Beaumont and Fletcher's Works, Vol. 05 of 10

In which Cosroe in his own person fights,
Stands firm, and yet unrouted; Break thorow that,
The day, and all is ours. [Retreat.

All. Victory, Victory. [Exeunt. Flourish.

SCENE VI.

Enter, in Triumph with Roman Ensigns, Guard, Dioclesian, Charinus, Aurelia, Maximinian, Niger, Geta, Cosroe, Cassana, Persians, as Prisoners; Delphia, and Drusilla, privately.

Dio. I am rewarded in the Act; your freedome
To me's ten thousand Triumphs; You Sir, share,
In all my glories. And unkind Aurelia,
From being a Captive, still command the Victor.
Nephew, remember by whose gift you are free;
You I afford my pity; baser minds
Insult on the afflicted, you shall know,
Vertue and Courage are admir'd and lov'd
In Enemies; but more of that hereafter.
Thanks to your valour; to your Swords I owe
This Wreath triumphant. Nor be thou forgot
My first poor Bondman, Geta, I am glad
Thou art turn'd a fighter.

Get. 'Twas against my will;
But now I am content with't.

Char. But imagine
What honours can be done to you beyond these,
Transcending all example; 'tis in you
To will, in us to serve it.

Nig. We will have
His Statue of pure gold set in the Capitol,
And he that bows not to it as a god,
Makes forfeit of his head.

Max. I burst with envy;
And yet these honours, which conferr'd on me,
Would make me pace on air, seem not to move him.

Dio. Suppose this done, or were it possible
I could rise higher still, I am a man,
And all these glories, Empires heap'd upon me,
Confirm'd by constant friends, and faithful Guards,
Cannot defend me from a shaking Feaver,
Or bribe the uncorrupted Dart of Death
To spare me one short minute. Thus adorn'd
In these triumphant Robes, my body yields not
A greater shadow, than it did when I
Liv'd both poor and obscure; a Swords sharp point
Enters my flesh as far; dreams break my sleep
As when I was a private man; my passions
Are stronger tyrants on me; nor is Greatness
A saving Antidote to keep me from
A Traytors poyson. Shall I praise my fortune,
Or raise the building of my happiness
On her uncertain favour? or presume
She is mine own, and sure, that yet was never
Constant to any? Should my reason fail me
(As flattery oft corrupts it) here's an example,
To speak how far her smiles are to be trusted;
The rising Sun, this morning, saw this man
The Persian Monarch, and those Subjects proud
That had the honour but to kiss his feet;
And yet e're his diurnal progress ends,
He is the scorn of Fortune: but you'll say,
That she forsook him for his want of courage,
But never leaves the bold. Now by my hopes
Of peace and quiet here, I never met
A braver Enemy; and to make it good,
Cosroe, Cassana and the rest, be free,
And ransomless return.

Cos. To see this vertue
Is more to me than Empire; and to be
O'rcome by you, a glorious victory.

Max. What o' Devil means he next?

Dio. I know that glory
Is like Alcides's Shirt, if it stay on us
Till pride hath mixt it with our blood; nor can we
Part with it at pleasure: when we would uncase,
It brings along with it both flesh and sinews,
And leaves us living Monsters.

Max. Would it were come
To my turn to put it on: I'd run the hazard.

Dio. No, I will not be pluck'd out by the ears
Out of this glorious Castle; uncompell'd
I will surrender rather; Let it suffice
I have toucht the height of humane happiness,
And here I fix nil ultra. Hitherto
I have liv'd a servant to ambitious thoughts,
And fading glories; what remains of life,
I dedicate to Vertue; and to keep
My faith untainted, farewel Pride and Pomp,
And circumstance of glorious Majestie,
Farewel for ever. Nephew, I have noted,
That you have long with sore eyes look'd upon
My flourishing Fortune; you shall have possession
Of my felicity; I deliver up
My Empire, and this gem I priz'd above it,
And all things else that made me worth your envy,
Freely unto you. Gentle Sir, your suffrage,
To strengthen this; the Souldiers love I doubt not;
His valour, Gentlemen, will deserve your favours,
Which let my prayers further. All is yours;
But I have been too liberal, and giv'n that
I must beg back again.

Max. What am I faln from!

Dio. Nay, start not; it is only the poor Grange,
The Patrimony which my father left me,
I would be Tenant to.

Max. Sir, I am yours;
I will attend you there.

Dio. No, keep the Court;
Seek you in Rome for honour: I will labour
To find content elswhere. Disswade me not,
By ——, I am resolv'd. And now Drusilla,
Being as poor as when I vow'd to make thee
My wife, if thy love since hath felt no change,
I am ready to perform it.

Dru. I still lov'd
Your Person, not your fortunes: in a cottage,
Being yours, I am an Empress.

Del. And I'le make
The change most happy.

Dio. Do me then the honour,
To see my vow perform'd. You but attend
My Glories to the urn; where be it ashes,
Welcom my mean estate: and as a due,
Wish rest to me, I honour unto you. [Exeunt.

Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.

Enter CHORUS.

Cho. The War with glory ended; and Cosroe
(Acknowledging his fealtie to Charinus)
Dismiss'd in peace, returns to Persia:
The rest, arriving safely unto Rome,
Are entertained with triumphs: Maximinian,
By the grace and intercession of his Uncle,
Saluted Cæsar: but good Dioclesian,
Weary of Pomp and State, retires himself
With a small Train, to a most private Grange
In Lombardie; where the glad Countrey strives
With Rural Sports to give him entertainment:
With which delighted, he with ease forgets
All specious trifles, and securely tastes
The certain pleasures of a private life.
But oh Ambition, that eats into
With venom'd teeth, true thankfulness, and honour,
And to support her greatness, fashions fears,
Doubts, and preventions to decline all dangers,
Which in the place of safetie, prove her ruine:
All which be pleas'd to see in Maximinian,
To whom, his confer'd Sovera[ignt]y was like
A large sail fill'd full with a fore-right wind,
That drowns a smaller Bark: and he once faln
Into ingratitude, makes no stop in mischief,
But violently runs on. Allow Maximinian all,
Honour, and Empire, absolute command;
Yet being ill, long great he cannot stand. [Exit.

SCENE II.

Enter Maximinian, and Aurelia.

Aur. Why droops my Lord, my Love, my life, my Cæsar?
How ill this dulness doth comport with greatness!
Does not (with open arms) your fortune court you?
Rome know you for her Master, I my self
Confess you for my husband? love, and serve you?
If you contemn not these, and think them curses,
I know no blessings that ambitious flesh
Could wish to feel beyond 'em.

Max. Best Aurelia,
The parent and the nurse to all my Glories,
'Tis not that thus embracing you, I think
There is a Heaven beyond it, that begets
These sad retirements; but the fear to lose
What it is hell to part with: better to have liv'd
Poor and obscure, and never scal'd the top
Of hilly Empire, than to die with fear
To be thrown headlong down, almost as soon
As we have reach'd it.

Aur. These are Pannick terrours
You fashion to your self: Is not my Brother
(Your equal and copartner in the Empire)
Vow'd and confirm'd your friend? the Souldier constant?
Hath not your Uncle Dioclesian taken
His last farewel o'th' world? What then can shake ye?

Max. The thought I may be shaken: and assurance
That what we do possess is not our own,
But has depending on anothers favour:
For nothing's more uncertain (my Aurelia)
Than power that stands not on his proper Basis,
But borrows his foundation. I'le make plain
My cause of doubts and fears; for what should I
Conceal from you, that are to be familiar
With my most private thoughts? Is not the Empire
My Uncles gift? and may he not resume it
Upon the least distaste? Does not Charinus
Cross me in my designs? And what is Majestie
When 'tis divided? Does not the insolent Souldier
Call my command 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; as we desire
To be secure, we must be absolute,
And know no equal: when your Brother borrows
The little splendor that he has from us,
And we are serv'd for fear, not at entreaty,
We may live safe; but till then, we but walk
With heavie burthens on a sea of glass,
And our own weight will sink us.

Aur. Your Mother brought you
Into the world an Emperour: you perswade
But what I would have counsell'd: Nearness of blood,
Respect of pietie, and thankfulness,
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. On then, and forget
Your simple Uncle; think he was the Master
(In being once an Emperour) of a Jewel,
Whose worth and use he knew not: For Charinus,
No more my Brother, if he be a stop
To what you purpose; he to Me's a stranger,
And so to be remov'd.

Max. Thou more than woman,
Thou masculine Greatness, to whose soaring spirit
To touch the stars seems but an easie flight;
O how I glory in thee! those great women
Antiquitie is proud of, thou but nam'd,
Shall be no more remembred: but persevere,
And thou shalt shine among those lesser lights,

Enter Charinus, Niger, Guard.

To all posteritie like another Phebe,
And so ador'd as she is.

Aur. Here's Charinus,
His brow furrow'd with anger.

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

Cha. He dispose of
My Provinces at his pleasure? and confer
Those honours (that 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,
Courtesie shall not fool me; he shall know
I lent a hand to raise him, and defend him,
While he continues good: but the same strength
If pride make him usurp upon my Right,
Shall strike him to the Center. You are well met, Sir.

Max. As you make the Encounter: Sir, I hear,
That you repine, and hold your self much griev'd,
In that, without your good leave, I bestow'd
The Gallian Proconsulship upon
A follower of mine.

Cha. 'Tis true: and wonder
You durst attempt it.

Max. Durst, Charinus?

Cha. Durst:
Again, I speak it: Think you me so tame,
So leaden and unactive, to sit down
With such dishonour? But, recal your grant,
And speedily; or by the Roman ——
Thou tripst thine own heels up, and hast no part
In Rome, or in the Empire.

Max. Thou hast none,
But by permission: Alas, poor Charinus,
Thou shadow of an Emperour, I scorn thee,
Thee, and thy foolish threats: the gods appoint him
The absolute disposer of the Earth,
That has the sharpest sword. I am sure, Charinus,
Thou wear'st one without edge. When cruel Aper
Had kill'd Numerianus, thy Brother,
(An act that would have made a trembling coward
More daring than Alcides) thy base fear
Made thee wink at it: then rose up my Uncle
(For the honour of the Empire, and of Rome)
Against the Traitor, and among his Guards
Punish'd the treason: This bold daring act
Got him the Souldiers 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 ar[t] cozen'd.
When the receiver of a courtesie
Cannot sustain the weight it carries with it,
'Tis but a Trial, not a present Act.
Thou hast in a few dayes of thy short Reign,
In over-weening pride, riot and lusts,
Sham'd noble Dioclesian, and his gift:
Nor doubt I, when it shall arrive unto
His certain knowledge, how the Empire groans
Under thy Tyranny, but he will forsake
His private life, and once again resume
His laid-by Majestie: or at least, make choice
Of such an Atlas as may bear this burthen,
Too heavie for thy shoulders. To effect this,
Lend your assistance, Gentlemen, and then doubt not
But that this mushroom (sprung up in a night)
Shall as soon wither. And for you, Aurelia,
If you esteem your honour more than tribute
Paid to your loathsome appetite, as a Furie
Flie from his loose embraces: so farewel;
E're long you shall hear more. [Exeunt.

Aur. Are you struck dumb,
That you make no reply?

Max. Sweet, I will do,
And after talk: I will prevent their plots,
And turn them on their own accursed heads.
My Uncle? good: I must not know the names
Of Pietie or Pitie. Steel my heart,
Desire of Empire, and instruct me, that
The Prince that over others would bear sway,
Checks at no Let that stops him in his way. [Exeunt.

SCENE III.

Enter three Shepherds, and two Countreymen.

1 Shep. Do you think this great man will continue here?

2 Shep. Continue here? what else? he has bought the great Farm;
A great man, with a great Inheritance,
And all the ground about it, all the woods too;
And stock'd it like an Emperour. Now, all our sports again
And all our merry Gambols, our may-Ladies,
Our evening-daunces on the Green, our Songs,
Our Holiday good cheer, our Bag-pipes now Boyes,
Shall make the wanton Lasses skip again,
Our Sheep-sheerings, and all our knacks.

3 Shep. But hark ye,
We must not call him Emperour.

1 Countr. That's all one;
He is the King of good fellows, that's no treason;
And so I'le call him still, though I be hang'd for't.
I grant ye, he has given his honour to another man,
He cannot give his humour: he is a brave fellow,
And will love us, and we'l love him. Come hither Ladon,
What new Songs, and what geers?

3 Shep. Enough: I'le tell ye
He comes abroad anon to view his grounds,
And with the help of Thirsis, and old Egon,
(If his whorson could be gon) and Amaryllis,
And some few more o'th' wenches, we will meet him,
And strike him such new springs, and such free welcoms,
Shall make him scorn an Empire, forget Majestie,
And make him bless the hour he liv'd here happy.

2 Countr. And we will second ye, we honest Carters,
We lads o'th' lash, with some blunt entertainment,
Our Teams to two pence, will give him some content,
Or we'll bawl fearfully.

3 Shep. He cannot expect now
His Courtly entertainments, and his rare Musicks,
And Ladies to delight him with their voyces;
Honest and cheerful toyes from honest meanings,
And the best hearts they have. We must be neat all:
On goes my russet jerkin with blue buttons.

1 Shep. And my green slops I was married in; my bonnet
With my carnation point with Silver tags, boyes:
You know where I won it.

1 Countr. Thou wilt ne're be old, Alexis.

1 Shep. And I shall find some toyes that have been favors,
And nose-gayes, and such knacks: for there be wenches.

3 Shep. My mantle goes on too I plaid young Paris in,
And the new garters Amaryllis sent me.

1 Count. Yes, yes: we'l all be handsom, and wash our faces.
Neighbour, I see a remnant of March dust
That's hatch'd into your chaps: I pray ye be carefull,

Enter Geta.

And mundifie your muzzel.

2 Countr. I'le to th' Barbers,
It shall cost me I know what. Who's this?

3 Shep. Give room, neighbours,
A great man in our State: gods bless your worship.

2 Countr. Encrease your Mastership.

Get. Thanks, my good people:
Stand off, and know your duties: as I take it
You are the labouring people of this village,
And you that keep the sheep. Stand farther off yet,
And mingle not with my authoritie,
I am too mighty for your companie.

3 Shep. We know it Sir; and we desire your worship
To reckon us amongst your humble servants,
And that our Country Sports, Sir,—

Get. For your Sports, Sir,
They may be seen, when I shall think convenient,
When out of my discretion, I shall view 'em,
And hold 'em fit for licence. Ye look upon me,
And look upon me seriously, as ye 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 durt, so fashion'd:
But Time, that purifies all things of merit,
Has set another stamp. Come nearer now,
And be not fearfull; I take off my austeritie:
And know me for the great and mighty Steward
Under this man of honour: know ye for my vassals,
And at my pleasure I can dispeople ye,
Can blow you and your cattel out o'th' Country:
But fear me, and have favour. Come, go along with me,
And I will hear your Songs, and perhaps like 'em.

3 Shep. I hope you will, Sir.

Geta. 'Tis not a thing impossible,
Perhaps I'le sing my self, the more to grace ye,
And if I like your women.

3 Shep. We'l have the best, Sir,
Handsom young Girls.

Geta. The handsomer, the better.

Enter Delphia.

'May bring your wives too, 'twill be all one charge to ye;
For I must know your families.

Del. 'Tis well said,
'Tis well said, honest friends; I know ye are hatching
Some pleasurable sports for your great Landlord:
Fill him with joy, and win him a friend to ye,
And make this little Grange seem a large Empire,
Let out with home-contents: I'le work his favour,
Which daily shall be on ye.

3 Shep. Then we'l sing daily,
And make him the best Sports.

Del. Instruct 'em Geta,
And be a merry man again.

Geta. Will ye lend me a devil,
That we may dance a while?

Del. I'le lend thee two.
And Bag-pipes that shall blow alone.

Get. I thank ye:
But I'le know your devils of a cooler complexion first.
Come, follow, follow; I'le go sit and see ye. [Exeunt.

Enter Diocles, and Drusilla.

Del. Do; and be ready an hour hence, and bring 'em;
For in the Grove you'l find him.

Dio. Come Drusilla,
The partner of my best contents: I hope now
You dare believe me.

Dru. Yes, and dare say to ye,
I think ye now most happie.

Dio. You say true, Sweet,
For by my ——, I find now by experience,
Content was never Courtier.

Dru. I pray ye walk on, Sir;
The cool shades of the Grove invite ye.

Dio. O my Dearest!
When man has cast off his ambitious greatness,
And sunk into the sweetness of himself;
Built his foundation upon honest thoughts,
Not great, but good desires his daily servants;
How quie[t]ly 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 shake our sweet contents: nor here, Drusilla,
Cares, like Eclipses, darken our endeavours:
We love here without rivals, kiss with innocence;
Our thoughts as gentle as our lips; our children
The double heirs both of our forms and faiths.

Dru. I am glad ye make this right use of this sweetness,
This sweet retiredness.

Dio. 'Tis sweet indeed, love,
And every circumstance about it, shews it.
How liberal is the spring in every place here?
The artificial Court shews but a shadow,
A painted imitation of this glory.
Smell to this flower, here nature has her excellence:
Let all the perfumes of the Empire pass this,
The carefull'st Ladies cheek shew such a colour,
They are gilded and adulterate vanities.
And here in Povertie dwells noble nature.
What pains we take to cool our wines, to allay us, [Musick below.
And bury quick the fuming god to quench us,
Methinks this Crystal Well.—Ha! what strange Musick?
'Tis underneath, sure: how it stirs and joys me?
How all the birds set on? the fields redouble
Their odoriferous sweets? Hark how the echo's—

Enter a Spirit from the Well.

Drus. See, Sir, those flowers
From out the Well, spring to your entertainment.

Enter Delphia.

Dio. Bless me.

Dru. Be not afraid, 'tis some good Angel
That's come to welcome ye.

Del. Go near and hear, Son. [SONG.

Dio. O Mother, thank ye, thank ye, this was your will.

Del. You shall not want delights to bless your presence.
Now ye are honest, all the Stars shall honour ye.

Enter Shepherds and dancers.

Stay, here are Country-shepherds; here is some sport too,
And you must grace it, Sir; 'twas meant to welcom ye;
A King shall never feel your joy. Sit down Son.

A dance of Shepherds and Shepherdesses; Pan leading the men, Ceres the maids.

Hold, hold, my Messenger appears: leave off, friends,
Leave off a while, and breathe.

Dio. What news? ye are pale, Mother.

Del. No, I am careful of thy safety, Son,
Be not affrighted, but sit still; I am with thee.

Enter Maximinian, Aurelia, Souldiers.

And now dance out your dance. Do you know that person?
Be not amaz'd, but let him shew his dreadfullest.

Max. How confident he sits amongst his pleasures,
And what a chearful colour shews in's face,
And yet he sees me too, the Souldiers with me.

Aur. Be speedie in your work, (you will be stopt else)
And then you are an Emperour.

Max. I will about it.

Dio. My Royal Cousin, how I joy to see ye,
You, and your Royal Emperess!

Max. You are too kinde, Sir.
I come not to eat with ye, and to surfeit
In these poor Clownish pleasures; but to tell ye
I look upon ye like my Winding-sheet,
The Coffin of my Greatness, nay, my Grave:
For whilst you are alive—

Dio. Alive, my Cousin?

Max. I say, Alive. I am no Emperour;
I am nothing but mine own disquiet.

Dio. Stay, Sir.

Max. I cannot stay. The Souldiers doat upon ye.
I would fain spare ye; but mine own securitie
Compels me to forget you are my Uncle,
Compels me to forget you made me Cæsar:
For whilst you are remembred, I am buried.

Dio. Did not I make ye Emperour, dear [C]ousin,
The free gift from my special grace?

Del. Fear nothing.

Dio. Did not I chuse this povertie, to raise you?
That Royal woman gave into your arms too?
Bless'd ye with her bright beautie? gave the Souldiers,
The Souldier that hung to me, fix'd him on ye?
Gave ye the worlds command?

Max. This cannot help ye.

Dio. Yet this shall ease me. Can ye be so base, Cousin,
So far from Nobleness, so far from nature,
As to forget all this? to tread this Tie out?
Raise to your self so foul a monument
That every common foot shall kick asunder?
Must my blood glue ye to your peace?

Max. It must, Uncle;
I stand too loose else, and my foot too feeble:
You gone once, and their love retir'd, I am rooted.

Dio. And cannot this remov'd poor State obscure me?
I do not seek for yours, nor enquire ambitiously
After your growing fortunes. Take heed, my kinsman,
Ungratefulness and blood mingled together,
Will, like two furious Tides—

Max. I must sail thorow 'em:
Let 'em be Tides of death, Sir, I must stem up.

Dio. Hear but this last, and wisely yet consider:
Place round about my Grange a Garison,
That if I offer to exceed my limits,
Or ever in my common talk name Emperour,
Ever converse with any greedy Souldier,
Or look for adoration, nay, for courtesie
Above the days salute.—Think who has fed ye,
Think, Cousin, who I am. Do ye slight my misery?
Nay, then I charge thee; nay, I meet thy crueltie.

Max. This cannot serve; prepare: now fall on, souldiers,
And all the treasure that I have. [Thunder and Lightning.

Sould. The Earth shakes;
We totter up and down; we cannot stand, Sir;
Me thinks the mountains tremble too.

2 Sould. The flashes
How thick and hot they come? we shall be burn'd all.

Del. Fall on, Souldiers:
You that sell innocent blood, fall on full bravely.

Sould. We cannot stir.

Del. You have your libertie,
So have you, Lady. One of you come do it.

[A hand with a Bolt appears above.

Do you stand amaz'd? Look o're thy head, Maximinian,
Look to thy terrour, what over-hangs thee:
Nay, it will nail thee dead; look how it threatens thee:
The Bolt for vengeance on ungrateful wretches;
The Bolt of innocent blood: read those hot characters,
And spell the will of heaven. Nay, lovely Lady,
You must take part too, as spur to ambition,
Are ye humble? Now speak; my part's ended.
Does all your glory shake?

Max. Hear us, great Uncle,
Good and great Sir, be pitiful unto us:
Below your feet we lay our lives: be merciful:
Begin you, heaven will follow.

Aur. Oh, it shakes still.

Max. And dreadfully it threatens. We acknowledge
Our base and foul intentions. Stand between us;
For faults confess'd, they say, are half forgiven.
We are sorry for our sins. Take from us, Sir,
That glorious weight that made us swell, that poison'd us;
That mass of Majestie I laboured under,
(Too heavie and too mighty for my manage)
That my poor innocent days may turn again,
And my mind pure, may purge me of these curses;
By your old love, the blood that runs between us.

[The hand taken in.

Aur. By that love once ye bare to me, by that Sir,
That blessed maid enjoys—

Dio. Rise up, dear Cousin,
And be your words your judges: I forgive ye:
Great as ye are, enjoy that greatness ever,
Whilst I mine own content make mine own Empire.
Once more I give ye all; learn to deserve it,
And live to love your Good more than your Greatness.
Now shew your loves to entertain this Emperour
My honest neighbours. Geta, see all handsom.
Your Grace must pardon us, our house is little;
But such an ample welcom as a poor man
And his true love can make you and your Empress.
Madam, we have no dainties.

Aur. 'Tis enough, Sir;
We shall enjoy the riches of your goodness.

Sould. Long live the good and gracious Dioclesian.

Dio. I thank ye, Souldiers, I forgive your rashness.
And Royal Sir, long may they love and honour ye.

[Drums march afar off.

What Drums are those?

Del. Meet 'em, my honest Son,
They are thy friends, Charinus and the old Souldiers
That come to rescue thee from thy hot Cousin.
But all is well, and turn all into welcoms:
Two Emperours you must entertain now.

Dio. O dear Mother,
I have will enough, but I want room and glory.

Del. That shall be my care. Sound your pipes now merrily,
And all your handsom sports. Sing 'em full welcoms.

Dio. And let 'em know, our true love breeds more stories
And perfect joys, than Kings do, and their glories.

[Exeunt