University of Virginia Library

Scæn. 2.

Enter in state Maximus, Eudoxa, with Souldiers and Gentlemen of Rome, the Senators, and Rods and Axes borne before them.
A Synnet with Trumpets.
With a Banket prepard, with Hoboies, Musicke, Song, wreath.
Sen., Semp. 3.
Haile to thy imperiall honour sacred Cesar,
And from the old Rome take these wishes;
You holy gods, that hitherto have held
As justice holds her Ballance equall poysd,
This glory of our Nation, this full Roman,
And made him fit for what he is, confirme him:
Looke on this Son ô Iupiter our helper,
And Romulus, thou Father of our honour,
Preserve him like thy selfe, just, valiant, noble,
A lover, and increaser of his people,
Let him begin with Numa, stand with Cato,
The first five yeares of Nero be his wishes,
Give him the age and fortune of Emelius,
And his whole raigne, renew a great Augustus.

SONG.

Honour that is ever living,
Honour that is ever giving,
Honour that sees all and knowes,
Both the ebbs of man and flowes,
Honour that rewards the best,
Sends thee thy rich labours rest;
Thou hast studied still to please her,
Therefore now she calls thee Cesar:

Chorus.
Hayle, hayle, Cæsar, hayle and stand,
And thy name out live the Land,
Noble fathers to his browes,
Bind this wreath with thousand vows.

All.
Stand to eternity:

Max.
I thank ye fathers,
And as I rule, may it stil grow or wither:
Now to the bancker, ye are all my guests,
This day be liberall friends, to wine we give it;
And smiling pleasures: Sit my Queen of beauty;
Fathers your places: These are faire Wars Souldiers,
And thus I give the first charge to ye all;
You are my second (sweet) to every cup,
I adde unto the Senat, a new honour,
And to the sonnes of Mars a donative.

Boy.
Bellonia's seed, the glory of old Rome,
Envie of conquerd Nations, nobly come
And to the fulnesse of your warlike noyce,
Let your feete move, make up this houre of joyes;
Come, come I say, range your faire Troop, at large,
And your hy measure turne into a charge.

Semp.
The Emperor's growne heavie with his wine,

Affr.
The Senat staies Sir for your thanks,

Semp.
Great Cesar.

Eud.
I have my wish:

Affr.
Wilt please your Grace speake to him.

Eud.
Yes, but he will not heare Lords.

Semp.
Stir him Lucius; the Senat must have thankes.

2. Sen., Luc.
Your Grace, Sir Cesar;

Eud.
Did I not tell you he was well: he's dead,

Semp.
Dead? treason, guard the Court, let no man passe,
Souldiers, your Cesars murdred.

Eud.
Make no tumult,
Nor arme the Court, ye have his killer with ye;
And the just cause, if ye can stay the hearing:
I was his death; That wreath that made him Cesar,
Has made him earth.

Sold.
Cut her in thousand peeces.

Eud.
Wise men would know the reason first: to die,
Is that I wish for Romans, and your swords,
The heaviest way of death: yet Souldiers grant me
That was your Empresse once, and honour by ye;
But so much time to tell ye why I killd him,
And waigh my reasons well, if man be in you;
Then if ye dare doe cruelly condemne me.

Affr.
Heare her ye noble Romans, Tis a woman,
A subject not for swords, but pitty: Heaven
If she be guilty of malitious murder,
H'as given us lawes to make example of her,
If only of revenge, and bloud hid from us,
Let us consider first, then execute.

Semp.
Speake bloudy woman.

Eud.
Yes; This Maximus,
That was your Cesar, Lords, and noble Souldiers;
(And if I wrong the dead, heaven perish me;
Or speake to wyn your favours but the truth)
Was to his Country, to his friends, and Cesar
A most malitious Traytor.

Semp.
Take heed woman.

Eud.
I speake not for compassion. Brave Æcius
(Whose blessed soule if I lye shall afflict me,)
The man that all the world lov'd, you adoard,
That was the master peece of Armes, and bounty;
Mine own griefe shal come last: this friend of his,
This Souldier, this your right Arme noble Romans:
By a base letter to the Emperor;
Stufft full of feares, and poore suggestions,
And by himselfe, unto himselfe directed;
Was cut off basely, basely, cruelly;
Oh losse, ô innocent, can ye now kill me?
And the poore stale my Noble Lord, that knew not
More of this villaine, then his forcd feares;
Like one foreseene to satisfie, dy'd for it:
There was a murder too, Rome would have blush at;
Was this worth being Cesar? or my patience? nay his wife
By heaven he told it me in wine, and joy;
And swore it deeply, he himselfe prepard
To be abusd, how? let me grieve not tell ye;
And weep the sins that did yet: and his end
Was only me, and Cesar: But me he lyd in;
These are my reasons Romans, and my soule
Tells me sufficient; and my deed is justice:
Now as I have done well, or ill, look on me.

Affr.
What lesse could nature doe, what lesse had we done,
Had we knowne this before? Romans, she is righteous;
And such a peece of justice, heaven must smile on:
Bend all your swords on me, if this displease ye,
For I must kneele, and on this vertuous hand;
Seale my new joy and thankes, thou hast done truly.

Semp.
Vp with your arms, ye strike a Saint els Romans,
May'st thou live ever spoken our protector:
Rome yet has many noble heires: Let's in
And pray before we choose, then plant a Cesar
Above the reach of envie, blood, and murder.

Affr.
Take up the body, nobly to his urne,
And may our sinnes, and his together burne.—

Exeunt.
A dead March.