University of Virginia Library

ACT the First.

SCENE the Imperial Palace in ROME.
Enter, at several doors, Valerius Asiaticus, and Annius Minutianus.
Val. A.
My noble Lord Minutianus,
I'm glad to see so good a Man alive,
And wonder at it; for as the times are,
When any good great Man has a new day,
He has new life, at least a new reprieve;
For by the Emperor he's decreed to die.

An. M.
Indeed, my Lord, ev'ry new day to me
Seems a new pleasing shining Prodigy:
I lift my eyes with wonder at the Sun,
Nor look to see him more when day is done;
And when night comes, I am awhile afraid
I'm not alive, but in th'Infernal shade.

Val. A.
Cæsar has broke the Fortunes, and the Hearts
Of half the World; Men are but half alive.

An. M.
Sometimes your Lordship gives our hearts some hope,
But then your League with Cæsar frightens us.

Val. A.
Oh! two proud Men to Friendship ne'r encline;
You may as well two lofty Mountains join.
If close in League Cæsar and I appear,
It is because you do not see us near.
So when imperfectly remotely seen,
Two Mountains on each other seem to lean;
Approach 'em near, you'll find 'em wondrous wide,
Int'rest and Nature do the great divide:
Pride is a friendless Vice, and foe to Pride.
I've had success in War, and got renown;
And Cæsar hates all glory but his own.
[Enter Cassius Cheræa viewing himself in a Pocket Looking-glass.
Why, how now Cassius?

Ca. Ch.
My most noble Lord!

Val. A.
Examining thy Figure in a Glass?
That Glass is a dissembler, Cassius.
Thou wou'dst not love it if it told thee truth,
For then the shadow on that Dial shewn,
Wou'd let thee know thy Sun is going down:
Th'art in thy fall, witness thy falling hair,
Yet thou wou'dst pass for young with all the fair.
Oh! Cassius! thou hast wander'd far from Youth,
And thy young dress tells scandalous untruth.
That th'art in heart a Hector, who wou'd guess,
Whilst th'art a wanton Paris in thy dress?
Paris was not accoutred with such Art,
Thy habit is a Libel on thy Heart.

An. M.
Oh! but a Manly daring Soul lurks deep,
Under this gentle Lady, like outside;
Which Cæsar takes a pleasure to deride.

Val. A.
Nay, Cæsar ought to spare him allow,
Cæsar's grave only in his frowning brow:
He folds his brow in frowns; had he his will,
Basilisk like he'd with his aspect kill.
But this fierce Monarch, in unmanly dress,
Is oft extravagant to mad excess.
His Robes, like Chrystal waves, around him flow,
At once his Limbs and Lusts they lewdly shew.
His only coverings, in his wild attire,
Are blazing Gems, which make him seem o'fire.
His wrists in Bracelets far out-shine the Stars;
You'd think 'em Comets, and fear Plagues and Wars.

An. M.
Ay, and his Sandals powder'd o'r with Gems,
Exceed in splendor Regal Diadems.

Val. A.
They are so wondrous soft, and easie too,
He feels the ground no more than if he flew.

Ca. Ch.
Dresses are Politicks of Love; he's wise,
And steals to hearts of Ladies, through their Eyes.

Val. A.
Were Cassius led to die, he'd die well dress'd,
To leave a Dart in ev'ry Ladies breast;
And to his death he'd gracefully advance,
As if he only lead a solemn Dance.
And loss of life wou'd grieve him less, he'll own,
Than loss of love; the dead are lov'd by none.

Ca. Ch.
No, from dead Lovers living beauties fly,
And soon let all remembrance of 'em die,
Our Images for years in Marble stay;
Our Images in Hearts scarce last a day.

Val. A.
Well Cassius, though you soft and frail appear,
Cassius is hardy, valiant, and sincere:
Calm to a Friend, a tempest to a Foe,
With his hand active, though in speech he's slow.
He fights as if he had a thousand Lives,
But for preferment modestly he strives.
In Court he yields, in danger leads the way;
Wins, yet can scarce be said to gain the day.
Of speech he's sparing, lib'ral of his bloud;
To all, but to himself, he's just and good.

Ca. Ch.
This from your Lordship? I am over-paid
For all I've done.

Val. A.
No, there are great Arrears
Due to thy Fortune, and thy Honour both,
Injur'd by Cæsar.

Ca. Ch.
I am wounded by him,
In a more tender part, my Conscience;
He often forces me, to ruine those
Whom I am bound in conscience to defend.
The fortunes, nay, the flesh I'm forc'd to rend
Of those, who have no faults, but Wealth or Power;
And thus my self I torture ev'ry hour.
For all the miseries I impose, I feel;
And my heart bleeds when guiltless blood I spill.
Because I faintly act this cruel part,
Cæsar is pleas'd to say I want a Heart,
And has my tenderness in great disdain;
He thinks I'm not a Man, because Humane.

Val. A.
Nay, Cæsar counts humanity a crime:
Well Cassius, you may have redress in time.
[Several go over the Stage, carrying Robes and Crowns.
Behold a foolish ostentatious shew,
Of Robes and Crowns, won in the German War;
Not by the Valour of the Emperor,
He never stoops in Person to subdue,
He fights by Proxy, as great Princes wooe.
He dares not look on War; awhile ago,
He march'd to'ards War, and made a noise and shew,
Which through the German Woods a horror spread;
The hasty Rhine to Sea more swiftly fled.
He had two Armies.

Ca. Ch.
No, my Lord, but one.

Val. A.
Yes, Cassius, I lead gallant Men, and Cæsar
A flying Camp of ranting Concubines,
Who flam'd, and gave a lustre to the day;
No Meteors were so bright, or hot as they.

Cass. Ch.
Ay, but my Lord, these falling Stars, 'tis known,
Though bright aloft, are Jellies when they're down.

Val. A.
That you have often found; now what became
Of this Bravado, and attempt on Fame?
It dwindled to a Farce, and foolish Scene;
For his Light-Horse, light Concubines I mean,
With Cæsar in their head began to fly,
On the first News the enemy drew nigh:
To look on a brave Foe they durst not stay,
The German Trumpets blew 'em all away.

An. M.
They have some wounds I'm told.

Val. A.
In Fame they have,
And scratches which the Quick-set Hedges gave.
Cæsar is often prancing, on the Road
To War, but long e'r danger is abroad.
Like a hot early Spring he oft sets forth,
Not to enrich, adorn, but blast the Earth;
Whilst sweet young Beauties, in their lovely May,
Like blossoms round him blow, but far more gay:
And when approaching dangers rudely threat
The splendid Prince, he and his buds retreat;
He wisely keeps in War a Regal State,
Makes danger from himself at distance wait,
But with stiff pride enters an empty Town,
His Troops have won, and assumes their renown.

Ca. Ch.
Second-hand Glory appears somewhat bear.

Val. A.
Second-hand Cloaths he may as proudly wear.
With all their Lawrels then a Prince is crown'd,
Who ne'r saw fight, nor felt a noble wound.
Wounds he has had, but they were all behind,
For yet his face danger cou'd never find;
But he'll triumph in Person, o'r the bold,
For Victories he never durst behold.
Now in triumphal pomp he enters Rome,
Leading those chain'd he durst not overcome.
And now who dares but in a look betray,
The least contempt of this illustrious day,
Sacred to th'honour of th'Imperial Sword,
And the vast pride of our vain-glorious Lord?

An. M.
You of his pride and vanity complain;
Oh! wou'd to heaven he were only vain.
But he has Vices I abhor to name;
They cover me with everlasting shame.
His Sisters were all wonderfully fair;
Part of that beauty I desir'd to share.
The youngest then seem'd to have ev'ry grace;
Her beauty gave a lustre to her race.
I humbly begg'd his leave for an address,
And angry Heaven curs'd me with success.
I got his Sister, and let that suffice
To express all the plagues Hell can devise.
By Heavens, he whor'd her on the Bridal Night;
Nay, which is more, he whor'd her in my sight.

Val. A.
She was his Sister I may safely swear;
No race besides affords so lewd a pair.
Enter Vitellius sad and drooping.
I pity this great Man, in War he's brave,
In Court he is a cautious fawning slave.

Cas. Ch.
He views the ground with a dejected eye.

Val. A.
And with good reason he expects to die.

An. M.
For what offence? He has rul'd Syria well,
And humbled haughty Kings who durst rebel;
As Fame reports.

Val. A.
Court deeps but few can sound;
Tyrants and Priests in mysteries abound.
Perhaps their Arts will not the light endure,
They strike most awe, like Temples, when obscure.
This sad and thoughtful Hero lets approach,
Try if his painful wounds will bear the touch.
My Lord Vitellius, you seem full o'care,
And out of Asia bring a cloudy air,
Which weighs your Eye-lids down; what shou'd it mean?
You fortunes has been smiling and serene,
And yet you sigh as if your heart wou'd break.

Vit.
My Lord, I'm bruis'd, I have scarce strength to speak;
I've had a fall, which makes my Vitals bleed.
I fell from Heaven.

Val.
That's a high fall indeed.

Vit.
From Cæsar's favour.

(He bows low.)
Val: A.
Why de'ye bend so low?

Vit.
To Cæsar's Image in my thoughts I bow.
[He always bows when he names Cæsar.
I honour my own thoughts when Cæsar's there,
And when he's nam'd, I reverence the air,
And lowly towards the awful sound encline;
The air is then, methinks, a holy shrine.

Val. A.
Your prudent, courtly temper, I commend,
But I had rather make proud Monarchs bend,
And with crown'd Victims my devotions pay;
So I wou'd worship Cæsar ev'ry day,
And now bring Princes to adore his Throne.
Cæsar's my Prince—

Vit.
And God.—

Val. A.
Well, that I own.
To Cæsar I'll not grudge a pompous word;
And how he pleases he shall be ador'd.

[Shouts.]
Vit.
These shouts tell joyful news, that Cæsar's nigh;
Oh! I've his glorious person in my eye.
His glitt'ring Chariot is of beaten Gold;
But in himself I Nature's pomp behold.
The bounteous Monarch, as he rides along,
Rains silver show'rs on the admiring throng.

Val. A.
Bribes to the Rabble; that a Prince so proud,
[Aside to An. M.
Shou'd stoop to purchase flattery from the croud;
From all bold Foes, but flatterers, he flies;
Flattery is a part of his high Luxuries,
And none can be too fulsome for his taste;
Thus Wit, and Gold, and Blood, we vainly waste.

An. M.
Rome pours into the Court a duzling Croud,
With an illustrious stream 'tis overflow'd.
I dare not shew my self in Cæsar's sight;
My Lords farewel, may Fortune do you right.

[Ex.
Enter Caligula, Cesonia, Attendants, Guards. Val. A. and Vit. retire at a distance. Cass. Ch. mingles with the Guard.
Ces.
Welcome to Rome once more, my Mars, my Jove;
Welcome from War, to Luxury and Love.
Well, I am pleas'd to find they've taken care
To fill the Palace with a fragrant air.

Cal.
I have bestow'd more odours, on these Rooms,
Than wou'd, I think, perfume a thousand Tombs.

Ces.
Sir, why do you name Tombs?

Cal.
Does it become
A Heroin, to startle at a Tomb?

Ces.
Nay, I cou'd dwell with pleasure, on the Graves
Of Cæsar's Foes, or his rebellious Slaves.
I've a nice Nostril, with rich perfumes fed,
The least offensive vapour strikes me dead.
I can endure no sweets but what excel;
Yet of dead enemies I like the smell.

Cal.
Well, if dead enemies can entertain,
Thou hast been gratify'd this last Campagne.
[Val. comes forwards, and bows low
What wou'd you have Valerius?

Val. A.
What you please;
I am attending, Sir, on your decrees.

Vit. comes forward, bows low, then covers his head and face with his Robe, turns round, then prostrates himself on the ground.
Vit.
Cæsar, Victorious, Gracious, Pious, Wise,
The noblest pleasure of our thoughts and eyes;
Scourge of the proud, relief of all the oppress'd;
Cæsar, of Gods, the greatest and the best.
At Cæsar's feet, I humbly prostrate lie,
To live his Vassal, or his Victim die.
But I wou'd live (if that might be allow'd)
To pay those Off'rings I've to Cæsar vow'd;
Those Divine Honours are to Cæsar due,
The only God that stoops to humane view.

Ces.
Sir, in no Mortal all perfections dwell,
They've both been faulty, but they've both done well.
That Lord in Germany has Battels won;
[Pointing to Val.
This made the Parthian King leave Babylon,
[Pointing to Vit.
Cross his Euphrates, and his swelling pride,
To pay those Honours he till then deny'd,
Cæsar's Divine protection to implore,
His Eagles, and his Images adore.

Vit.
Madam, the glory wholly I disclaim,
To Cæsar's Divine Genius be the fame.

Ces.
Let 'em once more in Cæsar's favour rise,
For all that honour him I highly prize.

Cal.
Thy Will is irresistible, like Fate;
What makes me love thee at so mad a rate?
Live both in the Commands you had before;
Now is there any thing you wou'd have more?

[Vit. rises and bows low.
Vit.
To kiss your sacred feet we beg your leave.
[Cal. offers his foot with scorn.
With humble thanks the bounty we receive.

Val. A.
We must give thanks for such affronts as these;
And proudly humbling us below our knees.

[Aside.
[Both kiss the Emperor's Sandal.
Vit.
Oh! how the World is with an Emp'ror blest;
May I presume to make one more request?

Cal.
What is it? speak.

Vit.
The honour, Sir, to kiss
Th'Empresses Sandal;—but 'tis too much bliss.
Alas! I am afraid, I've been too bold.

Cal.
Lucius, your Lips are common, I am told;
Oft to the Sandals of the fair you bend,
And to your ioys from those low Stairs ascend.

Vit.
Light, Sir, is common, so is vital air,
And often kiss the Sandals of the fair.

Cal.
Well Lucius, I am in good humour now,
And the great honour you have begg'd bestow.
Let 'em adore you, Madam, at your feet.

Vit.
Oh! bounteous Prince!
Oh! Empress! heavenly sweet.

[He kisses the Empresses Sandal, so does Val.
Cal.
Come, you wou'd try my bounty once again;
Speak boldly, Man, I'm in the giving vein.

Vit.
I'd beg the shell of that delicious fruit,
A Sandal sweetned by that beauteous foot.

Cal.
Go fetch him one with speed.

[Ex. a Lady.
Vit.
Transporting joy!
For such a gracious God, who would not die?
[The Lady enters, and gives Vit. a Sandal.
Oh! 'twill recal my youth, perfume my breath,
Restore my health when I am sick to death.
Nay, when I'm dead, make life in me return;
I shall, to kiss it, leap out of my Urn.

Cal.
I once look'd round me as I pass'd along,
And near me I observ'd a mutt'ring throng,
And in their looks saw discontent appear,
Which grudg'd my pomp, as if it cost too dear.
Do not they know, that Cæsar cannot brook
The least offence, but in a word or look?
They who will live, must not with Cæsar strive,
Or dare to let me know they are alive,
Till my commands enliven; and inspire,
And warm their bosoms, like Promethian fire.
Rome to amazing Insolence is grown;
No doubt, one spirit runs through all the Town.
Since Rome has but one proud rebellious Soul,
Which dares presume my pleasures to controul,
And in my pomp give me a secret check,
Wou'd to the Gods all Rome had but one Neck,
That I might cut of millions at a blow;
Chærea, fling 'em to my Lions, go.

Cass. Ch.
Whom shall I fling?

Cal.
The Rogues I nam'd of late;
I'll silence Villains who presume to prate.

Cass. Ch.
Sir, on my knees—

Cal.
I know thou art afraid;
Fear not the stubborn Rogues, thou shalt have aid.
Besides they are in Fetters.

Cass. Ch.
So am I.
Sir, from arm'd enemies I wou'd not fly;
But from obeying such severe commands,
Humanity and pity bind my hands.

Cal.
Hast thou humanity, thou fearful slave?
No, thou art not a Man, because not brave.

Val. A.
Sir, I have found him brave.

Cal.
So have not I,
The Coward dares not see another die;
When I have forc'd him to strike off a Head,
The executed wretch look'd not so dead.
Begone.

[Ex. Cass. Ch.
Val. A.
Forgive me, Sir, if I am bold,
And the dark thoughts of mutt'ring Rome unfold.
Sir, you engage in Wars, which cost you dear;
But, Sir, no reasons for those Wars appear.

Cal.
Must I give reasons, Sir, for my Decrees?
I may do what I please, with whom I please.
Perhaps I burn proud Towns, and slaughter Men,
Only to please my humour, Sir—what then?
When wild Convulsions divide streams from Springs,
Roul Hills o'r Hills, the Rabble o'r their King;
Lift Common-wealths to Realms, sink Realms to States;
What are all these, but Gambols o'the Fates?
But to eternal Glory I address
In all my Wars, with infinite success.
I, for my Glory, seize on Regal Crowns;
To make my Glory blaze, burn wealthy Towns.
The Gods, for Glory, Worlds from Chaos won;
The Gods, for Glory, kindled up the Sun,
And set that noble part of Heaven o'fire;
I'm hourly urg'd by such Divine desire.

Ces.
Inglorious Princes are but half alive,
And want a sence worth all the other five.

Val. A.
The Pris'ners, Sir, whom you have doom'd to bleed,
Have begg'd of me that I wou'd interceed,
Sir, with appeals to Heav'n, they all declare
They mutter'd nothing, but a Loyal Prayer
For blessings, on your Person, and your Crown,
And admiration of your great renown.

Cal.
Am I delighted with a Fool's applause?
No more, by Jove, than were I prais'd by Daws.

Val. A.
Sir, these Mens lives are below your regard,
They've sent Petitions; Sir, shall they be heard?

Cal.
Ay—Sing 'em.

Val. A.
Sing 'em? I've no skill in Song;
I ne'r so idly, Sir, employ my Tongue.

Ces.
Then were I Cæsar, I wou'd have no ear;
I wou'd no troublesome Petitions hear,
Unless sung to me with harmonious Ayres.

Cal.
Priests sing, and make an Opera of their Prayers.

Val A.
Sir, one thing more: I'm told by common Fame,
From empty Bowels many murmurs came.
The last Campagne trod all our Harvests down;
And all the Horses, in or near the Town,
You press'd, to bring th'Imperial Treasures home:
Therefore the Farmers cannot furnish Rome,
With what supplies they're able to afford;
And here our Granaries are all devour'd.
And thus, Sir, by your Wars, you grind Mankind;
But you will let 'em have no Corn to grind.

Cal.
Damn 'em, they're over-fed; the mutt'ring sounds
Came from full Bowels; Luxury abounds.
War destroys Men, but Luxury Mankind;
At once corrupts the Body, and the Mind.
And thus, a just revenge poor Brutes receive,
Who die for Rogues that deserve not to live.
Rich Knaves will engross Corn, to raise the price;
And starve Mankind, to feed their avarice.
For harmless injur'd Beasts I've some remorse;
But my chief care is for my fav'rite Horse.
That Animal is full of noble fire;
Go visit him, and how he fares enquire.

[To Vit. who goes out.
Ces.
Heaven! how we spoil the pleasure o'the day.

Cal.
'Tis true, my Love; but we will soon be gay.
The falls of Nations, which fill Cowards with fears,
Shall but like Water-falls delight our Ears;
And murm'ring Subjects shall, like purling streams,
But lull us deeper in our pleasing dreams.

[Ex. Omnes.