 | The Tragedie of Valentinian |  |
Actus Tertius.
Scæna prima.
Enter Chilax, Lycinius, Proculus, and Balbus.Chil.
Tis done Lycinius:
Lyc.
Ho?
Chil.
I shame to tell it,
If there be any justice, we are Villaines,
And must be so rewarded.
Bal.
If it be done,
I take it tis no time now to repent it,
Let's make the best o'th trade.
Pro.
Now veng'ance take it.
Why should not he have setled on a beauty,
Whose honesty stuck in a peece of tissue,
Or one a Ring might rule, or such a one
That had an itching husband to be honourable,
And ground to get it: if he must have women,
And no allay without 'em, why not those
That know the misery, and are best able
To play againe with judgment? such as she is,
Grant they be won with long seidge, endlesse travell,
And brought to opportunity with millions,
Yet when they come to motion, their cold vertue
Keeps 'em like cakes of yce; Ile melt a Christall,
And make a dead flint fire himselfe, ere they
Give greater heate, then now departing embers
Gives to old men that watch 'em.
Lyc.
A good Whore
Had sav'd all this, and happily as wholsome,
I, and the thing once done too, as well thought of,
But this same chastity forsooth,
Pro.
A Pox on't,
Why should not women be as free as we are?
They are, but not in open, and far freer,
And the more bold ye beare your selfe, more welcome,
And there is nothing you dare say, but truth,
But they dare heare.
Enter Emperor and Lucina.
Chi.
The Emperour! away,
And if we can repent, let's home and pray.
Exeunt.
Emp.
Your only vertue now is patience,
11
Luc.
As long as there is motion in my body,
And life to give me words, Ile cry for justice.
Emp.
Iustice shall never heare ye, I am justice,
Luc.
Wilt thou not kill me, Monster, Ravisher,
Thou bitter bane o'th Empires look upon me,
And if thy guilty eyes dare see these ruines,
Thy wild lust hath layd levell with dishonour,
The sacrilegious razing of this Temple,
The mother of thy black sins would have blushed at,
Behold and curse thy selfe; the Gods will find thee,
That's all my refuge now, for they are righteous,
Vengeance and horror circle thee; the Empire,
In which thou liv'st a strong continued surfeit,
Like poyson will disgorge thee, good men raze thee
For ever being read again,—but vicious
Women, and fearefull Maids, make vows against thee:
Thy own Slaves, if they heare of this, shall hate thee;
And those thou hast corrupted first fall from thee;
And if thou let'st me live, the Souldier,
Tyrde with thy Tyrannies, break through obedience,
And shake his strong Steele at thee.
Emp.
This prevailes not;
Nor any Agony ye utter Lady,
If I have done a sin, curse her that drew me,
Curse the first cause, the witchcraft that abusd me,
Curse those faire eyes, and curse that heavenly beauty,
And curse your being good too.
Luci.
Glorious theife,
What restitution canst thou make to save me?
Emp.
Ile ever love, and honour you.
Luci.
Thou canst not,
For that which was mine honour, thou hast murdred,
And can there be a love in violence?
Emp.
You shall be only mine.
Luci.
Yet I like better
Thy villany, then flattery, that's thine owne,
The other basely counterfeit; flye from me,
Or for thy safety sake and wisdome kill me,
For I am worse then thou art; thou mayst pray,
And so recover grace; I am lost for ever,
And if thou lets't me live, th'art lost thy selfe too
Emp.
I feare no losse but love, I stand above it.
Luci.
Call in your Lady Bawdes, and guilded Pander's
And let them triumph too, and sing to Cesar,
Lucina's falne, the chast Lucnia's conquerd;
Gods, what a wretched thing has this man made me?
For I am now no wife for Maximus,
No company for women that are vertuous,
No familie I now can claime, nor Country,
Nor name, but Cesars Whore; O sacred Cesar,
(For that should be your title) was your Empire,
Your Rods, and Axes, that are types of Iustice,
Those fires that ever burne, to beg you blessings,
The peoples adoration, feare of Nations,
What victory can bring ye home, what else
The usefull Elements can make your servants,
Even light it selfe, and suns of light, truth, justice,
Mercy, and starlike pietie sent to you,
And from the gods themselves to ravish women?
The curses that I owe to Enemies,
Even those the Sabines sent, when Romulus,
(As thou hast me) ravishd their noble Maydes,
Made more, and heavier, light on thee.
Emp.
This helps not.
Luci.
The sins of Tarquin be rememberd in thee,
And where there has a chast wife been abusde,
Let it be thine, the shame thine, thine the slaughter,
And last for ever, thine, the feard example.
Where shall poore vertue live, now I am falne?
What can your honours now, and Empire make me,
But a more glorious Whore?
Emp.
A better woman,
But if ye will be blind, and scorne it, who can help it?
Come leave these lamentations, they doe nothing,
But make a noyse, I am the same man still,
Were it to doe again; therefore be wiser,
By all this holy light, I should attempt it,
Ye are so excellent, and made to ravish,
There were no pleasure in ye else.
Luci.
Oh villaine.
Emp.
So bred for mans amazement, that my reason
And every help to hold me right has lost me;
The God of love himselfe had been before me,
Had he but power to see ye; tell me justly,
How can I choose but erre then? if ye dare,
Be mine, and only mine, for ye are so pretious,
I envie any other should enjoy ye,
Almost look on ye; and your daring husband
Shall know h'as kept an Offring from the Empire,
Too holy for his Altars; be the mightiest,
More then my selfe Ile make it: if ye will not,
Sit down with this, and silence, for which wisdom,
Ye shall have use of me, and much honour ever,
And be the same you were; if ye divulge it,
Know I am far above the faults I doe,
And those I doe I am able to forgive too;
And where your credit in the knowldge of it,
May be with glosse enough suspected, mine
Is as mine owne command shall make it:
Princes though they be somtime subject to loose whispers,
Yet weare they two edged swords for open censures:
Your husband cannot help ye, nor the Souldier,
Your husband is my creature, they my weapons,
And only where I bid 'em, strike; I feed 'em,
Nor can the Gods be angry at this action,
For as they make me most, they meane me happiest,
Which I had never bin without this pleasure:
Consider, and farewell: you'l find your women
At home before ye, they have had some sport too,
But are more thankfull for it—
Exit Emperor.
Luci.
Destruction finde thee.
Now which way must I goe? my honest house
Will shake to shelter me, my husband flye me,
My Family, because they are honest, and desire to be so,
Must not endure me, not a neighbour know me:
What woman now dare see me without blushes,
And pointing as I passe, there, there, behold her,
Look on her little Children, that is she,
That hansome Lady, mark; O my sad fortunes,
Is this the end of goodnesse, this the price
Of all my early praiers to protect me,
Why then I see there is no God but power,
Nor vertue now alive that cares for us,
But what is either lame or sensuall,
How had I bin thus wretched else?
Enter Maximus and Æcius
Æci.
Let Tituis
Command the company that Pontius lost,
And see the Fosses deeper.
Max.
How now sweet heart,
What make you here, and thus?
Æci:
Lucina weeping?
This must be much offence,
Max.
Look up and tell me,
12
Ye were at Court, Sweet,
Luc.
Yes, this brought me thither.
Max.
Rise, and goe home: I have my feares Æcius:
Oh my best friend, I am ruind; goe Lucina,
Already in thy teares, I have read thy wrongs,
Already found a Cesar; go thou Lilly,
Thou sweetly drooping floure: go silver Swan,
And sing thine owne sad requiem: goe Lucina,
And if thou dar'st, out live this wrong.
Luc.
I dare not.
Æc.
Is that the Ring ye lost?
Max.
That, that, Æcius,
That cursed Ring, my selfe, and all my fortunes:
T'has pleasd the Emperor, my Noble master,
For all my services, and dangers for him,
To make me mine owne Pandar, was this justice?
Oh my Æcius, have I liv'd to beare this?
Luc.
Farewell for ever Sir.
Max.
That's a sad saying,
But such a one becomes ye well Lucina:
And yet me thinkes we should not part so lightly,
Our loves have been of longer growth, more rooted
Then the sharp word of one farewell can scatter.
Kisse me: I find no Cæsar here; these lips
Taste not of Ravisher in my opinion.
Was it not so?
Luc.
O Yes,
Max.
I dare believe thee,
For thou wert ever truth it selfe, and sweetnesse:
Indeed she was Æcius.
Æc.
So she is still.
Max.
Once more: O my Lucina; ô my comfort,
The blessing of my youth, the life of my life.
Æc.
I have seene enough to stagger my obedience:
Hold me ye equall Gods, this is too sinfull.
Max.
Why wert thou chosen out to make a whore of?
To me thou wert too chast: fall Christall fountaines,
And ever feed your streames you rising sorrowes,
Till you have dropt your mistris into marble.
Now goe for ever from me.
Luc.
Long farewell Sir.
And as I have been loyall, Gods think on me.
Max.
Stay, let me once more bid farewell Lucina,
Farewell thou excellent example of us,
Thou starry vertue, farethee-well, seeke heaven,
And there by Cassiopeia shine in glory,
We are too base and dirty to preserve thee.
Æc.
Nay, I must kisse too: such a kisse againe,
And from a woman of so ripe a vertue,
Æcius must not take: Farewell thou Phenix,
If thou wilt dye Lucina; which well weighd
If you can cease a while from these strange thoughts,
I wish were rather alterd.
Luc.
No.
Æc.
Mistake not.
I would not staine your honour for the Empire,
Nor any way decline you to discredit,
Tis not my faire profession, but a Villaines:
I find and feele your losse as deep as you doe,
And am the same Æcius, still as honest,
The same life I have still for Maximus,
The same sword weare for you, where justice wills mee,
And tis no dull one: therefore misconceave not:
Only I would have you live a little longer,
But a short yeare.
Max.
She must not.
Luc.
Why so long Sir,
Am I not grey enough with griefe already?
Æc.
To draw from that wild man a sweet repentance,
and goodnesse in his daies to come.
Max.
They are so,
And will be ever comming my Æcius.
Æc.
For who knowes but the sight of you, presenting
His swolne sins at the full, and your faire vertues,
May like a fearefull vision fright his follies,
And once more bend him right again, which blessing
(If your dark wrongs would give you leave to read)
Is more then death, and the reward more glorious:
Death, only eases you; this, the whole Empire:
Besides compeld, and forcd with violence,
To what ye have done, the deed is none of yours,
No nor the justice neither; ye may live,
And still a worthier woman, still more honoured:
For are those trees the worse we teare the fruits from?
Or should the eternall Gods desire to perish,
Because we daily violate their truths,
Which is the chastitie of heaven? No Lady,
If ye dare live, ye may: and as our sins
Makes them more full of equitie and justice,
So this compulsive wrong, makes you more perfect:
The Empire too will blesse ye.
Max.
Noble Sir;
If she were any thing to me but honour,
And that that's wedded to me too, layd in
Not to be worne away without my being:
Or could the wrong be hers alone, or mine,
Or both our wrongs, not tide to alter issues,
Not borne a new in all our names and kindreds,
I would desire her live, nay more, compell her:
But since it was not youth, but malice did it,
And not her own, nor mine, but both our losses,
Nor staies it there, but that our names must find it,
Even those to come; and when they read, she livd,
Must they not aske how often she was ravishd,
And make a doubt she lov'd that more then Wedlock?
Therefore she must not live.
Æc.
Therefore she must live,
To teach the world such deaths are superstitious.
Luc.
The tongues of Angels cannot alter me;
For could the world again restore my credit,
As faire and absolute as first I bred it,
That world I should not trust agen, The Empire
By my life can get nothing but my story,
Which whilst I breath must be but his abuses:
And where ye councell me to live, that Cesar
May see his errors, and repent, Ile tell ye,
His penitence is but encrease of pleasures,
His prayers never said but to deceave us,
And when he weeps, as you think for his vices,
Tis but as killing drops from balefull Ewgh trees
That rot their honest neighbour: If he can grieve,
As one that yet desires his free conversion,
And almost glories in his penitence,
Ile leave him robes to mourn in, my sad ashes.
Aec.
The farewells then of happy soules be with thee,
And to thy memory be ever sung
The praises of a just and constant Lady,
This sad day whilst I live, a Souldiers teares
Ile offer on thy Monument, and bring
Full of thy noble selfe with teares untold yet,
Many a worthy wife, to weep thy ruine,
Max.
All that is chast, upon thy Tomb shal flourish,
All living Epitaphs be thine, Time, Story;
13
Shall be no more abus'd with tales and trifles,
But full of thee, stand to eternitie.
Æci.
Once more farewell, go find Elysium,
There where the happy soules are crownd with blessings,
There where tis ever spring, and ever summer.
Max.
There where no bedrid justice comes; truth, honor,
are keepers of that blessed place; go thither,
For here thou livest chaste fire in rotten timber.
Aeci.
And so our last farewells.
Max.
Gods give the justice.—
Exit Lucina.
Aeci.
His thoughts begin to worke; I feare him, yet
He ever was a noble Romane, but
I know not what to thinke on't, he hath suffered
Beyond a man, if he stand this.
Max.
Aecius,
Am I a live, or has a dead sleepe seized me?
It was my wife the Emperor abus'd thus;
And I must say, I am glad I had her for him;
Must I not my Aecius?
Aeci.
I am stricken
With such a stiffe amazement, that no answer
Can readily come from me, nor no comfort:
Will ye go home, or go to my house?
Max.
Neither:
I have no home, and you are mad Aecius
To keepe me company, I am a fellow
My own Sword would forsake, not tyed unto me:
A Pandar is a Prince, to what I am falne;
By heaven I dare do nothing.
Aeci.
Ye do better.
Max.
I am made a branded slave Aecius,
And yet I blesse the maker;
Death ô my soule, must I endure this tamely?
Must Maximus be mention'd for his tales?
I am a child too; what should I do rayling?
I cannot mend my selfe, tis Cæsar did it,
And what am I to him?
Aeci.
Tis well consider'd;
How ever you are tainted, be no Traitor.
Time may out-weare the first, the last lives ever.
Max.
O that thou wert not living, and my freind.
Aeci.
Ile beare a wary eye upon your actions,
I feare ye Maximus, nor can I blame thee
If thou breakest out, for by the Gods thy wrong
Deserves a generall ruine: do ye love me?
Max.
That's all I have to live on.
Aeci.
Then go with me,
Ye shall not to your own house.
Max.
Nor to any,
My greifs are greater far, then walls can compasse,
And yet I wonder how it happens with me,
I am not dangerous, and ô my conscience
Should I now see the Emperor i'th hear on't,
I should not chide him for't, an awe runs through me,
I feele it sensibly that bindes me to it,
Tis at my heart now, there it sits and rules,
And me thinkes tis a pleasure to obey it.
Aeci.
This is a maske to cozen me; I know ye,
And how far ye dare do; no Romane farther,
Nor with more fearlesse valour; and ile watch ye:
Keepe that obedience still.
Max.
Is a wives losse
(For her abuse much good may do his grace,
Ile make as bold with his wife, if I can)
More then the fading of a few fresh colours,
More then a lusty spring lost?
Aeci.
No more Maximus,
To one that truly lives.
Max.
Why then I care not, I can live wel enough Aecius.
For looke you freind, for vertue, and those triffles,
They may be bought they say.
Aeci.
He's craz's a little.
His greife has made him talke things from his nature.
Max.
But chastitie is not a thing I take it
To get in Rome, unlesse it be bespoken
A hundred yeare before; is it Aecius?
by'r lady, and well handled too i'th breeding.
Aeci.
Will ye go any way?
Max.
Ile tell thee freind.
If my wife for all this should be a whore now,
A kind of kicker out of sheetes, t'would vex me,
For I am not angry yet; the Emperor
Is young and hansome, and the woman flesh,
And may not these two couple without scratching?
Aeci.
Alasse my noble freind.
Max.
Alasse not me,
I am not wretched, for ther's no man miserable
But he that makes himselfe so:
Aeci.
Will ye walke yet?
Max.
Come, come, she dare not dye freind, that's the truth on't,
She knowes the inticing sweets and delicacies
Of a young Princes pleasures, and I thanke her
She has made a way for Maximus to rise by?
Wilt not become me bravely? why do you think
She wept, and said she was ravish'd? keep it here
And Ile discover to you.
Aeci.
Well.
Max.
She knowes
I love no bitten flesh, and out of that hope
She might be from me, she contriv'd this knavery;
Was it not monstrous freind?
Aeci.
Do's he but seeme so,
Or is he made indeed?
Max.
Oh Gods, my heart!
Aeci.
Would it would fairly breake.
Max.
Me thinks I am somewhat wilder then I was,
And yet I thanke the gods I know my duty.—
Enter Claudia.
Claud.
Nay ye may spare your tears; she's dead.
She is so.
Max.
Why so it should be: how?
Clau.
When first she enter'd
Into her house, after a world of weeping,
And blushing like the Sun-set, as we see her;
Dare I said she defile this house with whore,
In which his noble family has flourish'd?
At which she fel, and stird no more; we rubd her.
Exit Clau.
Max.
No more of that: be gon: now my Aecius,
If thou wilt do me pleasure, weepe a little,
I am so parch'd I cannot: Your example
Has brought the raine down now: now lead me freind,
And as we walke together let's pray together truly
I may not fall from faith.
Aeci.
That's nobly spoken.
Max.
Was I not wilde, Aecius?
Aeci.
Somewhat troubled.
Max.
I felt no sorrow then: Now ile goe with ye,
But do not name the woman: fye what foole
Am I to weepe thus? God's Lucina take thee,
For thou wert even the best, and worthiest Lady.
Aeci.
Good Sir no more, I shall be melted with it.
Max.
I have done, and good Sir comfort me
Would there were wars now.
Aeci.
Settle your thoughts, come.
14
So I have now friend,
Of my deep lamentations here's an end.—
Exeunt.
Enter Pontius, Phidias, and Aretus.
Phidias.
By my faith Captain Pontius, besides pitie
Of your falne fortunes, what to say I know not,
For tis too true the Emperor desires not
But my best Master, any Souldier neere him:
Are.
And when he understands, he cast your fortunes
For disobedience, how can we incline him,
(That are but under persons to his favours)
To any faire opinion? Can ye sing?
Pontius.
Not to please him Aretius, for my Songs
Goe not to'th Lute, or Violl, but to'th Trumpet,
My tune kept on a Target, and my subject
The well struck wounds of men, not love, or women.
Phi.
And those he understands not.
Pont.
He should Phidias,
Are.
Could you not leave this killing way a little?
You must if here you would plant your selfe, and rather
Learne as we doe, to like what those affect
That are above us: weare their actions,
And thinks they keep us warme too: what they say,
Though oftentimes they speake a little foolishly,
Not stay to construe, but prepare to execute,
And think how ever the end falls, the businesse
Cannot run empty handed.
Phid.
Can yee flatter,
And if it were put to you, lye a little?
Pont.
Yes, if it be a living.
Are.
That's well said then:
Pon.
But must these lyes and flatteries be beleev'd then?
Phi.
Oh yes by any meanes.
Pon.
By any meanes then,
I cannot lye, nor flatter.
Are.
Ye must sweare too,
If ye be there.
Pon.
I can sweare, if they move me.
Phi.
Cannot ye forsweare too.
Pont.
The Court for ever,
If it be growne so wicked.
Are.
You should procure a little too,
Pont.
What's that?
Mens honest sayings for my truth?
Are.
Oh no Sir:
But womens honest actions for your triall.
Pon.
Doe you doe all these things?
Phi.
Doe you not like 'em?
Pon.
Do ye aske me seriously, or trifle with me?
I am not so low yet, to be your mirth:
Are.
You do mistake us Captain, for sincerely,
We aske you how you like 'em.
Pon.
Then sincerely
I tell ye I abhor 'em: they are ill wayes,
And I will starve before I fall into 'em.
The doers of 'em wretches, their base hungers
Cares not whose bread they eate, nor how they get it:
Are.
What then Sir?
Pon.
If you professe this wickednesse:
Because ye have bin Souldiers, and borne Armes,
The servants of the brave Æcius,
And by him put to'th Emperor, give me leave,
Or I must take it else, to say ye are villaines,
For all your Golden Coates, deboshd, base villaines,
Yet I doe weare a sword to tell ye so,
Is this the way you mark out for a Souldier,
A man that has commanded for the Empire,
And borne the reputation of a man?
Are there not lazie things enough cald fooles, and cowards,
And poore enough to be preferr'd for Banders,
But wanting Souldiers must be knave too? ha:
This the trim course of life: were not ye born Bawdes,
And so inherit but your rights? I am poore
And may expect a worse; yet digging, pruning,
Mending of broken wayes, carrying of water,
Planting of Worts, and Onyons, any thing
That's honest, and a mans, Ile rather choose,
I and live better on it, which is juster,
Drink my well gotten water, with more pleasure,
When my endeavours done, and wages payd me,
Then you doe wine, eate my course bread not curst,
And mend upon't, your diets are diseases,
And sleep as soundly, when my labour bids me,
As any forward Pander of ye all,
And rise a great deale honester; my Garments,
Though not as yours, the soft sins of the Empire,
Yet may be warme, and keep the biting wind out,
When every single breath of poore opinion
Finds you through all your Velvets.
Are.
You have hit it,
Nor are we those we seeme, the Lord Aecius
Put us good men to'th Emperor, so we have serv'd him,
Though much neglected for it: So dare be still:
Your curses are not ours: we have seen your fortune,
But yet know no way to redeem it: Meanes,
Such as we have, ye shall not want brave Pontius,
But pray be temperate, if we can wipe out
The way of your offences, we are yours Sir;
And you shall live at Court an honest man too.
Phi.
That little meat and means we have, wee'l share it,
Feare not to be as we are; what we told ye,
Were but meere tryalls of your truth: y'are worthie,
And so wee'l ever hold ye; suffer better,
And then ye are a right man Pontius,
If my good Master be not ever angry,
Ye shall command againe.
Pont.
I have found two good men: use my life,
For it is yours, and all I have to thank ye—
Exeunt.
Scæn. 3.
Enter Maximus.Max.
Ther's no way else to doe it, he must die,
This friend must die, this soule of Maximus,
Without whom I am nothing but my shame,
This perfectnesse that keeps me from opinion,
Must dye, or I must live thus branded ever:
A hard choice, and a fatall; God's ye have given me
A way to credit, but the ground to goe on,
Ye have levelld with that pretious life I love most,
Yet I must on, and through; for if I offer
To take my way without him, like a Sea
He bares his high command, twix me and vengeance,
And in my owne road sinkes me, he is honest
Of a most constant loyaltie to Cesar,
And when he shall but doubt, I dare attempt him,
But make a question of his ill, but say
What is a Cesar, that he dare doe this,
Dead sure he cuts me off: Aecius dies,
Or I have lost my selfe? why should I kill him?
Why should I kill my selfe, for tis my killing,
Aecius is my roote, and whither him,
Like a decaying branch, I fall to nothing.
Is he not more to me, then wife, then Cesar?
15
Is he not more then rumour, and his freindship
Sweeter then the love of women? What is honor
We all so strangly are bewitch'd withall?
Can it relieve me if I want? he has;
Can honor, twixt the incensed Prince, and Envy,
Beare up the lives of worthy men? he has;
Can honor pull the wings of fearefull cowards
And make 'em turne againe like Tigers? he has,
And I have liv'd to see this, and preserv'd so;
Why should this empty word incite me then
To what is ill, and cruel? let her perish.
A freind is more then all the world, then honor;
She is a woman and her losse the lesse,
And with her go my greifs: but hark ye Maximus,
Was she not yours? Did she not dye to tell ye
She was a ravish'd woman? did not justice
Nobly begin with her, that not deserv'd it,
And shall ye live that did it? Stay a little,
Can this abuse dye here? Shall not mens tongues
Dispute it afterward, and say I gave
(Affecting dul obedience, and tame duty,
And led away with fondnes of a freindship)
The only vertue of the world to slander?
Is not this certaine, was not she a chaste one,
And such a one, that no compare dwelt with her,
One of so sweete a vertue, that Aecius,
Even he himselfe, this freind that holds me from it,
Out of his worthy love to me, and justice,
Had it not been on Cæsar, h'ad reveng'd her?
By heaven he told me so; what shall I do then?—
Enter a Servant.
Can other men affect it, and I cold?
I feare he must not live.
Serv.
My Lord, the Generall
Is come to seeke ye.
Max.
Go, intreate him to enter:
O brave Aecius, I could wish thee now
As far from freindship to me, as from feares,
That I might cut thee off, like that I weigh'd not,
Is there no way without him, to come neare it?
For out of honesty he must destroy me
If I attempt it, he must dye as others,
And I must loose him; tis necessity,
Only the time, and meanes is all the difference;
But yet I would not make a murther of him,
Take him directly for my doubts; he shall dye,
I have found a way to do it, and a safe one,
It shall be honor to him too: I know not
What to determine certaine, I am so troubled,
And such a deale of conscience presses me;—
Enter Aecius.
Would I were dead my selfe.
Aeci.
You run a way well;
How got you from me freind?
Max.
That that leads mad men,
A strong Imagination made me wander.
Aeci.
I thought ye had been more setled.
Max.
I am well,
But you must give me leave a little sometimes
To have a buzzing in my brains.
Aeci.
Ye are dangerous,
But Ile prevent it if I can; ye told me
You would go to'th Army.
Max.
Why, to have my throat cut,
Must he not be the bravest man Aecius
That strikes me first?
Aeci.
You promised me a freedom
From all these thoughts, and why should any strike you?
Max.
I am an Enemy, a wicked one,
Worse then the foes of Rome, I am a Coward,
A Cuckold, and a Coward, that's two causes
Why every one should beat me.
Aeci.
Ye are neither;
And durst another tell me so, he dyde for't,
For thus far on mine honor, Ile assure you
No man more lov'd then you, and for your valour,
And what ye may be, faire; no man more follow'd.
Max.
A doughty man indeed: but that's all one,
The Emperor, nor all the Princes living
Shall find a flaw in my coat; I have sufferd,
And can yet; let them find inflictions,
Ile find a body for 'em, or Ile break it.
Tis not a wife can thrust me out, some lookt for't?
But let 'em looke till they are blind with looking,
They are but fooles, yet there is anger in me,
That I would faine disperse, and now I think on't,
You told me freind the Provinces are stirring,
We shall have sport I hope then, and what's dangerous,
A Battle shall beat from me.
Aeci.
Why do ye eye me
With such a setled looke?
Max.
Pray tell me this,
Do we not love extremely? I love you so.
Aeci.
If I should say I lov'd not you as truly,
I should do that I never durst do, lye.
Max.
If I should dye, would it not greive you much?
Aeci.
Without all doubt.
Max.
And could you live without me?
Aeci.
It would much trouble me to live without ye.
Our loves, and loving soules have been so us'd
But to one houshold in us: But to dye
Because I could not make you live, were woman
Far much too weake, were it to save your worth,
Or to redeeme your name from rooting out,
To quit you bravely fighting from the foe,
Or fetch ye off, where honor had ingag'd ye,
I ought, and would dye for ye.
Max.
Truly spoken.
What beast but I, that must, could hurt this man now?
Would he had ravish'd me, I would have payd him,
I would have taught him such a trick, his Eunuches
Nor all his black-eyd boyes dreamt of yet;
By all the Gods I am mad now; Now were Cæsar
Within my reach, and on his glorious top
The pile of all the world, he went to nothing;
The destinies, nor all the dames of hell,
Were I once grappl'd with him, should relieve him,
No not the hope of mankind more; all perished;
But this is words, and weaknesse.
Aeci.
Ye looke strangely.
Max.
I looke but as I am, I am a stranger.
Aeci.
To me.
Max.
To every one, I am no Romane;
Nor what I am do I know.
Aeci.
Then Ile leave ye.
Max.
I find I am best so, if ye meet with Maximus
Pray bid him be an honest man for my sake,
You may do much upon him; for his shadow,
Let me alone.
Aeci.
Ye were not wont to talke thus,
And to your freind; ye have some danger in you,
That willingly would run to action.
Take heed, by all our love take heed.
Max.
I danger?
I, willing to do any thing, I dig.
16
Are not my mournings by this time moath-eaten?
Are not her sins dispers'd to other women,
And many one ravish'd to relieve her?
Have I shed teares these twelve houres?
Aeci.
Now ye weepe.
Max.
Some lazie drops that staid behind.
Aeci.
Ile tell ye
And I must tell ye truth, were it not hazard,
And almost certaine losse of all the Empire,
I would wyne with ye: were it any mans
But his life, that is life of us, he lost it
For doing of this mischeife: I would take it,
And to your rest give ye a brave revenge:
But as the rule now stands, and as he rules,
And as the Nations hold in disobedience,
One pillar failing, all must fall; I dare not:
Nor is it just you should be suffer'd in it,
Therefore againe take heed: On forraigne foes
We are our own revengers, but at home
On Princes that are eminent and ours,
Tis fit the Gods should judge us: Be not rash,
Nor let your angry steele cut those ye know not,
For by this fatall blow, if ye dare strike it,
As I see great aymes in ye, those unborne yet,
And those to come of them and these succeeding
Shall bleed the wrath of Maximus: For me
As ye now beare your selfe, I am your freind still,
If ye fall off I will not flatter ye,
And in my hands, were ye my soule, you perish'd:
Once more be carefull, stand, and still be worthy,
Ile leave ye for this howre.—
Exit.
Max.
Pray do, tis done:
And freindship, since thou canst not hold in dangers,
Give me a certaine ruin, I must through it.
Exit.
| The Tragedie of Valentinian | |