University of Virginia Library

ACT. I.

Scæn. I.

A Banquet. Enter Augustus, Agrippa, Mecænas, Ovid following with Musick, and sings while the Emperour sits melancholy.
Song.

Ov.
Vast are the Glories, Cæsar, thou hast won,
To make whose Triumphs up, the World's undone:
The Indians from the Eastern parts remote,
To thee the Treasure of their Shrines devote:
Whole Trees of Coral, which they div'd for low,
That in the walks of Neptunes Palace grow,
With Tritons trumpeting on ev'ry bough;
Pearls which the mourning eyes of Thetis pay,
When her cool'd Lover bolts through waves away;
And Diamonds that the Sun each morning sheds,
Driving his Chariot o're their sooty heads.

Me.
The Scythians from their Northern Climate come,
And in their Waggon-houses pensive roame;
For thee they seek: 'Tis at thy Name they shake,
And far off prostrate Adorations make.
They who the great Pellæan Victor's Arms
Repell'd, seem Thunder-strook at thy alarms.

Agr.
The Parthians dreading Cæsar, Peace proclaim,
Whose haughty minds no Force could ever tame,
Who the renown'd Mark Anthony o'recame.
And Crassus, who like some large Oak had stood
The brush of warring winds, and showrs of blood,
His Army round him like an under-wood;
These Martial Rangers root and branches tore,
And on their Crests his trickling heart-strings wore.

Ov.
The World shou'd stretch to hold an Emperour
So tall in Vertue, and so wide in Pow'r.
Where e're on Nature's peaceful face he treads,
Her foremost rank of Sons submit their heads;
With smiles they all his God-like walkings greet,
While Crowns and Scepters play about his feet.

Aug.
Cease this unwelcome noise; I say, give o're,
Ye must not speak since I can hear no more:
Take wing like Angels, fly to Heav'ns abodes,
Though ye have tongues might charm the ears of Gods:
They please not me, for I am discord all,
Broke by my own that triumph in my fall.
Barns and Out-houses or some rotten Hold,
Please the dark Birds better than rooms of Gold.
Why tell ye me of circumvested pride,
Of Purpl'd Fame, and thousand cares beside?
Give me but one or two soft happy hours,
And all the greatnesses of State be yours.

Mec.
What lifted troubles your high thoughts molest,
And shake the frame of your Majestick breast?

Ov.
If some portentous darkness at Noon-day,
Should o're the Heav'n deep dreadfull blacks display,
Without offence to Altars we might come,
To know the cause of such a horrid gloom.
'Tis Loyal kindness urges our desire;
Speak, Cæsar, lest we: sin while we enquire.

Mec.
So huge and dark your Sorrow's Chaos grows,
No glimm'ring streak of Joy can interpose.

Ov.
Your mighty care no interval allows,
All musings, starts, and sad contracted brows;
Your Spirit like old Night, e're Day was made,
Is one substantial darkness, solid shade.

Agr.
Last night as at your feet I waking lay,
Viewing the Golden Taper's watchfull Ray,
I heard you deeds with horrour wrap'd unfold,
Sad Sacred things, and never to be told.
I saw you arm'd from your toss'd Bed arise,
Awefull as Jove, call'd by a Virgins cries,
Starts with his Thunder to the curtain'd Skies:
Honour you cry'd, then stalk'd about the Room,
Thrice call'd, Scribonia curse upon thy womb;
Cutting the Air you made three empty blows,
And then lay down seeking with groans repose.

Mec.
Ev'n now strong sighs your Royal fabrick tear,
And with their violent course torment the Air:
Slow from your eyes conflicting sorrows pass,
And you in vain the struggling tears suppress.

Aug.
O my lov'd Friends, 'tis a harsh truth; but stay,
It will not out till Tears have smooth'd its way;
Take it in one worst word, my actions stain,
The Canker of my Laurels Valour's bane;
Of all great evil Julia be the name,
Who from the womb of curst Scribonia came;
Blushing in War I got the wanton brood,
The scum of boiling Youth, froth of my blood!

Agr.
Some busie person with officious tongue,
[Ovid goes out.
Has offer'd to th'Imperial Princess wrong.
Your choice Marcellus dearly she approves,
And whom you have adopted, highly loves:
But being boundless born, and mark'd for sway,
Cannot by passion check'd nice rules obey.

Mec.
Vainly her thoughts they guess by outward form;
She may be Calm within, without a Storm:
Her heart from common view remov'd lies deep,
As Mines of Gold in Nature's bosom sleep.

Aug.
Rightly her vertue by a Mine you lay,
Where ev'ry lusty Slave may hew his way.
I know from those that wou'd not forge, she is
Loose, vain, a mocker of our Deities.
Now by yon' Heav'n she has my fury rais'd,
And he's my Foe by whom she dares be prais'd.
A Mine! of what? she is all counterfeit,
I've weigh'd her in the ballance, found her light;
But from my heart the glitt'ring dross I'le tear,
Like glass to dust I'le pound the brittle fair,
Then blow her to her Element the Air.

Enter Julia attended.
Jul.
That Roof's too low, and all the Figures old,
I'le have it new wrought up in fretted Gold;
Nor shall those Dorick Pillars long remain,
But the vast Cieling shall it self sustain.

Aug.
Not Venus in the proudest Robes she wears,
With thousand Crowns and Trains of dragging Stars,
Thoughts so high flown, e're knew, nor e're cou'd stretch
Expanded pride like this ambitious wretch.

Jul.
Cæsar to Jove may claim the second place,
But I with Juno will have equal grace,
And when she dares match for the better face.
Henceforth I'le have all first unmixt, entire,
My Meats prepar'd with Elemental fire;
The Palace walks with common feet are worn,
Raise flying Gardens on vast Columns born,
So near to Heav'n, that scorning Tiber's wave,
In Chrystal Buckets we the Clouds may lave,
To wash the pendant Soil; so strange to view,
It shall Semiramis fam'd Groves outdoe.

Aug.
Be Judges both, and then my wrath forgive,
Just Livia! But 'tis past, she shall not live.

Jul.
Methinks already I am walking there,
Tread the fring'd Banks, and breath the Vernal air,
And Purple clusters round my Temples shine,
And flowrie mantling Amarant divine,
And Sense grows wanton as the lusty Vine.
Now cloy'd methinks with the mellifluous Grove,
From Sunny Meads, to cool recess I move,
With tall young men that make immortal love.

Aug.
Since 'tis well known how kind you are to Sense,
Why should you talk of a removal hence?
Heav'ns feasts too thin for your quaint Palate are,
We talk of Nectar, but how comes it there?
[scornfully.
Provoking Banquets, rich Ambrosial Meat,
When Clouds they drink indeed, and Air they eat?
Let not your fancy from its Sphere be driv'n,
You'le never like the slender fare of Heav'n.

Jul.
Mistake me not, 'tis for varietie
That I Elysium's Argent Fields would see:
Think you that from your Throne I wou'd remove,
To be the gaudiest Starry Queen above?
'Twas not my purpose, Sir, to tarry there,
I'd only go to Heav'n to take the air.

Aug.
Come thou'rt not fit to live.

Jul.
Dread Father, why?

Aug.
Thou art all ill.

Jul.
Then I'm not fit to dye.
Death will the hopes of Vertue's growth prevent,
But if you grant me life, I may repent.

Aug.
I here pronounce her Stranger to my blood;
Stay not revenge that must not be withstood.
[Agrippa and Mecænas hold him.
Did not Virginius his Daughter call
To death, and did she not the voice extoll?
She kiss'd his feet, and blest him in her fall.
Brutus his Sons gave up to angry power,
And with stern visage said, They are no more.
These were just Victims to the shrines of Fame,
And got their Authors an Eternal name.

Agr.
Great Princess kneel, and his swoln rage attone.

Jul.
To ask him pardon, were a crime to own.

Aug.
No, in her obstinacy let her sink,
My curse pursue thee to th'Infernal brink;
To Hell, to Hell I'le drive thy spotted soul,
Where in Eternal tortures she shall roul,
Turn round, and shreek with pain in livid fires;
And when for ease the weary wretch aspires
To those bright Thrones which she did once blaspheme,
To a new Hell Heav'n shall the Fiend condemn.
From beds of Flames where thou didst lye and roar,
Whirlwinds shall bear thee hot all reeking o're,
And sweating drops of blood, and round thee blow,
Then plunge thee in th'Abyss of Ice and Snow.

Jul.
All that is Earth of me is in your hand,
But, Sir, my Spirit's not at your command.
I have a Soul that when my body dies,
Shall mix with the immortal Deities.
Nor can the awfull puff of Cæsar's name,
Blow out this spark of the ætherial flame:
Spight of the clouds your fury's Tempest wears,
I'le up and scorn your anger from the Stars.

Aug.
She's all o're woman—Abstract of her kind,
And all the Sex is crouded in one mind:
Her very Thoughts—
Are woman in the bud, though yet unblown,
But all her words are pregnant woman grown.

Jul.
Why was I destin'd to be born above,
By Midwife Honour to the light convey'd,
Fame's Darling, the bright Infant of high love,
Crown'd and in Empire's golden Cradle laid?
Rock'd by the hands of Empresses, that yield
Their Scepters form'd to Rattles for my hand,
Born to the wealth of the green floating Field,
And the rich dust of all the yellow Land.
And why did Fate so vast a Dowry give,
As renders me a Consort fit for Jove,
Unless she meant that I should loosly live,
And free from cares below, as Gods above?

Aug.
Quench, quench, y' immortal powers! these homebred jarrs,
Though all the Earth revolt, and wage fresh Warrs:
Raise from the dead Mark-Anthony again,
Once more let's try our fortunes on the Main.
To Ægypt back let all her Spoils be brought,
And let 'em with fresh blood, more wounds be bought:
Lean Cassius, God-like Brutus, rise, combine,
Nay with the Memphian black Armado joyn;
Dip (ev'n your heels) all o're in Stygian Lake,
And more than Achilæan hardness take;
Hire all the winds, immortal as ye are,
Again to Actium I your Ghosts will dare,
And into Atomes drive the gather'd Air.

Agr.
Stop not the Torrent of his rising rage,
Give it full course and it will soon asswage.

Aug.
Thus Pyrrhus whom no manly force could quell,
At last inglorious, by a woman fell.
O Jupiter! dread King of Heav'n and Rome,
[kneels.
Let death, but not dishonour, be my doom;
That Julia's name no more may cleave my head,
Strike me for ever deaf, deaf as the dead.
O Julia! but for thee my fame had past,
Shew'd like a Chrystal Rock to Ages last;
Each lust of thine like an envenom'd dart,
Has drunk the life-blood of thy Father's heart.

Jul.
That I am innocent—

Aug.
I know thou art;
But make no words on't: go, with life depart.

Ex. Jul.
Agr.
Your Wars in Spain a glorious period have
And all applaud Marcellus as most brave,
Who in his first essay your Foes o'rethrew,
And cou'd such wonders in his Non-age doe.

Mec.
Equal to him the valiant brave unknown
Plangus so fam'd rush'd through all hazards on;
Of birth unknown, but of high blood in War,
Who with Marcellus did the Triumph share:
Marcellus who adopted Cæsar stands,
And under you the conquer'd Earth commands.

Agr.
Fame loudly speaks the deeds which he has done,
First shews the Father, and then draws the Son.

Aug.
Ev'n he has guilty been, and as 'tis said,
Cæsario whom we thought in Ægypt dead,
This brave Marcellus harbour'd in his Tent;
Such news was to my Empress Livia sent.
But once more by my Father's soul I swear,
If that young King of Kings in Rome appear,
The Parthian Empire shall not save his head,
I'le give ten thousand Talents for him dead.

Mec.
Dispell those clouds that thicken on your brow,
And I will speak.

Aug.
Full freedom we allow.

Mec.
Against Cæsario be not thus severe,
At least not openly your wrath declare:
By private Instruments his hopes abate,
Which more agrees with your own rules of State.

Agr.
'Tis nois'd (for sure such secrets cannot sleep)
That you in private Gloriana keep,
Th'Illustrious Pompey's Daughter; I advise,
That your white Age wou'd Beauty's gloss despise.
Let not the Nations blame you being old,
Nor think of loving now your blood is cold.

Aug.
Furies! and Hell! I am become their sport:
They flout me—How! ye elder slaves oth' Court,
Come feel my arms, and learn to be more bold;
Am I not fit to love? Ha! am I old?
Ye Apes of fame, ye Sparks to my full day!
Ye Gnats that in my Ev'ning glory play!
But with my Sword I'le punish your offence,
[lays his hand on his Sword.
And make ye know what 'tis t'affront a Prince.

Agr.
Our deaths are in your hands, act as you please.

Mec.
Your frowns not death our souls with terrour seize.

Aug.
No, ye regard me not, nor love, nor fear;
I know your hearts;—you wish Cæsario here,
Here,—in my Throne, ungratefull as ye are,
By me preferr'd in Peace, advanc'd in War.

Agr.
You are the best of Kings.

Aug.
No, I'm the worst,
Stupid, morose, tyrannical, accurst.
I, like old Saturn, must forgo my Sphere,
You're for a mad young fiery Jupiter.
Yet this remember in your Thund'rers reign,
The Golden days will never come again.

Exeunt.