University of Virginia Library

ACT. II.

SCENE, Palace Hall.
Cæsario, Araspes, Leander.
Cæs.
Proscrib'd!

Aras.
So rumour spreads it.

Cæs.
Ha!

Aras.
'Tis true;
His fears the old Proscription now renew.
Great is the man, he said, that brings him dead,
Ile give ten thousand Talents for his head.
Such dreadful noise from Cæsar's fury broke,
And guilt like Wild-fire thrill'd him as he spoke.

Lea.
He thought you long ago in Ægypt slain,
But with late tremblings heard you liv'd again:
Then tore his hair, and mad with choler, said,
Augustus lives not till Cæsario's dead.

Cæs.
Then Cæsar's lost, and shall in Chaos lye,
Since 'tis not to be thought that I should dye,
Immediate from the loins of Julius sprung,
Like Hercules from Jove, for ever young,
In battles big as Mars, and full as strong.

Aras.
Yet you're a man.

Cæs.
Said you of me? 'Twas poor:
A man! Araspes, I was always more.
When me in Swadling-bands the Nurses rock'd,
My soul was full with God-like courage stock'd;
The sounds which first my wondrous voice did move,
Were Father Julius, and Grandsire Jove:
Ev'n in my Childhood I was more than man,
Bears in my Non-age slew, and Stags out-ran.
Leander, thou remembrest who are old,
When yet nine Winters I had scarcely told,
A half-starv'd-Lion in our chase I brav'd,
And from his jaws my panting Mother sav'd.

Lea.
I saw him by your early valour fall.

Cæs.
Fall!—by my valour!—saw him! is that all?
Thou speak'st, Leander, as thou didst repine;
Thou should'st have said, it was an act Divine,
A God-like act, to see a ruddy Boy
With milk on's lips, the Royal beast destroy.
With my gay Sword, brandish'd above my Crest,
O'respread with Plumes, and with Queens favours dress'd,
I cross'd the Savage, eager for his prey,
Who daunted with my aspect shun'd the fray:
But I out-run him, though he got the start,
And flesh'd my little Rapier in his heart.
By the dread Thunderer, from whom I came,
Whose hand casts forked bolts, and leaping flame,
I'le tumble head-long this Usurper down,
And from his head tear the Imperial Crown.

Aras.
Stay, Son of Cæsar, whither wou'd you run?
Sorrow shall end what your blind wrath begun.
Forgive me if your death I dare prevent,
And force your courage take another bent.

Lea.
Both you shall send to everlasting rest,
And ride to ruine o're this Loyal breast:
For think not we can stay to see you dye;
We'l usher you to immortality.
Let wit contrive, and leisure give to Time,
While we instruct you this steep Throne to climb.

Cæs.
Plots are the dark and back way to a Throne,
Miss but one step, we roul with ruine down:
Then let's away to quell with open strife
This base Usurper that proscribes my life.

Lea.
Perhaps the rumour's false, your rage subdue,
Or reek it here on us for being true.

Cæs.
Was I for this in Alexandria fam'd
The King of Kings, and Heir oth' World proclaim'd;
While Vassal Princes did about me croud,
And Asia's Chiefs of my commands grew proud!
Did not our Mother perish by his Arms,
That source of Love and ever-flowing charms,
Great Cleopatra, who now drowns the Stars,
And shews to Goddesses her glorious Scars!
Yet have I question'd him for what was done?

Lea.
We know you ne're molested what he won.

Cæs.
Nay have I not of late his Foes o'rethrown;
His Standards fix'd ith' heart of stubborn Spain,
And bow'd her neck to the old yoke again!
And dares he thus my services reward!
[draws.
Stand back, I'le kill him midst of all his Guard:
Though at the Altar in the Capitol,
The purple Brute a Sacrifice shall fall.

Marcellus meets him.
Mar.
What prodigal of life your wrath has rais'd,
And fann'd the flame with which your cheeks are blaz'd?
Ne're did I see that Seabbard empty made,
But drunken Slaughter hung upon the Blade.

Cæs.
Bloud! my Marcellus, bloud! the great must dye!
Yet Eagle-like I'le strike my Quarry high,
And from the earth rebound him to the skie.

Mar.
Name me the man too lavish of his tongue,
For blows could ne're the brave Cæsario wrong:
Name him aloud, but name me one that's Great!
Back'd with such Troops as never knew defeat!
And if he 'scape, let me no more be thought—

[draws.
Cæs.
Hold, hold Marcellus: Heav'n! I had forgot
That my great Foe is father to my Friend;
Down, my Revenge: Thus all my swellings end.

[sheaths his Sword.
Mar.
What means this change?

Cæs.
Nothing, Marcellus, now.
Large are the sums I to your friendship owe:
My thoughts no more about Revenge debate,
Though slaves Augustus hires to work my fate;
Takes all my Titles, Scepters, fills my Thrones,
And plunders me of all my Father's Crowns:
Yet being kind to you, long may he live,
While I learn patience, and my wrongs forgive.

Mar.
How! my united powers of Rage disband;
My Sword at Cæsar's name falls from my hand.
O my Cæsario, can you for my sake
Forget the sweets of just Revenge to take?
Can you for me call back your sallying soul,
Whose wrath not Cæsar's Guards cou'd else controul?
This is a point too subtle for mankind,
And which no future vertue e're shall find.

Cæs.
Believe me, Friend, believe me, for I swear
By my high Father's soul, 'twere easier far
Back the revolted Universe to win,
Than but our passions conquest to begin.
Revenge and Friendship in my bosom clash'd,
Like Mountain billows, each the other dash'd;
Still my uncertain soul each Tempest blinds,
Like a dark Vessel driv'n by Polar winds:
But you like a propitious God arise,
On the blue Ocean shine the Azure Skies,
And now the beaten mind at Anchor lies.

Mar.
Methinks I wish that I had never known
Vertue like yours; so high, that mine is none:
You as some vast Hill touching Heav'n appear;
I at your feet like a poor Valley near:
Down from your Cloudy top refreshings flow,
Fast bounteous rills that water me below:
Valleys; but Vapours can to Heav'n return,
And I with sighs your falling favours mourn.

Cæs.
Darling of Romans, Vertue's fairest Child,
At whose blest Birth the kinder Planets smil'd,
Trust me thy Mother, when with Infant charms
The Matrons gave thee crying to her arms,
Not lov'd thee more; my soul thou hast subdu'd,
And damm'd the torrent of my rising bloud.

Mar.
Bow, ye bright dwellers, bow all your Heav'ns down,
Impale his brows with an Immortal Crown;
Thou Julius whose high name in living Gold
Is in Fate's Book above the Sun's enroll'd,
With Starry Robes the Worlds great Heir enfold:
For all Earths Glories he transcends as far,
As Gods above their humblest Victims are.

Cæs.
Ev'n while thou flatter'st me, thou lovely art;
By Heav'n young man thou hast thy Souldier's heart;
And while I hold thee to my faithful breast,
Cæsar with Empire is not half so blest.
On thy hearts throbs so I triumphant ride,
Farewell Ovations and the Victors pride;
No more shall big Ambition bend my brow,
Love me but ever as thou lov'st me now.

Enter Narcissa.
Nar.
Swift as chac'd Harts before the Hunters fly,
Swift as their panting weariness they throw
Into some-stream, my dearest Brother, I
Run to thy breast, and melt in tears that flow.
Dost thou not view joys peeping from my eyes?
The Casement's open'd wide to gaze on thee;
As Rome's glad Citizens to windows rise,
When they some young Triumpher fain would see.

Mar.
Dearest Narcissa, softest of thy kind,
A thousand thousand welcomes; but alas,
In dang'rous Courts I much lament to find
Thy Innocence which cannot safely pass.

Cæs.
She is the brightest that my eyes e're saw,
And if soft passion cou'd my fierceness move,
That Spring-complexion wou'd my wonder draw,
Such unmixt sweets of Nature I should love.

Mar.
With looks untaught thou wilt too rude appear,
Expos'd to ev'ry haughty Princess scorn;
Back to thy Country Palaces repair,
And tempt not Courts for which thou wert not born.
The Great ones here will quickly make thee fine,
And to thy Vertue for refreshings run;
Like Summer days too hot our Beauties shine,
But thee they'l follow like a Winter Sun.

Cæs.
Why, beauteous Virgin, dost thou plant thy eyes
As thou wouldst drive me hence who ne're cou'd run?
I am not us'd to Beautie's batteries,
Yet rather than offend I will be gone.

Mar.
No longer in my arms, lov'd Sister, stay,
Your kindest thanks to my preserver pay;
A thousand deaths he in my cause has brav'd,
And twice my life in our last battle sav'd.

Enter Tiberius to Marcellus, they embrace.
Mar.
Welcome, my gallant Friend;—Thy looks are sad:
If there be ought wherewith thou art dismay'd,
Speak it, though at the News both shou'd expire;
Is Julia—

Tib.
'Twere convenient you'd retire;
I'le tell you, dear Marcellus, as we go,
Such secrets as no heart but yours shou'd know.

Exeunt.
Nar.
My Brother charg'd me; but what can I say,
When you all pow'r of speech have ta'ne away?
My heart beat thus, just thus against my side,
That cruel day when my lov'd Turtle dy'd.

Cæs.
A heart like mine Love in his walk ne're found,
Nor Prettiness, nor Majesty can wound;
'Tis sure the coldest Beauty ever felt,
Not Ice, but Chrystal, which no Sun can melt.

Nar.
O fatal sight! have I with frequent scorn
Seen at my Garden-gates great Princes mourn,
And can I now submit to one unknown?
Can this be true? Poor heart, art thou o'rethrown?
Vanquish'd at last? ith' name of goodness speak,
What art that dost my gentle quiet break?

Cæs.
A Souldier, Fair one, bred to bloud, in Arms,
In Winter Camps which mighty Action warms;
I know not Courts, unskill'd in the soft Trade
By which address is to high Beauty made:
Yet I to yours can bow as lowly down,
As Eastern Princes to the rising Sun.

Nar.
Bow to my beauty, to this Rural face?
I know no charms, nor any practis'd grace:
Planted far off by Cæsar's jealous care,
Not bred in Court perfumes, but Country air.
Me from his daughter he divided young,
And told me Courts my innocence wou'd wrong:
But sure my eyes can nothing see in you
To make me think what Cæsar said was true.

Enter Mecænas.
Mec.
Madam, the Empress does your coming wait,
With half the Court attending at her gate:
And gazing eyes expect your presence there,
As if some Constellation would appear.

Cæs.
Ile wait you to the Empress:—Tyrant Love,
Whom all the charms of Nature cannot move.

Exeunt.
Re-enter Marcellus, Tiberius.
Mar.
Since Love proves false, in vain does Valour toil,
To ashes turn my Arms, my ev'ry Spoil,
Burn all my Laurels in one Fun'ral Pile.
Alas, Tiberius, had another said
Julia is false, and honour has betray'd,
I could not have believ'd; but thou art true,
Wou'd thou wert not; wou'd all that Hell er'e knew
Of darkest mischiefs harbour'd in thy mind,
So by thy fraud I might her Vertue find.

Tib.
While you abroad fought in Rome's cause so well,
She to the lowest, leudest courses fell;
Her Palaces with late debauches rung,
Strip'd Eunuchs wanton Odes before her sung:
On tall young Monarchs shoulders lifted high
She acted Triumphs, Io was her cry,
Her crown'd Supporters Io did reply.

Mar.
Loose Julia! what strong philters did unman
Augustus from whose loins thy Spirit ran!

Tib.
At midnight: dress'd like Venus, all Divine,
I saw her by the blaze of Diamonds shine,
High on a Throne of Gold, with God-like port,
Follow'd with clamours of the reeling Court.
Thrice she the doors of Janus Temple burst,
And once Jove's house the Capitol she forc'd;
From his Gold Statue polish'd Thunder took,
And at his face the brandish'd weapon shook:
In her left hand the Silver Lightning clash'd,
Which blindly hurl'd the Sacred windows dash'd.

Mar.
Love I conjure thee, though with mortal smart,
Draw back thy Arrows that infect my heart.

Tib.
Of all the Scepter'd throng that did adore
She none refus'd, but wish'd they had been more.
What was in private acted we but think,
Where all her Maids are mutes, and Eunuchs wink.
Her Monarch dalliance was not prov'd, but guess'd,
But Love to Wit did open all her breast,
And she so foul a knot with Ovid drew,
As bloud can never loose, nor death undoe.

Mar.
With Ovid! Dares his haughty muse aspire
To practise on his Prince? I'le mount it higher,
Teach his rude wit a flight she never had,
And send her Post to the Elysian shade.

Tib.
One solemn Night, when the pale conscious Moon
Rode high and clear, at melancholy Noon
I rose, with Dreams abash'd of true event,
And to the Princess Bower my musings bent.
To the crown'd Arbours as I nearer drew,
Methought I heard two voices that I knew;
Parting the Leaves, I saw by Lunar light
Love's guilty joys, a sinful pleasing sight;
On Flow'rs and all the sweets of Nature spred,
In Ovids arms the smiling Princess laid.

Mar.
What mortal patience can the news abide!

Tib.
Pow'r circling Wit, and Pleasure pressing Pride,
Her glowing breast joyn'd to his kindling side.
She catch'd his sighs that panted in their flight,
With eyes, hands, lips, all trembling with delight;
Long did her naked beauty stay my sight.
Fair as the blushing bed her body prest,
As a May-morning rising from the East,
Or day dismounting in the golden West.

Mar.
Wheels, Stones, and all the subtlest pains of Hell,
With burnings reddest plagues about 'em dwell.
About em! In 'em, through 'em let 'em run,
And flames with flames involv'd be swallow'd down.

Tib.
With tendrest words her busie love she grac'd,
And having kindly touch'd his yielding wast,
She said, Ah wou'd Marcellus were in Heav'n,
And wou'd Corinna were to Ovid giv'n;
For Wit to me is more than Empires charms,
Or all the surfeits of a Monarchs arms.

Mar.
No more, thou'st put my soul upon the rack;
Both lives revenging glory bids me take:
But the remains of passion bid me spare
This beautiful ingrate perfidious fair;
Since he was ne're with gallant ardour mov'd,
That cou'd be urg'd to harm what once he lov'd:
And how I lov'd, how wonderfully well,
None but the Author of my flame can tell.
Thy beauty, Julia, did my reason blind;
For e're our hands unlucky Hymen joyn'd,
I guess'd thee false, yet swore I wou'd be kind.

Enter Ovid with Julia reading.
Jul.
Such a companion ne're did Julia bless;
To have a menial Monarch wait were less:
Ovid, whose fame above high Virgil grows,
Whose labour sure must Nature discompose,
But Ovid with familiar greatness flows;
And when he pleases to command our eyes,
What charming Tales does his soft muse devise?

Ov.
Thus to be grac'd by her whom all admire,
To gain whose love Gods wou'd, Kings do expire,—

Mar.
Amongst the rest fall thou a Sacrifice,
Thus to be offer'd to your Goddess eyes.

Jul.
Marcellus, hold! fly, Ovid, hast away.

Ov.
Madam, I know what duty I shou'd pay;
The Prince resolves to take my life, which none
Shall do without the hazard of their own.

Mar.
Tiberius, give me way, by Heav'n he dies,
I'le tread upon the worm which I despise.

Jul.
Help: Treason! Murder! help.

Enter Cæsario.
Ov.
Come all, for were ye more I cou'd not fear.

Cæs.
What about one is all this trouble here?
Put up, for shame, I'le blow him from your sight,
Valour disdains the Quarry in her flight,
Commands in Fields we should our Standards raise,
And make this Writer but our drudge to praise.

Enter Augustus, Agrippa, Mecænas, and Guards.
Aug.
Where are the Authors of this Treason gon?
Traytors to pow'r! disarm 'em ev'ry one.

(The Captain of the Guards takes Marcellus, Ovids, and Tiberius, Swords; goes last to Cæsario.)
Cæs.
Captain, stand off, I did no cause afford
Of quarrel here, and will not yield my Sword.

Aug.
What, a new Traytor? in my presence too?
Know obstinate thy death thou dost pursue.
Resign, or dye.—

Mar.
Have you so soon forgot
The wonders which his Sword so lately wrought?
The noble Plangus who preserv'd your Son,
And three pitch'd Battels by his valour won.

Aug.
What shall he stand and brave me to my face?
Refuse my orders? bid him take my place.
By the Cæsarian Majesty ador'd,
He is a Traytor that denies his Sword.

Cæs.
I say, my Sword's my own, and shall—

Aug.
So fond of fate!
Then that thou mayst not want for Arms, take that.

(Hurles his Dagger at him, the Guards rush on Cæsario, and hold him.)
Mar.
Thus! is it thus his Services you pay?

[kneels.
Aug.
If thou wouldst have him live, take him away.

Mar.
Guards, force him hence.

Cæs.
Yes, Cæsar, I will go,
Conqu'ring my self, I quell thy mightiest foe.

Exit.
Aug.
And you, Sir, you who durst your weapon draw,
Against that Prince whom I ordain to awe
The greatest Kings, to banishment be gone,
I'le teach your saucy Muse to dare a Throne.

Ov.
If I in thought to you less Rev'rence gave,
Than what the Deisies from Altars have;
If that the Royal Julia I adore
In other manner than we worship Pow'r,
Add to the punishment that you have laid
Unjustly on me, and pronounce me dead.

Jul.
O Cæsar! Father!

Aug.
Dare not intercede;
Speak but another word and he shall bleed.

Ov.
For ever then thou glorious Rome farewell:
To the Earth's limits, Cæsar, I will go;
Where if thou hast a yet unconquer'd Foe,
My Sword, for I have fought, shall take his head,
And with my Pen I'le damn him when he's dead.

Exit.
Aug.
Still homebred jarrs! But I these feuds will end;
By Heav'n I'le break your hearts if you'le not bend.
My Hydra Rebels vanquish'd, rise up more,
Was ever Monarch thus perplex'd before?
O that Pythagoras his dream were true!
I wou'd not govern such a cursed crew
One moment longer; Now, ev'n now I'de dye,
And into some more Kingly Lion fly,
Where with full Empire I the Woods might sway,
And all the Nobler Beasts my Laws obey.

Exeunt.