University of Virginia Library

ACT. III.

SCEN. 1.

The Scene opens, and discovers the Emperor at Dice.
Maximus. Lycin. Proc. and Chylax.
Emp.
Nay! set my Hand out: 'Tis not just
I should neglect my Luck when 'tis so prosp'rous:

Chy.
If I have any thing to set you, Sir, but Cloaths
And good Conditions, let me perish;
You have all my Money.

Proc.
And mine.

Lycin.
And mine too.

Max.
You may trust us sure till to morrow,
Or if you please, I'l send home for Money presently.

Emp.
'Tis already Morning, and staying will be tedious.
My Luck will vanish ere your Money comes.

Chy.
Shall we redeem 'em if we set our Houses?

Emp.
Yes fairly.

Chy.
That at my Villa—

Emp.
At it—'Tis mine.

Chy.
Then farewel, Fig-Trees: For I can ne'r redeem 'em.

Emp.
VVho sets?—Set any thing.

Lycin.
At my Horse.

Emp.
The Dapple Spaniard?

Lycin.
He.

Emp.
He's mine.

Lycin.
He is so.

Max.
Hah!

Lycin.
Nothing, my Lord! But Pox on my Damn'd Fortune.

Emp.
Come Maximus; You were not wont to flinch.

Max.
By Heaven, Sir, I have not a Penny.

Emp.
Then that Ring.

Max.
O Good Sir, This was not given to lose.

Emp.
Some Love-Token—Set it I say!

Max.
I beg you, Sir.

Emp.
How silly and how fond you are grown of Toys!

Max.
Shall I redeem it?

Emp.
VVhen you please to morrow
Or next day as you will: I do not care
Only for luck-sake—

Max.
There Sir, will you throw?

Emp.
Why then have at it fairly; the last stake!
'Tis mine.

Max.
Y'are ever fortunate! to morrow
I'l bring you—what you please to think it worth.

Emp.
Then your Arabian Horse: but for this night
I'l wear it as my Victory.

Enter Balbus.
Balb.
From the Camp
Æcius in haste has sent these Letters, Sir;
It seems the Cohorts mutiny for Pay.

Emp.
Maximus—This is ill News. Next week they are to march.
You must away immediately; no stay,
No, not so much as to take leave at home.
This careful haste may probably appease 'em;
Send word, what are their Numbers;
And Money shall be sent to pay 'em all.
Besides something by way of Donative.

Max.
I'l not delay a moment, Sir,
The Gods preserve you in this mind for ever.

Emp.
I'l see 'em march my self.

Max.
Gods ever keep you—
[Exit Max.

Emp.
To what end now de'e think this Ring shall serve?
For you are the dull'st and the veriest Rogues—
Fellows that know only by roat as Birds
Whistle and sing.

Chy.
Why, Sir, 'tis for the Lady.

Emp.
The Lady! Blockhead! which end of the Lady?
Her Nose!

Chy.
Faith, Sir, that I know not.

Emp.
Then pray for him that does—
[Exit Chylax.
Fetch in the Eunuch;
You! See th'Apartment made very fine
That lies upon the Garden, Masks and Musick,
With the best speed you can. And all your Arts
Serve to the highest for my Master-piece
Is now on foot.

Proc.
Sir, we shall have a care.

Emp.
I'l sleep an hour or two; and let the Women
Put on a graver shew of Welcome!
Your Wives! they are such Haggard-Bawds
A Thought too eager.

[Enter Chyl. and Lycias.
Chy.
Here's Lycias, Sir.

Lyc.
Long Life to mighty Cæsar.

Emp.
Fortune to thee, for I must use thee Lycias.

Lyc.
I am the humble Slave of Cæsar's Will,
By my Ambition bound to his Commands
As by my duty.

Emp.
Follow me.

Lyc.
With Joy.—

[Exeunt.

SCENE 2.

GROVE and FOREST.
Enter Lucina.
Lucin.
Dear solitary Groves where Peace does dwell,
Sweet Harbours of pure Love and Innocence!
How willingly could I for ever stay
Beneath the shade of your embracing Greens,
Listning to Harmony of warbling Birds,
Tun'd with the gentle Murmurs of the Streams,
Upon whose Banks in various Livery
The fragrant offspring of the early Year
Their Heads like graceful Swans bent proudly down,
See their own Beauties in the Crystal Flood?
Of these I could mysterious Chaplets weave,
Expressing some kind innocent Design
To shew my Maximus at his Return
And fondly chiding make his Heart confess
How far my busie Idleness excels,
The idle Business he persues all day,
At the contentious Court or clamorous Camp
Robbing my Eyes of what they love to see,
My Ears of his dear Words they wish to hear
My longing Arms of th'Embrace they covet:
Forgive me, Heav'n! if when I these enjoy,
So perfect is the happiness I find
That my Soul satisfi'd feels no Ambition
To change these humble Roofs and sit above.

Enter Marcellina.
Marc.
Madam, My Lord just now alighted here,
Was by an Order from th'Emperor
Call'd back to Court!
This he commanded me to let you know,
And that he would make haste in his return.

Lucin.
The Emperor!
Unwonted Horror seizes me all o're,
When I but hear him nam'd: sure 'tis not Hate;
For tho' his impious Love with scorn I heard,
And fled with terror from his threatning force
Duty commands me humbly to forgive
And bless the Lord to whom my Lord does bow!
Nay more methinks he is the gracefullest man,
His Words so fram'd to tempt, himself to please,
That 'tis my wonder how the Pow'rs above,
Those wise and careful Guardians of the Good,
Have trusted such a force of tempting Charms
To Enemies declar'd of Innocence!
'Tis then some strange Prophetick Fear I feel
That seems to warn me of approaching Ills.
Go Marcellina, fetch your Lute, and sing that Song
My Lord calls his: I'l try to wear away
The Melancholy Thoughts his Absence breeds!
Come gentle Slumbers in your flattering Arms
I'l bury these Disquiets of my Mind
Till Maximus returns—for when he's here
My Heart is rai'sd above the reach of Fear.

Marcellina
sings—
SONG. By Mr. W.
Where wou'd coy Aminta run
From a despairing Lovers Story?
When her Eyes have Conquests won,
Why shou'd her Ear refuse the Glory?
Shall a Slave whom Rackes constrain
Be forbidden to complain?
Let her scorn me, let her fly me,
Let her Lookes her Life deny me.
Ne're can my Heart change for Relief,
Or my Tongue cease to tell my Grief;
Much to Love and much to Pray
Is to Heaven the only Way.

Mar.
She sleeps.

[The Song ended, Exeunt Claudia and Marcellina before the Dance.

SCENE 3.

Dance of Satyrs.
Enter Claudia and Marcellina to Lucina.
Claud.
Prithee, what ails my Lady, that of late
She never cares for Company.

Marc.
I know not
Unless it be that Company causes Cuckolds.

Claud.
Ridiculous! That were a Childish Fear!
'Tis Opportunity does cause 'em rather,
When two made one are glad to be alone.

Marc.
But Claudia—Why this sitting up all Night
In Groves by purling streams? This argues Heat!
Great Heat and Vapors, which are main Corrupters!
Mark when you will; Your Ladies that have Vapors,
They are not Flinchers, that insulting Spleen
Is the Artillery of pow'rful Lust;
Discharg'd upon weak Honour which stands out
Two Fits of Head-Ach, at the most, then yields.

Claudia.
Thou art the frailest Creature, Marcellina!
And think'st all Womens Honours like thy own!
So thin a Cobweb that each blast of Passion
Can blow away: But for my own part, Girl!
I think I may be well stil'd Honours Martyr.
With firmest Constancy I have endur'd
The raging Heats of passionate Desires!
While flaming Love and boyling Nature both
Were pour'd upon my Soul with equal Torture:
I arm'd with Resolution stood it out
And kept my Honour safe.

Marc.
Thy Glory's great!
But, Claudia, Thanks to Heav'n that I am made
The weakest of all women: fram'd so frail
That Honour ne'er thought fit to chuse me out,
His Champion against Pleasure: my poor Heart
For divers years still tost from Flame to Flame,
Is now burnt up to Tinder every Spark
Dropt from kind Eyes sets it a-fire afresh,
Prest by a gentle hand I melt away,
One Sigh's a Storm that blows me all along;
Pity a wretch, who has no Charm at all,
Against th'impetuous Tide of flowing Pleasure,
Who wants both Force and Courage to maintain
The glorious War made upon Flesh and Blood,
But is a Sacrifice to every wish
And has no power left to resist a Joy.

Claud.
Poor Girl! How strange a Riddle Virtue is?
They never miss it who possess it not;
And they who have it ever find a want.
With what Tranquility and Peace thou liv'st!
For stript of Shame; Thou hast no cause to fear;
While I the Slave of Virtue am afraid
Of every thing I see: And think the World
A dreadful wilderness of savage Beasts;
Each man I meet I fancy will devour me;
And sway'd by Rules not natural but affected
I hate Mankind for fear of being lov'd.

Marc.
'Tis nothing less than Witchcraft can constrain
Still to persist in Errors we perceive!
Prithee reform; what Nature prompts us to,
And Reason seconds, why should we avoid?
This Honour is the veriest Mountebank,
It fits our Fancies with affected Tricks
And makes us freakish; what a Cheat must that be
Which robs our Lives of all their softer hours,
Beauty, our only Treasure it lays waste.
Hurries us over our neglected Youth,
To the detested state of Age and Ugliness,
Tearing our dearest Hearts Desires from us.
Then in reward of what it took away
Our Joys, our Hopes, our Wishes and Delights
It bountifully pays us all with Pride!
Poor shifts! still to be proud and never pleas'd,
Yet this is all your Honour can do for you.

Claud.
Concluded like thy self, for sure thou art
The most corrupt corrupting thing alive,
Yet glory not too much in cheating Wit:
'Tis but false VVisdom; and its Property,
Has ever been to take the part of Vice,
VVhich tho' the Fancy with vain shows it please,
Yet wants a power to satisfie the Mind.

Lucina wakes.
Claud.
But see my Lady wakes and comes this way.
Bless me! how pale and how confus'd she looks!

Luc.
In what Fantastique new world have I been?
VVhat Horrors past? what threatning Visions seen?
VVrapt as I lay in my amazing Trance,
The Host of Heav'n and Hell did round me Dance:
Debates arose betwixt the Pow'rs above
And those below: Methoughts they talkt of Love.
And nam'd me often; but it could not be
Of any Love that had to do with me.
For all the while they talk'd and argu'd thus,
I never heard one word of Maximus.
Discourteous Nymphs! who own these murmuring Floods
And you unkind Divinities o'th' VVoods!
VVhen to your Banks and Bowers I came distrest
Half dead throu' Absence seeking Peace and Rest.
VVhy would you not protect by these your Streams
A sleeping wretch from such wild dismal Dreams!
Mishapen Monsters round in Measures went
Horrid in Form with Gestures insolent;
Grinning throu' Goatish Beards with half clos'd Eyes,
They look'd me in the face frighted to rise!
In vain I did attempt, methought no Ground
VVas to support my sinking Footsteps! found.
In clammy Fogs like one half choak'd I lay,
Crying for help my Voyce was snatch'd away.
And when I would have fled,
My Limbs benumm'd, or dead.
Could not my Will with Terror wing'd obey
Upon my absent Lord for help I cry'd
But in that Moment when I must have dy'd:
With Anguish of my Fears confusing pains
Relenting Sleep loos'd his Tyrannick Chains

Claud.
Madam, Alas such Accidents as these
Are not of value to disturb your Peace!
The cold damp-Dews of Night have mixt and wrought
With the dark Melancholy of your Thought.
And throu' your Fancy these Illusions brought.
I still have markt your Fondness will afford
No hour of Joy in th'absence of my Lord.

Enter Lycias.
A Ring!
Lucin.
Absent, all night—and never send me word?

Lycias.
Madam, while sleeping by those Banks you lay!
One from my Lord commanded me away.
In all obedient haste I went to Court,
Where busie Crowds confus'dly did resort;
News from the Camp it seems was then arriv'd
Of Tumults rais'd and Civil Wars contriv'd;
The Emperor frighted from his Bed does call
Grave Senators to Council in the Hall—
Throngs of ill-favour'd Faces fill'd with Scars
Wait for Employments praying hard for Wars
At Council Door attend with fair pretence
In Knavish Decency and Reverence
Banquers, who with officious Diligence—
Lend Money to supply the present need
At treble Use that greater may succeed,
So publick Wants will private Plenty breed,
Whisp'ring in every Corner you might see.

Lucin.
But what's all this to Maximus and me?
Where is my Lord? what Message has he sent?
Is he in Health? What fatal Accident,
Does all this while his wisht Return prevent?

Lycias.
When ere the Gods that happy hour decree,
May he appear safe and with Victory;
Of many Hero's who stood Candidate
To be the Arbiters 'twixt Rome and Fate;
To quell Rebellion and protect the Throne
A Choice was made of Maximus alone;
The People, Souldiers, Senate, Emperor
For Maximus with one consent concur.
Their new-born hopes now hurry him away,
Nor will their Fears admit one moments stay:
Trembling through Terror lest he come too late
They huddle his Dispatch while at the Gate
The Emperor's Chariots to conduct him wast.

Lucina.
These fatal Honours my dire Dream foretold!
Why should the Kind be ruin'd by the Bold?
He ne'r reflects upon my Destiny
So careless of himself, undoing mee
Ah Claudia! in my Visions so unskill'd
Hee'l to the Army go and there be kill'd.
Forgetful of my Love; Hee'l not afford
The easie Favour of a parting Word;
Of all my Wishes hee's alone the Scope
And hee's the only End of all my Hope,
My fill of Joy, and what is yet above
Joys, Hopes, and Wishes—He is all my Love:
Mysterious Honour tell me what thou art!
That takes up diff'rent Forms in every Heart;
And dost to diverse Ends and Interests move
Conquest is his—my Honour is my Love.
Both these do Paths so oppositely chuse
By following one you must the other lose.
So two strait Lines from the same Point begun.
Can never meet, tho' without end they run—
Alas, I rave!

Lycias.
Look on thy Glory, Love, and smile to see
Two faithful Hearts at strife for Victory!
Who blazing in thy sacred Fires contend
While both their equal Flames to Heav'n ascend,
The God that dwells in Eyes light on my Tongue
Lest in my Message I his Passion wrong;
You'l better guess the Anguish of his Heart,
From what you feel, then what I can impart;
But Madam, know the Moment I was come,
His watchful Eye perceiv'd me in the Room;
When with a quick precipitated haste
From Cæsar's Bosom where he stood embrac'd
Piercing the busie Crowd to me he past—
Tears in his Eyes; his Orders in his Hand,
He scarce had Breath to give this short Command.
With thy best speed to my Lucina fly,
If I must part unseen by her I dy,
Decrees inevitable from above,
And Fate which takes too little Care of Love,
Force me away: Tell her 'tis my Request,
By those kind Fires she kindled in my Breast;
Our future Hopes and all that we hold dear,
She instantly wou'd come and see me here.
That parting Griefs to her I may reveal
And on her Lips propitious Omens seal.
Affairs that press in this short space of time
Afford no other place without a Crime;
And that thou maist not fail of wisht for Ends
In a success whereon my Life depends
Give her this Ring.

[Looks on the Ring.
Lucin.
How strange soever these Commands appear
Love awes my Reason, and controuls my Fear.
But how couldst thou employ thy lavish Tongue
So idly to be telling this so long!
When ev'ry moment thou hast spent in vain,
Was half the Life that did to me remain.
Flatter me, Hope, and on my Wishes smile,
And make me happy yet a little while.
If through my Fears I can such Sorrow show
As to convince I perish if he go:
Pity perhaps his Gen'rous Heart may move
To sacrifice his Glory to his Love.
I'l not despair!
Who knows how eloquent these Eyes may prove
Begging in Floods of Tears and Flames of Love.
[Exit Lucina.

Lycias.
Thanks to the Devil, my Friend, now all's our own,
How easily this mighty work was done!
Well! first or last all Women must be won—
“It is their Fate and cannot be withstood
“The wise do still comply with Flesh and Blood;
“Or if through peevish Honour Nature fail
“They do but lose their Thanks; Art will prevail.

[Exit.

SCENE 4.

Enter Æcius persuing Pontius, and Maximus following.
Max.
Temper your self, Æcius.

Pont.
Hold, my Lord—I am a Souldier and a Roman!

Max.
Pray Sir!

Æcius.
Thou art a lying Villain and a Traytor.
Give me my self, or by the Gods, my Friend,
You'l make me dang'rous: How dar'st thou pluck
The Souldiers to Sedition and I living?
And sow Seeds of rank Rebellion even then
VVhen I am drawing out to Action?

Pont.
Hear me!

Max.
Are you a man?

Æcius.
I am true, Maximus!
And if the Villain live, we are dishonour'd.

Max.
But hear him what he can say!

Æcius.
That's the way
To pardon him, I am so easie-Natur'd,
That if he speak but humbly, I forgive him.

Pont.
I do beseech you, worthy General!

Æcius.
H'has found the way already. Give me room,
And if he scape me then, H'has Mercy.

Pont.
I do not call you VVorthy, that I fear you:
I never car'd for Death; if you will kill me,
Consider first for what! not what you can do:
'Tis true I know you are my General;
And by that great Prerogative may kill.—

Æcius.
He argues with me!
By Heav'n a made-up finisht Rebel.

Max.
Pray consider what certain ground you have.

Æcius.
What Grounds?
Did I not take him preaching to the Souldiers,
How lazily they liv'd; and what dishonour
It was to serve a Prince so full of Softness!
These were his very Words, Sir.

Max.
These! Æcius,
Tho' they were rashly spoken, which was an Error,
A great one, Pontius! yet from him that hungers
For War, and brave Employment might be pardon'd!
The Heart, and harbour'd Thoughts of ill makes Traytors,—
Not spleemy Speeches—

Æcius.
Why should you protect him?
Go to—it scarce shews honest—

Max.
Taint me not!
For that shews worse, Æcius! All your Friendship
And that pretended Love you lay upon me;
(Hold back my Honesty!) is like a Favour
You do your Slave to day-to morrow hang him:
Was I your Bosom-Friend for this?

Æcius.
Forgive me!
So zealous is my Duty for my Prince,
That oft it makes me to forget my self;
And tho' I strive to be without my Passion,
I am no God, Sir; For you whose infection
Has spred it self like Poyson throu' the Army,
And cast a killing Fogg on fair Allegiance!
First thank this Noble Gentleman; you had dy'd else:
Next from your Place and Honour of a Souldier
I here seclude you.

Pont.
May I speak yet?

Max.
Hear him.

Æcius.
And while Æcius holds a Reputation
At least Command! you bear no Arms for Rome, Sir.

Pont.
Against her I shall never: The condemn'd man
Has yet the priviledge to speak, my Lord,
Law were not equal else.

Max.
Pray hear, Æcius,
For happily the fault he has committed
Tho' I believe it mighty; yet consider'd,
If Mercy may be thought upon will prove
Rather a hasty Sin that heinous.

Æcius.
Speak.

Pont.
'Tis true, my Lord, you took me tir'd with peace
My Words as rough and ragged as my Fortune,
Telling the Souldiers what a man we serve
Led from us by the Flourishes of Fencers;
I blam'd him too for softness.

Æcius.
To the rest, Sir.

Pont.
'Tis true I told 'em too
We lay at home to shew our Country
We durst go naked, durst want Meat and Money;
And when the Slaves drink Wine, we durst be thirsty.
I told 'em too the Trees and Roots
Were our best Pay-masters.
Tis likely too I councell'd 'em to turn
Their warlike Pikes to Plow-shares, their sure Targets
And Swords hatcht with the Blood of many Nations
To Spades and Pruning-Knives: their warlike
Eagles, into Daws and Starlings.

Æcius.
What think you
Were these Words to be spoken by a Captain
One that should give Example?

Max.
'Twas too much.

Pont.
My Lord! I did not wooe 'em from the Empire,
Nor bid 'em turn their daring Steel against Cæsar;
The Gods for ever hate me if that motion
Were part of me; Give me but Employment
And way to live, and where you find me vicious
Bred up to mutiny, my Sword shall tell you,
And if you please that Place I held maintain it
'Gainst the most daring Foes of Rome, I'm honest!
A Lover of my Country one that holds
His Life no longer His than kept for Cæsar:
Weigh not—(I thus low on my Knee beseech you!
What my rude Tongue discover'd 'twas my want,
No other part of Pontius; You have seen me
And you, my Lord, do something for my Country,
And both the wounds I gave and took
Not like a backward Traytor.

Æcius.
All your Language
Makes but against you, Pontius! you are cast,
And by my Honour and my Love to Cæsar
By me shall never be restor'd in Camp;
I will not have a Tongue, tho' to himself
Dare talk but near Sedition: As I govern
All shall obey, and when they want, their Duty
And ready Service shall redress their needs,
Not prating what they wou'd be.

Pont.
Thus I leave you,
Yet shall my Pray'rs, altho' my wretched Fortune
Must follow you no more, be still about you.
Gods give you where you fight the Victory!
You cannot cast my wishes.

Æcius.
Come, my Lord!
Now to the Field again.

Max.
Alas poor Pontius!

[Exit.