University of Virginia Library

SCE. II.

Enter Mamalus Solus.
Mam.
Unhappie Greece; or more unhappie me,
That live to see this day; How is thy sword
Turn'd on thy self? and thine old foe invited
Unto the Funeral of thy liberty?
Pray Heaven my Augury prove false; but yet
Me thinks I see a cloud hang o're thy head,
And I'm afraid, will break too soon—That State
Is past its Zenith, that ne're learns to do,
But by undoing; and that ne're sees order,
But where disorder shews it; some curst star
Has fir'd the people, and our seditious Peers,
Bring fuel to't; if one should ask 'um now
What they would have? not one of um can tell;
But praise those times of old, they only hear'd of;
And damn the present; though they neither know,
What's the disease, nor yet the remedy;
And now, Andronicus is the great Idoll,
The Father of his Country, and what not?
A man may safer speak 'gainst Heaven, than him;
Him, whom last year they curst, and ten to one
Will do't agen before the next be past:
Nor will he lose his time, he knows they're clay,
And may be moulded to what shape he pleases:
The people is a skittish beast, and must
Be smooth'd, and stroak'd, till he get into th'saddle:
He's at it now; but if he once get there,
(Which Heaven forbid) they'l find both switch and spur:
His age, has more of fire, than Phaethon's youth;
He knows no mean; but as his soul is large,
So is his courage; Think, and act, to him
Are the same things, only remov'd in time;
He's not like others; He was born to rule
Within an empty sphear, for such he'll make it;
And Christen that solitude, with the name of Peace;
Enter Conto leading Maria: Constantinus, Ducas, Lapardus.
Other, they're like t'ave none;—But see! my friends
That brought him in; 'My life they rue it first.

Omnes.
Mamalus!—well met;

Mam.
Your Lordships; servant.

They salute.
Mar.
And now my Lords will you believe me next?
Is not Andronicus the same I promist?

Const.
Yes troth he is; And praise can add as little
Unto him, as detraction take from him.

Conto.
But yet it does no hurt to talk a little;
One may observe, more than another does:
It did me good to see how he receiv'd us;
Mannag'd the storm, and when that brush was over,
How he embrac't us with the same even temper,
As though he had not been concern'd at all:
Certain he must be wise;—

Map.
His long experience
Must doe't, if yet, it had not found him so.

Du.
And for his Valor, ask the meanest Soldier,
And he will swear, it was his great example
Put courage in 'um all; and like the soul,
Did actuate the whole, and every part.

Conto.
Most strangely liberal—Has giv'n the Fleet
Ten thousand Crowns, besides what other presents
Has made to th'Officers—What pitty 'tis
The Empire lost so brave a man so long;
Or since it has him now, age creeps upon him.

Mar
The greater is his glory: Had he been young,
It had not been so much; though yet he has
Out stript what ever I or heard, or read:
I'll vie his Autumn, with the pride of springs.

Const.
But hark you Gentlemen; you do'nt consider
How much work's yet to do—The Councel waits us:
Will't please your Highness walk?—

Mar.
Lead on my Lord;
The Duke, and I will follow.

Exeunt Const. Conto. Maria.
Manent Lepardas du. Mamalus.
Lap.
Now my good friend
That are so costive of your faith!—How think you?
Is not Andronicus a Gallant person?

Mam.
You know I told it you, and only doubted
How long 'twas possible to keep him so;
Then are you safe, and only then, when 'tis not
Within his power, to hurt you if he would:
I hope you've ty'd him up by hand and seal,
Though you have done no more;—

Lap.
It needed not;
We have his Honor, and his Oath engag'd:

Mam.
To what?—

Du.
Wee'll tell you that, another time;

Mam.
How willingly these Lords would cheat themselves!

Aside
Lap.
Me thought you said he was ambitious,
But I'll be sworn he is the humblest man,
I ever met with.—

Mam.
And that may be pride
For ought we know—Who was the prouder pray
Diogenes, that spurn'd at every thing,
Or Alexander, that sute out at nothing?
'Tis dangerous; There is a rule in Ethicks,
That pride, which riseth from humility,
Is hardest cur'd; because the vice is grounded
Upon the vertue, and the sin, built on
That, that should be the cure.—

Lap.
What should one talk
To make an infidel a Proselite:
Farewel.—

Du.
—Farewel.—

Mam.
My noble Lords your servant.

(Exeunt: by several waies)