And here she comes: I am sure of her at midnight,
My pretty Eros welcom.
Eros. I have business.
Sep. Above my love, thou canst not.
Eros. Yes indeed Sir,
Far, far above.
Sep. Why, why so coy? 'pray ye tell me
We are alone.
Eros. I am much asham'd we are so.
Sep. You want a new Gown now, & a handsom Petticoat,
A Skarf, and some odd toyes: I have gold here ready,
Thou shal[t] have any thing.
Eros. I want your absence:
Keep on your way, I care not for your company.
Sep. How? how? you are very short: do you know me Eros?
And what I have been to ye?
Eros. Yes I know ye:
And I hope I shall forget ye: Whilst you were honest
I lov'd ye too.
Sep. Honest? come prethee kiss me.
Eros. I kiss no knaves, no Murderers, no Beasts,
No base betrayers of those men that fed 'em,
I hate their looks; and though I may be wanton,
I scorn to nourish it with bloody purchase,
Purchase so foully got; I pray ye unhand me
I had rather touch the plague, than one unworthy:
Goe seek some Mistris that a horse may marry,
And keep her company, she is too good for ye. [Exit.
Sep. Marry this goes near; now I perceive I am hatefull,
When this light stuff can distinguish, it grows dangerous,
For mony, seldom they refuse a Leper:
But sure I am more odious, more diseas'd too:
It sits cold here; what are these? three poor Souldiers?
Both poor and lame: their misery may make 'em
A little look upon me, and adore me,
If these will keep me company, I am made yet.
1 Sol. The pleasure Cæsar sleeps in, makes us miserable,
We are forgot, our maims and dangers laugh'd at;
He Banquets, and we beg.
2 Sol. He was not wont
To let poor Souldiers that have spent their Fortunes,
Their Bloods, and limbs, walk up and down like vagabonds.
Sep. Save ye good Souldiers: good poor men, heaven help ye:
You have born the brunt of war, and shew the story,
1 Sol. Some new commander sure.
Sep. You look (my good friends)
By your thin faces, as you would be Suitors.
2 Sol. To Cæsar, for our means, Sir.
Sep. And 'tis fit Sir.
3 Sol. We are poor men, and long forgot.
Sep. I grieve for it:
Good Souldiers should have good rewards, and favours,
I'le give up your petitions, for I pity ye,
And freely speak to Cæsar.
All. O we honour ye.
1 Sol. A good man sure ye are: the Gods preserve ye.
Sep. And to relieve your wants the while, hold Soldiers,
Nay 'tis no dream: 'tis good gold: take it freely,
'Twill keep ye in good heart.
2 Sol. Now goodness quit ye.
Sep. I'le be a friend to your afflictions,
And eat, and drink with ye too, and we'l be merry:
And every day I'le see ye.
1 Sol. You are a Souldier,
And one sent from the Gods, I think.
Sep. I'le cloth ye,
Ye are lame, and then provide good lodging for ye:
And at my Table, where no want shall meet ye.
All. Was never such a man.
1 Sold. Dear honour'd Sir,
Let us but know your name, that we may worship ye.
2 Sold. That we may ever thank.
Sep. Why, call me any thing,
No matter for my name, that may betray me.
Sce. A cunning thief, call him Septimius, Souldiers,
The villain that kill'd Pompey.
All. How?
Sce. Call him the shame of men. [Exit.
1 Sold. O that this mony
Were weight enough to break thy brains out: fling all:
And fling our curses next: let them be mortal,
Out bloody wolf, dost thou come guilded over,
And painted with thy charitie, to poyson us?
2 Sold. I know him now: may never Father own thee,
But as a monstrous birth shun thy base memory:
And if thou hadst a Mother (as I cannot
Believe thou wert a natural Burden) let her womb
Be curs'd of women for a bed of vipers.
3 Sol. Me thinks the ground shakes to devour this rascal,
And the kind air turns into foggs and vapours,
Infectious mists, to crown his villanies.
Thou maist go wander, like a thing heaven hated.
1 Sold. And valiant minds hold poysonous to remember.
The Hangman will not keep thee company,
He has an honourable house to thine,
No, not a thief though thou couldst save his life for't
Will eat thy bread, nor one, for thirst starv'd, drink with thee.
2 Sol. Thou art no company for an honest dog,
And so we'l leave thee to a ditch (thy destiny.) [Exeunt.
Sep. Contemn'd of all? and kickt too? now I find it;
My valour's fled too, with mine honesty,
For since I would be knave I must be Coward:
This 'tis to be a Traitor, and betrayer.
What a deformity dwells round about me!
How monstrous shews that man, that is ungratefull!
I am afraid the very beasts will tear me,
Inspir'd with what I have done: the winds will blast me:
Now I am paid, and my reward dwells in me,
The wages of my fact, my soul's opprest;
Honest and noble minds, you find most rest. [Exit.
SCENA III.
Ptol. I have commanded, and it shall be so,
A preparation I have set o' foot,
Worthy the friendship and the fame of Cæsar,
My Sisters favours shall seem poor and wither'd:
Nay she her self, (trim'd up in all her beautys)
Compar'd to what I'le take his eyes withall,
Shall be a dream.
Pho. Do you mean to shew the glory,
And wealth of Egypt?
Ptol. Yes: and in that lustre,
Rome shall appear in all her famous Conquests,
And all her riches of no note unto it.
Ach. Now you are reconcil'd to your fair Sister,
Take heed Sir, how you step into a danger:
A danger of this precipice: but note Sir,
For what Rome ever rais'd her mighty armies;
First for ambition, then for wealth: 'tis madness,
Nay more, a secure impotence, to tempt
An armed Guest: feed not an eye, that conquers,
Nor teach a fortunate sword the way to be covetous.
Ptol. Ye judge amiss, and far too wide to alter me,
Yet all be ready, as I gave direction:
The secret way of all our wealth appearing
Newly, and handsomely: and all about it:
No more disswading: 'tis my will.
Ach. I grieve for't.
Ptol. I will dazel Cæsar, with excess of glory.
Pho. I fear you'l curse your will, we must obey ye. [Exit.
SCENA IV.
Cæsar. I wonder at the glory of this Kingdom,
And the most bounteous preparation,
Still as I pass, they court me with.
Sceva. I'le tell ye:
In Gaul, and Germany, we saw such visions,
And stood not to admire 'em, but possess 'em:
When they are ours, they are worth our admiration.
Ant. The young Queen comes: give room.
Cæsar. Welcom (my dearest)
Come bless my side.
Sceva. I marry: here's a wonder,
As she appears now, I am no true Souldier,
If I be not readie to recant.
Cleo. Be merry Sir,
My Brother will be proud to do you honour
That now appears himself.
Pto. Haile to great Cæsar
My Royal Guest, first I will feast thine eyes
With wealthy Ægypts store, and then thy palate,
And wait my self upon thee. [Treasure brought in.
Cæsar. What rich Service!
What mines of treasure!
Cleo. My Cæsar,
What do you admire? pray ye turn, and let me talk to ye.
Have ye forgot me Sir? how, a new object?
Am I grown old o'th' sudden, Cæsar?
Cæsar. Tell me
From whence comes all this wealth?
Ptol. I'le tell thee Cæsar,
We owe for all this wealth to the old Nilus:
We need no dropping rain to cheer the husband-man,
Nor Merchant that ploughs up the Sea, to seek us;
Within the wealthy womb of reverent Nilus,
All this is nourish'd: who to do thee honour,
Comes to discover his seven Deities,
(His conceal'd heads) unto thee: see with pleasure.
Cæsar. The matchless wealth of this Land!
Cleo. Come, ye shall hear me.
Cæsar. Away: let me imagine.
Cleo. How? frown on me?
The eyes of Cæsar wrapt in storms?
Cæsar. I am sorry:
But let me think—
Mustek, SONG.
Isis, the Goddess of this Land,
Bids thee (great Cæsar) understand
And mark our Customes, and first know,
With greedy eyes these watch the flow
Of plenteous Nilus: when he comes,
With Songs, with Daunces, Timbrels, Drums
They entertain him, cut his way,
And give his proud Heads leave to play:
Nilus himself shall rise, and show
His matchless wealth in Over-flow.
Labourers SONG.
Come let us help the reverend Nile,
He's very old (alas the while)
Let us dig him easie wayes,
And prepare a thousand Playes:
To delight his streams let's sing
A loud welcom to our Spring.
This way let his curling Heads
Fall into our new made Beds.
This way let his wanton spawns,
Frisky and glide it o're the Lawns.
This way profit comes, and gain:
How he tumbles here amain!
How his waters haste to fall
Into our Channels! Labour all
And let him in: Let Nilus flow,
And perpetuall plenty show.
With Incense let us bless the brim,
And as the wanton fishes swim,
Let us Gums, and Garlands fling,
And loud our Timbrels ring.
Come (old Father) come away,
Our labour is our holy day.
Isis. Here comes the aged River now
With Garlands of great Pearl, his Brow
Begirt and rounded: In his Flow
All things take life; and all things grow.
A thousand wealthy Treasures still,
To do him service at his will
Follow his rising Flood, and pour
Perpetuall blessings in our store.
Hear him: and next there will advance,
His sacred Heads to tread a Dance,
In honour of my Royal Guest,
Mark them too: and you have a Feast.
Cleo. A little dross betray me?
Cæsar. I am asham'd I warr'd at home, (my friends)
When such wealth may be got abroad: what honour?
Nay everlasting glory had Rome purchas'd,
Had she a just cause but to visit Ægypt?
Nilus SONG, and Dance.
Make room for my rich waters fall, and bless my Flood,
Nilus comes flowing, to you all encrease and good.
Now the Plants and Flowers shall spring,
And the merry Plough-man sing
In my bidden waves I bring
Bread, and wine, and every thing.
Let the Damsells sing me in:
Sing aloud that I may rise:
Your holy Feasts and hours begin,
And each hand bring a Sacrifice.
Now my wanton Pearls I show
That to Ladies fair necks grow.
Now my gold
And treasures that can ne're be told,
Shall bless this Land, by my rich Flow,
And after this, to crown your Eyes,
My hidden holy head arise.
Cæsar. The wonder of this wealth so troubles me,
I am not well: good-night.
Sce. I am glad ye have it:
Now we shall stir again.
Ptol. Thou wealth, still haunt him.
Sce. A greedy spirit set thee on: we are happy.
Ptol. Lights: lights for Cæsar, and attendance.
Cleo. Well,
I shall yet find a time to tell thee Cæsar,
Thou hast wrong'd her Love: the rest here.
Ptol. Lights along still:
Musick, and Sacrifice to sleep for Cæsar. [Exeunt.
Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.
Ach. I told ye carefully, what this would prove to,
What this inestimable wealth and glory
Would draw upon ye: I advis'd your Majesty
Never to tempt a Conquering Guest: nor add
A bait, to catch a mind, bent by his Trade
To make the whole world his.
Pho. I was not heard Sir:
Or what I said, lost, and contemn'd: I dare say,
(And freshly now) 'twas a poor weakness in ye,
A glorious Childishness: I watch'd his eye,
And saw how Faulcon-like it towr'd, and flew
Upon the wealthy Quarry: how round it mark'd it:
I observ'd his words, and to what it tended;
How greedily he ask'd from whence it came,
And what Commerce we held for such abundance:
The shew of Nilus, how he laboured at
To find the secret wayes the Song delivered.
Ach. He never smil'd, I noted, at the pleasures,
But fixt his constant eyes upon the treasure;
I do not think his ears had so much leisure
After the wealth appear'd, to hear the Musique?
Most sure he has not slept since, his mind's troubled
With objects that would make their own still labour.
Pho. Your Sister he ne're gaz'd on: that's a main note,
The prime beauty of the world had no power over him.
Ach. Where was his mind the whilst?
Pho. Where was your carefulness
To shew an armed thief the way to rob ye?
Nay, would you give him this, 'twill excite him
To seek the rest. Ambition feels no gift,
Nor knows no bounds, indeed ye have done most weakly.
Ptol. Can I be too kind to my noble friend?
Pho. To be unkind unto your noble self, but savours
Of indiscretion, and your friend has found it.
Had ye been train'd up in the wants and miseries
A souldier marches through, and known his temperance
In offer'd courtesies, you would have made
A wiser Master of your own, and stronger.
Ptol. Why, should I give him all, he would return it:
'Tis more to him, to make Kings.
Pho. Pray be wiser,
And trust not with your lost wealth, your lov'd liberty.
To be a King still at your own discretion
Is like a King; to be at his, a vassail.
Now take good counsel, or no more take to ye
The freedom of a Prince.
Achil. 'Twill be too late else:
For, since the Masque, he sent three of his Captains
(Ambitious as himself) to view again
The glory of your wealth.
Pho. The next himself comes,
Not staying for your courtesie, and takes it.
Ptol. What counsel, my Achoreus?
Ach. I'le goe pray Sir,
(For that is best counsel now) the gods may help ye. [Ex.
Pho. I found ye out a way but 'twas not credited,
A most secure way: whither will ye flye now?
Achil. For when your wealth is gone, your power must follow.
Pho. And that diminisht also, what's your life worth?
Who would regard it?
Ptol. You say true.
Achil. What eye
Will look upon King Ptolomy? if they do look,
It must be in scorn:
For a poor King is a monster;
What ear remember ye? 'twill be then a courtesie
(A noble one) to take your life too from ye:
But if reserv'd, you stand to fill a victory,
As who knows Conquerours minds? though outwardly
They bear fair streams.
O Sir, does this not shake ye?
If to be honyed on to these afflictions—
Ptol. I never will: I was a Fool.
Pho. For then Sir
Your Countreys cause falls with ye too, and fetter'd:
All Ægypt shall be plough'd up with dishonour.
Ptol. No more: I am sensible: and now my spirit
Burns hot within me.
Achil. Keep it warm and fiery.
Pho. And last be counsel'd.
Ptol. I will, though I perish.
Pho. Goe in; we'l tell you all: and then we'l execute.
SCENA II.
Ars. You are so impatient.
Cleo. Have I not cause?
Women of common Beauties, and low Births,
When they are slighted, are allow'd their angers,
Why should not I (a Princess) make him know
The baseness of his usage?
Ars. Yes: 'tis fit:
But then again you know what man.
Cleo. He is no man:
The shadow of a Greatness hangs upon him,
And not the vertue: he is no Conquerour,
H'as suffer'd under the base dross of Nature:
Poorly delivered up his power to wealth,
(The god of bed-rid men) taught his eyes treason
Against the truth of love: he has rais'd rebellion:
Defi'd his holy flames.
Eros. He will fall back again,
And satisfie your Grace.
Cleo. Had I been old,
Or blasted in my bud, he might have shew'd
Some shadow of dislike: But, to prefer
The lustre of a little art, Arsino,
And the poor glow-worm light of some faint Jewels,
Before the life of Love, and soul of Beauty,
Oh how it vexes me! he is no Souldier,
(All honourable Souldiers are Loves servants)
He is a Merchant; a meer wandring Merchant,
Servile to gain: he trades for poor Commodities,
And makes his Conquests, thefts; some fortunate Captains
That quarter with him, and are truly valiant,
Have flung the name of happy Cæsar on him,
Himself ne're won it: he is so base and covetous,
He'l sell his sword for gold.
Ars. This is too bitter.
Cleo. Oh I could curse my self, that was so foolish,
So fondly childish to believe his tongue,
His promising tongue, e're I could catch his temper,
I had trash enough to have cloy'd his eyes withal,
His covetous eyes; such as I scorn to tread on:
Richer than e're he saw yet, and more tempting;
Had I known he had stoop'd at that, I had sav'd mine honour,
I had been happy still: but let him take it,
And let him brag how poorly I am rewarded:
Let him goe conquer still weak wretched Ladies:
Love has his angry Quiver too, his deadly,
And when he finds scorn, armed at the strongest:
I am a fool to fret thus, for a fool:
An old blind fool too: I lose my health? I will not:
I will not cry: I will not honour him
With tears diviner than the gods he worships:
I will not take the pains to curse a poor thing.
Eros. Doe not: you shall not need.
Cleo. Would I were prisoner
To one I hate, that I might anger him,
I will love any man, to break the heart of him:
Any, that has the heart and will to kill him.
Ars. Take some fair truce.
Cleo. I will goe study mischief,
And put a look on, arm'd with all my cunnings,
Shall meet him like a Basilisque, and strike him:
Love, put destroying flames into mine eyes,
Into my smiles, deceits, that I may torture him,
That I may make him love to death, and laugh at him.
Ap. Cæsar commends his Service to your Grace.
Cleo. His service? what's his service?
Eros. Pray ye be patient,
The noble Cæsar loves still.
Cleo. What's his will?
Ap. He craves access unto your Highness.
Cleo. No:
Say no: I will have none to trouble me.
Ars. Good Sister.
Cleo. None I say: I will be private.
Would thou hadst flung me into Nilus, keeper,
When first thou gav'st consent, to bring my body
To this unthankfull Cæsar.
Ap. 'Twas your will, Madam,
Nay more, your charge upon me, as I honoured ye:
You know what danger I endured.
Ap. He enters.
Cleo. How?
Cæsar. I do not use to wait, Lady,
Where I am, all the dores are free, and open.
Cleo. I ghess so, by your rudeness.
Cæsar. Ye are not angry?
Things of your tender mold, should be most gentle;
Why do you frown? good gods, what a set-anger
Have you forc'd into your face! Come, I must temper ye:
What a coy smile was there, and a disdainfull!
How like an ominous flash it broke out from ye!
Defend me, Love, Sweet, who has anger'd ye?
Cleo. Shew him a glass; that false face has betrai'd me:
That base heart wrought me—
Cæsar. Be more sweetly angry;
I wrong'd ye fair?
Cleo. Away with your foul flatteries:
They are too gross: but that I dare be angry,
And with as great a god as Cæsar is,
To shew how poorly I respect his memory,
I would not speak to ye.
Cæsar. Pray ye undoe this riddle,
And tell me how I have vext ye?
Cleo. Let me think first
Whether I may put on a Patience
That will with honour suffer me: know, I hate ye,
Let that begin the story: Now I'le tell ye.
Cæsar. But do it milder: In a noble Lady,
Softness of spirit, and a sober nature,
That moves like summer winds, cool, and blows sweetness;
Shews blessed like her self.
Cleo. And that great blessedness
You first reap'd of me: till you taught my nature
Like a rude storm to talk aloud, and thunder,
Sleep was not gentler than my soul, and stiller;
You had the Spring of my affections:
And my fair fruits I gave you leave to taste of:
You must expect: the winter of mine anger:
You flung me off, before the Court disgrac'd me,
When in the pride I appear'd of all my beauty,
Appear'd your Mistress; took into your eyes
The common-strumpet love of hated lucre,
Courted with covetous heart, the slave of nature,
Gave all your thoughts to gold, that men of glory,
And minds adorn'd with noble love, would kick at:
Souldiers of royal mark, scorn such base purchase:
Beauty and honour are the marks they shoot at;
I spake to ye then; I courted ye, and woo'd ye:
Call'd ye dear Cæsar, hung about ye tenderly:
Was proud to appear your friend.
Cæsar. You have mistaken me.
Cleo. But neither Eye, nor Favour, not a Smile
Was I blessed back with; but shook off rudely,
And, as ye had been sold to sordid infamy,
You fell before the Images of treasure,
And in your soul you worship'd: I stood slighted,
Forgotten and contemn'd; my soft embraces,
And those sweet kisses you call'd Elyzium,
As letters writ in sand, no more remembred:
The name and glory of your Cleopatra
Laugh'd at, and made a story to your Captains,
Shall I endure?
Cæsar. You are deceiv'd in all this,
Upon my life you are, 'tis your much tenderness.
Cleo. No, no, I love not that way; you are cozen'd:
I love with as much ambition as a Conquerour,
And where I love, will triumph.
Cæsar. So you shall:
My heart shall be the Chariot that shall bear ye,
All I have won shall wait upon ye: By the gods
The bravery of this womans mind, has fired me:
Dear Mistress shall I but this night?—
Cæsar. You shall be absolute,
And Reign alone as Queen: you shall be any thing.
Cleo. Make me a maid again, and then I'le hear thee;
Examine all thy art of War, to do that;
And if thou find'st it possible, I'le love thee:
Till when, farewel, unthankfull.
Cæsar. Stay.
Cleo. I will not.
Cæsar. I command.
Cleo. Command, and goe without, Sir.
I do command thee be my slave for ever,
And vex while I laugh at thee.
Cæsar. Thus low, beauty.
Cleo. It is too late; when I have found thee absolute,
The man that Fame reports thee, and to me,
May be I shall think better. Farewel Conquerour. [Exit.
Cæsar. She mocks me too: I will enjoy her Beauty:
I will not be deni'd; I'le force my longing.
Love is best pleas'd, when roundly we compel him,
And as he is Imperious, so will I be.
Stay fool, and be advis'd: that dulls the appetite,
Takes off the strength and sweetness of delight.
By Heaven she is a miracle, I must use
A handsom way to win: how now; what fear
Dwells in your faces? you look all distracted.
Sceva. If it be fear, 'tis fear of your undoing,
Not of our selves: fear of your poor declining:
Our lives and deaths are equall benefits,
And we make louder prayers to dye nobly,
Than to live high, and wantonly: whilst you are secure here,
And offer Hecatombs of lazie kisses
To the lewd god of love, and cowardize,
And most lasci[v]iously dye in delights,
You are begirt with the fierce Alexandrians.
Dol. The spawn of Egypt flow about your Palace,
Arm'd all: and ready to assault.
Ant. Led on
By the false and base Photinus and his Ministers;
No stirring out; no peeping through a loop-hole,
But straight saluted with an armed Dart.
Sce. No parley: they are deaf to all but danger,
They swear they will fley us, and then dry our Quarters:
A rasher of a salt lover, is such a Shooing-horn:
Can you kiss away this conspiracy, and set us free?
Or will the Giant god of love fight for ye?
Will his fierce war-like bow kill a Cock-sparrow?
Bring out the Lady, she can quel this mutiny:
And with her powerfull looks strike awe into them:
She can destroy, and build again the City,
Your Goddesses have mighty gifts: shew 'em her fair brests,
The impregnable Bulworks of proud Love, and let 'em
Begin their battery there: she will laugh at 'em;
They are not above a hundred thousand, Sir.
A mist, a mist, that when her Eyes break out,
Her powerfull radiant eyes, and shake their flashes,
Will flye before her heats.
Cæsar. Begirt with Villains?
S[ce]. They come to play you, and your Love a Huntsup.
You were told what this same whorson wenching, long agoe would come to:
You are taken napping now: has not a Souldier,
A time to kiss his friend, and a time to consider,
But he must lye still digging, like a Pioneer,
Making of mines, and burying of his honour there?
'Twere good you would think—
Dol. And time too, or you will find else
A harder task, than Courting a coy Beauty.
Ant. Look out and then believe.
Sce. No, no, hang danger:
Take me provoking broth, and then goe to her:
Goe to your Love, and let her feel your valour;
Charge her whole body, when the sword's in your throat (Sir,)
You may cry, Cæsar, and see if that will help ye.
Cæsar. I'le be my self again, and meet their furies,
Meet, and consume their mischiefs: make some shift, Sceva,
To recover the Fleet, and bring me up two Legions,
And you shall see me, how I'le break like thunder
Amongst these beds of slimy Eeles, and scatter 'em.
Sce. Now ye speak sense I'le put my life to the hazard,
Before I goe No more of this warm Lady,
She will spoil your sword-hand.
Cæsar. Goe: come, let's to Counsel
How to prevent, and then to execute.
SCENA III.
1 Sold. Did ye see this Penitence?
2 Sold. Yes: I saw, and heard it.
3 Sold. And I too: look'd upon him, and observ'd it,
He's the strangest Septimus now—
1 Sold. I heard he was altered,
And had given away his Gold to honest uses:
Cry'd monstrously.
2 Sold. He cryes abundantly:
He is blind almost with weeping.
3 Sold. 'Tis most wonderfull
That a hard hearted man, and an old Souldier
Should have so much kind moisture: when his Mother dy'd
He laugh'd aloud, and made the wickedst Ballads—
1 Sold. 'Tis like enough: he never lov'd his parents;
Nor can I blame him, for they ne'r lov'd him.
His Mother dream'd before she was deliver'd
That she was brought abed with a Buzzard, and ever after
She whistl'd him up to th' world: his brave clothes too
He has flung away, and goes like one of us now:
Walks with his hands in's pockets, poor and sorrowfull,
And gives the best instructions.—
2 Sold. And tells stories
Of honest and good people that were honour'd
And how they were remembred: and runs mad
If he but hear of any ungratefull person,
A bloudy, or betraying man—
3 Sold. If it be possible
That an Arch-Villain may ever be recovered,
This penitent Rascal will put hard: 'twere worth our labour
To see him once again.
1 Sold. He spares us that labour,
For here he comes.
Sep.—Bless ye my honest friends,
Bless ye from base unworthy men; come not near me,
For I am yet too taking for your company.
1 Sold. Did I not tell ye?
2 Sold. What book's that?
1 Sold. No doubt
Some excellent Salve for a sore heart: are you
Septimius, that base knave, that betray'd Pompey?
Sep. I was, and am; unless your honest thoughts
Will look upon my penitence, and save me,
I must be ever Villain: O good Souldiers
You that have Roman hearts, take heed of falsehood:
Take heed of blood; take heed of foul ingratitude.
The Gods have scarce a mercy for those mischiefs,
Take heed of pride, 'twas that that brought me to it.
2 Sol. This fellow would make a rare speech at the gallows.
[3] Sol. 'Tis very fit he were hang'd to edifie us:
Sep. Let all your thoughts be humble, and obedient,
Love your Commanders, honour them that feed ye:
Pray, that ye may be strong in honesty
As in the use of arms; Labour, and diligently
To keep your hearts from ease, and her base issues,
Pride, and ambitious wantonness, those spoil'd me.
Rather lose all your limbs, than the least honesty,
You are never lame indeed, till loss of credit
Benumb ye through: Scarrs, and those maims of honour
Are memorable crutches, that shall bear
When you are dead, your noble names to Eternity.
1 Sol. I cry.
2 Sol. And so do I.
3 Sol. An excellent villain.
1 Sol. A more sweet pious knave I never heard yet.
2 Sol. He was happie he was Rascal, to come to this.
Who's this? a Priest?
Sep. O stay, most holy Sir!
And by the Gods of Egypt, I conjure ye,
(Isis, and great Osiris) pity me,
Pity a loaden man, and tell me truly
With what most humble Sacrifice I may
Wash off my sin, and appease the powers that hate me?
Take from my heart those thousand thousand furies,
That restless gnaw upon my life, and save me.
Orestes bloody hands fell on his Mother,
Yet, at the holy altar he was pardon'd.
Ach. Orestes out of madness did his murther,
And therefore he found grace: thou (worst of all men)
Out of cold blood, and hope of gain, base lucre,
Slew'st thine own Feeder: come not near the altar,
Nor with thy reeking hands pollute the Sacrifice,
Thou art markt for shame eternal. [Exit.
Sep. Look all on me,
And let me be a story left to time
Of blood and Infamy, how base and ugly
Ingratitude appears, with all her profits,
How monstrous my hop'd grace, at Court! good souldiers
Let neither flattery, nor the witching sound
Of high and soft preferment, touch your goodness:
To be valiant, old, and honest, O what blessedness—
1 Sold. Dost thou want any thing?
Sep. Nothing but your prayers.
2 Sol. Be thus, and let the blind Priest do his worst,
We have gods as well as they, and they will hear us.
3 Sol. Come, cry no more: thou hast wep't out twenty Pompeys.