University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

Enter Caligula, Cesonia, Guards, and Attendants.
Cal.
W'are deep in Winter, yet methinks the air
Has an unnat'ral heat, I cannot bear.

Ces.
Cæsar's swift marches have inflam'd his veins;
He drives with all the spirit that he reigns.
I wonder not you left me far behind,
Methoughts your fiery Steeds outran the Wind;
Winds lost their breath in giving Cæsar Chase,
His speed seem'd more a Rapture than a Race.
When a high Mountain shew'd him to my Eye,
I fear'd some Goddess snatch'd him to the Sky;
Then from my seat I oft fell cold and pale,
Till I beheld him flaming in a Vale,
Saw his bright Chariot, and his glitt'ring Train,
Flying like blazing meteors o'r a Plain:
His dazling Chariot, though a pond'rous mass
Of solid Gold, scarce bent the tender Grass.
I'm apt to think there can no prints be found
Where Cæsar drove, his Steeds scarce touch'd the ground:
No, Sir, provok'd by their own fire and you,
They ran, rag'd, foam'd; I thought in Clouds you flew.

Cal.
I love intemperance in all I do.
All speed to me but drowsie sloath appears,
I thought I linger'd on the Road for years,
And my dull Horses did not run, but creep;
I'd have sprung hither at one lofty leap.
Had I my will, I wou'd range Lands and Seas
As swift as thought; think and be where I please.
The very minute I begin my flight,
I'd pierce all Regions, at a start, like light.

Ces.
You'd range all Lands, new beauties to subdue;
For your desires the World has not enow:
And without toyl, you'd give a beauty chace,
You wou'd but think, think in her embrace.

Cal.
We call Men constant, when they're dull and tame;
Thus imperfection gets a noble name.
I have a heat which never can be cool'd;
A spirit in me which can ne'r be rul'd;
It rages whilst 'tis in my bosom pent,
Nor can a thousand Beauties give it vent.
When I am deluging your Arms with bliss,
You never think me guilty of excess.
Ægypt is not more pleas'd with flowing Nile;
But if I rove to others Arms awhile,
Of my intemp'rance you complain aloud;
Though it be but a momentany flood,
You think you have a dreadful dearth in view;
Madam, was Cæsar only made for you?

Ces.
Jove had, no doubt, intentions more divine,
But Cæsar will not be a moment mine.
My heart in Cæsar lives, to Cæsar grows;
Therefore I never have an hours repose.
Repose? His many wandrings tear my veins,
And give me wounds which have tormenting pains.

Cal.
You love an Emperor, that I'll not deny;
Who, but a Cæsar, can your heart supply
With all the pleasure, wealth, and pow'r it craves?
Now you have Queens for your Domestick slaves,
And all delights that nature yields in call;
Were there more Emp'rors you wou'd love 'em all.

Ces.
No, Sir, of all Men, Emp'rors wou'd I shun,
They are mysterious, understood by none.
But this I know, what are so much above
All Kings on Earth, 'tis arrogance to love;
And, to my sorrow, I have found it vain,
For having all things, all things they disdain.
Cæsar is pleas'd with beauty, whilst 'tis new,
And the next hour thinks it not worth his view.
Awhile I'm graceful in the Emp'rors thoughts,
And the next moment seem all over faults.
Now I've all beauties, then I've all decays;
Now sudden starts of joy, then sharp always.
Now I'm in luxury, and then in tears,
And always shaken with confounding fears.

Cal.
Oh! my Cesonia, prithee have a care,
Impose not on me more than I can bear.
This Neck is soft, so is not Cæsar's Heart;
This Head and Neck how easily can I part?
But though in Cæsar thou hast no delight,
To thy fair self thou art a pleasing sight;
And by all Eyes thou art with wonder seen:
Oh! I am loath to stain so white a skin.
'Tis pity so much beauty shou'd be lost,
Thou wilt not be so lovely when a Ghost.

Ces.
I find I'm pleasing still in Cæsar's Eye,
And therefore now I'm very loth to die;
No joys in the most sweet Elizian Grove,
Can equal the Remains of Cæsar's love.
With pomp and power I am pleas'd, I own;
But Cæsar far outshines his glorious Throne.
Were Cæsar but my equal, were he lower,
Had but that graceful person, and no more,
From all Mankind to Cæsar's arms I'd fly,
And think no Goddess is so blest as I.

Cal.
Oh! thou art made exactly to my mind,
Fair to perfection, fond though I'm unkind.
Faithful thou art as the severely chaste,
And yet as Venus wanton, when embrac'd.
I have a thousand Venusses in thee;
Once more I love thee to a mad degree.
New beauties for a moment snatch my Eyes,
And entertain me, whilst they're novelties.

Ces.
Cæsar will oft abandon me I know,
But one hours love will rich amends bestow.
I am luxurious, freely I confess,
But Cæsar, Cæsar is my Sovereign bliss.
From Cæsar's Lips divine Ambrosia flows,
His breath in sweets excels the Syrian Rose;
And when I have his Arms I think I'm dress'd,
The Queen of Heaven has not so rich a Vest.
In Cæsar's Arms in extasies I lie,
Like a mad Prophetess, entranc'd with joy;
Whilst a God fills me all my spirits fly.

Cal.
No, my Cesonia, I must do thee right,
Thy spirit gives a life to my delight;
A livelier Beauty Cæsar ne'r enjoy'd,
Thou hast more life than all thy Sex enjoy'd.

Ces.
Now I'm compos'd, and fit for great Affairs,
Your Glory must awhile employ my Cares.
Enter Valerius Asiaticus, Lucius Vitellius.
Oh! come my Lord, tho' in this last Compagne
You gave us too much reason to complain,
Your service, for your faults, make great amends;
And I rank you among the Emp'rors friends.

Cal.
Th'art proud, and therefore I think Cæsar's friend,
Thy haughty heart can to an Emp'ror bend;
My pow'rs by Jove and Nature were bestow'd,
By serving me thou serv'st an Earthly God.
Senators oft are of ignoble blood,
And all their pow'rs the Off-spring of the Croud;
Can thy proud heart endure those Men shou'd reign,
Whom thou woud'st scarce admit into thy Train?
Will one so brave, by Cowards be controul'd?
And one so rich, let Bankrupts rule his Gold?
So Wise to Blockheads for Advice repair,
In all the great Affairs of Peace and War;
Depend on the result of empty prate,
And account Fools the Oracles of State.

Val. A.
I wou'd not be a slave, to slaves, 'tis true;
Our Senators are solemn slaves to you.
If I must serve, on Cæsar I'd depend;
For as the Ladies, who on Queens attend,
Are by the World Ladies of Honour stil'd,
Tho' of their Honour they have been beguil'd.
So, Sir, if Honour can to slaves be due,
They're slaves of Honour, who are slaves to you.

L. Vit.
Spoke like a Nobleman, and Man o'sence;
'Tis an illustrious thing, to serve a Prince
So great, so glorious, so renown'd, so wise,
What Vassal wou'd not such a glory prize?

Val. A.
When he has Cæsar's favour in pursuit,
He'll lick the dust beneath the Tyrant's feet.
[Aside.
Cæsar's a God, and Cæsar says I'm proud;
A God knows all the secrets of our blood.
Therefore, no doubt, I'm ostentatious vain,
The Characters he gives me I'll maintain;
I will be proudly faithful to my trust,
To all Mankind I will be proudly just:
All danger, Sir, I'll haughtily despise,
To serve you boldly fight, as boldly advise.
Your service to your pleasure I'll prefer,
And boldly stop you, if I think you err.

Cal.
Stop me?

Val. A.
By Councel, tho' it cost my Head;
Even by your self I will not be misled.

Cal.
Will I be judg'd, and govern'd by my slaves?

Val. A.
I'll judge, and if I can I'll rule your Knaves.
I'll offer, and I'll suffer no abuse,
Because I'm proud; pride is of mighty use.
The affectation of a pompous name,
Has oft set Wits and Heroes in a flame;
Volumes, and Buildings, and Dominions wide,
Are oft the noble Monuments of pride.

Cal.
Then I'm your lofty Building? Have a care,
This from no other Man on earth I'd bear.
Thou rul'st thy Emperor, I know not how;
More than thou dar'st demand, I dare bestow,
Have all a Vassal can from pow'r derive,
Tho' th'art the boldest proudest Man alive.

Val. A.
All this I durst not have presum'd to crave;
My thanks I'll on your foes in wounds engrave.

Ces.
In serving Cæsar, rich rewards proceed
From the meer conscience of the noble deed;
But yet is Cæsar so Divinely good,
He over-pays his Warriors for their blood.
I'm sure, my Lord, your recompence is great,
[To Val. A.
You've Rubies for your blood, and Pearls for sweat;
Y'ave Provinces for all the Fields y'ave won,
And Realms for all the Kings y'ave undone.

L. Vit.
Higher rewards than these my service meets,
This Province, Madam,
[He takes out of his bosom the Empresses Sandal.
'Tis all over sweets.
Here dwelt a foot, a Wonder of its kind,
And left a thousand fragrancies behind.

Cal.
How false are Men, both in their Heads and Hearts;
And there is falshood in all Trades and Arts.
Lawyers deceive their Clients by false Law;
Priests, by false Gods, keep all the World in awe.
By their false Tongues such flatt'ring Knaves are rais'd;
For their false wit, Scriblers by fools are prais'd.
Whores, by false beauty, Venusses appear;
Hect'ring Faux—braves o'r Cowards, domineer:
Look round the World, what shall we find sincere?

Cæs.
The Senate, Sir, attend.

Cal.
Well, let 'em wait.
How dare you, in my Ear, name what I hate?
I'll have no Guardians, I'm at Age to reign;
What my Birth gave, my Courage shall maintain.
I will endure no Partners in my Throne,
Ill govern as I please, and rule alone.
Do not I trample Kings beneath my feet?
Will Cæsar then let his own slaves be great?
Cæsar shall be the only Soveraign Lord,
And Senate be a vain and useless word;
And therefore wholly laid aside, ere long,
Amongst the Rubbish of the Roman Tongue.

Val. A.
Then will the name of Emp'ror be low;
Sir, your Throne stands on golden Columns now,
On Men who are by Birth and Fortune great;
Wou'd you be King of Beggars, fix you seat
On a vile Dunghil, on the dirty Croud?
This by your friends can never be allow'd.
Sir, your mistakes are your most dang'rous foes,
And for your service I'll your self oppose,
And in the face of any danger fly;
You have not a more faithful friend than I:
Compar'd with Cæsar's service, how I slight
Danger and Death, I've often shew'd in fight.

Ces.
Cherish him, Cæsar.

Cal.
Well, let quarrels cease;
Th'ast a great Genius, both in War and Peace.
But love not, if th'art one of Cæsar's friends,
A Senate; for the very name offends.
But call 'em in, for they shall quickly know
I have a farther quarrel with 'em now.
Enter the Consuls and Senate.
When Cæsar hy a Triumph honour'd Rome,
How durst you tarry sullenly at home,
As if my Victories you proudly scorn'd,
Or thought 'em curses, and in darkness mourn'd?

Val. A.
Who dares reply? for to this raving Prince
What can be said, that will not give offence?

[Aside.
Con.
The honour, Sir, we humbly did implore
To fill your Triumphs, to be triumph'd o'r,
To be led Captives; but we beg in vain,
Our great devotion met your high disdain.

Cal.
'Tis true, I scorn all honours you bestow,
And you resent th'affront; ha! is it so?

Con.
That were presumptuous arrogance indeed;
Sir, with united hearts, we've all decreed
The highest honours—

Cal.
How? Dare you pretend
To grant me Honours? Honour must descend.

Con.
We humbly beg—

Cal.
You'd beg me for a Fool;
Beg me to own you have the Sovereign rule:
By this Decree, you sawcily invade
Imperial Power, Imperial Glory shade.
Affronts from his own slaves, will Cæsar bear;
Refuse, or grant me Honours, if you dare

Con.
My errors wrong the Senate I perceive;
To shew our love we humbly beg your leave.

Cal.
Your love? Mankind is envious vain and proud,
Love nothing that's above 'em, bad or good.
You hate a Prince, unless he'll tamely bear
Partners in power; let Senates have a share.
Where Laws, and domineering Senates reign,
Princes are slaves in purple, slaves in grain;
Sword bearers to a many-headed Lord,
I mean the Croud, and weak upon Record;
For ev'ry Law made by the State, implies,
That Princes are defective, Senates wise.
Such Demi-Kings have half your hearts, no more,
While they have any share of Soveraign power;
But if a Prince entirely quits his Throne,
He's lov'd by all, because he's fear'd by none.
The Votes of Senators, tho' ne'r so great,
Shall but like Ecchoes my commands repeat;
So Forrests may advise, and utter Law.

L. Vit.
The wisest Monarch the Sun ever saw.

Cal.
Fear me, I care not how I am abhorr'd,
Your hearts I'll have; with my Imperial Sword,
I'll rip 'em from your Breasts, when I think good:
In short, I'll have your Duty, or your Blood.
This you all know, and therefore you'll obey;
Fear is the Parent of all Sovereign sway.

Val. A.
Sir, with triumphant pomp, to Court they've brought
Your Image wrought in gold; is that a fault?

Cal.
My Image may have faults, the Gold has none;
'Tis th'only faultless thing below the Sun.

Ces.
No, Cæsar, no; if Art has done you right,
Th'Image is faultless; bring it in my sight.
If Cæsar's graces in the Image shine,
There is no gold on Earth, so rich, so fine.
This shining shadow, I wou'd feign behold;
This constant shadow fix'd in solid gold.

Enter Priests in Procession singing, carrying a golden Image of the Emperor, attended by the Consuls and Senate.
The SONG Sung by the Priests.
[Ex. om.