 | The Prophetesse |  |
Actus Quintus.
Scæna Prima.
Enter Chorus.Cho.
The War with glory ended; and Cosroe
(Acknowledging his fealtie to Charinus)
Dismiss'd in peace, returns to Persia:
The rest, arriving safely unto Rome,
Are entertain'd with Triumphs: Maximinian,
By the grace and intercession of his Uncle,
Saluted Cæsar: but good Dioclesian,
Weary of Pomp and State, retires himself
With a small Train, to a most private Grange
In Lumbardie; where the glad Countrey strives
With Rurall Sports to give him entertainment:
With which delighted, he with ease forgets
All specious trifles, and securely tastes
The certain pleasures of a private life.
But oh Ambition, that eats into
With venom'd teeth, true thankfulnesse, and honour.
And to support her Greatnesse, fashions fears,
Doubts, and preventions to decline all dangers,
Which in the place of safetie, prove her ruine:
All which be pleas'd to see in Maximinian,
To whom, his confer'd Soveraignty was like
A large sail fill'd full with a fore-right winde,
That drowns a smaller Bark: and hee once faln
Into ingratitude, makes no stop in mischief,
But violently runs on. Allow Maximinian all,
Honour, and Empire, absolute command;
Yet being ill, long great he cannot stand.
Exit.
Scæna Secunda.
Enter Maximinian and Aurelia.Aur.
Why droops my Lord, my Love, my life, my Cæsar?
how ill this dulnesse doth comport with Greatnesse?
Does not (with open arms) your Fortune court you?
Rome know you for her Master? I my self
confesse you for my Husband? love, and serve you?
if you contemn not these, and think them curses,
I know no blessings that ambitious flesh
could wish to feel beyond 'em.
Max.
Best Aurelia,
the parent and the nurse to all my Glories,
'tis not that thus embracing you, I think
there is a heaven beyond it, that begets
these sad retirements; but the fear to lose
what it is hell to part with: better to have liv'd
poor and obscure, and never scal'd the top
of hilly Empire, then to die with fear
to be thrown headlong down, almost as soon
as we have reach'd it.
Aur.
These are Pannick terrours
you fashion to your self: Is not my Brother
(your equall and copartner in the Empire)
vow'd and confirm'd your friend? the souldier constant?
Hath not your Uncle Dioclesian taken
his last farewell o'th' world? What then can shake ye?
Max.
The thought I may be shaken: and assurance
that what we doe possesse is not our own,
43
for nothing's more uncertain (my Aurelia)
then Power that stands not on his proper Basis,
but borrowes his foundation. I'll make plain
my cause of doubts and fears; for what should I
conceal from you, that are to be familiar
with my most private thoughts? Is not the Empire
my Uncles gift? and may he not resume it
upon the least distaste? Does not Charinus
crosse me in my designes? And what is Majestie
when 'tis divided? Does not the insolent Souldier
call my command his donative? and what can take
more from our honour? No (my wise Aurelia,)
If I to you am more then all the world,
as sure you are to me; as wee desire
to be secure, wee must be absolute,
and know no equall: when your Brother borrows
the little splendor that he has from us,
and we are serv'd for fear, not at entreaty,
we may live safe; but till then, we but walk
with heavie burthens on a sea of glasse,
and our own weight will sink us.
Aur.
Your Mother brought you
into the world an Emperor: you perswade
but what I would have counsell'd: Neernesse of blood,
respect of pietie, and thankfulnesse,
and all the holy dreams of vertuous fools
must vanish into nothing, when Ambition
(the maker of great minds, and nurse of honour)
puts in for Empire. On then, and forget
your simple Uncle; think he was the Master
(in being once an Emperor) of a Jewell,
whose worth and use he knew not: For Charinus,
no more my Brother, if hee be a stop
to what you purpose; hee to Me's a stranger,
and so to be remov'd.
Max.
Thou more then woman,
thou masculine Greatnesse, to whose soaring spirit
to touch the stars seems but an easie flight;
O how I glory in thee! those great women
Antiquitie is proud of, thou but nam'd,
shall be no more remembred: but persever,
and thou shalt shine among those lesser lights
Enter Charinus, Niger, Guard.
to all posteritie like another Phebe,
and so ador'd as she is.
Aur.
Here's Charinus,
his brow furrow'd with anger.
Max.
Let him storm,
and you shall hear me thunder.
Cha.
He dispose of
my Provinces at his pleasure? and confer
those honours (that are onely mine to give)
upon his creatures?
Nig.
Mighty Sir, ascribe it
to his assurance of your love and favour,
and not to pride or malice.
Cha.
No, good Niger,
courtesie shall not fool me; he shall know
I lent a hand to raise him, and defend him,
while he continues good: but the same strength
if pride make him usurp upon my Right,
shall strike him to the Center. You are well met, Sir.
Max.
As you make the Encounter: Sir, I hear,
that you repine, and hold your self much griev'd,
in that, without your good leave, I bestow'd
the Gallian Proconsulship upon
a follower of mine.
Cha.
'Tis true: and wonder
you durst attempt it.
Max.
Durst, Charinus?
Cha.
Durst:
again, I speak it: Think you me so tame,
so leaden and unactive, to sit down
with such dishonour? But, recall your grant,
and speedily; or by the Roman—
thou tripst thine own heels up, and hast no part
in Rome, or in the Empire.
Max.
Thou hast none,
but by permission: Alas, poor Charinus,
thou shadow of an Emperor, I scorn thee,
thee, and thy foolish threats: The gods appoint him
the absolute disposer of the Earth,
that has the sharpest sword. I am sure (Charinus)
thou wear'st one without edge. When cruell Aper
had kill'd Numerianus, thy Brother,
(an act that would have made a trembling coward
more daring then Alcides) thy base feare
made thee wink at it: then rose up my Uncle
(for the honour of the Empire, and of Rome)
against the Traitor, and among his Guards
punish'd the treason: This bold daring act
got him the Souldiers suffrages to be Cæsar.
And howsoever his too gentle nature
allow'd thee the name only, as his gift,
I challenge the succession.
Cha.
Thou art cozen'd.
When the receiver of a courtesie
cannot sustain the weight it carries with it,
'tis but a Triall, not a present Act.
Thou hast in a few dayes of thy short Reign,
in over-weening pride, riot and lusts,
sham'd noble Dioclesian, and his gift:
nor doubt I, when it shall arrive unto
his certain knowledge, how the Empire grones
under thy Tyranny, but hee will forsake
his private life, and once again resume
his laid-by Majestie: or at least, make choice
of such an Atlas as may bear this burthen,
too heavie for thy shouldiers. To effect this,
lend your assistance (Gentlemen) and then doubt not
but that this mushroom (sprung up in a night)
shall as soon wither. And for you (Aurelia)
if you esteem your honour more then tribute
paid to your lothsome appetite, as a Furie
flie from his loose embraces: so farewell;
ere long you shall hear more.
Exeunt.
Aur.
Are you struck dumb,
that you make no reply?
Max.
Sweet, I will doe,
and after talk: I will prevent their plots.
and turn them on their own accursed heads.
My Uncle? good: I must not know the names
of Pietie or Pitie. Steel my heart,
desire of Empire, and instruct me, that
the Prince that over others would bear sway,
checks at no Let that stops him in his way.
Exeunt.
44
Scæna Tertia.
Enter three Shepherds, and two Countrymen.1 Sh.
Do you think this great man will continue here?
2 Sh.
Continue here? what else? hee has bought the great Farme;
a great man, with a great Inheritance,
and all the ground about it, all the woods too;
and stock'd it like an Emperor. Now, all our sports again
and all our merry Gambols, our May-Ladies,
our evening-daunces on the Green, our Songs,
our Holliday good cheer, our Bag-pipes now Boyes,
shall make the wanton Lasses skip again,
our Sheep-shearings, and all our knacks.
3 Sh.
But heark ye,
we must not call him Emperor.
1 Countr.
That's all one;
he is the king of good fellowes, that's no treason;
and so I'll call him still, though I be hang'd for't.
I grant ye, he has given his honour to another man,
he cannot give his humour: he is a brave fellow,
and will love us, and we'll love him. Come hither Ladon,
what new Songs, and what geers?
3 Sh.
Enough: I'll tell ye
he comes abroad anon to view his grounds,
and with the help of Thirsis, and old Egon,
(if his whorson could be gon) & Amaryllis,
and some few more o'th wenches, we will meet him,
and strike him such new Springs, and such free welcoms,
shall make him scorn an Empire, forget Majestie,
and make him blesse the hour he liv'd here happy.
2 Countr.
And we will second ye, we honest Carters,
we lads o'th' lash, with some blunt entertainment,
our Teams to two pence, will give him some content,
or wee'll bawl fearfully.
3 Sh.
Hee cannot expect now
his Courtly entertainments, and his rare Musicks,
and Ladies to delight him with their voyces;
honest and cheerfull toyes from honest meanings,
and the best hearts they have. We must be neat all:
on goes my russet jerkin with blue buttons.
1 Sh.
And my green slops I was married in; my bonnet
with my carnation point with silver tags, boyes:
You know where I won it.
1 Countr.
Thou wilt nere be old, Alexis,
1 Sh.
And I shall find some toyes that have been favors,
and nose-gayes, and such knacks: for there be wenches.
3 Sh.
My mantle goes on too I plaid young Paris in,
and the new garters Amaryllis sent me.
1 Coun.
Yes, yes: we'll all be handsom, and wash our faces.
Neighbour, I see a remnant of March dust
that's hatch'd into your chaps: I pray ye be carefull.
Enter Geta.
and mundifie your muzzell.
2. Countr.
I'll to th'Barbers,
It shall cost me I know what. Who's this?
3. Sh.
Give room, neighbours,
a great man in our State: gods blesse your Worship.
2. Countr.
Encrease your Mastership.
Get.
Thanks, my good people:
Stand off, and know your duties: as I take it
you are the labouring people of this village,
and you that keep the sheep. Stand farther off yet,
and mingle not with my Authoritie,
I am too mighty for your companie.
3. Sh.
we know it Sir; and we desire your Worship
to reckon us amongst your humble servants,
and that our Country Sports, Sir,—
Get.
For your Sports, Sir,
they may be seen, when I shall think convenient,
when out of my discretion, I shall view 'em,
and hold 'em fit for licence. Ye look upon me,
and look upon me seriously, as ye knew me:
'Tis true, I have been a Rascall, as you are,
a fellow of no mention, nor no mark,
just such another piece of durt, so fashion'd:
But Time, that purifies all things of merit,
has set another stamp. Come neerer now,
and be not fearfull; I take off my austeritie:
and know me for the great and mighty Steward
under this man of Honour: know ye for my vassals,
and at my pleasure; I can dispeople ye,
can blow you and your cattell out o'th' Countrey:
but fear me, and have favour. Come, go along with me,
and I will hear your Songs, and perhaps like 'em.
3. Sh.
I hope you will, Sir.
Get.
'Tis not a thing impossible.
Perhaps I'll sing my self, the more to grace ye
and if I like your women.
3. Sh.
We'll have the best, Sir.
handsom young Girls.
Get.
The handsomer, the better.
Enter Delphia.
'May bring your wives too, 'twill be all one charge to ye;
for I must know your Families.
Del.
'Tis well said,
'tis well said, honest friends; I know ye are hatching
some pleasurable sports for your great Landlord:
fill him with joy, and win him a friend to ye,
and make this little Grange seem a large Empire,
let out with home-contents: I'll work his favour,
which daily shall be on ye.
3. Sh.
Then we'll sing daily,
and make him the best Sports.
Del.
Instruct 'em Geta,
and be a merry man again.
Get.
Will ye lend me a divell,
that we may daunce awhile?
Del.
I'll lend thee two.
and Bag-pipes that shall blow alone.
Get.
I thank ye:
but I'll know your divels of a cooler complexion first.
Come, follow, follow; I'll go sit and see ye.
Exeunt.
Enter Diocles, and Drusilla.
Dell.
Do; and be ready an hour hence, and bring 'em;
for in the Grove you'll find him.
Dio.
Come Drusilla,
the partner of my best contents: I hope now
you dare beleeve me.
Dru.
Yes, and dare say to ye,
I think ye now most happie.
Dio.
You say true (Sweet)
for by my—, I find now by experience,
Content was never Courtier.
Dru.
I pray ye walk on, Sir;
the cool shades of the Grove invite ye.
Dio.
O my Deerest!
When man has cast off his ambitious Greatnesse,
and sunk into the sweetnesse of himself;
built his foundation upon honest thoughts,
not great, but good Desires him daily servants;
45
he wakes again, and looks on his possessions,
and from his willing labours feeds with pleasure?
Here hangs no Comets in the shapes of Crowns,
to shake our sweet contents: nor here, Drusilla,
Cares, like Eclipses, darken our endeavours:
we love here without rivals, kisse with innocence;
our thoughts as gentle as our lips; our children
the double heirs both of our forms and faiths.
Dru.
I am glad ye make this right use of this sweetnesse,
this sweet retirednesse.
Dio.
'T is sweet indeed (love)
and every circumstance about it, shews it.
How liberal is the spring in every place here?
the artificial Court shews but a shadow,
a painted imitation of this glory.
Smell to this flower, here Nature has her excellence:
let all the perfumes of the Empire passe this,
the carefull'st Ladies cheek shew such a colour,
they are gilded and adulterate vanities.
And here in Povertie dwells noble Nature.
What pains we take to cool our wines, to allay us,
Musick belowe.
and bury quick the fuming god to quench us,
methinks this Crystal Well? Ha! what strange musick?
'tis underneath, sure: how it stirs and joys me?
how all the birds set on? the fields redouble
their odoriferous sweets? Heark how the ecc hoes—
Enter a Spirit from the Well.
Drus.
See, Sir, those flowers
from out the Well, spring to your entertainment.
Enter Delphia.
Dio.
Blesse me.
Dru.
Be not afraid, 't is some good Angel
that 's come to welcom ye.
Del.
Go neer and hear, son.
Song.
Dio.
O mother, thank ye, thank ye, this was your will.
Del.
You shall not want delights to blesse your presence.
Now ye are honest, all the Stars shall honour ye.
Enter shepherds and dancers.
Stay, here are Countrey-shepherds; here is some sport too,
and you must grace it, Sir; 't was meant to welcom ye;
a King shall never feel your joy. Sit down, son.
A dance of Shepherds and Shepherdesses; Pan leading the men, Ceres the maids.
Hold, hold, my Messenger appears: leave off, friends,
leave off a while, and breathe.
Dio.
What news? ye are pale, mother.
Del.
No, I am careful of thy safety (son)
be not affrighted, but sit still; I am with thee.
Enter Maximinian, Aurelia, Souldiers.
And now dance out your dance. Do you know that person.
Be not amaz'd, but let him shew his dreadfullest.
Max.
How confident he sits amongst his pleasures,
and what a chearful colour shews in's face,
and yet he sees me too, the Souldiers with me.
Aur.
Be speedie in your work, (you will be stopt else)
and then you are an Emperour.
Max.
I will about it.
Dio.
My Royal Cousin, how I joy to see ye,
you, and your Royal Empresse.
Max.
You are too kinde, Sir.
I come not to eat with ye, and to surfeit
in these poor Clownish pleasures; but to tell ye
I look upon ye like my Winding-sheet,
the Coffin of my Greatnesse, my, my Grave:
for whilst you are alive—
Dio.
Alive, my Cousin?
Max.
I say, Alive. I am no Emperour;
I am nothing but mine own disquiet.
Dio.
Stay, Sir.
Max.
I cannot stay. The Souldiers doat upon ye.
I would fain spare ye; but mine own securitie
compels me to forget you are my Uncle,
compels me to forget you made me Cæsar:
for whilst you are remembred, I am buried.
Dio.
Did not I make ye Emperour, dear Cousin,
the free gift from my special grace?
Del.
Fear nothing.
Dio.
Did not I chuse this povertie, to raise you?
that Royal woman gave into your arms too?
bless'd ye with her bright beautie? gave the souldier,
the souldier that hung to me, fix'd him on ye?
gave ye the worlds command?
Max.
This cannot help ye.
Dio.
Yet this shall ease me. Can ye be so base (Cousin)
so far from Noblenesse, so far from nature,
as to forget all this? to tread this Tie out?
raise to yourself so foul a monument
that every common foot shall kick asunder?
must my blood glue ye to your peace?
Max.
It must, Uncle;
I stand too loose else, and my foot too feeble:
you gone once, and their love retir'd, I am rooted.
Dio.
And cannot this removed poor state obscure me?
I do not seek for yours, nor enquire ambitiously
after your growing Fortunes. Take heed, my kinsman,
ungratefulnesse and blood mingled together,
will, like two furious Tides—
Max.
I must sail thorow 'em:
let 'em be Tides of death, Sir, I must stem up.
Dio.
Hear but this last, and wisely yet consider:
Place round about my Grange a Garison,
that if I offer to exceed my limits,
or ever in my common talk name Emperour,
ever converse with any greedie souldier,
or look for adoration, nay, for courtesie
above the days salute.—Think who has fed ye,
think (Cousin) who I am. Do ye slight my misery?
Nay, then I charge thee; nay, I meet thy crueltie.
Max.
This cannot serve; prepare: Now fall on, souldiers,
and all the treasure that I have.
Thunder and Lightning.
Sould.
The earth shakes;
we totter up and down; we cannot stand, Sir;
me thinks the mountains tremble too.
2 Sould.
The flashes
how thick and hot they come? we shall be burn'd all.
Del.
Fall on, Souldiers:
you that sell innocent blood, fall on full bravely.
Sould.
We cannot stir.
Del.
You have your libertie,
so have you, Lady. One of you come do it.
A hand with a Bolt appears above.
Do you stand amaz'd? Look ore thy head, Maximinian,
look, to thy terrour, what over-hangs thee:
nay, it will nail thee dead; look how it threatens thee:
the Bolt for vengeance on ungrateful wretches;
the Bolt of innocent blood: read those hot characters,
and spell the will of heaven. Nay, lovely Lady,
you must take part too, as spur to ambition.
46
Does all your glory shake?
Max.
Hear us, great Uncle,
good and great Sir, be pitiful unto us:
belowe your feet we lay our lives: be merciful:
begin you, heaven will follow.
Aur.
Oh, it shakes still.
Max.
And dreadfully it threatens. We acknowledge
our base and foul intentions. Stand between us;
for faults confess'd, they say, are half forgiven.
We are sorry for our sins. Take from us, Sir,
that glorious weight that made us swell, that poison'd us;
that masse of Majestie I laboured under,
(too heavie and too mighty for my manage)
that my poor innocent days may turn again,
and my minde, pure, may purge me of these curses;
by your old love, the blood that runs between us.
The hand taken in.
Aur.
By that love once ye bare to me, by that Sir,
that blessed maid enjoys—
Dio.
Rise up, dear Cousin,
and be your words your judges: I forgive ye:
great as ye are, enjoy that greatnesse ever,
whilst I mine own Content make mine own Empire.
Once more I give ye all; learn to deserve it,
and live to love your Good more then your Greatnesse.
Now shew your loves to entertain this Emperour,
my honest neighbours. Geta, see all handsom.
Your Grace must pardon us, our house is little;
but such an ample welcom as a poor man
and his true love can make you and your Empresse.
Madam, we have no dainties.
Aur.
'Tis enough, Sir;
we shall enjoy the riches of your goodnesse.
Sould.
Long live the good and gracious Dioclesian.
Dio.
I thank ye, Souldiers, I forgive your rashnesse.
And Royal Sir, long may they love and honour ye.
Drums march afar off.
What Drums are those?
Del.
Meet 'em, my honest son,
they are thy friends, Charinus and the old Souldiers
that come to rescue thee from thy hot Cousin.
But all is well, and turn all into welcoms:
two Emperours you must entertain now.
Dio.
O dear mother,
I have will enough, but I want room and glory.
Del.
That shall be my care. Sound your pipes now merrily.
and all your handsom sports. Sing 'em full welcoms.
Dio.
And let 'em know, our true love breeds more stories
and perfect joys, then Kings do, and their glories.
Exeunt.
FINIS.
| The Prophetesse | |