University of Virginia Library

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.