 | The Prophetesse |  |
Scæna Prima.
Enter Maximinian (solus.)Max.
What powerful Star shin'd at this mans Nativity?
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what throngs of people presse and buz about him,
and with their humming flatteries sing him Cæsar?
sing him aloud, and grow hoarse with saluting him?
How the fierce-minded Souldier steals in to him,
adores and courts his Honour? at his devotion
their lives, their vertues and their fortunes laying?
Charinus sues, the Emperour intreats him,
and as a brighter flame, takes his beams from him.
The bless'd and bright Aurelia, she doats on him,
and as the god of Love, burns incense to him.
All eyes live on him. Yet I am still Maximinian,
still the same poor and wretched thing, his servant.
What have I got by this? where lies my glory?
how am I rais'd and honour'd? I have gone as far
to woo this purblinde Honour, and have pass'd
as many dangerous Expeditions,
as noble, and as high; nay, in his destinie
(whilst 't was unknown) have run as many hazards,
and done as much; sweat thorow as many perils;
onely the Hang-man of Volutius Aper
(which I mistook) has made him Emperour,
and me his slave.
Enter Delphia and Drusilla.
Del.
Stand still; he cannot see us,
till I please: mark him well, this discontentment
I have forc'd into him, for thy cause, Drusilla.
Max.
Can the gods see this;
see it with justice, and confer their blessings
on him, that never flung one grain of incense
upon their Altars? never bow'd his knee yet;
and I that have march'd foot by foot, struck equally,
and whilst he was a gleaning, have been praying,
contemning his base covetous—
Del.
Now we'll be open.
Max.
Blesse me, and with all reverence.
Del.
Stand up, Son,
and wonder not at thy ungrateful Uncle:
I know thy thoughts, and I appear to ease 'em.
Max.
O mother, did I stand the tenth part to ye
engag'd and fetter'd, as mine Uncle does,
how would I serve, how would I fall before ye?
the poorer powers me worship.
Del.
Peace, and flatter not;
necessitie and anger draws this from ye;
of both which I will quit ye: For your Uncle
I spoke this Honour, and it fell upon him;
fell, to his full content: he has forgot me,
for all my care; forgot me, and his vow too:
as if a dream had vanish'd, so h' as lost me,
and I him: let him now stand fast. Come hither;
my care is now on you.
Max.
O blessed Mother!
Del.
Stand still, and let me work. So now, Maximinian,
go, and appear in Court, and eye Aurelia:
beleeve, what I have done, concerns ye highly.
Stand in her view, make your addresses to her:
she is the Satyre of Honour. I'll say no more,
but Fortune is your servant: go.
Max.
With reverence;—
all this as holy truths.
Exit.
Del.
Believe, and prosper.
Dru.
Yet all this cures not me; but as much credit,
as much belief from Dioclesian.
Enter Geta, Lictors, and Suitors, (with Petitions.)
Del.
Be not dejected; I have warn'd ye often:
the proudest thoughts he has, I'll humble. Who's this?
O 't is the fool and knave grown a grave Officer:
here's hot and high preferment.
Get.
What's your Bill?
for Gravel for the Appian way, and Pills?
is the way rheumatick?
1 Suitor.
'T is Piles, and 't please you.
Get.
Remove me those Piles to Port Esquiline,
fitter the place, my friend: you shall be paid.
1 Suit.
I thank your Worship.
Get.
Thank me when ye have it;
thank me another way, ye are an Asse else.
I know my Office: you are for the Streets, Sir.
Lord, how ye throng that knave has eaten Garlick;
whip him, and bring him back.
3 Suitor.
I beseech you Worship;
here's an old reckoning for the dung and dirt, Sir.
Get.
It stinks like thee: Away. Yet let him tarry,
his Bill shall quit his Breath. Give your Petitions
in seemly sort, and keep your hats off, decently.
For scowring the Water-courses thorow the Cities?
a fine periphrasis of a kennel-raker.
Did ye scour all, my friend? ye had some businesse:
who shall scour you? you are to be paid, I take it,
when Surgeons swear you have performed your Office.
4 Suit.
Your Worship's merry.
Get.
We must be sometimes wittie,
to nick a knave; 't is as useful as our gravitie.
I'll take no more Petitions; I am pester'd;
give me some rest.
4 Suit.
I have brought the gold (and 't please ye)
about the Place ye promised.
Get.
See him enter'd.
How does your daughter?
4 Suit.
Better your Worship thinks of her.
Get.
This is with the least. But let me see your daughter.
'T is a good forward maid; I'll joyn her with ye.
I do beseech ye, leave me.
Lictor.
Ye see the Edile's busie.
Get.
And look to your Places, or I'll make ye smoke else.
Sirha, I drank a cup of wine at your house yesterday;
a good smart wine.
Lict.
Send him the piece, he likes it.
Get.
And ate the best wilde Boar at that same Farmors.
2 Su.
I have half left yet: your Worship shall command it
Get.
A bit will serve: give me some rest: gods help me.
How shall I labour when I am a Senator?
Del.
'T is a fit place indeed. 'Save your Mastership;
do you know us, Sir?
Get.
These women are still troublesom.
There be houses providing for such wretched women,
and some small Rents, to set ye a spinning.
Dru.
Sir,
we are no Spinsters; nor, if you look upon us,
so wretched as you take us.
Del.
Does your Mightinesse
that is a great destroyer of your Memorie,
yet understand our faces?
Get.
'Prethee keep off, woman;
it is not fit I should know every creature.
Although I have been familiar with thee heretofore,
I must not know thee now: my place neglects thee.
Yet, because I daign a glimpse of your remembrances,
give me your Suits, and wait me a month hence.
Del.
Our Suits are (Sir) to see the Emperour,
the Emperour Dioclesian, to speak to him,
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Get.
I laugh at your simplicitie, poor women:
see the Emperour? why you are deceiv'd: now
the Emperour appears but once in seven yeers,
and then he shines not on such weeds as you are.
Forward, and keep your State, and keep beggers from me.
Drus.
Here is a prettie youth.
Exeunt.
Enter Diocles.
Del.
He shall be prettie,
or I will want my will, since ye are so high, Sir:
I'll raise ye higher, or my art shall fail me.
Stand close, he comes.
Dio.
How am I cross'd and tortur'd?
my most wish'd happinesse, my lovely Mistris,
that must make good my hopes, and link my greatnesse,
yet sever'd from mine arms? Tell me, high heaven,
how have I sinn'd, that you should speak in thunder,
in horrid thunder, when my heart was ready:
to leap into her brest? the Priest was ready?
the joyful virgins and the young men ready?
when Hymen stood with all his flames about him
blessing the bed? the house with full joy sweating?
and expectation, like the Romane Eagle,
took stand, and call'd all eyes? It was your Honour;
and ere you give it full; do you destroy it?
or was there some dire Star? some devil that did it?
some sad malignant Angel to mine honour?
With you, I dare not rage.
Del.
With me thou canst not,
though it was I. Nay, look not pale and frighted;
I'll fright thee more. With me thou canst not quarrel;
I rais'd the thunder, to rebuke thy falshood:
look here, to her thy falshood. Now be angry,
and be as great in evil as in Empire.
Dio.
Blesse me, ye Powers.
Del.
Thou hast full need of blessing.
'T was I, that at thy great Inauguration,
hung in the air unseen: 't was I that honoured thee
with various Musicks, and sweet sounding airs:
't was I inspired the souldiers heart with wonder,
and made him throw himself, with love and duty,
lowe as thy feet: 't was I that fix'd him to thee.
But why did I all this? To keep thy honestie,
thy vow and faith, that once forgot and slighted
Aurelia in regard, the Marriage ready,
the Priest and all the Ceremonies present.
'T was I that thundred loud; 't was I that threatned;
't was I that cast a dark face over heaven,
and smote ye all with terrour.
Drus.
Yet consider,
as ye are noble, as I have deserv'd ye;
for yet ye are free: if neither faith nor promise,
the deeds of elder times may be remembred,
let these new-dropping tears; for I still love ye,
these hands held up to heaven.
Dio.
I must not pitie ye;
't is not wise in me.
Del.
How? not wise?
Dio.
Nor honourable.
A Princesse is my Love, and doats upon me:
a fair and lovely Princesse is my Mistris.
I am an Emperour: consider, Prophetesse,
now my embraces are for Queens and Princesses,
for Ladies of high mark, for divine beauties:
to look so lowe as this cheap common sweetnesse,
would speak me base, my names and glories nothing.
I grant I made a vow; what was I then?
as she is now, of no sort (Hope made me promise)
but now I am: to keep this vow, were monstrous,
a madnesse, and a lowe inglorious fondnesse.
Del.
Take heed, proud man.
Drus.
Princes may love with Titles,
but I with Truth.
Del.
Take heed; here stands thy destinie;
thy Fate here follows.
Dio.
Thou doating Sorceresse,
wouldst have me love this Thing, that is not worthy
to kneel unto my Saint? to kisse her shadow?
Great Princes are her slaves; selected beauties
bow at her beck: the mighty Persian's daughter
(bright as the breaking East, as the mid-day glorious)
waits her commands, and grows proud in her pleasures.
I'll see her honour'd: some Watch I shall think of,
that shall advance ye both; mean time I'll favour ye.
Exit.
Del.
Mean time I'll haunt thee. Cry not (wench) be confident,
ere long, thou shalt more pitie him (observe me)
and pitie him in truth, then now thou seek'st him:
my Art and I are yet companions. Come, Girl.
Exeunt.
| The Prophetesse | |