University of Virginia Library

The First Act.

Scene. 1st.

Constantine sleeping in a Pavillion, Silvester standing at distance, two Angels descend with Banners in their hands.
This Motto, In hoc signo vince, Writ in Gold.
3. Ang.
speaks.
Awake, and ponder the Celestial Song;
Thy vow'd Conversion is delay'd too long.
Awake; remember the Celestial Doom,
That threatned Torments, and a Cross to come.
Yet after all the Menaces of Fate,
Be wash'd: And Calms shall on those Tempests wait,
For true Repentance never comes too late.

Angels ascend.
Constantine, awakes.
Const.
Stay! I adjure you, by the Holy Name,
That bows your Airy Heads; I charge you stay:
They're gone: Those Beauteous Legates of the Skies;
And left me puzling here to die in doubt,
Unless Silvester guide me with a Clew,
Through the dark Mazes of this folding Dream.

Silv.
To purge your past Crimes, there's a Torment to come.
Ay, there the Torment too repeated thrice.

Const.
But say, what Torment?

Silv.
A dangerous Torment, govern'd by ill Stars:
Which were I Emperour should be soon prevented.

Const.
By Heaven it shall by me.

Silv.
You must not Swear,
Lest you shou'd be forsworn.

Const.
If Heaven require
My Life as an Atonement for my Sins:
Lead to the Altar, Saint, and I will bleed.

Silv.
I dare believe you would: But this is more.

Const.
More then my Life: Why, then 'tis Reputation.
But I have learnt in Christian Schools to lay
My Honour down. And own my self a Worm.
To wash the Pilgrims Feet, to bid the Saints
Tread on this Earth: This trash, this heap of Sin.

Silv.
But there's a Bosom Foe to Conquer yet,
And there's my fear.

Const.
Your fear, my Saint, after what I have said?

Silv.
My fear, my Emperour, though you had sworn;

Const.
Had I a Race of Sons like Crispus dear,
Hope of my vows, my Souldier and my Love
Early Renown'd, and Pious from the Womb:
Yet were my Bowels Foes to that Religion,
Whose Infant growth I water'd with my Blood,
I Swear by Heav'n, they should be mine no more.

Silv.
Your Son's the Angels care, and when he dies,
The foremost of the Quire shall meet him with a Crown.
But have you not a Wife?

Const.
You know I had
A dear one, and by much my better part.

Silv.
But have you not another?

Const.
When she dy'd,
All Beauty fled with her.

Silv.
This Beauty lives:
Can you deny a Truth?

Const.
Silvester, why?
Why dost thou press me thus, to my Confusion?

Silv.
Because this Beauty, Sir, may bring confusion.

Const.
Large as an Angels knowledg, be your own,
And at one View, receive whole Nature in,
Yet if you tax my Choice, with least dishonour,
I must declare you wrong her.

Silv.
Then you are at least contracted to Maximinus Daughter
A Heathen born?

Const.
But bred a Cherubin,
She has all the Beauties, of her Sex below;
And equal Virtues, with the blest above.

Silv.
Dares Constantine, the Christian so Renownd,
Say this to me?

Const.
Dares any Saint deny't?

Silv.
That Fausta is not Guilty!

Const.
Ha! of what?

Silv.
Of all the ills, that shall attend your Life.
Of all—

Const.
Hold, hold—lest I fall out with Heaven.

Silv.
Of all the Blots, that shall in after times
Stain your white Character, and blast your Fame:
While weeping Readers shall lament your Story.
Therefore away with her.

Const.
First, let me die.
Penurious Heaven; and Oh! thou Niggard Saint,
Did I not Offer you my Darling Son,
With all my Race, as Victims to your Shrines
If they were Guilty in a point of Faith,
To wash their Heresies with Royal Blood?
And do you grudge me one, but one poor Pleasure,
For all the Pains of my Unwearied Wars?
Then take my Life, take Empire, Glory, all,
Take all I offer'd this Ungrateful Priest,
Who in requital, will allow me nothing.

Silv.
Forgive me Heaven! my too officious Care,
For interposing, in thy dark Decrees:
In Christian patience, he is yet but young.
Chastise him now: And make the Tryal strong.

Const.
What have I said, that I am past forgiveness?
Your Silence argues me undone for ever:
Yet think me not, so lost in desperate Love,
But while offending I can kneel for Pardon.

Silv.
What I have offer'd to your Choice,
Was not Commission'd me to say from Heaven;
Therefore the pardon must be mutual.
All I have urg'd was but a thoughtful boding:
No more of that; be happy in your Love.

Const.
Oh! you have Charm'd me into Life agen;
And fear not but she shall become a Christian;
I must confess, that yet she is a Heathen,
As such I Lov'd Her, in Her Fathers Court,
Where first we Plighted vows in Arius hands
But the dark Contract was so close Contriv'd,
I wonder how you reach'd the Truth so soon:
But Heaven reveal'd it, or you cou'd not know it;
Since I may swear, She is not yet enjoy'd.

Silv.
By you!

Const.
By me? Your answer's short and home:
Who shou'd possess her else?

Silv.
Young and a Heathen?
Left in the Sensual Maximians Court?

Const.
No, Sir; She's Guarded, and secure at Rome;
Crispus, not yet acquainted with our Contract,
Is sent in show, for I had other purpose,
To make his Judgment of my Fausta's Person,
Whether to be preserv'd, or like Her Father,
To hinder Insurrections, be destroy'd,
But hark! What March is this? Perhaps 'tis he!
And these his Trumpets, with the Legions Rais'd.

Trumpets without.
Enter Arius, and Eubolus.
Both.
Long live the Emperour.

Const.
Is Crispus come,
With those Auxiliar Legions we requir'd;
And Money sent to pay the last Arrears?

Ari.
Nothing obey'd: When first your Orders came,
Which by your Brother were in the Forum Read;
I never saw so sudden a Revolt.
At once they Cry'd, our Liberty's betray'd,
Our Courts of Justice Rob'd; Old Rights Infring'd;
Our Gods must down, our Shrines and Temples burn:
And all for a phantastick, Old Wives Tale;
A Cross they Cry'd, one of Silvesters Lies:
Which never yet was seen by waking Eyes;
But either feign'd, or Dreamt of in the Skies.

Const.
Is this their Answer to my strict Commands?

Ari.
Crispus by this return'd, to join your Brother;
When straight some Devil whisper'd in their Ears,
Your Son already had begun the Change,
The Statue of Apollo was pull'd down,
To make his Fathers Place: Whereon they cry'd
Your Image should be Burnt, and with a breath
The Cockle, and the Corn, bow'd all that way.

Eub.
But were reversed by a more Powerful Gale,
Your Brother and your Son, appear'd like Gods,
And stopt the Madmen in their full Career.

Ari.
At close of day, in Dark Cabals they met,
And in the Morning gave their Final Answer;
Lycinius, who that Night was brought a Captive,
To grace the Triumph of your first appearance,
Was first propos'd, to share th' Imperial Power:
Next they demand a general Persecution
Of all the Christians, and Silvesters head.

Const.
Tell 'em their City shall be Ashes first,
Have I for this, with hazard of my Life,
So oft Redeem'd em' from their Tyrants Racks,
When all their Streets, were but one Hideous Grave;
There Wives, and Daughters Ravisht in their View?
When Age was drain'd of its last Ebbing drop,
When Babes were snatch'd their Earliest breath to give,
And dy'd ere knowing what it was to live.
Trumpets—Enter Dalmatius.
More Treason—Arius, or do the Slaves Repent?
My Brother here. Still to my Arms, and heart,
Thou Nerve of all my Wars: How fares my Friend,
And my beloved?

Dalm.
Crispus, our care is well.
And the late Tempest which must reach your Ear,
By Skilful Pilots, Rockt into a Calm;
Believe me Sir, your presence gains the Cause.
Therefore upon the Instant march to Rome;
Vanquisht Licinius waits to Grace your Triumph.
Bless me! Is't possible? Arius with you Sir?
Arius the Traitor?

Const.
Have you found him so?

Dalm.
The Subtlest Snake, the softest Civil Villain
That ever warm'd himself in Princes—Bosom;
Diseases, Blasts, Plagues, Death and Hell are in him:
What e're his outside seems: This shameless Traitor
Was the foul Spring of all these poison'd Waters,
That late had like to overflow the Empire;
Yet while his Emissaries Fired the People;
This Judas on my side, appear'd an Angell:
For after the first Mutiny was quel'd;
Though he had Sworn to Justifie your Cause,
He warn'd the Slaves, I have his hand to show,
Next day to make those Impudent demands.

Ari.
Plots on my Innocence; as I am a Christian,
If ere I set my hand to such a Treason,
May these rot off, which thus I hold to Heaven:
As I am of Priestly Order.

Dalm.
A Devil Ordain'd—
Sir, if I do not prove him.

Const.
I believe you,
I know him Heretick, a Seditious Traitor,
But yet have Reasons to defer his Ruin,
Therefore no more at present. Arius hence;
And let me hear no further of these Mischiefs.
I have pardon'd you; be gone, you Eubulus, and tell the Rebels,
I come Embattel'd now for my Revenge;
My Standard, and my Banners, bear the Cross
Tell 'em Lycinius, whom once before
I took to Grace, and Marry'd to my Sister,
Their new Petition'd Cæsar soon shall bleed.

Silv.
Forgive your Enemies.

Const.
But not my Friends:
Lycinius was my Friend, and has betray'd me;
Therefore I'le Execute him in their View.
Away and warn him, for the Doom that's given.
Ex. Arius, Eubulus.
'Tis not by halfs, that we will worship Heaven:
No; my Dalmatius, I have made a vow,
The Romans, or their Emperour shall bow.
They're Subjects, and 'tis fit: Nay, bow they shall:
Or Cæsar in th' attempt, their Victim fall;
Bow to the Man, whom Heaven Ordain'd for Sway,
And in his great Vicegerent learn their Maker to Obey—

Exeunt.

Scene II.

ROME. Constantines Palace.
Enter Lycinius, Labienas.
Labi.
The mischief's Ripe, and ready for our wish:
Confusion to the House of Constantine,
And Fortune points their Fate. For mark the Method
The Father sends the Son to see the Prisoner;
The Son, not knowing of his Fathers Contract,
Appears a God to Fausta's Charming Eyes,
And Marry'd her.

Lycin.
How came you by the Secret?

Lab.
Arius told me; he who Betrothed the Father Weds the Son,
And stands for ever bound to serve Lycinius.

Lycin.
He's Voted Heretick among the Christians.

Labie.
No matter what they Vote him, Sir; He's yours,
And Foe too all Religion, but his Friends.

Lycin.
By Mars, he falls the Righter to my purpose.
I was my self bred up in Blood and Wars,
Untaught, and Scoft at by these Civil Cowards,
Wherefore I hate Religion, Arts, and Learning;
And if I ever Mount the Cæsars Throne,
I'le Raise another General Persecution,
Like Nero; But these Christian Dogs to Death;
And Build the Temples of the Old Gods again.

Labie.
And be a God your Self: In the mean time,
Let your Wives tears prevail upon your Temper.
Supple your Haughty Spirit, bow your Body,
Low as the Earth, before the Emperours Feet.

Lycin.
I had rather dye: If he thinks fit to save me,
'Tis well; if not; why let him take my Head.

Labie.
Yet for the sake of those, whom you must Govern,
Rebate this Martial Fire, and hear your Wife:
Hear what return our long'd for Arius brings.
Enter Crispus, with Annibal.
But soft! the Bridegroom, Crispus and his Friend:
Constantia with impatience waits your coming;
Constantia, who has Power to save your Head;
Though Cæsar with an Oath had Doom'd you Dead.

Ex. Lycinius, Labienus.
Crispus.
How Annibal: What! out of temper now?
When Crowns are offer'd, and the Cæsars Purple?
What, though not born in the immediate way?
Yet thou art Collaterally Great as I.
And if I ever Heir this Spacious Empire,
By Heaven, thou shalt not share, but guide, engross
My hearts best Love, and all the World beside.

Anni.
Your Heart? Ay there you Eccho'd my desires,
Enrich me there, and trowle your empty Globe
To those Crown'd Slaves, that know no other Greatness:
But tell me, O my Crispus! All Mens Joy;
Tell me, and truly from thy Generous Soul,
Hast thou a Friend, whom more thou Lov'st then me?

Crisp.
Not more belov'd, more Fonded then my self,
But more—

Anni.
Nay add not, to that broken Truth,
There's more in that, no more, then thou had'st Sworn.

Crisp.
Wilt thou not hear me out?

Anni.
There needs no more;
Thou art no Friend, that Lov'st another more:
Nay half so much: But now I find that all
The former Flatteries of thy Glozing Friendship,
Were Courtiers promises, and Womens Vows,
But let me know his Name;

Crisp.
Thy Father Annibal my Godlike Friend,
Dalmatius, who before thou could'st Write Man,
Hugg'd Crispus to his Heart: Like Lambs in Peace
Together we lay down, together rose,
In War like Lyons, Coupled on a side;
Ere yet thy Infant Arms, a Sword could Wield,
And drove like Herds, the Nations from the Field.

Anni.
Why then we're Friends agen, more fast then ever,
Yet since we have happen'd into this disorder,
To make a Tryal of renew'd affection,
I'le put thee to the Test.

Crisp.
Name the Danger,
Though Kin to Death, my Arm, Young-man, shall Right thee.

Anni.
'Tis death indeed: Most certain Death to me,
Unless thy Softning Charms, have power to save me.

Crisp.
Speak this close grief: That wrings thee with the Anguish,
If I am not Eloquent in such a Cause,
Cut out my Tongue.

Annib.
My life is in the hands
Of one that hates me; or what wounds me more,
Of one, my Crispus, that can never love me.

Crisp.
Not love thee? O ye Powers! what heart is that?

Annib.
Hast thou not seen the Beauteous Prisoners?

Crisp.
Ha!
What, Fausta meanst thou?

Annib.
Fausta and Serena.

Crisp.
Say which of em'? Which Beauty has Inflam'd thee?

Annib.
Which shou'd, but the most soft and Artless melter?
The Languishing—

Crisp.
The killing Beauteous—Come—

Annib.
Ha! Crispus thou art Concern'd!

Crisp.
I am to help thee—
Her Name?

Annib.
Why take it then, the Fair Serena.

Crisp.
O She's the softest sweetest, killing Fair
By Heaven—I am glad—I'm ravisht that 'tis She!
By this Embrace I promise thee success,
I know her temper well—No more but leave me,
I was upon the Instant when I met thee,
Going to their Appartment;—Nay look up—
And trust thy Friend.

Annib.
Plead then for my Life,
I beg thee as a God to plead my Cause;
Thou canst not know o'th' sudden, how 'tis with me:
How Great, how Mortal, and how deep the wound.
May all the Saints, and Powers that pitty Love,
Inspire thy Brest, as if 'twere possible
That Annibals Soul cou'd actuate thy body,
So sigh, weep, languish, and for Mercy sue,
As were I Crispus, I my self wou'd do—

Ex. Annibal.
Crisp.
The Youth is Haughty, Martial, Hot and Brave;
Right for the Field, unhappy parts for Love:
Therefore perhaps, the Virgin likes him not.
But thou hast luckier Stars: No sooner seen
But lik'd—Lov'd, Marry'd—Ha!—but where's the Transport?
Without thy Fathers knowledge thou wert Marry'd:
'Tis the first Fault of my unhappy youth,
Yet 'tis a Fault—but 'tis the fault of Love.
Had he not lov'd Crispus had not been here;
Away, you Damps, and darkning Images.
Be gone I say—Behold she comes to meet me;
Enter Fausta.
Lag as I am, in this great Race of Love—
O, Fausta, Fausta!

Faust.
O my Constantine!

Crisp.
Ha!

Faust.
A mistake; my fear out-went my Love.

Crisp.
My Constantine! Thy fear—by Heaven 'twas Ominous:
What cause hast thou to fear?

Faust.
Bondage and Death.
Are not those Reasons for a Virgins fear?

Crisp.
Yes for another, Fausta, not for thine.
For Oh! when he has seen and heard like me,
The Abstracted Charms of all this Beauteous World,
Expect not death, but offers of a Throne.

Faust.
'Tis possible: Yet by thy self I swear,
By dear lov'd thee, my Crispus in a Cottage
Shall be prefer'd to all the Thrones on Earth.

Crisp.
And thou, forgive me Heaven! I had almost said
To Heaven it self: No Fausta, that's the Jar,
Religion makes this discord in my Soul.
I find it now. Hence come my Starts and fears,
Even in the height of my expected joys
But Time, the Saints and Miracles must win thee.

Faust.
No Time, no Miracle, no Saint but thou:
Why, thou art all the Wonders of the Earth,
My Saint, my hearts Religion, and my Heaven;
With thee I am imbarkt to live or Perish,
Not only here but in the World hereafter.

Crisp.
Oh Extacy! Oh pattern for thy Sex:
Yet shalt thou Master me by this Subjection
Give me thy hand. Thy Lip—the sweets are Richer,
The tast Enobled. Oh! my ravisht Love
Glows with the pointed Charms. The Heavens are open'd
And I behold thee Crown'd a Saint already.
But I will hold thee fast, lest that the Angels snatch thee:
Ere we have mingled Souls—

Faust.
Oh not to Night!

Crisp.
Ha! not to night? Not on this Lov'd Confession?
Not when thou hast set my Spirits all on fire?
Not now enjoy thee? Thou mak'st my fears return,
Far more Extravagant then they were before.
Lest e're we join an Apoplex shou'd seize me,
The Palace fall, and thousand other Chances,
That awe th' Imagination of my Love.
Oh Come—

Faust.
I will, and with these longing arms
Hold thee till Morn: And from that Morn till Evening:
From Evening to Mid-day: From day to Night:
From Night to Death—I'le clap thee thus for ever.

Crisp.
Let's haste then, while the beckoning Minute smiles.

Faust.
But I must swear thee first:

Crisp.
Take Oath on Oath:
I swear to obey thee without asking why.

Faust.
Swear thou wilt never leave thy Wedded Fausta;
What ever dreadful Chance, or strange Misfortune,
Shou'd start to undo me, almost to a Crime.

Crisp.
No Crime: But want of Love: Nor that, by Heaven,
Shall make me hate thee, though it bring me Death.
Oh thou soft Dear! if ever I forsake thee,
At my last hour, may I despair of Mercy,
And may those Saints, that knew the wrong I did thee,
When at Heavens Gate, I beg for Entrance, answer,
Remember what thou did'st to Fausta swear,
Be gone, for ever leave this happy Sphere;
For perjur'd Lovers have no Mansion here.

Ex. Ambo.