Chapter II: Front Matter (2)

_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._

_Actus Quartus. Scena Prima._

_Enter Emperour_, Licinius, Chilax, _and_ Balbus.

_Emper._ Dead?

_Chil._ So 'tis thought, Sir.

_Emper._ How?

_Lici._ Grief, and disgrace,
As people say.

_Empe._ 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--

_Chil._ Alas Sir.

_Empe._ 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 _Cæsar_?

_Lici._ Mighty and our Maker.

_Empe._ Than thus have given my pleasures to destruction.
Look she be living, slaves.

_Lici._ We are no Gods Sir,
If she be dead, to make her new again.

_Empe._ She cannot dye, she must not dye; are those
I plant my love upon but common livers?
Their hours as others, told 'em? can they be ashes?
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?

_Chil._ All Women are not with her.

_Empe._ 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 _Cæsar_?
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 _Cæsar_,
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.

_Lici._ Your Grace but jests I hope.

_Empe._ '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_.

_Bal._ Well Sir.

_Empe._ 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--

_Lid._ Most sacred _Cæsar_.

_Empe._ Slaves.

_Enter_ Proculus.

_Lici._ Good _Proculus_.

_Pro._ You shall not see it,
It may concern the Empire.

_Emp._ Ha: what said'st thou?
Is she not dead?

_Pro._ 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.

_Emp._ Danger? where?
Double our Guard.

_Pro._ Nay no where, but i'th' Letter.

_Emp._ 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 [_Exeunt._
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 out in prayers:
How? what's this?
_Letter read_] Lord _Maximus_, you love _Æcius_,
And are his noble friend too; bid him be less,
I mean less with the people, times are dangerou[s]:
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 stands now) but the meer name of _Cæsar_,
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 judgment, 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 _Cæsar_,
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 laught 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?

_Enter a Servant._

_Ser._ Your Grace.

_Emp._ 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
1. As if he had intent to make me odious,
2. 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 _Cæsar_
(Were this _Æcius_ 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.

_Enter_ Phidias, _and_ Aretus.

_Phi._ Life to _Cæsar_.

_Emp._ Is Lord _Æcius_ waiting?

_Phi._ Not this morning,
I rather think he's with the Army.

_Emp._ 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.

_Phi._ Your Graces pleasure-- [_Exit_ Phidias.

_Emp._ Go;
What Souldier is the same, I have seen him often,
That keeps you company, _Aretus_?

_Are._ Me Sir?

_Emp._ I you, Sir.

_Are._ One they call _Pontius_,
And't please your Grace.

_Emp._ A Captain?

_Are._ Yes, he was so;
But speaking something roughly in his want,
Especially of Wars, the Noble General
Out of strict allegiance cast his fortunes.

_Emp._ H'as been a valiant fellow.

_Are._ So he's still.

_Emp._ Alas, the General might have pardon'd follies,
Souldiers will talk sometimes.

_Are._ I am glad of this.

_Emp._ He wants preferment as I take it.

_Are._ Yes Sir;
And for that noble Grace his life shall serve.

_Emp._ I have a service for him:
I shame a Souldier should become a Begger:
I like the man _Aretus_.

_Are._ Gods protect ye.

_Emp._ 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.

_Are._ The sweets of Heaven still crown ye.

_Emp._ I have a fearful darkness in my soul,
And till I be deliver'd, still am dying. [_Exeunt._

SCENE II.

_Enter_ Maximus _alone_.

_Max._ 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,

_Enter_ Æcius _and_ Phidias.

And so I'le keep my self. Here comes _Æcius_,
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.

_Æ[ci]._ Why how now friend, what makes ye here unarm'd?
Are ye turn'd Merchant?

_Max._ By your fair perswasions,
And such a Merchant trafficks without danger;
I have forgotten all, _Æcius_,
And which is more, forgiven.

_Æci._ Now I love ye,
Truly I do, ye are a worthy _Roman_.

_Max._ 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.

_Aeci._ Still ye take more love from me: vertuous friend
The gods make poor _Aecius_ worthy of thee.

_Max._ Only in me y'are poor Sir: and I worthy
Only in being yours:
But why your arm thus,
Have ye been hurt _Aecius_?

_Aeci._ Bruis'd a little:
My horse fell with me friend: which till this morning
I never knew him do.

_Max._ Pray gods it boad well;
And now I think on't better, ye shall back,
Let my perswasions rule ye.

_Aeci._ Back, why _Maximus_?
The Emperour commands me come.

_Max._ I like not
At this time his command.

_Aeci._ I do at all times,
And all times will obey it, why not now then?

_Max._ 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.

_Aeci._ Were it fire;
And that fire certain to consume this body,
If _Cæsar_ 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.

_Max._ Then I have dealt unwisely.

_Aeci._ 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
Equal, as dying on the Enemy,
Must take me up a Sacrifice.

_Max._ Goe on then,
And I'le goe with ye.

_Aeci._ No, ye may not friend.

_Max._ He cannot be a friend, bars me _Aecius_,
Shall I forsake ye in my doubts?

_Aeci._ Ye must.

_Max._ 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_.

_Aeci._ There is no death nor danger in my going,
Nor none must goe along.

_Max._ I have a sword too,
And once I could have us'd it for my friend.

_Aeci._ 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.

_Max._ Farewel my noble friend, let me embrace ye
E're ye depart; it may be one of us
Shall never do the like again.

_Aeci._ Yes often.

_Max._ Farewel good dear _Aecius_.

_Aeci._ Farewel _Maximus_
Till night: indeed you doubt too much.-- [_Exit._

_Max._ I do not:
Goe worthy innocent, and make the number
Of _Cæsars_ 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 thy bloud shall begin his Tragedy.-- [_Exit._

SCENE III.

_Enter_ Proculus, _and_ Pontius.

_Pro._ Besides this, if you do it, you enjoy
The noble name _Patrician_: more than that too,
The friend of _Cæsar_ ye are stil'd: there's nothing
Within the hopes of _Rome_, or present being,
But you may safely say is yours.

_Pon._ Pray stay Sir;
What has _Aecius_ done to be destroy'd?
At least I would have a colour.

_Pro._ Ye have more,
Nay all that may be given, he is a Traitor,
One, any man would strike that were a subject.

_Pon._ Is he so foul?

_Pro._ Yes, a most fearfull Traytor.

_Pon._ A fearfull plague upon thee, for thou lyest;
I ever thought the Souldier would undoe him
With his too much affection.

_Pro._ Ye have hit it,
They have brought him to ambition.

_Pon._ Then he is gone.

_Pro._ The Emperour out of a foolish pitie,
Would save him yet.

_Pon._ Is he so mad?

_Pro._ He's madder!
Would goe to'th' Army to him.

_Pon._ Would he so?

_Pro._ Yes _Pontius_; but we consider--

_Pon._ Wisely.

_Pro._ How else man, that the state lies in it.

_Pon._ And your lives too.

_Pro._ And every mans.