University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

SCENE I.

Scene a Pallace.
Enter Maximinian and Aurelia.
Aur.
Why droops my Lord, my Love, my Life, my Cæsar?
Does not (with open Arms) your Fortune court you?
Rome owns you for her Master; I my self
Obey you as my Husband, love and serve you.
If you contemn not these, and think 'em Curses,
I have no other Hope nor no Ambition,
No Wish beyond this Happiness.

Max.
Oh my Aurelia!
Thou Parent, and thou Nurse of all my Glories,
And Comfort of my Life; I had better liv'd
Poor and obscure, and never reach'd the Top
Of this great Empire, than be in daily danger
To be thrown headlong down, almost as soon
As I have reach'd it.

Aur.
These are Pannick Terrors
You fashion to your self. Is not my Brother
(Your Equal and Copartner in the Empire)
Vow'd and confirm'd your Friend? the Soldier constant?
Has not your Uncle Dioclesian taken
His Farewel of the World? What then disturbs you?

Max.
The Fear I am not fixt, and the Assurance
That what I am possest of's not my own,
But still depends upon another's Favour,
For nothing's more uncertain (my Aurelia)
Than Power that stands not on its proper Basis.
Oh, the Foundation's Weak! But I'll be plainer,
I'le hide no Thought from you. Is not the Empire
My Uncle's Gift? and may he not resume it
Upon the least Distaste? Does not Charinus
Cross me in my Designs? And what is Majesty,
When 'tis divided? Does not the insolent Soldier
Call what I have, his Donative? And what can take
More from our Honour? No, (my wise Aurelia)
If I to you am more than all the World,
As sure you are to me; if we desire
To be secure, we must be Absolute,
And know no Equal.
When we are obey'd for Fear and not Entreaty,
Then we are safe.

Aur.
Your Mother brought you
Into the World an Emperor: You persuade
But what I would have counsel'd. Nearness of Blood,
Respect, Piety, and Gratitude,
And all the Holy Dreams of Vertuous Fools,
Must vanish into Nothing, when Ambition
(The Maker of great Minds, and Nurse of Honour)
Puts in for Empire: Then you must forget
Your simple Uncle, think he was the Master
(In being once an Emperor) of a Jewel
Whose Worth and Use he knew not. For Charinus,
(No more my Brother) if he be a Stop
To your Designs, he is to me a Stranger,
And so to be remov'd.

Max.
Thou more than Woman,
Thou Masculine Greatness,
Oh how I glory in thee! Those Great Women
Antiquity is proud of, when thou art nam'd,
Shall be no more remembred. Be but constant,
And thou shalt shine among those lesser Lights
To all Posterity like another Phœbe,
And be ador'd as she is.

Enter Charinus, Niger, and Guards.
Aur.
Here's Charinus, with Anger on his brow.

Max.
Let him storm,
And you shall hear me thunder.

Cha.
He dispose of
My Provinces at his pleasure, and confer
Those Honours (which are only mine to give)
Upon his Creatures!

Nig.
Mighty Sir, ascribe it
To his assurance of your Love and Favour,
And not to Pride or Malice.

Cha.
No, good Niger,
Courtisie shall not fool me; he shall know
I lent a Hand to raise him, and will defend him
While he continues Good: But the same Strength,
If Pride makes him usurp upon my Right,
Shall strike him to the Center. You are well met, Sir.

Max.
That's as you please to make it. Sir, I hear
That you repine, and think your self much wrongd,
Because, without your Leave, I have bestow'd
The Gallian Pro-Consulship upon
A Follower of mine.

Cha.
'Tis true; and wonder you durst attempt it.

Max.
Durst, Charinus!

Cha.
Durst, Maximinian;
Again I speak it. Think you me so tame,
So heavy, and unactive, to sit down
With such Dishonour? But recall your Grant,
And speedily; or by the Roman Gods,
It quickly shall be try'd who has most Power
In Rome, and in the Empire.

Max.
Thou hast none,
But by Permission. Alas! poor Charinus,
Thou Shadow of an Emperor, I scorn thee,
Thee, and thy Childish Threats. The Gods appoint him
The absolue Disposer of the Earth
Who has the sharpest Sword: I am sure, Charinus,
Thou wear'st too dull a one. When cruel Aper
Had kill'd Numerianus, thy Brother,
(An Act that would have made a trembling Coward
As daring as Alcides) thy poor Fear
Made thee wink at it: Then rose up my Uncle,
(The Honour of the Empire, and of Rome)
Against the Traytor, and, amidst his Guards,
Punish'd the Treason. This bold daring Act
Got him the Soldiers Suffrages to be Cæsar;
And howsoever his too gentle Nature
Allow'd thee the Name only, as his Gift,
I challenge the Succession.

Cha.
Thou art cozen'd.
When the Receiver of a Courtesie
Cannot sustain the Weight it carries with it,
'Tis but a Trial, not a confirm'd Act.
Thou hast in those few Days of thy short Reign
Sham'd Noble Dioclesian, and his Gift:
Nor doubt I, when he's once rightly inform'd
How much the Glorious Roman Empire groans
Under thy Tyranny, but he will forsake
His Private Life, and once again resume
His former Majesty. Then doubt not, Soldiers,
But that this Mushroom, sprung up in a Night,
Shall as soon wither. And for you, Aurelia,
If you esteem my Honour, or your own,
Fly from a certain Ruin. So farewel.
E're long you shall hear more.

[Ex. Charinus, Niger, Guards.
Aur.
Are you struck dumb,
That you make no Reply?

Max.
My Life, I'll do,
And after talk. I will prevent their Plots,
And turn 'em on their own accursed Heads.
My Uncle! Shall I live in fear of him?
Shall Justice, Piety, or Gratitude,
Stop my Ambition in its full Careere?
No, he who would a mighty Empire sway,
Must level all that stops him in his Way.

[Exeunt.
Scene A long Walk in the middle of a great Wood; at the farther end is a Prospect of Dioclesian's Grange in a delightful Valley.
Enter Two or Three Countrymen.
1 Cou.
Dost think this great Man will continue with us?

2 Cou.
Continue? yes, what else? he has bought the great Farm;
And all the Grounds about it, all the Woods too;
And stockt it like an Emperor.

1 Cou.
But hark ye.
We must not call him Emperor.

2 Cou.
That's all one,
He is the King of good Fellows, that's no Treason;
And so I'll call him, tho' I be hang'd for't.

1 Cou.
Now all our Sports again, and all our Gambols;
Our Songs, and Evening Dances on the Green.

2 Cou.
Ay, ay; he shall have Songs, if that will please him,
We'll bawl most fearfully.

1 Cou.
We must all be Fine, and Neat.
On goes my Russet Jerkin with blue Buttons.

2 Cou.
And my green Breeches I was married in.
We'll be all Handsom too, and wash our Faces.
Neighbour, I see a remnant of March Dust
That's hatch'd into your Chaps: Go to the Barbers,
And mundefie your Muzzel.

Enter Geta.
1 Cou.
It shall be done: But who comes here?

2 Cou.
No doubt 'tis some great Man.

1 Cou.
Let us be civil then, and shew our Breeding.
Heaven bless your Worship.

2 Cou.
Your Greatness, or your Mightiness, what you please, Sir.

Get.
Thanks my good People.
Stand off, and know your Duties. As I take it,
You are the labouring People of the Village,
That Plow, and Sow; keep Sheep—Stand farther off yet,
And mingle not with my Authority,
I am too mighty for your company.

1 Cou.
We know it, Sir, and we desire your Worship—

2 Cou.
Your Honour, Fool—

1 Cou.
Your Honour, Fool, to take a little notice of us,
And recommend us, Sir, to our new Landlord.
And if our Country Sports can please him, Sir.

Get.
For your Sports (my Friends) they may be seen.
Yes, out of the abundance of my Wisdom
And Favour, when they're ready, I'll behold 'em.
You stare upon me, Friends, as if you knew me.
'Tis true, I have been a Rascal as you are;
A Fellow of no mention, nor no mark,
Just such another piece of Dirt, so fashion'd.
But Time, that purifies all things of merit,
Has set another Stamp on me. Come nearer,
And be not fearful; I take off my Austerity.
Now know me for the great and mighty Steward
Under this Man of Honour.

All.
We all acknowledge you.

Get.
He was a kind of Rascal once like me,
Or little better, but that must be forgot too.
Take notice now, y'are all of ye my Vassals.
I can, as I think fit, dispose of you;
Can blow you, and your Cattel out o'th'Country.
But fear me, and have favour. Come along with me,
And I will hear your Songs, and perhaps like 'em.

1 Cou.
I hope you will, Sir.

Get.
'Tis not a thing impossible.
Perhaps I'll sing my self, the more to grace you.
And if I like your Women.

2 Cou.
We'll have the best, Sir, young, handsom Girls.

Get.
The handsomer, the better.
You may bring your Wives too, 'twill be all one charge to ye:
For I must know your Families.

All.
You shall, Sir.

Enter Delphia.
Del.
'Tis well my honest Friends, I know y'are hatching,
Some pleasurable Sports for your great Landlord.
Fill him with Joy, and Pleasure, win him to ye,
And make his little Grange seem a large Empire,
Full of all sweet content. Thus win his favour,
Which daily shall be show'rd upon you all.

Get.
Will you lend us a Devil to play Gratis?
Fidlers are very chargeable.

Del.
I, I, any thing; and Bag-pipes that shall play alone.

Get.
I thank you.
Come follow me; and get all ready instantly.

[Exeunt.
Del.
Do, and when you are prepared, come hither Friends,
You'll find him in this Grove.

Enter Diocles, and Drusilla.
Dio.
Come, my Drusilla,
The Partner, maker of my Happiness.
I hope now you believe me?

Drus.
Yes, and dare assure you,
I am most happy, if you think your self so.

Dio.
I am, my sweet.
I swear to thee, I find now by experience,
Content dwells not in Courts.

Drus.
Walk on, Sir,
The Grove is cool, the gentle Breeze refreshing.

Dio.
Oh my Drusilla,
When Man has cast off his ambitious Greatness;
Retir'd into the sweetness of himself;
Built his Foundation upon honest Thoughts,
Not great, but good Desires, his daily Servants,
How quietly he sleeps! how joyfully
He wakes again, and looks on his Possessions,
And from his willing Labours feeds with Pleasure!
Here hang no Comets in the shapes of Crowns,
To threaten our contents. Nor here, Drusilla,
Cares, like Eclipses, darken our endeavours.

Drus.
I am glad you make the right use of this sweetness.
This homely, but this innocent retiredness.

Dio.
'Tis sweet indeed,
And every circumstance about it, shews it.
How liberal is the Spring in every place?
The Artificial Court, seems but a Shadow,
A painted imitation of this glory.
How sweet the Flow'rs smell! here's Nature in perfection.
Let all the Perfumes in the Empire pass this,
The charming'st Ladies Cheek, shew such a Colour;
Here, in sweet poverty, dwells noble Nature.
And every thing we add, Adulterates her.
What Musick's this?

[Pipes within.
Del.
You shall want no Delights to entertain you;
Your Country Neighbours (Sir) are come to welcome you,
To shew their honest Sports; pray grace 'em, Sir.
A King shall never feel your Joy. Sit down Son.

Enter Countrymen, and Women; they Dance: Before 'tis half finish'd Delphia interrupts 'em.
Del.
Hold, hold, leave off a while.

Dio.
What ail you Mother? you look pale, and tremble.

Del.
No, I am only careful of your safety.
Be not disturb'd my Son, sit down again.
And now, finish your Dance.

Enter Maximinian, Aurelia, and Soldiers. They stand at a distance till the Dance is finish'd.
Del.
Do you see that mighty Man?
Be not amaz'd, but let him do his worst.

Max.
How confident he sits amongst his Pleasures!
And what a chearful Colour's in his Face!
And yet he sees me too, the Soldiers with me.

Aur.
What you have resolv'd to do, do speedily,
And then you are an Emperor.

Max.
I will.

Dio.
My Royal Cousin, how I Joy to see you;
You, and your lovely Empress!

Max.
I am not come to surfeit,
With these poor, Clownish Pleasures; but to tell you,
I look upon you like my Winding-sheet,
The Urn to all my greatness;
For whilst you are alive—

Dio.
Alive my Cousin?

Max.
I say alive, I am no Emperor;
I am nothing but my own disquiet.

Dio.
How, Sir?

Max.
'Tis true, Sir, the Soldiers doat on you.
I would fain spare you; but my own security
Compels me to forget you are my Uncle,
Compels me to forget you made me Cæsar.
For whilst you are remembred, I am despis'd.

Del.
Fear nothing.

Dio.
Did I not chuse this Poverty, to raise you?
I gave that Royal Lady to your Arms,
Blest you with her bright Beauty! Gave the Soldier,
The Soldier that hung to me, fixt him to you.
Gave you the Worlds command.

Max.
This shall not help you.

Dio.
Hear once for all, and then consider wisely,
Place round about my Grange a Garrison,
And if I offer to exceed my Limits,
Or ever in my common Talk name Emperor,
Or look for Adoration, nay for Courtesie,
Above the Days Salute.

Max.
This will not serve. Soldiers, dispatch him instantly,
And all the Treasure that I have—

[Thunder and Lightning.
1 Sol.
The Earth shakes!
We totter up and down, we cannot stand, Sir.
Methinks, the Mountains tremble too!

2 Sol.
How thick the Flashes come! we shall be burn'd all.

Del.
Fall on Soldiers.
You that sell innocent Blood. Fall on, and bravely.

Sol.
We cannot stir.

Del.
You, Sir, you have your Liberty,
So has this Lady too. Why don't you do it?
[A Hand with a Flaming Bolt in it appears over their Heads.
Are you amaz'd? Look 'ore thy Head Maximinian,
Read there the will of Heaven. Nay cruel Lady,
You have your share in it too. What say you now?
Does all your Glory quake?

Aur.
Oh it shakes still!

Max.
And dreadfully it threatens.
We acknowledge, Sir, our base and foul intentions;
And faults confess'd, they say, are half forgiven.
By your old Love, the Blood that runs between us.—

Aur.
By that Love you once bare me; by that, Sir,
This blessed Lady now injoys! Oh, Madam,
Speak for us, or we are lost for ever.

Drus.
Oh fear him not, he is all goodness Lady;
He has no Pride, no Malice, no Revenge.
He's pittiful as a forgiving God.

[The Hand is taken in.
Dio.
Rise Madam; rise my Cousin, I forgive you.
Great as you are, injoy your Greatness still,
While I place all my Empire in content.
Once more I give you all, learn to deserve it,
And henceforth study Justice, more than Greatness.
My poor House is not fit to entertain you.
But such a hearty Welcome as a poor Man
And his true Love can make you, and your Empress,
You freely shall command.

Aur.
Oh, Sir, it is enough;
We shall injoy all Riches in your Goodness.

Sol.
Long live the good and gracious Dioclesian.

Dio.
I thank you Soldiers, and forgive your rashness.
And Royal Sir, long may they honour you.
Now Mother, can you treat an Emperor?

Del.
Yes, Sir, and like himself.
He shall be entertain'd as Nobly,
As if he were in Rome; my Art shall fail me else.
Sit down, and trust to me.

[They sit all.
Enter a Bachanalian, and a Silvan, and sing the following Song in Two Parts.
Come , come away,
No delay,
Come away.
All know 'tis his will,
Then all shew their skill,
To grace Loves Triumphing Day.

While a Symphony is Playing, a Machine descends so large, it fills all the Space, from the Frontispiece of the Stage, to the farther end of the House; and fixes it self by two Ladders of Clouds to the Floor. In it are Four several Stages, representing the Pallaces of two Gods, and two Goddesses: The first is the Pallace of Flora; the Columns of red and white Marble, breaking through the Clouds; the Columns Fluted and Wreath'd about with all sorts of Flow'rage; the Pedestals and Flutings inrich'd with Gold. The Second is, The Pallace of the Goddess Pomona, the Columns of blue Marble, wound about with all kind of Fruitage, and inrich'd with Gold as the other. The Third is, The Pallace of Bacchus, the Columns of green Marble, Wreath'd and Inrich'd with Gold, with Clusters of Grapes hanging round 'em. The last is the Pallace of the Sun; it is supported on either Side by Rows of Termes, the lower part white Marble, the upper part Gold. The whole Object is terminated with a glowing Cloud, on which is a Chair of State, all of Gold, the Sun breaking through the Cloud, and making a Glory about it: As this descends, there rises from under the Stage a pleasant Prospect of a Noble Garden, consisting of Fountains, and Orange Trees set in large Vases: the middle Walk leads to a Pallace at a great distance. At the same time Enters Silvanus, Bacchus, Flora, Pomona, Gods of the Rivers, Fawns, Nymphs, Hero's, Heroines, Shepherds, Shepherdesses, the Graces, and Pleasures, with the rest of their followers. The Dancers place themselves on every Stage in the Machine: the Singers range themselves about the Stage.
CHORUS of all.
Behold, oh mightiest of Gods, behold,
At thy command we come!
The Gay, the Sad,
The Grave, the Glad,
The Youthful, and the Old,
All meet as at the Day of Doom.
Behold, oh mightiest of Gods, behold,
At thy command we come!

The First Entry of Hero's on the Stage.
After the Entry, two Wood-Gods sing in Parts.
Ah the sweet Delights of Love!
Who would live and not enjoy 'em?
I'd refuse the Throne of Jove,
Should Pow'r or Majesty destroy 'em.
Give me Doubts, and give me Fears,
Give me Sighs, and give me Tears;
But let Love, let Love remove 'em.
I approve 'em,
I approve 'em;
But let Love, let Love remove 'em.

Then one of the Fauns Sings.

CHORUS.
Hear, Mighty, &c.

The Second Entry on the First Stage in the Machin, by two Men and two Women.
Then Two of Bacchus's Followers Sing.
Make room, make room,
For the great God of Wine,
The Bacchanals come
With Liquor Divine.
Make room, &c.

Then this is sung by one of Cupid's Followers.

The Third Entry on the Second Stage in the Machin, by Four Women. Then,
After it this Dialogue, between a Shepherd and a Shepherdess.
Shepherd.
Tell me why (my Charming Fair)
Tell me why you thus deny me?
Can Despair,
Or these Sighs or Looks of Care,
Make Corinna ever fly me?
Tell me, tell me, cruel Fair,
Tell me why you thus deny me?

Shepherdess.
Oh Mirtillo! you're above me,
I respect, but dare not love ye.
The Nymph who hears, inclines to Sin;
Who Parlies, half gives up the Town;
And ravenous Love soon enters in,
When once the Out-work's beaten down,
Then my Sighs and Tears won't move ye.
No, Mirtillo, you're above me;
I respect, but dare not love ye.

Shepherd.
Could this lovely charming Maid
Think Mirtillo would deceive her?
Could Corrina be afraid
She by him should be betray'd?
No, too well, too well I love her,
Therefore cannot be above her.
Then let Love with Love be paid.
Ah! my Life, my All I give her,
Let me now, oh now receive her.

Shepherdess.
Ah! how gladly we believe,
When the Heart is too too willing:
Can that Look, that Face deceive?
Can he take delight in killing?
Ah! I die, if you deceive me!
Yet I will, I will believe ye.

CHORUS
in Two Parts.
Ah! how gladly, &c.

The Fourth Entry on the Third Stage, by two Youths.
Then this Song by one of the Pleasures.

CHORUS.
Be gone, be gone, &c.

The Sixth Entry on the farthest Stage by Two Children.
Then this CHORUS of all.
Triumph, Triumph victorious Love,
Triumph 'ore the Universe!
The greatest Hero's bow to thee;
All Nature owns thy Deity;
Thou hast tam'd the mighty Jove.
Then all rehearse,
In Noble Verse,
The Glory of all-mighty Love.
From Pole to Pole his Fame re-sound,
Sing it the Universe around!
Triumph, Triumph victorious Love,
Triumph 'ore the Universe.

Those who are on the Stage, and those who are in the several divisions of the Machine; dance a Grand Dance to the time of the Chorus. At the end of it, Drums are heard at a distance.
Dio.
What Drums are those?

Del.
They are your Friends, my Son.
Charinus, with the old the honest Soldiers.
They heard (Sir,) of your Danger, and they come
To rescue you; but all is well. Go welcome 'em;
This Night two Emperors you must entertain.

Dio.
Oh Mother!
I have the will, but not the pow'r to do it.

Del.
Leave that to me. Sound all your Instruments;
With harmless Sports, and innocent Diversions
We'll meet 'em on their March, and treat 'em Nobly.

Dio.
And let 'em know;
Quiet, Content, and true Love, breeds more Stories,
More perfect Joys, than Kings, and all their Glories.