University of Virginia Library

Scæn. 2.

Enter Æcius pursuing Pontius the Captaine, and Maximus following.
Tumult & noise within.
Max.
Temper your selfe Æcius,

Pon.
Hold my Lord.
I am a Roman, and a Souldier,

Max.
Pray Sir;

Æci.
Thou art a lying Villaine, and a Traytor;
Give me my selfe, or by the Gods my friend
You'l make me dangerous; how dar'st thou pluck
The Souldiers to sedition, and I living,
And so Rebellion in 'em, and even then
When I am drawing out to action?

Pon.
Heare me,

Max.
Are yee a man?

Æci.
I am a true hearted Maximus,
And if the Villaine live, we are dishonourd.

Max.
But heare him what he can say.

Æci.
That's the way,
To pardon him; I am so easie naturd,
That if he speak but humbly I forgive him.

Pon.
I doe beseech yee Noble Generall,

Æci.
Has found the was already, give me rome,
One stroake, and if he scape me then ha's mercy;

Pon.
I doe not call yee Noble, that I feare ye,
I never care'd for death; if ye will kill me,
Consider first for what, not what you can doe;
Tis true, I know ye for my Generall,
And by that great Prerogative may kill:
But doe it justly then.

Æci.
He argues with me.
By Heaven a made up Rebell.

Max.
Pray consider,
What certaine grounds ye have for this.

Æci.
What grounds?
Did I not take him preaching to the Souldiers
How lazily they liv'd, and what dishonours
It was to serve a Prince so full of woman.
Those were his very words, friend;

Max.
These, Æcius,
Though they were rashly spoke, which was an errour
(A great one Pontius) yet from him that hungers
For warres, and brave imployment, might be pardond.
The heart, and harbourd thoughts of ill, make Traytors,
Not spleeny speeches.

Æci.
Why should you protect him?
Goe too, it shewes not honest;

Max.
Taynt me not,
For that shewes worse Æcius: All your friendship
And that pretended love ye lay upon me,
Hold back my honesty, is like a favour
You doe your slave to day, to morrow hang him,
Was I your bosome peece for this?

Æci.
Forgive me.
The nature of my zeale, and for my Country,
Makes me sometimes forgive my selfe; for know,
Though I most strive to be without my passions,
I am no God: For you Sir, whose infection
Ha's spread it selfe like poyson through the Army,
And cast a killing fogge on faire Allegiance,
First thank this Noble Gentleman, y'e had dy'de else.
Next from your place, and honour of a Souldier,
I here seclude you.

Pon.
May I speak yet?

Max.
Heare him:

Æci.
And while Æcius holds a reputation,
At least command, ye beare no Armes for Rome Sir.

Pon.
Against her I shall never: The condemnd man,
Ha's yet that priviledge to speak my Lord;
Law were not equall else.

Max.
Pray heare Aecius,
For happily the fault he has committed,
Though I believe it mighty, yet considered,
If mercy may be thought upon, will prove
Rather a hastie sin, then heynous.

Aec.
Speake.

Pon.
Tis true my Lord, ye took me tir'de with peace,
My words, almost as ragged as my fortunes.
Tis true I told the Souldier, whom we serv'd,
And then bewaild, we had an Emperour
Led from us by the flourishes of Fencers;
I blam'd him too for women.

Aec.
To the rest Sir;

Pon.
And like enough I blest him then as Souldiers
Will doe sometimes: Tis true I told 'em too,
We lay at home, to show our Country
We durst goe naked, durst want meate, and mony,
And when the Slave drinkes Wine, we durst be thirstie:
I told 'em this too, that the Trees and Roots
Were our best pay-masters; the Charity
Of longing women, that had bought our bodies,
Our beds, fires, Taylers, Nurses, Nay I told 'em,
(For you shall heare the greatest sin, I said Sir)
By that time there be wars agen, our bodies
Laden with scarres, and aches, and ill lodgings,
Heates, and perpetuall wants, were fitter praires,
And certaine graves, then cope the foe on crutches:
Tis likely too, I counselld 'em to turne
Their Warlike pikes to plough-shares, their sure Targets
And Swords hatcht with the bloud of many Nations,
To Spades, and pruning Knives, for those get mony,
Their warlike Eagles, into Dawes, or Starlings,
To give an Ave Cesar as he passes,
And be rewarded with a thousand dragma's
For thus we get but yeares and beets.

Æci.
What think you,
Were these words to be spoken by a Captain,
One that should give example?

Max.
'Twas too much;

Pon.
My Lord, I did not wooe 'em from the Empire,
Nor bid 'em turne their daring steele gainst Cæsar,
The Gods for ever hate me, if that motion
Were part of me: Give me but imployment, Sir;
And way to live, and where you hold me vicious,
Bred up in mutiny, my Sword shall tell ye,
And if you please, that place I held, maintaine it,
Gainst the most daring foes of Rome, I am honest,
A lover of my Country, one that holds
His life no longer his, then kept for Cæsar.
Weigh not (I thus low on my knee beseech you)
What my rude tongue discovered, t'was my want,
No other part of Pontius: you have seen me,
And you my Lord, doe something for my Country,
And both beheld the wounds I gave and took,
Not like a backward Traytor.

Æci.
All this language,
Makes but against you Pontius, you are cast,
And by mine honor, and my love to Cæsar,
By me shall never be restord; In my Campe
I will not have a tongue, though to himselfe
Dare talke but neere sedition; as I governe,
All shall obey, and when they want, their duty
And ready service shall redresse their needs,
Not prating what they would be.

Pon.
Thus I leave ye,
Yet shall my praires still, although my fortunes
Must follow you no more, be still about ye,
Gods give ye where ye fight the Victory,
Ye cannot cast my wishes.

Æci.
Come my Lord,
Now to the Field agen:

Max.
Alas poore Pontius.—

Exeunt.