Читать бесплатно онлайн книгу  Beaumont and Fletcher's Works, Vol. 04 of 10

автор Francis Beaumont

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BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER
THE TRAGEDY OF VALENTINIAN MONSIEUR THOMAS THE CHANCES THE BLOODY BROTHER THE WILD-GOOSE CHASE

THE TEXT EDITED BY
A. R. WALLER, M.A.

Cambridge:
at the University Press
1906

CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS WAREHOUSE,

C.F. CLAY, Manager.

London: FETTER LANE, E.C.

Glasgow: 50, WELLINGTON STREET.

Leipzig: F.A. BROCKHAUS.

New York: G.P. PUTNAM'S SONS.

Bombay and Calcutta: MACMILLAN AND CO., Ltd.

[All Rights reserved.]

CONTENTS

NOTE
THE TRAGEDY OF VALENTINIAN
MONSIEUR THOMAS.
THE CHANCES
THE BLOODY BROTHER; OR, ROLLO
THE WILD-GOOSE CHASE
APPENDIX
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES

NOTE

A few addenda to the textual notes on The Elder Brother, Wit without Money and The Faithful Shepherdess (Volume II), will be found in the Appendix, before the notes to the plays contained in the present volume. As the volume or volumes of explanatory notes on the plays, their literary and stage history and their language, will not appear until after the completion of the publication of the entire text, it seemed best to give these few additions here, rather than to wait for the appearance of those volumes.

It might be as well to mention here that differences have been found to exist in copies of the second folio all dated 1679. In order to check these as far as possible the text is set up from one copy of the folio and the proofs are read word for word with two additional copies, once by myself and once by Mrs Glover, who, since I took over the editorship, has also been so good as to continue her collations of a set of the quartos, as an additional check upon my own collations of them.

A. R. WALLER.

Cambridge,
3 September, 1906.

THE
TRAGEDY
OF
VALENTINIAN.

Persons Represented in the Play.

Valentinian,

Emperour of

Rome.

Æcius,

the Emperours Loyal General

.

Balbus,

4 Noble Panders, and flatterers to the Emperour

.

Proculus,

Chilax,

Licinius,

Maximus,

a great Souldier, Husband to

Lucina.

Lycias,

an Eunuch

.

Pontius,

an honest Cashier'd Centurion

.

Phidias,

two bold and faithful Eunuchs Servants to Æcius

.

Aretus,

Afranius,

an eminent Captain

.

Paulus,

a Poet

.

Licippus,

a Courtier

.

3 Senators.

Physicians.

Gentlemen.

Souldiers.

WOMEN.

Eudoxia,

Empress, Wife to

Valentinian.

Lucina,

the chast abused Wife of

Maximus.

Claudia,

Lucina's

waiting Women

.

Marcellina,

Ardelia,

two of the Emperou[r]s Bawds

.

Phorba,

The Scene Rome.

The principal Actors were,

• Richard Burbadge.
• Henry Condel.
• John Lowin.
• William Ostler.
• John Underwood.

Actus Primus. Scena Prima.

Enter Balbus, Proculus, Chilax, Licinius.

Bal. 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.

Pro. 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.)

Chi. True I have so.

Pro. 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?

Chi. 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.

Lyc. Do you see these Jewels? You would think these pretty baits; now I'le assure ye Here's half the wealth of Asia.

Bal. 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.

Pro. And cold at all these offers?

Bal. Cold as Crystal, Never to be thaw'd again.

Chi. I tri'd her further, And so far, that I think she is no Woman, At least as Women go now.

Lyc. Why what did you?

Chi. 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.

Pro. That was pretty.

Chi. 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.

Lyc. And she heard you?

Chi. 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 any thing 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.

Bal. I would the Emperor were that God.

Chi. 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 she blushes It is the holiest thing to look upon; The purest temple of her sect, that ever Made Nature a blest Founder.

Pro. Is there no way To take this Phenix?

Lyc. None but in her ashes.

Chi. 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.

Bal. 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.

Pro. This is the first wench I was ever pos'd in, Yet I have brought young loving things together This two and thirty years.

Chi. I find by this wench The 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.

Bal. Well, what's thought of?

Pro. The Emperour must know it.

Lyc. If the woman should chance to fail too.

Chi. As 'tis ten to one.

Pro. Why what remains, but new nets for the purchase?

Chi. Let's go consider then: and if all fail, This is the first quick Eele, that sav'd her tail. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Enter Lucina, Ardelia and Phorba.

Ardel. 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.

Luci. I'le hear no more.

Phor. 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.

Ard. Nay ye shall love your Husband too; we come not To make a Monster of ye.

Luc. Are ye women?

Ard. You'll find us so, and women you shall thank too, If you have grace to make your use.

Luc. Fye on ye.

Phor. Alas poor bashful Lady, by my soul, Had ye no other vertue, but your blushes, And I a man, I should run mad for those: How daintily they set her off, how sweetly!

Ard. 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.

Luc. Pray leave me.

Phor. 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.

Luc. Ye are Devils.

Ard. That you may one day bless for your damnation.

Luc. 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 your selves, 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 any thing 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.

Phor. Ye speak well, Lady; A sign of fruitful education, If your religious zeal had wisdom with it.

Ard. This Lady was ordain'd to bless the Empire, And we may all give thanks for't.

Phor. I believe ye.

Ard. 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.

Phor. Exceeding wise, which is a wonder in her, And so religious, that I well believe, Though she would sin she cannot.

Ard. And besides, She has the Empires cause in hand, not loves; There lies the main consideration, For which she is chiefly born.

Phor. 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.

Ard. '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 vertues merit, and his zeal. I look to see a Numa from this Lady, Or greater than Octavius.

Phor. 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?

Ard. 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.

Phor. Her tartness unto us too.

Ard. That's a wise one.

Phor. I rarely like, it shews a rising wisdom, That chides all common fools as dare enquire What Princes would have private.

Ard. What a Lady Shall we be blest to serve?

Luc. 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.

Ard. 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.

Phor. 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?

Luc. I perceive ye, Your own dark sins dwell with ye, and that price You sell 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 Cæsar, 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.

Ard. You mistake us Lady.

Luc. 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. [Exit Luc.

Phor. What's now to do?

Ard. Ev'n as she said, to dye, For there's no living here, and women thus, I am sure for us two.

Phor. Nothing stick upon her?

Ard. We have lost a mass of mony; well Dame Vertue, Yet ye may halt if good luck serve.

Phor. Worms take her, She has almost spoil'd our trade.

Ard. So godly; This is ill breeding, Phorba.

Phor. If the women Should have a longing now to see this Monster, And she convert 'em all.

Ard. 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. [Exeunt.

SCENE III.

Enter Maximus, and Æcius.

Max. I cannot blame the Nations, noble friend, That they fall off so fast from this wild man, When (under our Allegiance be it spoken, And the most happy tye of our affectio[n]s) 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 Æcius 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.

Æci. 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 the 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.

Max. 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 Æcius, Why are we thus, or how become thus wretched?

Æcius. You'll fall again into your fit.

Max. 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?

Æcius. You are too curious.

Max. Good, give me leave, why is this Author of us?

Æcius. I dare not hear ye speak thus.

Max. 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.

Æcius. Ye speak nobly.

Max. 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?

Æcius. 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.

Max. I pray mistake me not.

Æcius. 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.

Max. 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. [Exit Max.

Enter the Emperour, and Chilax.

Emp. Is that the best news?

Chil. Yet the best we know, Sir.

Emp. Bid Maximus come to me, and be gone then; Mine own head be my helper, these are fools: How now Æcius, are the Souldiers quiet?

Æcius. Better I hope, Sir, than they were.

Emp. They are pleas'd, I hear, To censure me extreamly for my pleasures, Shortly they'll fight against me.

Æcius. 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.

Emp. I believe thee; Art thou in love, Æcius, yet?

Æcius. O no Sir; I am too course for Ladies; my embraces, That only am acquainted with Alarms, Would break their tender Bodies.

Emp. 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.

Æcius. All that goodness Is but your Graces Creature.

Emp. Tell me truly, For thou dar'st tell me.

Æcius. Any thing concerns ye, That's fit for me to speak and you to pardon.

Emp. What say the Souldiers of me, and the same words, Mince 'em not, good Æcius, but deliver The very forms and tongues they talk withal.

Æcius. 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.

Emp. Forward.

Æcius. 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.

Emp. They speak plainly.

Æc. 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.

Emp. Some drunken dreams, Æcius.

Æcius. 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, Whose truth and strength of duty made you Cæsar: 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.

Emp. What sin's next? For I perceive they have no mind to spare me.

Æcius. 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.

Emp. Forward.

Æcius. I have spoken too much, Sir.

Emp. I'll have all.

Æcius. 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.

Emp. It may be I am so, therefore forward.

Æcius. I have ever Learn'd to obey, nor shall my life resist it.

Emp. No more Apologies.

Æcius. They grieve besides, Sir, To see the Nations, whom our 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 wantonness and blood, Tiberius doubts, Caligula all vices; For from the spring of these, succeeding Princes— Thus they talk, Sir.

Emp. Well, Why do you hear these things?

Æcius. 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.

Emp. 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.

Æcius. 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.

Emp. I understand you not.

Æcius. Let not this body That has look'd bravely in his blood for Cæsar, 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, And know the telling of this truth has made me A man clean lost to this World; I embrace it; Only my last Petition, sacred Cæsar, Is, I may dye a Roman.

Emp. 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.

Æcius. Life to Cæsar— [Exit Æcius.

Enter Chilax.

Chi. Lord Maximus attends your Grace.

Emp. Go tell him I'll meet him in the Gallery: The honesty of this Æcius, 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.

[Exeunt.

Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.

Enter the Emperour, Maximus, Licinius, Proculus, Chilax, as at Dice.

Emp. Nay ye shall set my hand out, 'tis not just I should neglect my fortune now 'tis prosperous.

Lic. If I have any thing to set your Grace, But Cloaths or good conditions, let me perish. You have all my money, Sir.

Pro. And mine.

Chi. And mine too.

Max. Unless your Grace will credit us.

Emp. No bare board.

Lic. Then at my Garden-House.

Emp. The Orchard too.

Lic. And't please your Grace.

Emp. Have at 'em.

Pro. They are lost.

Lic. Why, farewel Fig-trees.

Emp. Who sets more?

Chil. At my horse, Sir.

Emp. The dapl'd Spaniard?

Chil. He.

Emp. He's mine.

Chil. He is so.

Max. Your short horse is soon curried.

Chil. So it seems, Sir, So may your Mare be too, if luck serve.

Max. Ha?

Chil. Nothing my Lord, but grieving at my fortune.

Emp. Come Maximus, you were not wont to flinch thus.

Max. I have lost all.

Emp. There's a Ring yet.

Max. This was not made to lose, Sir.

Emp. Some love token; Set it I say.

Max. I do beseech your Grace, Rather name any house I have.

Emp. 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.

Max. Will you throw, Sir? there 'tis.

Emp. Why, then have at it fairly, mine.

Max. Your Grace Is only ever fortunate; to morrow, And't be your pleasure, Sir, I'll pay the price on't.

Emp. To morrow you shall have it withou[t] price, Sir, But this day 'tis my Victory; good Maximus, Now I bethink my self, go to Æcius, 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.

Max. I will Sir, And gods preserve you in this mind still.

Emp. Shortly I'll see 'em march my self.

Max. Gods ever keep ye— [Exit Maximus.

Emp. To what end do you think this Ring shall serve now? For ye are Fellows only know by rote, As Birds record their lessons.

Chil. For the Lady.

Emp. But how for her?

Chil. That I confess I know not.

Emp. 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. [Exit Chilax.

Lic. We will, Sir.

Emp. 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.

Pro. Well Sir.

Emp. They are a thought too eager.

Enter Chilax, and Lycias the Eunuch.

Chi. Here's the Eunuch.

Eun. Long life to Cæsar.

Emp. 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. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Enter Claudia, and Marcellina.

Claud. Sirrah, what ails my Lady that of late She never cares for Company?

Mar. I know not, Unless it be that Company causes Cuckolds.

Claud. That were a childish fear.

Mar. What were those Ladies, Came to her lately From the Court?

Claud. The same wench, Some grave instructors on my life, they look For all the world like old hatcht hilts.

Mar. 'Tis true, Wench, For here and there, and yet they painted well too, One might discover where the Gold was worn, Their iron ages.

Claud. If my judgement fail not, They have been sheathed like rotten Ships.

Mar. It may be.

Claud. For if you mark their rudders, they hang weakly.

Mar. They have past the line belike; wouldst live Claudia Till thou wert such as they are?

Claud. 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.

Mar. 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?

Claud. Brave fellows: I fear me Bawds of five i'th' Pound.

Mar. How know you?

Claud. They gave me great lights to it.

Mar. Take heed, Claudia.

Clau. Let them take heed, the spring comes on.

Mar. To me now They seem'd as noble Visitants.

Claud. 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.

Mar. Thou art a strange Wench, Claudia.

Claud. 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.

Mar. Peace, my Lady comes; what may that be?

Enter Lucina, and Lycias, the Eunuch.

Clau. A Sumner That cites her to appear.

Mar. No more of that wench.

Eun. Madam, what answer to your Lord?

Luci. Pray tell him, I am subject to his will.

Eun. Why weep you Madam? Excellent Lady, there are none will hurt you.

Luci. I do beseech you tell me Sir.

Eun. What, Lady?

Luci. Serve ye the Emperor?

Eun. I do.

Luci. In what place?

Eun. In's chamber Madam.

Luci. Do ye serve his will too?

Eun. In fair and just commands.

Luci. Are ye a Roman?

Eun. Yes noble Lady, and a Mantuan.

Luci. What office bore your parents?

Eun. One was Pretor.

Luci. Take heed then how you stain his reputation.

Eun. Why worthy Lady?

Luci. 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.

Eun. Madam, I am no Broker.

Claud. I'le be hang'd then.

Eun. 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.

Luci. I will Sir.

Eun. If ye mistrust me, do not.

Luci. 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.

Eun. 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?

Luci. Ye speak well Sir; Would all the rest that serve the Emperour, Had but your way.

Claud. And so they have ad unguem.

Luci. 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.

Eun. It shall be Madam, And so I wish you happiness.

Luci. I thank you— [Exeunt.

SCENE [III]. [Tumult & noise within.

Enter Æcius, pursuing Pontius, the Captain, and Maximus, following.

Max. Temper your self Æcius.

Pon. Hold my Lord, I am a Roman, and a Souldier.

Max. Pray Sir.

Æci. Thou art a lying Villain, and a Traytor; Give me my self, or by the Gods my friend You'l 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?

Pon. Hear me.

Max. Are ye a man?

Æci. I am a true hearted, Maximus, And if the Villain live, we are dishonour'd.

Max. But hear him what he can say.

Æci. That's the way, To pardon him; I am so easie natur'd, That if he speak but humbly I forgive him.

Pon. I do beseech ye noble General.

Æci. Has found the way already, give me room, One stroak, and if he scape me then h'as mercy.

Pon. 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.

Æci. He argues with me, A made up Rebel.

Max. Pray consider, What certain grounds ye have for this.

Æci. What grounds? Did I not take him preaching to the Souldier[s] How lazily they liv'd, and what dishonours It was to serve a Prince so full of woman? Those were his very words, friend.

Max. These, Æcius, 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.

Æci. Why should you protect him? Goe to, it shews not honest.

Max. Taint me not, For that shews worse Æcius: 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?

Æci. 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.

Pon. May I speak yet?

Max. Hear him.

Æci. And while Aecius holds a reputation, At least command, ye bear no arms for Rome Sir.

Pon. Against her I shall never: the condemn'd man Has yet that priviledge to speak, my Lord; Law were not equall else.

Max. 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.

Aeci. Speak.

Pon. '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.

Aec. To the rest Sir.

Pon. 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 Cæsar as he passes, And be rewarded with a thousand drachma's, For thus we get but years and beets.

Aeci. What think you, Were these words to be spoken by a Captain, One that should give example?

Max. 'Twas too much.

Pon. My Lord, I did not wooe 'em from the Empire, Nor bid 'em turn their daring steel 'gainst Cæsar, 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 Cæsar. 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.

Aeci. All this language Makes but against you Pontius, you are cast, And by mine honour, and my love to Cæsar, 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.

Pon. 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.

Aeci. Come my Lord, Now to the Field again.

Max. Alas poor Pontius.— [Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

Enter Chilax, at one door, Licinius, and Balbus, at another.

Lici. How how?

Chi. She's come.

Bal. Then I'le to th' Emperour.— [Exit Balbus.

Chi. Do; Is the Musick placed well?

Lici. Excellent.

Chi. 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.

Lici. Well.

Chi. Are the Jewels, and those ropes of Pearl,

Enter Emperour, Balbus, and Proc[u]lus.

Laid in the way she passes?

Lici. Take no care man— [Exit Licinius.

Emp. What is she come?

Chil. She is Sir; but 'twere best, Your Grace were seen last to her.

Emp. So I mean; Keep the Court emptie Proculus.

Pro. 'Tis done Sir.

Emp. Be not too sudden to her.

Chil. Good your Grace, Retire, and man your self; 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.

Emp. 'Tis true, they shall.

Chil. Remember your place Proculus.

Pro. I warrant ye.— [Exeunt Emp. Bal. and Pro.

Enter Lucina, Claudia, and Marcellina.

Chi. She enters: who are waiters there? the Emperour Calls for his Horse to air himself.

Luci. 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.

Chil. Noble Madam, Ye are welcom to the Court, most nobly welcom, Ye are a stranger Lady.

Luci. I desire so.

Chil. A wondrous stranger here, Nothing so strange: And therefore need a guide I think.

Luci. I do Sir, And that a good one too.

Chil. My service Lady, Shall be your guide in this place; But pray ye tell me, Are ye resolv'd a Courtier?

Luci. No I hope Sir.

Clau. You are, Sir?

Chil. Yes, my fair one.

Clau. So it seems, You are so ready to bestow your self, Pray what might cost those Breeches?

Chil. Would you wear 'em? Madam ye have a witty woman.

Mar. Two Sir, Or else ye underbuy us.

Luci. Leave your talking: But is my Lord here, I beseech ye, Sir?

Chil. 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.

Luci. Whither?

Chil. Why to your Lord.

Luci. Is it so hard Sir, To find him in this place without a Guide? For I would willingly not trouble you.

Chil. 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—

Mar. I see he will goe with us.

Clau. Let him amble.

Chil. It fits not that a Lady of your reckoning Should pass without attendants.

Luci. I have two Sir.

Chil. I mean without a man; You'l see the Emperour?

Luci. Alas I am not fit Sir.

Chil. You are well enough, He'l take it wondrous kindly: Hark.

Luci. Ye flatter, Good Sir, no more of that.

Chil. Well, I but tell ye.

Luc. Will ye goe forward, since I must be man'd, Pray take your place.

Claud. Cannot ye man us too Sir?

Chil. Give me but time.

Mar. And you'l try all things.

Chil. No: I'le make no such promise.

Claud. If ye do Sir, Take heed ye stand to't.

Chil. Wondrous merry Ladies. [Ex.

Enter Licinius, and Proculus, Balbus.

Luci. The wenches are dispos'd, pray keep your way Sir.

Lici. She is coming up the stairs; Now the Musick; And as that stirs her, let's set on: perfumes there.

Pro. Discover all the Jewels.

Lici. Peace. [Musick.

SONGS.

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.

SECOND.

Hear ye Ladies that despise What the mighty Love has done, Fear examples, and be wise, Fair Calisto was a Nun, Læda 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 he 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.

Enter Chilax, Lucina, Claudia, and Marcellina.

Luci. 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.

Chil. But tell me Madam, How do ye like the Song?

Luci. I like the air well, But for the words, they are lascivious, And over light for Ladies.

Chil. All ours love 'em.

Luci. 'Tis like enough, for yours are loving Ladies.

Lici. Madam, ye are welcom to the Court. Who waits? Attendants for this Lady.

Luci. Ye mistake Sir; I bring no triumph with me.

Lici. But much honour.

Pro. 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.

Luci. O no Sir; There's nothing to deserve 'em.

Pro. Yes, your presence.

Luci. Good Gentlemen be patient, and believe I come to see my husband, on command too, I were no Courtier else.

Lici. That's all one Lady, Now ye are here, y'are welcom, and the Emperour Who loves ye, but too well.

Luci. No more of that Sir. I came not to be Catechiz'd.

Pro. Ah Sirrah; And have we got you here? faith Noble Lady, We'l keep you one month Courtier.

Luci. Gods defend Sir, I never lik'd a trade worse.

Pro. Hark ye.

Luci. No Sir.

Pro. Ye are grown the strangest Lady.

Luci. How?

Pro. By Heaven, 'Tis true I tell ye, and you'l find it.

Luci. I? I'le rather find my grave, and so inform him.

Pro. Is it not pity Gentlemen, this Lady, (Nay I'le deal roughly with ye, yet not hurt ye) Sho[u]ld live alone, and give such heavenly beauty Only to walls, and hangings?

Luci. 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.

Bal. Well, well Lady; However you are pleas'd to think of us, Ye are welcom, and ye shall be welcome.

Luci. Shew it In that I come for then, in leading me Where my lov'd Lord is, not in flattery:— [Jewels shew'd. Nay ye may draw the Curtain, I have seen 'em, But none worth half my honesty.

Claud. Are these Sir, Laid here to take?

Pro. Yes, for your Lady, Gentlewomen.

Mar. We had been doing else.

Bal. Meaner Jewels Would fit your worths.

Claud. And meaner clothes your bodies.

Luci. The Gods shall kill me first.

Lici. There's better dying; I'th' Emperours arms goe to, but be not angry— These are but talks sweet Lady.

Enter Phorba, and Ardelia.

Phor. Where is this stranger? rushes, Ladys, rushes, Rushes as green as Summer for this stranger.

Pro. Here's Ladies come to see you.

Luci. You are gone then? I take it 'tis your Qu.

Pro. 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— [Exeunt.

Luci. 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.

Pho. You are a welcom woman.

Ard. Bless me Heaven, How did you find the way to Court?

Luci. I know not, Would I had never trod it.

Phor. Prethee tell me, Good noble Lady, and good sweet heart love us, For we love thee extreamly; is not this place A Paradise to live in?

Luci. To those people That know no other Paradise but pleasure, That little I enjoy contents me better.

Ard. What, heard ye any Musick yet?

Luci. Too much.

Phor. 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.

Ard. How do ye? Alas poor wretch how cold it is!

Luci. 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.

Phor. We'l lead ye to him, he's i'th' Gallery.

Ard. We'l shew ye all the Court too.

Luci. Shew me him, And ye have shew'd me all I come to look on.

Phor. 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.

Luci. Would I might not.— [Exeunt.

Enter Chilax, and Balbus.

Chil. Now the soft Musick; Balbus run—

Bal. I flye Boy— [Exit Balbus.

Chil. The women by this time are worming of her,— If she can hold out them, the Emperour [Musick. Takes her to task: he has her; hark the Musick.

Enter Emperour, and Lucina.

Luci. Good your Grace, Where are my women Sir?

Emp. 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?

Luci. I beseech your Majestie, Consider what I am, and whose.

Emp. I do so.

Luci. Believe me, I shall never make a whore Sir.

Emp. A friend ye may, and to that man that loves ye, More than you love your vertue.

Luci. Sacred Cæsar.

Emp. You shall not kneel to me sweet.

Luci. 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 Cæsar, Was never Traytor Sir, nor never tainted In all the actions of his life.

Emp. I know it.

Luci. 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 Cæsar, 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.

Emp. 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.— [Exeunt.

Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Enter Chilax, Licinius, Proculus, and Balbus.

Chil. 'Tis done Licinius.

Lici. How?

Chil. I shame to tell it, If there be any justice, we are Villains, And must be so rewarded.

Bal. If it be done, I take it 'tis no time now to repent it, Let's make the best o'th' trade.

Pro. 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.

Lici. 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.

Pro. 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.—

Enter Emperour, and Lucina.

Chi. The Emperour! away, And if we can repent, let's home and pray. [Exeunt.

Emp. Your only vertue now is patience, Take heed, and save your honour; if you talk.

Luci. As long as there is motion in my body, And life to give me words, I'le cry for justice.

Emp. Justice shall never hear ye, I am justice.

Luci. 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 fearfull 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.

Emp. 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.

Luci. Glorious thief, What restitution canst thou make to save me?

Emp. I'le ever love, and honour you.

Luci. Thou canst not, For that which was mine honour, thou hast murdred, And can there be a love in violence?

Emp. You shall be only mine.

Luci. 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.

Emp. I fear no loss but love, I stand above it.

Luci. Call in your Lady Bawds, and guilded Pander's And let them triumph too, and sing to Cæsar, 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 Cæsar's whore; O sacred Cæsar, (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.

Emp. This helps not.

Luci. 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?

Emp. 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.

Luci. Oh villain.

Emp. 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— [Exit Emperour.

Luci. 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?

Enter Maximus, and Æcius.

Aeci. Let Titius Command the company that Pontius lost, And see the Fosses deeper.

Max. How now sweet heart, What make you here, and thus?

Aeci. Lucina weeping! This must be much offence.

Max. Look up and tell me, Why are you thus? My Ring? O friend, I have found it, Ye are at Court, sweet.

Luci. Yes, this brought me hither.

Max. 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 Cæsar; 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.

Luci. I dare not.

Aeci. Is that the Ring ye lost?

Max. 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?

Luci. Farewel for ever Sir.

Max. 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 Cæsar here; these lips Taste not of Ravisher in my opinion. Was it not so?

Luc. O yes.

Max. I dare believe thee, For thou wert ever truth it self, and sweetness; Indeed she was, Æcius.

Æcius. So she is still.

Max. Once more, O my Lucina, O my Comfort, The blessing of my Youth, the life of my life.

Æcius. I have seen enough to stagger my obedience; Hold me ye equal Gods, this is too sinful.

Max. 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.

Luc. Long farewel, Sir. And as I have been loyal, gods think on me.

Max. 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.

Æcius. Nay, I must kiss too; such a kiss again, And from a Woman of so ripe a Vertue, Æcius must not take; Farewel thou Phœnix, 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.

Luc. No.

Æcius. 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, Æcius, 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.

Max. She must not.

Luc. Why so long, Sir, Am I not grey enough with grief already?

Æci. To draw from that wild man a sweet repentance, And goodness in his days to come.

Max. They are so, And will be ever coming, my Æcius.

Æcius. 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.

Max. 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.

Æcius. Therefore she must live, To teach the world, such deaths are superstitious.

Luc. 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 Cæsar May see his errours and repent, I'll tell ye, His penitence 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.

Æcius. 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 Souldiers tears I'll offer on thy Monument, and bring Full of thy noble self with tears untold yet, Many a worthy Wife, to weep thy ruine.

Max. 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.

Æci. Once more farewel, go find Elyzium, There where the happy Souls are crown'd with Blessings, There where 'tis ever Spring and ever Summer.

Max. 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.

Æcius. And so our last farewels.

Max. Gods give thee Justice— [Exit Lucina.

Æcius. 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.

Max. Æcius, 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 Æcius?

Æcius. I am stricken With such a stiff amazement, that no answer Can readily come from me, nor no comfort; Will ye go home, or go to my house?

Max. Neither; I have no home, and you are mad, Æcius, 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.

Æcius. Ye do better.

Max. I am made a branded Slave, Æcius, 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 Cæsar did it, And what am I to him?

Æcius. 'Tis well consider'd; However you are tainted, be no Traitor Time may outwear the first, the last lives ever.

Max. O that thou wert not living, and my friend.

Æcius. 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?

Max. That's all I have to live on.

Æcius. Then go with me, Ye shall not to your own house.

Max. 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.

Æcius. '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.

Max. 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?

Æcius. No more, Maximus, To one that truly lives. Æcius:

Max. Why, then I care not, I can live well enough, For look you friend, for vertue, and those trifles, They may be bought they say.

Æcius. He's craz'd a little, His grief has made him talk things from his Nature.

Max. But Chastity is not a thing I take it To get in Rome, unless it be bespoken A hundred years before; Is it Æcius? By'r Lady, and well handled too i'th' breeding.

Æcius. Will ye go any way?

Max. 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?

Æcius. Alas, my noble friend.

Max. Alas not me, I am not wretched, for there's no man miserable But he that makes himself so.

Æcius. Will ye walk yet?

Max. 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 to 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.

Æcius. Well.

Max. 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?

Æcius. Does he but seem so, Or is he mad indeed?

Max. Oh gods, my heart!

Æcius. Would it would fairly break.

Max. Methinks I am somewhat wilder than I was, And yet I thank the gods I know my duty.

Enter Claudia.

Claud. Nay, you may spare your tears; she's dead. She is so.

Max. Why, so it should be: how?

Claud. 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. [Exit Clau.

Max. No more of that; be gone; now my Æcius, 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.

Æcius. That's nobly spoken.

Max. Was I not wild, Æcius?

Æcius. Somewhat troubled.

Max. 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.

Æcius. Good Sir, no more, I shall be melted with it.

Max. I have done, and good Sir comfort me; Would there were wars now.

Æcius. Settle your thoughts, come.

Max. So I have now, friend, Of my deep lamentations here's an end. [Exeunt.

[SCENE II.]

Enter Pontius, Phidias, and Aretus.

Phid. By my faith, Captain Pontius, besides pity Of your faln fortunes, what to say I know not, For 'tis too true the Emperour desires not, But my best master, any souldier near him.

Aret. 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?

Pont. 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.

Phid. And those he understands not.

Pont. He should, Phidias.

Aret. 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.

Phid. Can ye flatter, And if it were put to you, lye a little?

Pont. Yes, if it be a living.

Aret. That's well said then.

Pont. But must these lies and flatteries be believ'd then?

Phid. Oh yes, by any means.

Pon. By any means then I cannot lie nor flatter.

Aret. Ye must swear too, If ye be there.

Pont. I can swear if they move me.

Phid. Cannot ye forswear too?

Pont. The Court for ever, If it be grown so wicked.

Aret. You should procure a little too.

Pont. What's that? Mens honest sayings for my truth?

Aret. Oh no, Sir; But womens honest actions for your trial.

Pont. Do you do all these things?

Phid. Do you not like 'em?

Pont. Do you ask me seriously, or trifle with me? I am not so low yet to be your mirth.

Are. You do mistake us, Captain, for sincerely, We ask you how you like 'em?

Pon. 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.

Aret. What then, Sir?

Pon. If you profess this wickedness, Because ye have been Souldiers, and born Arms, The Servants of the brave Æcius, 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.

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.

Phid. 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.

Pont. I have found two good men: use my life, For it is yours, and all I have to thank ye— [Exeunt.

SCENE III.

Enter Maximus.

Max. 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 Cæsar, And when he shall but doubt, I dare attempt him, But make a question of his ill, but say What is a Cæsar, that he dare do this, Dead sure he cuts me off; Æcius dyes, Or I have lost my self: why should I kill him? Why should I kill my self? for 'tis my killing, Æcius is my root, and wither him, Like a decaying Branch I fall to nothing. Is he not more to me than Wife, than Cæsar? 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 Æcius, Even he himself, this friend that holds me from it, Out of his worthy love to me, and justice, Had it not been on Cæsar, had reveng'd her? He told me so; what shall I do then?

Enter a Servant.

Can other men affect it, and I cold? I fear he must not live.

Serv. My Lord, the General Is come to seek ye.

Max. Go, entreat him to enter; O brave Æcius, 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;

Enter Æcius.

Would I were dead my self.

Æcius. You run away well; How got you from me, friend?

Max. That that leads mad men, A strong imagination made me wander.

Æcius. I thought you had been more setled.

Max. I am well, But you must give me leave a little sometimes To have a buzzing in my brains.

Æcius. Ye are dangerous, But I'll prevent it if I can; ye told me You would go to th' Army.

Max. Why, to have my throat cut? Must he not be the bravest man, Æcius, That strikes me first?

Æci. You promised me a freedom From all these thoughts, and why should any strike you?

Max. 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.

Æci. 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.

Max. 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.

Æci. Why do ye eye me, With such a setled look?

Max. Pray tell me this, Do we not love extreamly? I love you so.

Æci. If I should say I lov'd not you as truly, I should do that I never durst do, lye.

Max. If I should dye, would it not grieve you much?

Æci. Without all doubt.

Max. And could you live without me?

Æci. 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.

Max. 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 Cæsar 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.

Æci. Ye look strangely.

Max. I look but as I am, I am a stranger.

Æci. To me?

Max. To every one, I am no Roman; Nor what I am do I know.

Æci. Then I'le leave ye.

Max. 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.

Æci. 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.

Max. I danger? I, willing to do any thing, 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?

Æci. Now ye weep.

Max. Some lazie drops that staid behind.

Æci. 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. [Exit.

Max. Pray do, 'tis done: And friendship, since thou canst not hold in dangers, Give me a certain ruin, I must through it. [Exit.