'd him yet? Is this the love ye bear the Emperour? Nay then I see ye are Traitors all, have at ye. = @ Oh I am hurt. @ And I am kill'd = @ Dye Bawds; As ye have liv'd and flourish'd. @ Wretched fellow, What hast thou done? @ Kill'd them that durst not kill; And you are next. @ Art thou not Pontius? @ I am the same you cast Aecius, And in the face of all the Camp disgrac'd. @ Then so much nobler, as thou wert a Souldier, Shall my death be: is it revenge provok'd thee, Or art thou hir'd to kill me? @ Both. @ Then do it. @ Is that all? @ Yes. @ Would you not live? @ Why should I, To thank thee for my life? @ Yes, if I spare it. @ Be not deceiv'd, I was not made to thank For any courtesie, but killing me, A fellow of thy fortune; do thy duty. @ Do not you fear me? @ No. @ Nor love me for it? @ That's as thou dost thy business. @ When you are dead, Your place is mine Aecius. @ Now I fear thee, And not alone thee Pontius, but the Empire. @ Why, I can govern Sir. @ I would thou couldst, And first thy self: Thou canst fight well, and bravely, Thou canst endure all dangers, heats, colds, hungers; Heavens angry flashes are not suddainer, Than I have seen thee execute; nor more mortal; The winged feet of flying enemies I have stood and view'd thee mow away like rushes, And still kill the killer: were thy minde, But half so sweet in peace, as rough in dangers, I died to leave a happy heir behind me; Come strike, and be a General. @ Prepare then: And, for I see your honour cannot lessen, And 'twere a shame for me to strike a dead man, Fight your short span out. @ No thou knowst I must not, I dare not give thee so much vantage of me, As disobedience. @ Dare ye not defend ye Against your enemy? @ Not sent from Caesar, I have no power to make such enemies; For as I am condemn'd, my naked sword Stands but a hatchment by me; only held To shew I was a Souldier; had not Caesar Chain'd all defence in this doom, let him die, Old as I am, and quench'd with scarrs, and sorrows, Yet would I make this wither'd Arm do wonders, And open in an enemy such wounds Mercy would weep to look on. @ Then have at ye, And look upon me, and be sure ye fear not: Remember who you are, and why you live, And what I have been to you: cry not hold, Nor think it base injustice I should kill ye. @ I am prepar'd for all. @ For now Aecius, Thou shalt behold and find I was no traitor, And as I do it, bless me; die as I do. = @ Thou hast deceiv'd me Pontius, and I thank thee; By all my hopes in Heaven, thou art a Roman. @ To shew you what you ought to do, this is not; For slanders self would shame to find you coward, Or willing to out-live your honestie: But noble Sir, ye have been jealous of me, And held me in the rank of dangerous persons, And I must dying say it was but justice, Ye cast me from my credit; yet believe me, For there is nothing now but truth to save me, And your forgiveness, though ye held me hainous, And of a troubled spirit, that like fire Turns all to flames it meets with, ye mistook me; If I were foe to any thing, 'twas ease, Want of the Souldiers due, the Enemy The nakedness we found at home, and scorn, Children of peace, and pleasures, no regard Nor comfort for our scars, but how we got\'em, To rusty time, that eat our bodies up, And even began to prey upon our honours, To wants at home, and more than wants, abuses, To them, that when the Enemy invaded Made us their Saints, but now the sores of Rome; To silken flattery, and pride plain'd over, Forgetting with what wind their feathers fail, And under whose protection their soft pleasures Grow full and numberless: to this I am foe, Not to the state, or any point of duty: And let me speak but what Souldier may, Truly I ought to be so; yet I err'd, Because a far more noble sufferer Shew'd me the way to patience, and I lost it: This is the end I die Sir; to live basely, And not the follower of him that bred me, In full account and vertue, Pontius dare not, Much less to out-live what is good, and flatter. @ I want a name to give thy vertue Souldier, For only Good is far below thee Pontius, The gods shall find thee one; thou hast fashion'd death In such an excellent, and beauteous manner, I wonder men can live: Canst thou speak once more, For they words are such harmony, a soul Would choose to flye to Heaven in. @ A farewel: Good noble General your hand, forgive me, And think what ever was displeasing you, Was none of mine: ye cannot live. @ I will not: Yet one word more. @ Dye nobley: Rome farewel: And Valentinian fall, thou hast broke thy Basis. In joy ye have given me a quiet death, I would strike more wounds, if I had more breath = @ Is there an hour of goodness beyond this? Or any man would out-live such a dying? Would Caesar double all my honours on me, And stick me o're with favours, like a Mistris; Yet would I grow to this man: I have loved, But never doated on a face till now: O death thou art more than beautie, and thy pleasure Beyond posterity: Come friends and kill me; Caesar be kind, and send a thousand swords, The more, the greater is my fall: why stay ye? Come, and I'le kiss your weapons: fear me not, By all the gods I'le honour ye for killing: Appear, or through the Court and world, I'le search ye: My sword is gone; ye are Traitors if ye spare me, And Caesar must consume ye: all base cowards? I'le follow ye, and e're I dye proclaim ye The weeds of Italy; the dross of nature = Where are ye, villains, traytors, slaves. = @ I knew H'ad kill'd the Captain. @ Here's his sword. @ Let it alone, 'twill fight it self else; friends, An hundred men are not enough to do it, I'le to the Emperour, and get more aid. @ None strike a poor condemned man? @ He is mad: Shift for your selves my Masters. = @ Then Aecius, See what thou darst thy self; hold my good sword, Thou hast been kept from bloud too long, I'le kiss thee, For thou art more then friend now, my preserver, Shew me the way to happiness, I seek it: And all you great ones, that have faln as I do, To keep your memories, and honours living, Be present in you vertues, and assist me, That like strong Cato, I may put away All promises, but what shall crown my ashes; Rome, fare thee well: stand long, and know to conquer Whilst there is people, and ambition: Now for a stroak shall turn me to a Star: I come ye blessed spirits, make me room To live for ever in Elyzium: Do men fear this? O that posterity Could learn from him but this, that loves his wound, There is no pain at all in dying well, Nor none are lost, but those that make their hell. = @ He's dead, draw in the Guard again. @ He's dead indeed, And I am glad he's gone; he was a Devil; His body, if his Eunuchs come, is theirs; The Emperour out of his love to vertue, Has given 'em that: Let no man stop their entrance. @ O my most noble Lord, look here Aretus Here's a sad sight. @ O cruelty! O Caesar! O times that bring forth nothing but destruction, And oversows of bloud: why wast thou kill'd? Is it to be a just man now again, As when Tiberius and wild Nero reign'd, Only assurance of his over throw? @ It is Aretus: he that would live now, Must like the Toad, feed only on corruptions, And grow with those to greatness: honest vertue, And the true Roman honour, faith and valour That have been all the riches of the Empire, Now like the fearful tokens of the Plague, Are meer fore-runners of their ends that owe\'em. @ Never enough lamented Lord: dear Master = Of whom now shall we learn to live like men? From whom draw out our actions just, and worthy? Oh thou art gone, and gone with thee all goodness, The great example of all equitie, O thou alone a Roman, thou art perish'd, Faith, fortitude, and constant nobleness, Weep Rome, weep Italy, weep all that knew him, And you that fear'd him as a noble Foe, (If enemies have honourable tears) Weep this decay'd Aecius faln, and scattered = By foul, and base suggestion. @ O Lord Maximus, This was your worthy friend. @ The gods forgive me: Think not the worse my friends, I shed not tears, Great griefs lament within; yet now I have found\'em: Would I had never known the world, nor women, Nor what that cursed name of honour was, So this were once again Aecius: But I am destin'd to a mighty action, And begg my pardon friend, my vengeance taken, I will not be long from thee: ye have a great loss, But bear it patiently, yet to say truth In justice 'tis not sufferable: I am next, And were it now, I would be glad on't: friends, Who shall preserve you now? @ Nay we are lost too. @ I fear ye are, for likely such as love The man that's faln, and have been nourish'd by him, Do not stay long behind: 'Tis held no wisdom. I know what I must do. O my Aecius, Canst thou thus perish, pluckt up by the roots, And no man feel thy worthiness? From boys He bred you both I think. @ And from the poorest. @ And lov'd ye as his own. @ We found it Sir. @ Is not this a loss then? @ O, a loss of losses; Our lives, and ruines of our families, The utter being nothing of our names, Were nothing near it. @ As I take it too, He put ye to the Emperour. @ He did so. @ And kept ye still in credit. @ 'Tis most true Sir. @ He fed your Fathers too, and made them means, Your Sisters he prefer'd to noble Wedlocks, Did he not friends? @ Oh yes Sir. @ As I take it This worthy man would not be now forgotten, I tell ye to my grief, he was basely murdred; And something would be done, by those that lov'd him: And something may be: pray stand off a little, Let me bewail him private: O my dearest. @ Aretus, if we be not sudden, he outdoes us, I know he points at venegance; we are cold, And base ungratefull wretches, if we shun it: Are we to hope for more rewards, or greatness, Or anything but death, now he is dead? Dar'st thou resolve? @ I am perfect. @ Then like flowers That grew together all we'l fall together, And with us that that bore us: when 'tis done The world shall stile us two deserving servants: I fear he will be before us. @ This night Phidias. @ No more. @ Now worthy friends I have done my mournings, Let's burn this noble body: Sweets as many As sun-burnt Meroe breeds, I'le make a flame of, Shall reach his soul in Heaven: he that shall live Ten ages hence, but to reherse this story, Shall with the sad discourse on't, darken Heaven, And force the painful burdens from the wombs Conceiv'd #a new with sorrow: even the Grave Where mighty Sylla sleeps shall rend asunder And give her shadow up, to come and groan About our piles, which will be more, and greater Than green Olympus, Ida, or old Latmus Can feed with Cedar, or the East with Gums, Greece with her wines, or Thessalie with flowers, Or willing heaven can weep for in her showers. + @ He has his last. @ Then come the worst of danger, Aecius to thy soul we give a Caesar. How long is't since ye gave it him? @ An hour, Mine own two hours before him: how it boils me! @ It was not to be cur'd I hope. @ No Phidias, I dealt above his Antidotes: Physicians May find the cause, but where the cure? @ Done bravely, We are got before his Tyranny Aretus. @ We had lost our worthiest end else Phidias. @ Canst thou hold out #a while? @ To torture him Anger would give me leave, to live an age yet; That man is poorly spirited, whose life Runs in his bloud alone, and not in's wishes, And yet I swell, and burn like flaming Aetna, A thousand new found fires are kindled in me, But yet I must not die this four hours Phidias, @ Remember who dies with thee, and despise death. @ I need no exhortation, the joy in me Of what I have done, and why, makes poyson pleasure, And my most killing torments mistresses, For how can he have time to dye, or pleasure That falls as fools unsatisfied, and simple? @ This that consumes my life, yet keeps it in me, Nor do I feel the danger of a dying, And if I but endure to hear the curses Of this fell Tyrant dead, I have half my Heaven. @ Hold thy soul fast but four hours Phidias, And thou shalt see to wishes beyond ours, Nay more beyond our meanings. @ Thou hast steel'd me: Farewel Aretus, and the souls of good men, That as ours do, have left their Roman bodies In brave revenge for vertue, guide our shadows, I would not faint yet. @ Farewel Phidias And as we have done nobly, gods look on us. = + @ Sicker, and sicker Proculus? @ Oh Lycias, What shall become of us? would we had di'd, With happy Chilax, or with Balbus, bedrid = And made too lame for justice. @ The soft Musick; And let one sing to fasten sleep upon him: Oh friends, the Emperour. @ What say the Doctors? @ For us a most sad saying, he is poyson'd, Beyond all cure too. @ Who? @ The wretch Aretus, That most unhappy villain. @ How do you know it? @ He gave him drink last: let's disperse and find him; And since he has opened misery to all, Let it begin with him first: softly he slumbers. Care charming sleep, thou easer of all woes, Brother to death, sweetly thy self dispose On this afflicted Prince, fall like a Cloud In gentle showrs, give nothing that is lowd, Or painfull to his slumbers; easie, sweet, And as a purling stream, thou son of night, Pass by his troubled senses; sing his pain Like hollow murmuring wind, or silver Rain, Into this Prince gently, Oh gently slide, And kiss him into slumbers like a Bride. @ O gods, gods: drink, drink, colder, colder Than snow on Scythian Mountains: O my heart strings. @ How does your Grace? @ The Empress speaks Sir. @ Dying, Dying Eudoxia, dying. @ Good Sir patience. @ What have ye given him? @ Pretious things dear Lady We hope shall comfort him. @ O flatter'd fool, See what thy god-head's come to: Oh Eudoxia. @ O patience, patience Sir. @ Danubius I'le have brought through my body. @ Gods give comfort. @ And Volga, on whose face the North wind freezes, I find an hundred hels, a hundred Piles, Already to my Funerals are flaming, Shall I not drink? @ You must not Sir. @ By Heaven I'le let my breath out that shall burn ye all If ye deny me longer: tempests blow me, And inundations that have drunk up Kingdoms Flow over me, and quench me: where's the villain? Am I immortal now ye slaves? by Numa If he do scape: Oh, oh. @ Dear Sir. @ Like Nero, But far more terrible, and full of slaughter, I'th 'midst of all my flames I'le fire the Empire: A thousand fans, a thousand fans to cool me: Invite the gentle winds Eudoxia. @ Sir. @ Oh do not flatter me, I am but flesh, A man, a mortal man: drink, drink, ye dunces; What can your doses now do, and your scrapings, You oyles, and Mithridates if I do die, You only words of health, and names of sickness Finding no true disease in man but mony, That talk your selves into Revenues, oh And e're ye kill your patients, begger 'em, I'le have ye flead, and dri'd. @ The Villain Sir; The most accursed wretch. @ Be gone my Queen, This is no sight for thee: goe to the Vestals, Cast holy incense in the fire, and offer One powerfull sacrifice to free thy Caesar. @ Goe goe and be happy. @ Goe, but give no ease, The Gods have set thy last hour Valentinian, Thou art but man, a bad man too, a beast, And like a sensuall bloudy thing thou diest. @ Oh Traitor. @ Curse your selves ye flatterers, And howle your miseries to come ye wretches, You taught him to be poyson'd. @ Yet no comfort? @ Be not abus'd with Priests, nor Pothecaries, They cannot help thee; Thou hast now to live A short half hour, no more, and I ten minutes: I gave thee poyson for Aecius sake, Such a destroying poyson would kill nature; And, for thou shalt not die alone, I took it. If mankind had been in thee at this murder, No more to people earth again, the wings Of old time clipt for ever, reason lost, In what I had attempted, yet O Caesar To purchase fair revenge, I had poyson'd them too. @ O villain: I grow hotter, hotter. @ Yes; But not near my heat yet; what thou feel'st now, Mark me with horror Caesar, are but Embers Of lust and leachery thou hast committed: But there be flames of murder. @ Fetch out tortures. @ Do, and I'le flatter thee, nay more I'll love thee: Thy tortures to what now I suffer Caesar, At which thou must arrive too, e're thou dy'st, Are lighter, and more full of mirth and laughter. @ Let\'em alone: I must drink. @ Now be mad, But not near me yet. @ Hold me, hold me, hold me, Hold me; or I shall burst else. @ See me Caesar, And see to what thou must come for thy murder; Millions of womens labours, all diseases. @ Oh my afflicted soul too. @ Womens fears, horrors, Despairs, and all the Plagues the hot Sun breeds. = @ Aecius, O Aecius: O Lucina. @ Are but my torments shadows? @ Hide me mountains; The gods have found my sins: Now break. @ Not yet Sir; Thou hast a pull beyond all these. @ Oh Hell, Oh villain, cursed villain. @ O brave villain, My poyson dances in me at this deed: Now Caesar, now behold me, this is torment, And this is thine before thou diest, I am wildfire: The brazen Bull of Phalaris was feign'd, The miseries of souls despising Heaven But Emblems of my torments. @ Oh quench me, quench me, quench me. @ Fire, a flattery; And all the Poets tales of sad Avernus, To my pains less than fictions: Yet to shew thee What constant love I bore my murdered master; Like a Southwind, I have sung through all these tempests, My heart, my wither'd heart, fear, fear thou Monster, Fear the just gods, I have my peace. = @ More drink, A thousand April showres fall in my bosom: How dare ye let me be tormented thus? Away with that prodigious body, gods, Gods, let me ask ye what I am, ye lay All your inflictions on me, hear me, hear me; I do confess I am a ravisher, A murderer, a hated Caesar; oh, Are there not vows enough, and flaming altars, The fat of all the world for sacrifice, And where that fails, the blood of thousand captives, To purge those sins? but I must make the incense? I do despise ye all, ye have no mercy, And wanting that, ye are no Gods, your paroll Is only preach'd abroad to make Fools fearfull, And women made of awe, believe your heaven: Oh torments, torments, torments, pains above pains, If ye be any thing but dreams, and ghosts, And truly hold the guidance of things mortal, Have in you selves times past, to come, and present, Fashion the souls of men, and make flesh for\'em, Weighing our fates, and fortunes beyond reason, Be more than all the Gods, great in forgiveness, Break not the goodly frame ye build in anger; For you are things men teach us, without passions, Give me an hour to know ye in: Oh save me But so much perfect time ye make a soul in, Take this destruction from me: no, ye cannot, The more I would believe ye, more I suffer, My brains are ashes, now my heart, my eyes friends; I goe, I goe, more air, more air; I am mortal. = @ Take in the body: Oh Licinius, The misery that we are left to suffer; No pity shall find us. @ Our lives deserve none: Would I were chain'd again to slavery, With any hope of life. @ A quiet grave, Or a consumption now Licinius, That we might be too poor to kill, were something. @ Let's make our best use, we have mony Proculus, And if that cannot save us, we have swords. @ Yes, but we dare not dye. @ I had forgot that: There's other countries then. @ But the same hate still, Of what we are. @ Think anything, I'le follow = @ How now, what news? @ Shift for your selves, ye are lost else: The Souldier is in arms for great Aecius, And their Lieutenant general that stopt\'em, Cut in a thousand pieces: they march hither: Beside, the women of the Town have murder'd Phorba, and loose Ardelia, Caesar's she-Bawds. @ Then here's no staying Proculus? @ O Caesar, That we had never known thy lusts: Let's fly, And where we find no womans man let's dye. = + @ Gods, what a sluce of blood have I let open! My happy ends are come to birth, he's dead, And I reveng'd; the Empire's all a fire, And desolation every where inhabits: And shall I live that am the author of it, To know Rome from the awe o'th' world, the pity? My friends are gone before too of my sending, And shall I stay? is ought else to be liv'd for? Is there an other friend, another wife, Or any third holds half their worthiness, To linger here alive for? Is not vertue In their two everlasting souls departed, And in their bodies first flame fled to heaven? Can any man discover this, and love me? For though my justice were as white as truth, My way was crooked to it, that condemns me: And now Aecius, and my honored Lady, That were preparers to my rest and quiet, The lines to lead me to Elyzium: You that but stept before me, on assurance I would not leave your friendship unrewarded, First smile upon the sacrifice I have sent ye, The see me coming boldly: stay, I am foolish, Somewhat too suddain to mine own destruction, This great end of my vengance may grow greater: Why may not I be Caesar? Yet no dying; Why should not I catch at it? fools and children Have had that strength before me, and obtain'd it, And as the danger stands, my reason bids me, I will, I dare; my dear friends pardon me, I am not fit to dye yet, if not Caesar; I am sure the Souldier loves me, and the people, And I will forward, and as goodly Cedars Rent from Octa by a sweeping tempest Jointed again and made tall masts, defie Those angry winds that split\'em, so will I New piece again, above the fate of women, And made more perfect far, than growing private, Stand and defie bad fortunes: If I rise, My wife was ravish'd well; If then I fall, My great attempt honours my Funeral. + @ Guard all the posterns to the Camp Affranius, And see\'em fast, we shall be rifled else, Thou art an honest, and a worthy Captain. @ Promise the Souldier any thing. @ Speak gently, And tell\'em we are now in council for\'em, Labouring to choose a Caesar fit for them, A Souldier, and a giver. @ Tell\'em further, Their free and liberal voices shall goe with us. @ Nay more, a negative say we allow\'em. @ And if our choice displease\'em, they shall name him. @ Promise three donatives, and large, Affranius. @ And Caesar once elected, present foes, With distribution of all necessaries, Corn, Wine, and Oyle. @ New garments, and new Arms, And equal portions of the Provinces To them, and to their families for ever. @ And see the City strengthned. @ I shall do it. = @ Sempronius, these are wofull times. @ O Brutus, We want thy honesty again; these Caesars, What noble Consuls got with blood, in blood Consume again, and scatter. @ Which way shall we? @ Not any way of safety I can think on. @ Now go our wives to ruin, and our daughters, And we beholders Fulvius. @ Every thing Is every mans that will. @ The Vestals now Must only feed the Souldiers fire of lust, And sensual Gods be glutted with those Offerings, Age like the hidden bowels of the earth, Open'd with swords for treasure. Gods defend us, We are chaff before their fury else. @ Away, Let's to the Temples. @ To the Capitol. 'Tis not a time to pray now, let's be strengthen'd = @ How now Affranius: what good news? @ A Caesar. @ Oh who? @ Lord Maximus is with the Souldier, And all the Camp rings, Caesar, Caesar, Caesar: He forced the Empress with him for more honour. @ A happy choice: let's meet him. @ Blessed fortune! @ Away, away, make room there, room there, room. @ Lord Maximus is Caesar, Caesar, Caesar; Hail Caesar Maximus. @ Oh turning people! Oh people excellent in war, and govern'd, In peace more raging than the furious North, When he ploughs up the Sea, and makes him brine, Or the lowd falls of Nile; I must give way, Although I neither love nor hope this: Or like a rotten bridge that dares a current, When he is swell'd and high crackt, and farewel. @ Room for the Emperour. @ Long life to Caesar. @ Hail Caesar Maximus. @ Your hand Afranius. Lead to the Palace, there my thanks in general, I'le showre among ye all: gods give me life, First to defend the Empire, then you Fathers, And valiant friends, the heirs of strength and vertue, The rampires of old Rome, of us the refuge; To you I open this day all I have, Even all the hazard that my youth hath purchas'd, Ye are my Children, family, and friends And ever so respected shall be, forward. There's a Proscription, grave Sempronius, 'Gainst all the flatterers, and lazie Bawds, Led loose-lived Valentinian to his vices, See it effected. @ Honour wait on Caesar. @ Make room for Caesar there. @ Thou hast my fears, But Valentinian keeps my vows: Oh gods, Why do we like to feed the greedy Ravenne Of these blown men, that must before they stand, And fixt in eminence, cast life on life, And trench their safeties in with wounds, and bodies? Well froward Rome, thou wilt grow weak with changing, And die without an heir, that lov'st to breed, Sons for the killing hate of sons: for me, I only live to find an enemy. + @ When is the Inauguration? @ Why #to morrow. @ 'Twill be short time. @ Any device that's handsome, A Cupid, or the God o'th' place will do it, Where he must take the Fasces. @ Or a Grace. @ A good Grace has no fellow. @ Let me see, Will not his name yield something? Maximus By th' way of Anagram? I have found out Axis, You know he bears the Empire. @ Get him wheels too, 'Twill be a cruel carriage else. @ Some songs too. @ By any means some songs: but very short ones, And honest language Paulus, without bursting, The air will fall the sweeter. @ A Grace must do it, @ Why let a Grace then. @ Yes it must be so; And in a Robe of blew too, as I take it. @ This Poet is a little kin to th' Painter That could paint nothing but a ramping Lion, So all his learned fancies are blew Graces. @ What think ye of a Sea-nymph, and a Heaven? @ Why what should she do there man? there's no water. @ That's true, it must be a Grace, and yet Me thinks a Rain bow. @ And in blew. @ Oh yes; Hanging in arch above him, and i'th' midle = @ A showre of Rain. @ No, no, it must be a Grace. @ Why prethee Grace him then. @ Or Orpheus, Coming from Hell. @ In blew too. @ 'Tis the better; And he rises, full of fires. @ Now bless us, Will not that spoil his Lutestrings, Paulus? @ Singing, And crossing of his arms. @ How can he play then? @ It shall be a Grace, I'le do it. @ Prethee do, And with as good a grace as thou canst possible; Good fury Paulus, be i'th' morning with me, And pray take measure of his mouth that speaks it. + @ Come my best lov'd Eudoxa; let the souldier Want neither Wine nor any thing he calls for, And when the Senate's ready, give us notice: In the mean time leave us. Oh my dear sweet. @ Is't possible your Grace Should undertake such dangers for my beauty, If it were excellent? @ 'Tis all The world has left to brag of. @ Can a face Long since bequeath'd to wrinkles with my sorrows, Long since ras'd out o'th' book of youth and pleasure, Have power to make the strongest man o'th' Empire, Nay the most staid, and knowing what is Woman; The greatest aim of perfectness men liv'd by, The most true constant lover of his wedlock, Such a still blowing beauty, earth was proud of, Lose such a noble wife, and wilfully; Himself prepare the way, nay make the rape. Did ye not tell me so? @ 'Tis true Eudoxa. @ Lay desolate his dearest piece of friendship, Break his strong helm he stear'd by, sink that vertue, That valour, that even all the gods can give us, Without whom he was nothing, with whom worthiest, Nay more, arrive at Caesar, and kill him too, And for my sake? either ye love too dearly, Or deeply ye dissemble, Sir? @ I do so; And till I am more strengthen'd, so I must do; Yet would my joy, and Wine had fashion'd out Some safer lye: Can these things be, Eudoxa, And I dissemble? Can there be but goodness And only thine dear Lady, any end, Any imagination but a lost one, Why I should run this hazard? O thou vertue! Were it to do again, and Valentinian Once more to hold thee, sinful Valentinian, In whom thou wert set, as Pearls are in salt Oysters, As Roses are in rank weeds, I would find, Yet to thy sacred self a dearer danger, The Gods know how I honour thee. @ What love, Sir, Can I return for this, but my obedience? My life, if so you please, and 'tis too little. @ 'Tis too much to redeem the world. @ From this hour, The sorrows for my dead Lord, fare ye well, My living Lord has dried ye; and in token, As Emperour this day I honour ye, And the great caster new of all my wishes, The wreath of living Lawrel, that must compass That sacred head, Eudoxa makes for Caesar: I am methinks too much in love with fortune; But with you ever Royal Sir my maker, The once more Summer of me, meer in love, Is poor expression of my doting, @ Sweetest. @ Now of my troth ye have bought me dear Sir. @ No, Had at loss of mankind. @ Now ye flatter. @ The Senate waits your Grace. @ Let\'em come on, And in a full form bring the ceremony: This day I am your servant, dear, and proudly, I'le wear your honoured favour. @ May it prove so. + @ Is your Grace done? @ 'Tis done. @ Who speaks? @ A Boy. @ A dainty blue Boy, Paulus? @ Yes. @ Have ye viewed The work above? @ Yes, and all up, and ready. @ The Empress does you simple honour, Paulus, The wreath your blue Grace must present, she made. But hark ye, for the Souldiers? @ That's done too: I'le bring\'em in I warrant ye. @ A Grace too? @ The same Grace serves for both. @ About it then: I must to th' Cupbord; and be sure good Paulus Your Grace be fasting, that he may hang cleanly. If there should need another voice, what then? @ I'le hang another Grace in. @ Grace be with ye. + @ Hale to thy imperial honour sacred Caesar, And from the old Rome take these wishes; You holy gods, that hitherto have held As justice holds her Ballance equal pois'd, This glory of our Nation, this full Roman, And made him fit for what he is, confirm him: Look on this Son O Jupiter our helper, And Romulus, thou Father of our honour, Preserve him like they self, just, valiant, noble, A lover, and increaser of his people, Let him begin with Numa, stand with Cato, The first five years of Nero be his wishes, Give him the age and fortune of Emylius, And his whole raign renew a great Augustus. Honour that is ever living, Honour that is ever giving, Honour that sees all and knows Both the ebbs of man and flowers, Honour that rewards the best, Sends thee thy rich labours rest; Thou hast studied still to please her, Therefore now she calls thee Caesar: @ Hale, hale, Caesar, hale and stand, And thy name outlive the Land. Noble Fathers to his brows, Bind this wreath with thousand vows. @ Stand to eternity. @ I thank ye Fathers, And as I rule, may it still grow or wither: Now to the Banket, ye are all my guests, This day be liberal friends, to wine we give it; And smiling pleasures: Sit, my Queen of Beauty; Fathers, your places: there are fair Wars Souldiers, And thus I give the first charge to ye all; You are my second, sweet, to every cup, I add unto the Senate a new honour, And to the sons of Mars a donative. God Lyeus ever young, Ever honour'd, ever sung; Stain'd with bloud of lusty Grapes, In a thousand lusty shapes; Dance upon the Mazers brim, In the Crimson liquor swim: From thy plenteous hand divine, Let a River run with Wine, God of youth, let this day here: Enter neither care nor fear. @ Bellona's seed, the glory of old Rome, Envy of conquer'd Nations, nobly come And to the fulness of your war-like noise Let your feet move, make up this hour of joys; Come, come I say, range your fair Troop at large, And your high measure turn into a charge. @ The Emperor's grown heavy with his wine. @ The Senate staies Sir for your thanks. @ Great Caesar. @ I have my wish. @ Wilt please your Grace speak to him? @ Yes, but he will not hear Lords. @ Stir him Lucius; the Senate must have thanks. @ Your Grace, Sir Caesar, @ Did I not tell you he was well? he's dead. @ Dead? treason, guard the Court, let no man pass, Souldiers, your Caesar's murdered. @ Make no tumult, Nor arm the Court, ye have his killer with ye; And the just cause, if ye can stay the hearing: I was his death; that wreath that made him Caesar, Has made him earth. @ Cut her in thousand pieces. @ Wise men would know the reason first: to die, Is that I wish for, Romans, and your swords, The heaviest way of death: yet Souldiers grant me That was your Empress once, and honour'd by ye, But so much time to tell ye why I kill'd him, And weigh my reasons well, if man be in you; Then if ye dare do cruelly, condemn me. @ Hear her ye noble Romans, 'tis a Woman, A subject not for swords, but pity: Heaven (If she be guilty of malitious murder) Has given us Laws to make example of her, If only of revenge, and bloud hid from us, Let us consider first, then execute. @ Speak bloudy Woman. @ Yes; This Maximus, That was your Caesar, Lords, and noble Souldiers, (And If I wrong the dead, Heaven perish me; Or speak to win your favours but the truth) Was to his Country, to his friends, and Caesar A most malitious Traitor. @ Take heed woman. @ I speak not for compassion. Brave Aecius (Whose blessed soul if I lye shall afflict me) The man that all the world lov'd, you ador'd, That was the master-piece of Arms, and bounty; Mine own grief shall come last: this friend of his, This Souldier, this your right Arm, noble Romans, By a base letter to the Emperour; Stufft full of fears, and poor suggestions, And by himself, unto himself directed, Was cut off basely, basely, cruelly; Oh loss, O innocent, can ye now kill me? And the poor stale my Noble Lord, that knew not More of this villain, than his forc'd fears; Like one foreseen to satisfie, dy'd for it: There was a murder too, Rome would have blusht at; Was this worth being Caesar? or my patience? nay his Wife By Heaven he told it me in wine, and joy; And swore it deeply, he himself prepar'd To be abus'd, how? let me grieve not tell ye; And weep the sins that did it: and his end Was only me, and Caesar: But me he lyed in: These are my reasons Romans, and my soul Tells me sufficient; and my deed is justice: Now as I have done well, or ill, look on me. @ What less could nature do, what less had we done, Had we known this before? Romans, she is righteous; And such a piece of justice Heaven must smile on. Bend all your swords on me, if this displease ye. For I must kneel, and on this vertuous hand; Seal my new joy and thanks, thou hast done truly. @ Up with your arms, ye strike a Saint else Romans, May'st thou live ever spoken our Protector: Rome yet has many Noble Heirs: Let's in And pray, before we choose, then plant a Caesar Above the reach of envy, blood, and murder. @ Take up the body nobly to his urn, And may our sins, and his together burn. + We would fain please ye, and as fain be pleas'd; 'Tis but a little liking, both are eas'd: We have your money, and you have our ware, And to our understanding good and fair: For your own wisdoms sake, be not so mad, To acknowledge ye have bought things dear and bad: Let not a brack i'th' stuff, or here and there The fading gloss, a general loss appear: We know ye take up worse Commodities, And dearer pay, yet think your bargains wise; We know in Meat and Wine, ye fling away More time and wealth, which is but dearer pay, And with the Reckoning all the pleasure lost. We bid ye not unto repenting cost: The price is easie, and so light the Play, That ye may new digest it every day. Then noble friends, as ye would choose a Miss, Only to please the eye #a while and kiss, Till a good Wife be got: So let this Play Hold ye a while until a better may.