Enter Chilax, Licinius, Proculus, and Balbus.
Chil. 'Tis done Licinius.
Lici. How?
Chil. I shame to tell it,
If there be any justice, we are Villains,
And must be so rewarded.
Bal. If it be done,
I take it 'tis no time now to repent it,
Let's make the best o'th' trade.
Pro. Now vengeance take it,
Why should not he have setled on a beauty,
Whose honesty stuck in a piece of tissue,
Or one a Ring might rule, or such a one
That had an itching husband to be honourable,
And ground to get it: if he must have women,
And no allay without 'em, why not those
That know the misery, and are best able
To play a game with judgement? such as she is,
Grant they be won with long siege, endless travel,
And brought to opportunity with millions,
Yet when they come to motion, their cold vertue
Keeps 'em like cakes of Ice; I'le melt a Crystal,
And make a dead flint fire himself, e're they
Give greater heat, than new departing embers
Give to old men that watch 'em.
Lici. A good Whore
Had sav'd all this, and happily as wholsom,
I, and the thing once done too, as well thought of,
But this same chastity forsooth.
Pro. A Pox on't,
Why should not women be as free as we are?
They are, but not in open, and far freer,
And the more bold ye bear your self, more welcom,
And there is nothing you dare say, but truth,
But they dare hear.—
Enter Emperour, and Lucina.
Chi. The Emperour! away,
And if we can repent, let's home and pray. [Exeunt.
Emp. Your only vertue now is patience,
Take heed, and save your honour; if you talk.
Luci. As long as there is motion in my body,
And life to give me words, I'le cry for justice.
Emp. Justice shall never hear ye, I am justice.
Luci. Wilt thou not kill me, Monster, Ravisher,
Thou bitter bane o'th' Empire, look upon me,
And if thy guilty eyes dare see these ruines,
Thy wild lust hath laid level with dishonour,
The sacrilegious razing of this Temple,
The mother of thy black sins would have blush'd at,
Behold and curse thy self; the Gods will find thee,
That's all my refuge now, for they are righteous,
Vengeance and horror circle thee; the Empire,
In which thou liv'st a strong continued surfeit,
Like poyson will disgorge thee, good men raze thee
For ever being read again,—but vicious
Women, and fearfull Maids, make vows against thee:
Thy own Slaves, if they hear of this, shall hate thee;
And those thou hast corrupted first fall from thee;
And if thou let'st me live, the Souldier,
Tir'd with thy Tyrannies, break through obedience,
And shake his strong Steel at thee.
Emp. This prevails not;
Nor any Agony ye utter Lady,
If I have done a sin, curse her that drew me,
Curse the first cause, the witchcraft that abus'd me,
Curse those fair eyes, and curse that heavenly beauty,
And curse your being good too.
Luci. Glorious thief,
What restitution canst thou make to save me?
Emp. I'le ever love, and honour you.
Luci. Thou canst not,
For that which was mine honour, thou hast murdred,
And can there be a love in violence?
Emp. You shall be only mine.
Luci. Yet I like better
Thy villany, than flattery, that's thine own,
The other basely counterfeit; flye from me,
Or for thy safety sake and wisdom kill me,
For I am worse than thou art; thou maist pray,
And so recover grace; I am lost for ever,
And if thou let'st me live, th'art lost thy self too.
Emp. I fear no loss but love, I stand above it.
Luci. Call in your Lady Bawds, and guilded Pander's
And let them triumph too, and sing to Cæsar,
Lucina's faln, the chast Lucina's conquer'd;
Gods! what a wretched thing has this man made me!
For I am now no wife for Maximus,
No company for women that are vertuous,
No familie I now can claim, nor Country,
Nor name, but Cæsar's whore; O sacred Cæsar,
(For that should be your title) was your Empire,
Your Rods, and Axes, that are types of Justice,
Those fires that ever burn, to beg you blessings,
The peoples adoration, fear of Nations,
What victory can bring ye home, what else
The usefull Elements can make your servants,
Even light it self, and suns of light, truth, Justice,
Mercy, and starlike pietie sent to you,
And from the gods themselves, to ravish women?
The curses that I owe to Enemies,
Even those the Sabines sent, when Romulus,
(As thou hast me) ravish'd their noble Maids,
Made more, and heavier, light on thee.
Emp. This helps not.
Luci. The sins of Tarquin be remember'd in thee,
And where there has a chast wife been abus'd,
Let it be thine, the shame thine, thine the slaughter,
And last for ever thine, the fear'd example.
Where shall poor vertue live, now I am faln?
What can your honours now, and Empire make me,
But a more glorious Whore?
Emp. A better woman,
But if ye will be blind, and scorn it, who can help it?
Come leave these lamentations, they do nothing,
But make a noyse, I am the same man still,
Were it to do again; therefore be wiser,
By all this holy light, I should attempt it,
Ye are so excellent, and made to ravish,
There were no pleasure in ye else.
Luci. Oh villain.
Emp. So bred for mans amazement, that my reason
And every help to hold me right has lost me;
The God of love himself had been before me
Had he but power to see ye; tell me justly,
How can I choose but err then? if ye dare
Be mine, and only mine, for ye are so pretious,
I envie any other should enjoy ye,
Almost look on ye; and your daring husband
Shall know h'as kept an offring from the Empire,
Too holy for his Altars; be the mightiest,
More than my self I'le make it: if ye will not
Sit down with this, and silence, for which wisdom
Ye shall have use of me, and much honour ever,
And be the same you were; if ye divulge it,
Know I am far above the faults I do,
And those I do I am able to forgive too;
And where your credit in the knowledge of it,
May be with gloss enough suspected, mine
Is as mine own command shall make it:
Princes though they be sometime subject to loose whispers,
Yet wear they two edged swords for open censures:
Your husband cannot help ye, nor the Souldier;
Your husband is my creature, they my weapons,
And only where I bid 'em strike; I feed 'em,
Nor can the Gods be angry at this action,
For as they make me most, they mean me happiest,
Which I had never been without this pleasure:
Consider, and farewell: you'l find your women
At home before ye, they have had some sport too,
But are more thankful for it— [Exit Emperour.
Luci. Destruction find thee.
Now which way must I go? my honest house
Will shake to shelter me, my husband flee me,
My Family, because they are honest, and desire to be so,
Must not endure me, not a neighbour know me:
What woman now dare see me without blushes,
And pointing as I pass, there, there, behold her,
Look on her little Children, that is she,
That handsome Lady, mark; O my sad fortunes,
Is this the end of goodness, this the price
Of all my early prayers to protect me,
Why then I see there is no God but power,
Nor vertue now alive that cares for us,
But what is either lame or sensual,
How had I been thus wretched else?
Enter Maximus, and Æcius.
Aeci. Let Titius
Command the company that Pontius lost,
And see the Fosses deeper.
Max. How now sweet heart,
What make you here, and thus?
Aeci. Lucina weeping!
This must be much offence.
Max. Look up and tell me,
Why are you thus? My Ring? O friend, I have found it,
Ye are at Court, sweet.
Luci. Yes, this brought me hither.
Max. Rise, and goe home: I have my fears Aecius:
Oh my best friend, I am ruin'd; go Lucina,
Already in thy tears I have read thy wrongs,
Already found a Cæsar; go thou Lilly,
Thou sweetly drooping flower: go silver Swan,
And sing thine own sad requiem: goe Lucina,
And if thou dar'st, outlive this wrong.
Luci. I dare not.
Aeci. Is that the Ring ye lost?
Max. That, that, Aecius,
That cursed Ring, my self, and all my fortunes:
'Thas pleas'd the Emperour, my noble master,
For all my services, and dangers for him,
To make me mine own Pander, was this justice?
Oh my Aecius, have I liv'd to bear this?
Luci. Farewel for ever Sir.
Max. That's a sad saying,
But such a one becomes ye well Lucina:
And yet me thinks we should not part so lightly,
Our loves have been of longer growth, more rooted
Than the sharp word of one farewel can scatter,
Kiss me: I find no Cæsar here; these lips
Taste not of Ravisher in my opinion.
Was it not so?
Luc. O yes.
Max. I dare believe thee,
For thou wert ever truth it self, and sweetness;
Indeed she was, Æcius.
Æcius. So she is still.
Max. Once more, O my Lucina, O my Comfort,
The blessing of my Youth, the life of my life.
Æcius. I have seen enough to stagger my obedience;
Hold me ye equal Gods, this is too sinful.
Max. Why wert thou chosen out to make a Whore of?
To me thou wert too chaste; fall Crystal Fountains,
And ever feed your streams you rising sorrows,
Till you have dropt your Mistris into Marble:
Now go for ever from me.
Luc. Long farewel, Sir.
And as I have been loyal, gods think on me.
Max. Stay, let me once more bid farewel, Lucina,
Farewel thou excellent example of us,
Thou starry Vertue, fare thee well, seek Heaven,
And there by Cassiopea shine in Glory,
We are too base and dirty to preserve thee.
Æcius. Nay, I must kiss too; such a kiss again,
And from a Woman of so ripe a Vertue,
Æcius must not take; Farewel thou Phœnix,
If thou wilt dye, Lucina; which well weigh'd,
If you can cease a while from these strange thoughts,
I wish were rather alter'd.
Luc. No.
Æcius. Mistake not;
I would not stain your honour for the Empire,
Nor any way decline you to discredit,
'Tis not my fair profession, but a Villains;
I find and feel your loss as deep as you do,
And am the same, Æcius, still as honest,
The same life I have still for Maximus,
The same Sword wear for you, where Justice wills me,
And 'tis no dull one; therefore misconceive me not;
Only I would have you live a little longer,
But a short year.
Max. She must not.
Luc. Why so long, Sir,
Am I not grey enough with grief already?
Æci. To draw from that wild man a sweet repentance,
And goodness in his days to come.
Max. They are so,
And will be ever coming, my Æcius.
Æcius. For who knows but the sight of you, presenting
His swoln sins at the full, and your fair vertues,
May like a fearful Vision fright his follies,
And once more bend him right again? which blessing
(If your dark wrongs would give you leave to read)
Is more than death, and the reward more glorious;
Death, only eases you, this, the whole Empire;
Besides, compell'd and forc'd with violence,
To what ye have done, the deed is none of yours,
No, nor the justice neither; ye may live,
And still a worthier Woman, still more honoured;
For are those trees the worse we tear the fruits from?
Or should the eternal gods desire to perish
Because we daily violate their truths,
Which is the Chastity of Heaven? No, Lady,
If ye dare live, ye may; and as our sins
Make them more full of equity and justice,
So this compulsive wrong makes you more perfect;
The Empire too will bless you.
Max. Noble Sir,
If she were any thing to me but honour,
And that that's wedded to me too, laid in,
Not to be worn away without my being;
Or could the wrongs be hers alone, or mine,
Or both our wrongs, not ty'd to after issues,
Not born anew in all our names and kindreds,
I would desire her live, nay more, compel her:
But since it was not Youth, but Malice did it,
And not her own, nor mine, but both our losses,
Nor stays it there, but that our names must find it,
Even those to come; and when they read, she liv'd,
Must they not ask how often she was ravish'd,
And make a doubt she lov'd that more than Wedlock?
Therefore she must not live.
Æcius. Therefore she must live,
To teach the world, such deaths are superstitious.
Luc. The tongues of Angels cannot alter me,
For could the World again restore my Credit,
As fair and absolute as first I bred it,
That world I should not trust again: The Empire
By my life, can get nothing but my story,
Which whilst I breath must be but his abuses;
And where ye counsel me to live, that Cæsar
May see his errours and repent, I'll tell ye,
His penitence is but encrease of pleasures,
His prayers never said but to deceive us,
And when he weeps (as you think) for his Vices,
'Tis but as killing drops from baleful Yew-Trees,
That rot their honest Neighbour; If he can grieve
As one that yet desires his free Conversion,
And almost glories in his penitence,
I'll leave him Robes to mourn in, my sad ashes.
Æcius. The farewels then of happy souls be with thee,
And to thy memory be ever sung
The praises of a just and constant Lady,
This sad day whilst I live, a Souldiers tears
I'll offer on thy Monument, and bring
Full of thy noble self with tears untold yet,
Many a worthy Wife, to weep thy ruine.
Max. All that is chaste upon thy Tomb shall flourish,
All living Epitaphs be thine, Time, Story;
And what is left behind to piece our lives
Shall be no more abus'd with tales and trifles,
But full of thee, stand to eternity.
Æci. Once more farewel, go find Elyzium,
There where the happy Souls are crown'd with Blessings,
There where 'tis ever Spring and ever Summer.
Max. There where no bedrid justice comes; truth, honour,
Are keepers of that blessed Place; go thither,
For here thou liv'st chaste Fire in rotten Timber.
Æcius. And so our last farewels.
Max. Gods give thee Justice— [Exit Lucina.
Æcius. His thoughts begin to work, I fear him, yet
He ever was a noble Roman, but
I know not what to think on't, he hath suffered
Beyond a man if he stand this.
Max. Æcius,
Am I alive, or has a dead sleep seiz'd me?
It was my Wife the Emperour abus'd thus,
And I must say I am glad I had her for him;
Must I not, my Æcius?
Æcius. I am stricken
With such a stiff amazement, that no answer
Can readily come from me, nor no comfort;
Will ye go home, or go to my house?
Max. Neither;
I have no home, and you are mad, Æcius,
To keep me company, I am a fellow
My own Sword would forsake, not tyed unto me;
A Pander is a Prince, to what I am faln;
I dare do nothing.
Æcius. Ye do better.
Max. I am made a branded Slave, Æcius,
And yet I bless the Maker;
Death o' my Soul, must I endure this tamely?
Must Maximus be mention'd for his tales?
I am a Child too; what should I do railing?
I cannot mend my self, 'tis Cæsar did it,
And what am I to him?
Æcius. 'Tis well consider'd;
However you are tainted, be no Traitor
Time may outwear the first, the last lives ever.
Max. O that thou wert not living, and my friend.
Æcius. I'll bear a wary Eye upon your actions,
I fear ye, Maximus, nor can I blame thee
If thou break'st out, for by the gods thy wrong
Deserves a general ruine: do ye love me?
Max. That's all I have to live on.
Æcius. Then go with me,
Ye shall not to your own house.
Max. Nor to any.
My griefs are greater far than Walls can compass,
And yet I wonder how it happens with me,
I am not dangerous, and o' my Conscience,
Should I now see the Emperour i'th' heat on't,
I should not chide him for't, an awe runs through me,
I feel it sensibly that binds me to it,
'Tis at my heart now, there it sits and rules,
And methinks 'tis a pleasure to obey it.
Æcius. 'This is a mask to cozen me; I know ye,
And how far ye dare do; no Roman farther,
Nor with more fearless Valour; and I'll watch ye,
Keep that obedience still.
Max. Is a Wifes loss
(For her abuse much good may do his Grace,
I'll make as bold with his Wife, if I can)
More than the fading of a few fresh colours,
More than a lusty spring lost?
Æcius. No more, Maximus,
To one that truly lives. Æcius:
Max. Why, then I care not, I can live well enough,
For look you friend, for vertue, and those trifles,
They may be bought they say.
Æcius. He's craz'd a little,
His grief has made him talk things from his Nature.
Max. But Chastity is not a thing I take it
To get in Rome, unless it be bespoken
A hundred years before; Is it Æcius?
By'r Lady, and well handled too i'th' breeding.
Æcius. Will ye go any way?
Max. I'll tell thee, friend;
If my Wife for all this should be a Whore now,
A kind of Kicker out of sheets, 'twould vex me,
For I am not angry yet; the Emperour
Is young and handsome, and the Woman Flesh,
And may not these two couple without scratching?
Æcius. Alas, my noble friend.
Max. Alas not me,
I am not wretched, for there's no man miserable
But he that makes himself so.
Æcius. Will ye walk yet?
Max. Come, come, she dare not dye, friend, that's the truth on't,
She knows the inticing sweets and delicacies
Of a young Princes pleasures, and I thank her,
She has made a way for Maximus to rise by.
Will't not become me bravely? why do you think
She wept, and said she was ravish'd? keep it here
And I'll discover to you.
Æcius. Well.
Max. She knows
I love no bitten flesh, and out of that hope
She might be from me, she contriv'd this knavery;
Was it not monstrous, friend?
Æcius. Does he but seem so,
Or is he mad indeed?
Æcius. Would it would fairly break.
Max. Methinks I am somewhat wilder than I was,
And yet I thank the gods I know my duty.
Enter Claudia.
Claud. Nay, you may spare your tears; she's dead.
She is so.
Max. Why, so it should be: how?
Claud. When first she enter'd
Into her house, after a world of weeping,
And blushing like the Sun-set, as we see her;
Dare I, said she, defile this house with Whore,
In which his noble Family has flourish'd?
At which she fell, and stir'd no more; we rub'd her. [Exit Clau.
Max. No more of that; be gone; now my Æcius,
If thou wilt do me pleasure, weep a little,
I am so parch'd I cannot: Your example
Has brought the rain down now: now lead me friend,
And as we walk together, let's pray together truly,
I may not fall from faith.
Æcius. That's nobly spoken.
Max. Was I not wild, Æcius?
Æcius. Somewhat troubled.
Max. I felt no sorrow then; Now I'll go with ye,
But do not name the Woman; fye, what fool
Am I to weep thus? Gods, Lucina, take thee,
For thou wert even the best and worthiest Lady.
Æcius. Good Sir, no more, I shall be melted with it.
Max. I have done, and good Sir comfort me;
Would there were wars now.
Æcius. Settle your thoughts, come.
Max. So I have now, friend,
Of my deep lamentations here's an end. [Exeunt.
[SCENE II.]
Enter Pontius, Phidias, and Aretus.
Phid. By my faith, Captain Pontius, besides pity
Of your faln fortunes, what to say I know not,
For 'tis too true the Emperour desires not,
But my best master, any souldier near him.
Aret. And when he understands, he cast your fortunes
For disobedience, how can we incline him,
(That are but under persons to his favours)
To any fair opinion? Can ye sing?
Pont. Not to please him, Aretus, for my Songs
Go not to th' Lute, or Viol, but to th' Trumpet,
My tune kept on a Target, and my subject
The well struck wounds of men, not love, or women.
Phid. And those he understands not.
Pont. He should, Phidias.
Aret. Could you not leave this killing way a little?
You must, if here you would plant your self, and rather
Learn as we do, to like what those affect
That are above us; wear their actions,
And think they keep us warm too; what they say,
Though oftentimes they speak a little foolishly,
Not stay to construe, but prepare to execute,
And think however the end falls, the business
Cannot run empty handed.
Phid. Can ye flatter,
And if it were put to you, lye a little?
Pont. Yes, if it be a living.
Aret. That's well said then.
Pont. But must these lies and flatteries be believ'd then?
Phid. Oh yes, by any means.
Pon. By any means then
I cannot lie nor flatter.
Aret. Ye must swear too,
If ye be there.
Pont. I can swear if they move me.
Phid. Cannot ye forswear too?
Pont. The Court for ever,
If it be grown so wicked.
Aret. You should procure a little too.
Pont. What's that?
Mens honest sayings for my truth?
Aret. Oh no, Sir;
But womens honest actions for your trial.
Pont. Do you do all these things?
Phid. Do you not like 'em?
Pont. Do you ask me seriously, or trifle with me?
I am not so low yet to be your mirth.
Are. You do mistake us, Captain, for sincerely,
We ask you how you like 'em?
Pon. Then sincerely,
I tell ye I abhor 'em; they are ill ways,
And I will starve before I fall into 'em,
The doers of 'em Wretches, their base hungers
Care not whose Bread they eat, nor how they get it.
Aret. What then, Sir?
Pon. If you profess this wickedness,
Because ye have been Souldiers, and born Arms,
The Servants of the brave Æcius,
And by him put to th' Emperour, give me leave,
Or I must take it else, to say ye are Villains,
For all your Golden Coats, debosh'd, base Villains,
Yet I do wear a Sword to tell you so,
Is this the way you mark out for a Souldier,
A Man that has commanded for the Empire,
And born the Reputation of a Man?
Are there not lazie things enough call'd fools and cowards,
And poor enough to be prefer'd for Panders,
But wanting Souldiers must be Knaves too? ha!
This the trim course of life; were not ye born Bawds,
And so inherit but your Rights? I am poor,
And may expect a worse; yet digging, pruning,
Mending of broken ways, carrying of water,
Planting of Worts and Onions, any thing
That's honest, and a Mans, I'll rather chuse,
I, and live better on it, which is juster,
Drink my well gotten water with more pleasure,
When my endeavours done, and wages paid me,
Than you do wine, eat my course Bread, not curst,
And mend upon't, your diets are diseases,
And sleep as soundly, when my labour bids me,
As any forward Pander of ye all,
And rise a great deal honester; my Garments,
Though not as yours, the soft sins of the Empire,
Yet may be warm, and keep the biting wind out,
When every single breath of poor opinion
Finds you through all your Velvets.
Put us good men to th' Emperour, so we have serv'd him,
Though much neglected for it; So dare be still;
Your Curses are not ours; we have seen your fortune,
But yet know no way to redeem it: Means,
Such as we have, ye shall not want, brave Pontius,
But pray be temperate, if we can wipe out
The way of your offences, we are yours, Sir;
And you shall live at Court an honest Man too.
Phid. That little meat and means we have, we'll share it,
Fear not to be as we are; what we told ye,
Were but meer tryals of your truth: y'are worthy,
And so we'll ever hold ye; suffer better,
And then you are a right Man, Pontius,
If my good Master be not ever angry,
Ye shall command again.
Pont. I have found two good men: use my life,
For it is yours, and all I have to thank ye— [Exeunt.
SCENE III.
Enter Maximus.
Max. There's no way else to do it, he must dye,
This friend must dye, this soul of Maximus,
Without whom I am nothing but my shame,
This perfectness that keeps me from opinion,
Must dye, or I must live thus branded ever:
A hard choice, and a fatal; Gods ye have given me
A way to credit, but the ground to go on,
Ye have levell'd with that precious life I love most,
Yet I must on, and through, for if I offer
To take my way without him, like a Sea
He bears his high Command 'twixt me and vengeance,
And in mine own road sinks me, he is honest,
Of a most constant loyalty to Cæsar,
And when he shall but doubt, I dare attempt him,
But make a question of his ill, but say
What is a Cæsar, that he dare do this,
Dead sure he cuts me off; Æcius dyes,
Or I have lost my self: why should I kill him?
Why should I kill my self? for 'tis my killing,
Æcius is my root, and wither him,
Like a decaying Branch I fall to nothing.
Is he not more to me than Wife, than Cæsar?
Though I had now my safe revenge upon him,
Is he not more than rumour, and his friendship
Sweeter than the love of women? what is honour
We all so strangely are bewitch'd withal?
Can it relieve me if I want? he has;
Can honour 'twixt the incensed Prince and Envy,
Bear up the lives of worthy men? he has;
Can honour pull the wings of fearful Cowards,
And make 'em turn again like Tigers? he has;
And I have liv'd to see this, and preserv'd so:
Why should this empty word incite me then
To what is ill and cruel? let her perish.
A friend is more than all the world, than honour;
She is a woman and her loss the less,
And with her go my griefs; but hark ye Maximus,
Was she not yours? Did she not dye to tell ye
She was a ravish'd woman? Did not Justice
Nobly begin with her that not deserv'd it,
And shall he live that did it? Stay a little,
Can this abuse dye here? Shall not mens tongues
Dispute it afterward, and say I gave
(Affecting dull obedience, and tame duty,
And led away with fondness of a friendship)
The only vertue of the world to slander?
Is not this certain, was not she a chaste one,
And such a one, that no compare dwelt with her,
One of so sweet a vertue that Æcius,
Even he himself, this friend that holds me from it,
Out of his worthy love to me, and justice,
Had it not been on Cæsar, had reveng'd her?
He told me so; what shall I do then?
Enter a Servant.
Can other men affect it, and I cold?
I fear he must not live.
Serv. My Lord, the General
Is come to seek ye.
Max. Go, entreat him to enter;
O brave Æcius, I could wish thee now
As far from friendship to me, as from fears,
That I might cut thee off, like that I weigh'd not,
Is there no way without him to come near it?
For out of honesty he must destroy me
If I attempt it, he must dye as others,
And I must lose him; 'tis necessity,
Only the time and means is the difference;
But yet I would not make a murther of him,
Take him directly for my doubts; he shall dye,
I have found a way to do it, and a safe one,
It shall be honour to him too: I know not
What to determine certain, I am so troubled,
And such a deal of conscience presses me;
Enter Æcius.