University of Virginia Library

SCE. I.

Enter Stephanus Constantinus.
Ste.
Thus far, my Lord, you're safe;—but one pluck more,
And you may write secure:—

Const.
Nay, that I am,
Is yours;—and singly yours:—but passing what
I cannot name too oft;—let us consider
What must be done:—'twere better dye at once,
Than be thus saw'd in pieces;—Our wounds are
So far from being heal'd, they're hardly clos'd;
Nay (like sick men) we've rather lighted on
A new Physitian, than a remedy.

Ste.
Tis but too true, my Lord;—But tis too late
To spend our selves in womanish complaints;
Tis more than time 'twere don.—

Const.
But who shall do 't?
You know our friends are gon; or what's as bad
(By having lost their eyes) unserviceable.

Ste.
'Tis our advantage:—What we want in numbers,
Will be suppli'd in secrecy; Great designs
(Like wounds) if they take air corrupt;—Besides,
These frequent slaughters make our game; They have
Lost their authority, and rendred him
As cheap, as funerals, a Physitian.
And what is greater than all these—the City
Has ne're a head.

Const.
No?—where's Basilius?

Ste.
He's gon the way of those that oblige Tyrants
Beyond requital;—He's strangled:
And now's our time to strike;—Your Lordship has
Good interest among the Citizens;
And they're just ripe for mischief—I have Agents
Now raising 'um to your hand, and shall be ready
To back you with the Guards; make but a stand,
And all's our own;—Isacius Angelus
Is of the blood, and we'll proclaim him Emperor.

Const.
But he's giv'n up to privacy;—Andronicus
Well knew't, that sufferd him to live so long.

Ste.
I thought as much my self; ere I went to him;
But now, he is so sensible of 's danger,
He catches at any thing—This is our nick;
For (I'm to tell you news) the Empress
Has, (notwithstanding all her brave resolves,)
Giv'n up t'Andronicus—Poor Lady!
It will concern us to be quick—This action,
Will rivet all, unless we crush him now;
Now—while 'tis hott,—Come my Lord—

Exeunt.