 | Gloriana, or The Court of Augustus Caesar |  |
ACT. V.
SCENE, The Imperial Chamber.Augustus, Narcissa.
Aug.
What! shall I never rest till I am dead?
Nar.
I'le wake you in your everlasting bed;
I'le banish silence from your ears, your eyes
Affright with forms of ghastly miseries:
Yet hear me.—
Aug.
Thou shalt be a Monarch's wife,
Ask me no more to spare Cæsario's life,
A vagabond thou shouldst disdain to own,
I swear I'le match thee to a Prince; be gone.
Nar.
A Prince! what Prince, what King, what God can be
Equal to him, to my Divinity?
He is a Prince, a King, a God to me;
My heart's first, last, chief, dearest, only joy;
Can you hear this, yet purpose to destroy?
O Iron heart!
47
Yet you can make it run;
Soft fool, be gone: by Heav'n she melts me down.
Nar.
My milkie infancy why did you grace,
And flatter so while you did me embrace?
And swear this was the prettiest charming face:
Is there no sweetness left, no grace to move?
Am I grown old? have I quite lost your love?
No kind remains? all promises forgot?
Aug.
They are, they are, and I will pay thee nought.
I'm call'd to high affairs and must not stay,
Go to your Garden-huswifry, away.
Nar.
'Tis well indeed you can remember that;
Oft times as I on beds of Violets sat,
You on my knees plac'd your Majestick head,
While on your Crown my Infant-fingers plaid,
And all your Silver hairs in order laid;
And then you smil'd and promis'd, nay you swore
Whatever I coud ask of bounteous pow'r,
It shou'd be granted: This you needs must know,
And Heav'n that heard you sure will angry grow,
And will revenge, if you deny me now.
Aug.
Augustus cannot with Cæsario stand:
Asking his life, thou dost my death demand.
Two Cæsars the rent World will ne're obey,
As well two Rival Suns might drive the day,
Or Jove a partner brook in heav'nly sway.
Nar.
Poor Prince, you wrong him; he an Emperour!
Alass he never meant to share your pow'r;
Spare but his life, and he with me shall dwell,
In Groves which all your Palaces excell;
Where Heav'n and Earth their choicest wealth bestow,
Where no such weeds as Pride or Envy grow.
We'l mock the arts of Courts, and harms of State,
Where those are highest that wade deep in fate,
Like Giants very cruel, very great.
Aug.
Well, leave me, I'le consider what to do,
Cæsario lives, and owes his life to you.
48
Live! shall he live! O Heav'ns! pronounce it plain!
Speak Let him live, distinctly once again,
That I may dye upon the ravish'd sound,
And with my last breath eccho, Live around.
But you perhaps your mystick mind unfold
In Riddling terms, like Oracles of old;
And I unknowing innocence may take
Your purpose wrong, and some gross errour make.
Dear dreadfull Sir, let me this grace receive,
[kneels
Shall he without equivocation live?
Enter Gloriana.
Aug.
Rise, dear Narcissa, rise, hast and retire,
I yield, I grant whatever you require.
Nar.
This is my hated Rival, e're I go
I'le watch and what she acts with Cæsar know.
Aug.
Ambition's poison which the Spirits burn,
And all the bloud to liquid Sulphur turn;
The toil of War when action makes us sweat,
Scorch'd with our sultry Arms redoubled heat;
Plagues, Surfeits, Feavers, the great harms of Peace,
Contracted by excessive idleness,
Are Dew-drops to the brands, the glowing fire
You kindle here, and with your breath inspire.
Glor.
My tears shall quench the flame.
Aug.
You may as well
Put out the Sun, or quench the fires of Hell.
I thought you set for ever, but you rise
More glorious, more tormenting to my eyes.
Glor.
Of furious passion why shou'd you complain
To me? Am I the author of your pain?
Or can I help what you ordain shall be?
You raise these storms, and cast 'em upon me.
The works of Beauty, like it self, are fair;
I beg for Peace, 'tis you that thunder War:
Like March Tyrannick rage black Tempests pours,
But I like April am all Sun and showrs.
49
'Tis true, continu'd storms my peace molest,
And like old Ocean I can never rest;
About my head many State-Tempests sing,
And rapid troubles the rais'd billows wing:
Yet Beautie's influence, like the Moon's below,
Is cause of passions constant ebb and flow.
But 'tis at length by me resolv'd, I will
For the Worlds quiet, and my own, be still:
You like the Queen of Love, wafted in calms,
Distilling cordial sweets and healing balms,
Shall lull my stormy cares, and rock my head,
On the soft pillows of thy bosome laid.
Glor.
Shall then Cæsario live?
Aug.
He shall, he must,
'Tis indisputable, be thou but just:
With kindness my unwearied love regard,
And give my services their due reward.
Glor.
Let him but live, and that reward may come.
Aug.
Live! he shall live beyond the day of doom,
Consent, yield, bow thy beauties to my will:—
Wouldst thou have bloud? Thou shalt whole Nations spill;
Or if t'oblige the World you'd breath bestow,
Cæsario's life will be too little; no,
His immortality can ne're suffice,
Speak but the word, the dead, the dead shall rise;
Heroes that dy'd a thousand years ago,
Shall burst death's Adamantine Gates below,
Though Pluto shou'd himself the Porter stand,
And rush amaz'd to light at thy command.
Glor.
'Tis fit that none beneath an Emp'rour shou'd
Mingle with Pompey's high extracted bloud;
We know Cæsario's young, and charming fierce,
But 'tis Augustus rules the Universe:
Yet since Cæsario durst attempt so well,
Why let him live, but in strange Countries dwell,
And not presume to shew his follies here,
He dies if he again in Rome appear.
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My passion drinks your eyes refreshing streams,
Catches your breath, and hovers o're the steams;
I reel, my joy's so sprightly fierce refin'd,
Yes, Madam, Love's the drunkeness oth' mind:
Men rais'd with Wine equal with Monarchs move,
But Kings are Gods when extass'd by Love.
Glor.
With equal passion I your raptures greet,
With as fierce fires your hottest burnings meet;
Fierce as Thalestris Alexander fought,
But with such Arms as no destruction wrought:
I'le rush upon you with a Heav'n of Charms,
And make you buckle when you're out of Arms.
Aug.
O thou art all the sweetness of the earth,
Thou mak'st me young, nay giv'st me a new birth;
And dost such Virgin-thoughts to me restore,
As if I ne're had known delights before.
Narcissa meets 'em going out.
Nar.
Stay, Cæsar, stay, thou man of mighty ill,
Hear me, and all the stings of Honour feel;
If you persist, go on in this dark way,
May you arrive at Hell; may never day,
Nor Glory which did once your breast enflame,
Gild your atchievements, nor adorn your name:
May you be hurl'd from the high Helm of State,
And seem more vile than ever you were great.
Aug.
This seed of fire, lest it shou'd spread about,
I will discreetly in its growth put out:
She shall a Pris'ner be, take her away.
Nar.
Bind me in dungeons; yet I will not stay:
To publish thy disgrace I'le shoot through pores,
I'le pierce, I'le fry, I'le burst the prison-doors;
This seed of fire shall get ten thousand fears,
And set the World on blaze about your ears.
Aug.
No, to the Vestals you shall go, and there,
Since you're so hot, the Sacred fires repair;
While you have any breath there reek your spight,
This frantick zeal will make 'em burn more bright.
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Though highly born, yet educated low,
Distance, degrees, and forms she cannot know;
She like a Shepherdess by Princes lov'd,
Is dazl'd with the height to which she's mov'd.
Though bold to madness, pardon her for me,
Excuse her ignorance and leave her free.
Nar.
At thy request! disdainfull as you are,
Offending, false, and most destructive Fair,
Rather than with thy pray'rs I'le freedom buy.
Dark as thy soul I will in dungeons lye.
By philters, witchcraft, and Infernal art,
'Tis true that thou hast stoln Cæsario's heart:
Thou like a cruel Fairy didst convey
That dear belov'd, that darling heart away,
And in its room a cold dead figure lay.
(weeping.
But I will be reveng'd, to pieces tear
Those borrow'd eyes, and that inchanted hair;
Pull off thy pride, disrobe thy gorgeous pow'r,
And strip'd of those, shew thee a Witch all o're.
Aug.
Away to some dark room let her be had,
For either you and I, or she is mad.
Nar.
Yes, go devour your selves with eager lust,
Gnash with the pangs of passion, grind to dust;
Joyn'd with dishonour infamously one,
So may ye to the blushing world be shewn:
As once the grim lascivious God of War,
Caught by the jealous Husband's watchfull care,
Kissing Love's melting Empress, was betray'd,
Ridiculous to all high Rulers made,
May thy Gold Scepter wither her hand,
Still be a Slave, and still may she command.
Exit.
Glor.
Cæsar is mov'd, in his consid'rate eye
I read remorse, and warring passions spy;
With stronger charms 'tis just I draw him on,
Lest the revenging deed be left undone.
Aug.
No, I'le not go to bed, nor tast the joy,
The lovely poison whose sad sweets destroy;
52
That Nest of pleasure, but my Honour's Grave:
Here like Pigmalion's Image will I stand,
But never to be warm'd by any hand.
Glor.
What sudden horrour's this that clouds your eyes,
Like damps which from some vault's soul bottom rise?
Smoth'ring the chearfull lights that shone e're while,
It turns to mortal frowns your ev'ry smile:
The breath of any man can warm, or chill,
But yours alone can make alive, or kill.
Aug.
Of late so coy, and now so forward grown:
The mysteries of Love I have not known,
Nor can I this dark Riddle's meaning guess;
If Fate be in't, let Fate it self express:
I feel vast appetite, yet dread to eat,
As if I saw that death were in the meat.
As half-starv'd Fish that fear the mortal Hook,
Yet by the lovely Bait drawn in are strook;
She hangs so fair, so tempting to my eye,
Let ruine wait, I'le tast her though I dye.
Exeunt.
SONG
How severe is fate to break a heart
That never went a roving;
To torture it with endless smart,
For too much constant loving:
I bleed, I bleed, I melt away,
I wash my watry Pillow;
I walk the Woods alone all day,
And wrap me round in Willow.
Cæsario solus, rising as from sleep.
Cæs.
I'le not endure't; Hence from my fancy rush,
Or I to nought your fright full air will crush:
Methought I saw her in Augustus bed,
And after by my side beheld her dead.
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Than once consent in thought to such a deed.
Enter Narcissa.
O beauteous Virgin, daughter of the Spring,
Who to my Winter dost refreshings bring,
Still all in tears? Like the Celestial bow,
Bending with cares and sorrows that o'reflow;
Though bright yet sad thy shinings all appear,
And on thy ev'ry Glory hangs a tear.
Nar.
Alas I know not what I have to say,
Yet I methinks cou'd talk to you all day;
Tell you the mightiness of Tyrant Love,
And how I cou'd from Courts with you remove;
Cou'd like the humble Lark in my cold Nest,
Abroad all night in frosty Meadows rest:
So I my vows to you my Star might bring,
And ev'ry morning Songs of sorrow sing.
Cæs.
O torment which the gen'rous cannot bear!
Cease thy lamented story to declare;
Dolefull and sweet as waking Nightingales,
When they repeat in Groves their Tragick Tales.
Nar.
Is it then writ in the dark books above,
That you the poor Narcissa ne're shall love?
That she shall languish with eternal pain,
And never, never be belov'd again?
O stay, I see denial in your eyes:
Yet as when some belov'd Relation dyes,
We to the person whom he lov'd most dear
With caution come, first usher doubt, then fear,
And with sad preparation teach the ear;
So to my trembling heart be cruel kind,
And sooth with soft delays my wounded mind.
Cæs.
I will for ever thus before thee stand,
Walk, sit, or live, or dye at thy command.
Nar.
'Tis Heav'n to be thus part of one poor hour
To gaze and talk; alas, I ask no more.
54
If you and me the Emp'rour wou'd secure,
Where you my company must needs endure,
In some close prison for a year or so,
I'd find such thousand ways my love to shew,
With thousand pretty offices to serve,
That you shou'd say at last, the deed deserve;—
Nay sigh perhaps, and as I weary lay
Before your feet, with tears my labour pay.
Cæs.
O arm thy gentle bosome with disdain,
And o're thy heart a noble conquest gain!
Think me, alas, unworthy to receive,
And the vast Present to some other give.
Nar.
There is no reason why we love, nor how,
Yet to the yoke would submissive bow:
With equal feet Love treach on Kings and Swains,
Like death o're ev'ry neck he casts his chains,
He wakes in Thrones, and sleep in flowrie Plains.
Cæs.
Will you forgive me if I press to hear
How Gloriana does her sorrows bear?
Nar.
Yes, that's the beauteous Thief that stole my right,
In whom your soul ignobly does delight,
For the blest know, though she more beauteous be,
In vertue she comes short, far short of me.
Vile as she is, untrue to all her vows,
Who now the Tyrant's proffer'd lust allows.
Cæs.
O do not spot thy Virgin purity
With such untruths, for one so lost as I
She vile! ungentle cruel as you are,
Take heed, take heed, thou most injurious Fair,
And speak no more, lest you be understood
To have a spice of Cæsar in your blood.
Nar.
If there be truth in what the dying say,
Who wou'd suspected with the living stay,
By Heav'n she is as false as I am true,
And Cæsar wholly doth her soul subdue:
To banishment she call'd your seentenced head,
And sleeps this night in the imperial bed.
55
Never such thund'ring shall my vengeance make,
Though she were charm'd she shou'd no slumber take,
Though she were sleep—sleep! were she death yet she shou'd wake.
I'le rouze her with the noise of all my wrongs;
Furies shall call her with eternal tongues,
False, false, forsworn:—But I unjust appear,
And you more cruel than the Tyrant are;
Cruel to add to such a mass of grief,
And I unjust to give your words belief.
Nar.
How! think me guilty of a Lye! O Heav'n!
Have I liv'd thus!—Yet may you be forgiv'n;
I am unfit to live, and you to love,
Let me to Death, and you to War remove;
You cannot be too rude in Armour drest,
Since cruelty is there like fame profess'd,
Like Love in Courts, it raves in ev'ry breast.
Nor shall I need your Sword to make a wound,
This last unkindness weighs me to the ground.
O all ye vows of passion that I gave!
Return and let me hide ye in the Grave.
Cæs.
Fall first ten millions such as I, e're thou
To any grief my folly murmur'd bow:
Look up, thou eye oth' World, why does the red
That now adorn'd thy cheeks, appear so dead?
What fatal Purple's this that shakes thy lip?
Nar.
I'm adding one small grain to death's vast heap
Thy love, thy love, hard hearted Cæsar's Son,
The poor accus'd Narcissa has undone
Methinks you are not now so lovely quite,
Or else 'tis death that darkens thus my sight:
Not to believe!—'twas so unkind a part,
There wanted only that to break my heart.
Cæs.
Believe! I swear I do, I will believe,
And but for thee I will here after live;
I'le tear that cruel Sorceress from my breast,
And plant thee there of all my heart possess'd:
O do not dye and leave me dumb, deaf, blind
Expos'd to all the curses of mankind
56
And all the damn'd torment me when I'm dead.
Nar.
Ah soft repose, how sweetly now I rest,
As if your bosome were with Roses drest:
Wou'd you have been thus kind if I had liv'd?
Cæs.
Witness—
Nar.
Nay now you shall not be believ'd:
O Gloriana, blest above women, how
Didst thou this heart to thy false beauty bow?
I over-heard her with the Emperour,
'Tis dying truth, she loves you less than pow'r.
But I above the World, or that high bliss
To which I hast—for my souls lasting peace,
Give me thy love;—no more.
Cæs.
My soul receive,
Which thus infus'd shall a new being give,
Breathe with my breath; and with my being live.
Nar.
The mighty cordial does my senses cloy;
I dye like those that surfeit with vast joy:
Had you such words some minutes sooner spoke,
They'd fastned life, but now tis vain to speak,
For what can hold us when our heart-strings break.
(dyes.
Cæs.
Take me along, by Heav'n I'le follow thee,
But how, no Instrument of destiny?
Heart, canst not break like hers?—how calm she went;
But mine's too big, and must with fate be rent,
Torn from my prison-house? why so it shall,
I'le rush and leave my brains on yonder wall.
Dye! 'tis most fit; yet e're the deed be wrought,
Shall not the blood of Pompey know her fault?
Yes, Gloriana, yes, thou murd'ring Fair,
I'le hollow death and vengeance in thy ear;
Rouze thee from Glorie's grave with potent cries,
Charm'd like a naked Ghost compell'd to rise.
Enter Marcellus.
Mar.
I bring thee hasty news, live, live; but fly.
Cæs.
News for thy news, look there and bid me dye
57
My Sister dead!
Cæs.
She parted from life's Tree
Hard like Green-fruit, and she was pluck'd by me.
Why dost thou bend her? life thou canst not mold;
She is like Alablaster, fair but cold.
Mar.
O barb'rous Friend!—Friend! I the name disown,
But 'tis thy blood that must her loss attone;
Thy own curs'd tongue which did her murder boast,
Has sentenc'd thee to death;—for ever lost,
Dye, Royal wretch.—
Cæs.
What does thy arm arrest?
I have no Sword, and proffer thee my breast:
Why dost thou turn thy melting eyes away?
I am in hast for death, and cannot stay.
Mar.
Thou art not yet so black but my quick sight,
Through all thy shades can spy some streaks of light;
Though bloudy, thou art valiant, and I scorn
To give base death to one so Nobly born:
Thou shalt in equal Duel perish.
Cæs.
No,
Thou wert my Friend, and canst not be my Foe.
'Tis true, thy Sister dy'd for love of me;
Can mortals help what Heav'n sets down shall be?
Am I in fault? To thee I must be so;
Then right thee here, 'twill prove a welcome blow.
Enter Julia.
Jul.
Cæsario, live! what means my fatal Lord?
Is't possible that you can draw your Sword
Against your Friend, that Friend whose life of late
Our pray'rs redeem'd from near approaching fate?
Mar.
Look there, and blame the vengeance I shou'd give;
Is this a Friend? does he deserve to live?
The horrid crime which he has done peruse,
And then the justice of my rage excuse.
Cæs.
Something in this last treatment shews thee base;
Thou call'st my crime, what my misfortune was:
58
A thousand times more dear then life could be?
Jul.
How e're unfortunate, 'twas a dread deed,
At such a sight my Father's eyes will bleed:
Yet, Oh Marcellus! spare Cæsario's life,
'Tis due to Friendship, and your weeping Wife:
Sorrow so noble paints his manly look,
That to the heart I am with pity strook.
Let his life's former acts this once perswade,
For faults perhaps which his ill fortune made.
Mar.
'Tis in the clouds what e're it be, and why,
But my heart says, by me he cannot dye;
But fly, be gone to some far desart, where
Thou maist with safety live, thou canst not here,
For though we spare thee, Cæsar will not spare.
Jul.
Go, go, Cæsario, fly thy threatning fate,
And fly from those thou mak'st unfortunate.
Cæs.
Wretch that I am, and terrour to the Earth!
Where, where is now th'advantage of my birth,
But to be highly miserable? no,
Marcellus, yet there's something left to do;
Bring me, before we part for ever, where
I may to Gloriana's guilt appear:
By Heav'n nor she nor Cæsar shall be harm'd,
For I will go with nought but sorrow arm'd:
By all remembrance of our Friendships past,
Grant me this one request, for 'tis my last.
Mar.
I will do this; go not that way, my eyes
Grow sick, and clouds of death before me rise.
Exeunt.
SCENE, The Emperours Bed-Chamber.
Gloriana sola, drest in white with a Dagger in her hand, Tapers, &c.
Glor.
He dyes, this Idol of the earth shall down;
That brow that aw'd the World with ev'ry frown,
This night shall bear its terrours to the Grave,
There Great Augustus shall his Empire have.
59
And to high safety call his noble Friend;
To save my honour, and Cæsario too,
What more can Gloriana wish to do?
O Love! how masculine are all my fires?
With what dread thoughts the God my breast inspires?
When like a Lion all compos'd to rest,
The Tyrant leans upon my Virgin-breast,
In golden dreams expecting boundless bliss,
I'le rock him fast, for ever fast with this.
But heark, he comes, I must my arm prepare,
I'le to the Bed and wait his coming there.
Cæsario enters, goes to the Bed, draws the Curtain, and gazes on her: she rises amaz'd.
Glor.
Who's this? am I awake, or do I see?
Cæsario here indeed, can this be he?
If thou be Cæsar's Son that did adore
The bloud of Pompey, speak, or love no more.
Cæs.
Love no more.
Glor.
Why dost thou thus with frightfull action gaze?
Or art thou but the Ghost of him that was?
Cæs.
The Ghost of him that was.
Glor.
Such by thy stedfast eyes thou wou'dst appear,
Thy dread replies unusual horrour bear,
Yet sure that form my soul can never fear.
Who was thy murd'rer, if thou murder'd be?
By Cæsar slain, or wert thou kill'd by the—
Cæs.
Kill'd by thee.
Glor.
Cease, horrid eccho, cease, and tell at large,
What dost thou seek, what is it thou wou'dst charge?
Some dreadfull business drives thy stormy mind,
In Gloriana's breast a Haven find.
Art thou distracted with thy mighty grief?
Or wou'dst thou gain from wretched me relief?
Cæs.
I came to seek for painted vertue here,
For one exceeding false, exceeding fair;
60
But did a heart compos'd of Thunder shrowd;
For one more weeping than the face of Nile,
Whose liquid Chrystal hides the Crocodile;
For one who like a God from Heav'n did pour
Rich rain, but lust was in the golden showr;
For one who like Pandora beauteous flew,
But a long train of curses with her drew;
For one who like a Rock of Diamonds stood,
But hemm'd with death, and universal flood.
Glor.
Did I not know you of the Noblest frame,
I must confess you might the manner blame;
Appearance wou'd some jealous troubles raise,
Respect the time, the posture, and the place:
But trust me and retire.
Cæs.
Still worse;—Retire,
And leave thee here to roul in sinfull fire,
Like a fair Glutton gorging vast desire!
O Appetite of Angels! such with awe
Thou didst appear when first thy form I saw:
Glory came down, and Beauty hover'd there,
But fleeting as the bosome of the Air;
Air not more wish'd, nor easier had than thou;
Air which the Gods to men and brutes allow.
Glor.
Have I deserv'd this? but you may go on,
My faith will better by your guilt be shewn.
Cæs.
'Tis true, the dress of innocence you have,
You look as you were going to a Grave;
Prepar'd to crumble into Rosie dust,
To meet a Tomb, and not the Bed of lust:
Such Heav'n is in your face all clean and white,
Like Goddesses in flesh, so clear to sight;
Put 'tis not fit I tell what's lodg'd within,
How full thy bosome is of foulest sin.
Glor.
Speak, for I am prepar'd the worst to hear.
Cæs.
O such a heart thou hast that lodges there,
It all things deadly and perverse does will;
So in bright Palaces black Tyrants kill:
61
And deprav'd spirits lurk in Sacred shrines.
Glor.
Have you done yet?
Cæs.
The ills that thou hast done,
Will like the Steeds of Night for ever run,
Furies still lashing on;—for thee, ingrate,
I was the cause of dead Narcissa's fate.
Glor.
O Heav'ns!
Cæs.
'Twas love of thee that urg'd her doom;
Thou thoughtst thy perjury shou'd never come
To these deluded ears, but 'twas from her
I learnt how excellently false you were:
But I fond fool wou'd not believe, till she
By death confirm'd thy matchless treachery.
Glor.
I seem'd indeed with Cæsar to consent,
But 'twas to give him fatal punishment;
To end his Tyrannies with one great blow,
Which all your rage in vain essay'd to doe.
For this I leant on the Imperial Bed,
Deeply resolv'd with this to strike him dead;
For this I urg'd you to retire at first,
'Tis true, or may I be for ever curs'd.
Cæs.
I know, I know you cannot want excuse,
The fair are still most witty in abuse;
But I am arm'd, with demonstration arm'd,
And will no more with Beautie's wounds be harm'd:
Did not the dying speak it? perfect proof;
I heard, I've seen, by Heav'n there is enough:
I will be deaf as winds when Sea-men pray,
And sweep as furious and as swift as they.
Glor.
Yet cruel turn.
Cæs.
By all the Gods I'le not,
I am resolv'd, and will no more be caught:
Thus turning from thee, thus I lose the sight
Of all I ever lov'd; I'le take my flight
Beyond the Scythian hills, where horrid care
With her cold sighs chills all the neighb'ring air;
62
Where mirth and joy are words not understood;
Where thousand sorrows shoot along the glades,
And melancholy sits in mighty shades;
Thither I'le fly, and darken all the place,
And with new clouds the solemn mourners grace;
With flouds of tears I'le wash the stains of Love,
And rise all Cæsar to the Thrones above.
Glor.
Be gone, to death, to death Cæsario fly,
Or if you fear, I'le teach you how to dye:
I'le be your guide in your dark course, and shew
The way to Heav'n, which sure you do not know:
I'le imp your pennons, when they flag with guilt,
And rest you on some clouds embroider'd quilt:
Chide your suspicions as you weeping fit,
Yet pardon all the faults you did commit.
Thou wilt believe me true when I am dead,
And death will free me from the Tyrant's bed:
Turn then, behold the offering which I make,
The last of Pompey dying for thy sake.
Cæs.
Hold, Gloriana, desperate murd'ring Fair!
Thus, is it thus thou wou'dst thy honour clear?
Each drop that falls will to an Ocean swell,
To swallow me; (who can the horrour tell!)
I drown, I'm sunk beneath the depths of Hell.
But I'le not speak to thee, my breath's so soul,
That ev'ry poisonous word will blast thy soul.
Glor.
Ah cruel kind! I can but lose thee now,
And death's less dreadfull then thy angry brow;
The dreadfull Scene was so severely wrought,
Except I dy'd, I must be guilty thought:
But I'le no more the crime of fate upbraid,
Wipe thy bath'd eyes, and raise thy drooping head,
Alas, we were not for each other made.
Cæs.
Night! everlasting Night!—Oh!
Glor.
Do not grieve;—
With my last breath pardon and love receive.
Support me:—
63
Firmer then old Atlas stands,
And prop a Richer Heav'n with Mortal hands.
Glor.
Take me secur'd from past and future harms,
Bow'd to thy neck, and sinking in thy arms:
I go the long dark way,—
Cæs.
Not yet.
Glor.
Farewell.
(dyes.
Cæs.
Back, thou departing life, back to thy Cell,
Her heart in Heav'n thou canst not sweeter dwell;
Move the still pulse, and thaw each frozen vein;
Return, I say, I'le force thee back again;
Catch the bare soul just plunging into bliss,
And give it back with this fast deathless kiss.
Enter Augustus in his Night-gown.
Aug.
Thus when the Royal Eagle stoops to pair,
With a delib'rate wing he beats the air;
Views all the Queens of his Heroick Race,
To judge whose eyes deserve Imperial grace:
But having chose aloft his Empress, bears
To kiss Jove's feet, and know her kindred Stars:
So shall my Mistress sit enthron'd above,
First share my Glory, and then tast my Love.
Ha! who art thou? my Rival arm'd! who waits?
Cæsar's betray'd.—
Enter Mecænas and Guards.
Cæs.
Call the opposing fates,
With all the Forces of the fighting Earth,
For I would perish as becomes my birth.
Aug.
How cam'st thou here?
Cæs.
I will not tell thee how,
Should the Gods ask, I have not leisure now:
But more to blow thy hate, and on disdain
Pile burning Rage, behold thy Mistress slain.
Now give me death.—
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Death! thou hast nothing nam'd,
Thou shalt be rack'd an Age, and then be damn'd.
Oh Gloriana, bright unhappy Fair!
But shall revenge be wanting to dispair?
Kill him, he dies though Cæsar should come down,
And for his life with sacred sighs attone.
Cæs.
I thank thee, mighty Rival:—
Yet e're my Ghost puts on her Aiery shroud,
Behold I kneel, who ne're to man yet bow'd,
And beg that when the fatal fires convey'd,
By which this body must be Ashes made,
Some of my dust, as a more gen'rous doom,
May be inclos'd in Gloriana's Tomb.
Aug.
Thou crav'st those honours that my envy move,
Yet I'le be just to Glory as to Love;
Thou shalt not vainly kneel, I will comply
With your desires, Cæsario rise and dye.
Cæs.
This act of vertue, though so lately shewn,
Will in oblivion all your vices drown:
Now Guards your mighty Master's will obey,
Aim'd at my heart your pointed weapons lay;
With all your Spears my body thus enclose,
And let me set in Glory as I rose.
Aug.
The fate he claims my justice has decreed,
And though I turn me from the bidden deed,
Yet for the Empires safety he must bleed.
Fight.
Cæs.
Thus fell my Father, thus encompass'd round,
And bore beneath him Glory to the ground;
With the remains of life I'le drag me on,
And at thy knees for ever lay me down.
Oh happiness! Oh pleasure in death's pangs!
My hovering soul o're thy lov'd sweetness hangs:
I'le grasp her all, and Love shall last be mine;
Give me but this, Cæsar, the world is mine.
(dyes.
65
Agr.
Heav'n! Cæsar, Guard!
Aug.
Oh my Agrippa, see,
Behold the malice of my destiny;
Terrible death which I so often brav'd,
With this last vizard has the Victor scar'd.
Agr.
Yet by the fall of Love Empire's acquir'd,
Since with your Mistress Cæsar's Son expir'd.
Mec.
Thus when th'immortals take, they greatly give,
And bribe your big affronted heart to live.
Aug.
But all Earth's Kingdoms cannot equal weigh,
With the vast sums Love in the Scale did lay:
Thus the great Governours return me Brass
For Gold; and for my Diamonds, barter Glass.
By this time I had been in bed in Heav'n,
And o're their heads with tow'ring pleasures driv'n.
Enter Tiberius.
Tib.
Yet fortifie your mind, dread Sir, and hear
What none but I durst offer to your ear,
Fate by Narcissa's loss more spite has shewn,
And sudden death has robb'd you of a Son.
Aug.
Ha!
Tib.
Marcellus stay'd by Julia from the ground,
Sunk in her arms, and dy'd without a wound:
Stretch'd on his limbs the Princess lies all pale,
And soon will perish except you prevail.
Agr.
We must submit to the Divine commands.
Aug.
No, I'le not take a blow more at their hands:
Raise me a Fun'ral Pile, and round me mourn,
For tis resolv'd like Hercules Ile burn.
Grief mortal as his poison'd shirt sticks fast,
And now I wish that my last hour were past;
That my immortal honours were begun,
I'le dye, I'le set this Ev'ning with the Sun.
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My Cæsar, and to Heav'n resound his name.
Tib.
For me twere vanity to make reply,
Yet in Augustus quarrel I dare dye;
And almost wish the World might once rebel,
That I might reap the fame your Foes to quell:
But you already awe the Nations round,
And at your nod bow'd Scepters touch the ground.
Aug.
Small are the thanks I owe the Pow'rs above
For all the Nations that beneath me move:
As severe Masters ply their early charge,
Yet their vex'd spirits at set times enlarge,
Some few short airy joys in Fields to find,
And for worse hardship bait the wearied mind;
So Heav'n abroad with Conquest crowns my Wars,
But wracks my spirit with domestick jars.
The End of the Play.
| Gloriana, or The Court of Augustus Caesar | |