SCENE I.-The Court of the Imperial Palace.

Enter BALBUS, PROCULUS, CHILAX, and LICINIUS. Bal. I never saw the like; she's no more stirr'd, No more another woman, no more alter'd With any hopes or promises laid to her, Let 'em be ne'er so weighty, ne'er so winning, Than I am with the motion of my own legs. Proc. Chilax,

You are a stranger yet in these designs,

At least in Rome. Tell me, and tell me truth, Did you e'er know, in all your course of practice, In all the ways of women you have run through(For I presume you have been brought up, Chilax, As we, to fetch and carry.)

To the full honours I propounded to her :
I bid her think, and be, and presently,
Whatever her ambition, what the counsel
Of others would add to her, what her dreams
Could more enlarge, what any precedent
Of any woman rising up to glory,
And standing certain there, and in the highest,
Could give her more; nay, to be empress.
Proc. And cold at all these offers ?
Bal. Cold as crystal,
Ne'er to be thaw'd again.

Chi. I tried her further,

And so far, that I think she is no woman;
At least, as women go now.

Licin. Why, what did you?

Chi. I offer'd that, that had she been but mistress

From her aspect to draw their good or evil,
Fix'd in 'em, spite of fortune; a new nature
She should be call'd, and mother of all ages;
Time should be hers; and what she did, lame Vir-
tue

Should bless to all posterities: her air
Should give us life, her earth and water feed us;
And last, to none but to the emperor,
(And then but when she pleased to have it so,)
She should be held for mortal.

Licin. And she heard you?

Chi. Yes, as a sick man hears a noise; or he That stands condemn'd, his judgment. Let me

perish,

But, if there can be virtue; if that name
Be anything but name and empty title,
If it be so as fools have been pleased to feign it,
A power that can preserve us after ashes,
And make the names of men out-reckon ages,
This woman has a god of virtue in her !

Bal. I would the emperor were that god.
Chi. She has in her

All the contempt of glory and vain-seeming
Of all the Stoicks, all the truth of Christians,
And all their constancy: Modesty was made
When she was first intended. When she blushes,
It is the holiest thing to look upon;
The purest temple of her sect that ever
Made Nature a bless'd founder.

Proc. Is there no way

To take this phoenix?

Licin. None but in her ashes.

Chi. If she were fat, or any way inclining To ease or pleasure, or affected glory, Proud to be seen and worshipp'd, 'twere a venture; But, on my soul, she is chaster than cold camphire.

Bal. I think so, too; for all the ways of woman, Like a full sail, she bears against. I ask'd her, After my many offers, walking with her, And her as many down-denials, how

If th' emperor grown mad with love, should force

her?

She pointed to a Lucrece, that hung by,
And with an angry look, that from her eyes
Shot vestal fire against me, she departed.

Proe. This is the first wench I was ever posed in; Yet I have brought young loving things together This two-and-thirty years.

Chi. I find, by this wench,

The calling of a bawd to be a strange,

A wise, and subtle calling, and for none
But staid, discreet, and understanding people :
And, as the tutor to great Alexander

Would say, a young man should not dare to read
His moral books, till after five-and-twenty;
So must that he or she, that will be bawdy,
(I mean discreetly bawdy, and be trusted,)
If they will rise, and gain experience,

Well steep'd in years, and discipline, begin it;
I take it, 'tis no boys' play.

Bal. Well, what's thought of?

Proc. The emperor must know it.
Licin. If the women

Should chance to fail too?

Chi. As 'tis ten to one.

Proc. Why, what remains, but new nets for the purchase?

Chi. Let's go consider, then; and if all fail, This is the first quick eel that saved her tail.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II. — An Apartment in the House of MAXIMUS.

Enter LUCINA, ARDELIA, and PнORBA.
Ard. You still insist upon that idol, honour:
Can it renew your youth? can it add wealth
That takes off wrinkles? can it draw men's eyes
To gaze upon you in your age? can honour
(That truly is a saint to none but soldiers,
And, look'd into, bears no reward-but danger)
Leave you the most respected person living?
Or can the common kisses of a husband
(Which to a sprightly lady is a labour)
Make you almost immortal? You are cozen'd;
The honour of a woman is her praises;

The way to get these, to be seen, and sought to,
And not to bury such a happy sweetness
Under a smoaky roof.

Lucina. I'll hear no more.

Phorba. That white and red, and all that blessed beauty,

Kept from the eyes, that make it so, is nothing:
Then you are rarely fair, when men proclaim it.
The phoenix, were she never seen, were doubted;
That most unvalued horn the unicorn
Bears to oppose the huntsman, were it nothing
But tale, and mere tradition, would help no man ;
But when the virtue's known, the honour's doubled.
Virtue is either lame, or not at all;

And Love a sacrilege, and not a saint,
When it bars up the way to men's petitions.
Ard. Nay, you shall love your husband too;
To make a monster of you.
[we come not

Lucina. Are ye women?
Ard. You'll find us so; and women you shall
If you have grace to make your use. [thank too,
Lucina. Fy on ye!

Phorba. Alas, poor bashful lady! By my soul,
Had you no other virtue but your blushes,
And I a man, I should run mad for those.
How daintily they set her off, how sweetly!
Ard. Come, goddess, come; you move too near
the earth;

It must not be a better orb stays for you:
Here; be a maid, and take 'em. [Offers her jewels.

.Lucina. I charge ye, in the name of Chastity,
Tempt me no more! How ugly ye seem to me!
There is no wonder men defame our sex,
And lay the vices of all ages on us,

When such as you shall bear the names of women!
If ye had eyes to see yourselves, or sense
Above the base rewards ye play the bawds for;
If ever in your lives ye heard of goodness,
Though many regions off, as men hear thunder;
If ever ye had fathers, and they souls;
If ever mothers, and not such as you are;
If ever anything were constant in you,
Besides your sins, or common but your curses;
If ever any of your ancestors

Died worth a noble deed, that would be cherish'd;
Soul-frighted with this black infection,

Yes, and admire it too; for she considers,
Though she be fair as Heaven, and virtuous
As holy truth, yet, to the emperor,
She is a kind of nothing but her service,
Which she is bound to offer, and she'll do it;
And when her country's cause commands affection,
She knows obedience is the key of virtues :
Then fly the blushes out, like Cupid's arrows;
And though the tie of marriage to her lord
Would fain cry,
Stay, Lucina!" yet the cause,
And general wisdom of the prince's love,
Makes her find surer ends, and happier ;
And if the first were chaste, this is twice doubled.
Phor. Her tartness unto us too-

Ard. That's a wise one

Phor. I really like; it shews a rising wisdom, That chides all common fools as dare inquire What princes would have private.

Ard. What a lady

Shall we be bless'd to serve !

Lucina. Go, get ye from me!

Ye are your purses' agents, not the prince's.
Is this the virtuous lure ye train'd me out to?
Am I a woman fit to imp your vices?
But that I had a mother, and a woman,
Whose ever-living fame turns all it touches
Into the good itself is, I should now
Even doubt myself, I have been searched so near
The very soul of honour. Why should you two,
That happily have been as chaste as I am,
(Fairer I think by much, for yet your faces,
Like ancient well built piles, shew worthy ruins)
After that angel-age, turn mortal devils ?

For shame, for womanhood, for what ye have been,

(For rotten cedars have borne goodly branches)
If ye have hope of any Heaven, but court,
Which, like a dream, you'll find hereafter vanish,
Or, at the best, but subject to repentance,
Study no more to be ill spoken of!
Let women live themselves; if they must fall,
Their own destruction find 'em, not your fevers.
Ard. Madam, you are so excellent in all,
And, I must tell it you with admiration,
So true a joy you have, so sweet a fear,
And, when you come to anger, 'tis so noble,
That, for mine own part, I could still offend,
To hear you angry: Women that want that,
And your way guided (else I count it nothing),
Are either fools or cowards.
[ness,

Phor. She were a mistress for no private great-
Could she not frown. A ravish'd kiss from anger,
And such an anger as this lady learns us,
Stuck with such pleasing dangers, gods, I ask ye,
Which of ye all could hold from?

Lucina. I perceive ye;

Your own dark sins dwell with ye! and that price
You sell the chastity of modest wives at,
Run to diseases with your bones! I scorn ye;
And all the nets ye have pitch'd to catch my virtues,
Like spiders' webs, I sweep away before me.
Go, tell the emperor ye have met a woman
That neither his own person, which is godlike,
The world he rules, nor what that world can pur-
Nor all the glories subject to a Cæsar,
The honours that he offers for my body,
The hopes, gifts, everlasting flatteries,

[chase,

SCENE III.-An Apartment in the Palace.

Enter MAXIMUS and AECIUS.

Max. I cannot blame the nations, noble friend,
That they fall off so fast from this wild man;
When (under our allegiance be it spoken,
And the most happy tie of our affections)
The world's weight groans beneath him. Where
lives virtue,

Honour, discretion, wisdom? Who are call'd
And chosen to the steering of the empire,
But bawds, and singing-girls? Oh, my Aëcius !
The glory of a soldier, and the truth

Of men, made up for goodness' sake, like shells,
Grow to the ragged walls for want of action:
Only your happy self, and I that love you,
Which is a larger means to me than favour-

Aecius. No more, my worthy friend; though
these be truths,

And though these truths would ask a reformation,
At least, a little squaring, yet remember,
We are but subjects, Maximus; obedience
To what is done, and grief for what is ill done
Is all we can call ours. The hearts of princes
Are like the temples of the gods; pure incense,
Until unhallow'd hands defile those offerings,
Burns ever there; we must not put 'em out,
Because the priests that touch those sweets are
wicked;

We dare not, dearest friend, nay, more, we can-
Whilst we consider who we are, and how, [not,-
To what laws bound, much more to what lawgiver;
Whilst majesty is made to be obey'd,

And not inquired into; whilst gods and angels
Make but a rule as we do, though a stricter,—
Like desperate and unseason'd fools, let fly
Our killing angers, and forsake our honours.

Max. My noble friend, (from whose instructions I never yet took surfeit) weigh but thus much;--Nor think I speak it with ambition,

For, by the gods, I do not !-Why, Aëcius,
Why are we thus, or how become thus wretched?
Aecius. You'll fall again into your fit.
Max. I will not.-

Or, are we now no more the sons of Romans,
No more the followers of their happy fortunes,
But conquer'd Gauls, or quivers for the Parthians?
Why is this emperor, this man we honour,
This god that ought to be

Aecius. You are too curious.

Max, Good, give me leave.-Why is this author

of us-

Aëcius. I dare not hear you speak thus.
Max. I'll be modest.-

Thus led away, thus vainly led away,
And we beholders?-Misconceive me not;

I sow no danger in my words.-But wherefore,
And to what end, are we the sons of fathers
Famous, and fast to Rome? Why are their virtues
Stamp'd in the dangers of a thousand battles,
For goodness' sake? their honours time out-daring?
I think, for our example.

Aecius. You speak nobly.

Max. Why are we seeds of these then, to shake hands

With bawds and base informers, kiss discredit, And court her like a mistress ?-'Pray, your leave You'll say, the emperor is young, and apt [yet.To take impression rather from his pleasures,

Than any constant worthiness: It may be.
But, why do these, the people call his pleasures,
Exceed the moderation of a man?

Nay, to say justly, friend, why are they vices,
And such as shake our worths with foreign nations?
Acius. You search the sore too deep, and I
must tell you,

In any other man this had been boldness,
And so rewarded. Pray depress your spirit:
For, though I constantly believe you honest,
(You were no friend for me else) and what now
You freely spake, but good you owe to th' empire,
Yet take heed, worthy Maximus; all ears
Hear not with that distinction mine do, few
You'll find admonishers, but urgers of your actions,
And to the heaviest, friend: And pray, consider
We are but shadows, motions others give us ;
And though our pities may become the times,
Justly our powers cannot. Make me worthy
To be your ever-friend in fair allegiance,
But not in force: For, durst mine own soul urge

me

(And, by that soul, I speak my just affections)
To turn my hand from truth, which is obedience,
And give the helm my virtue holds to anger,
Though I had both the blessings of the Bruti,
And both their instigations; though my cause
Carried a face of justice beyond theirs,
And, as I am, a servant to my fortunes,
That daring soul, that first taught disobedience,
Should feel the first example. Say the prince,
As I may well believe, seems vicious,
Who justly knows 'tis not to try our honours?
Or, say he be an ill prince, are we therefore
Fit fires to purge him? No, my dearest friend,
The elephant is never won with anger,
Nor must that man that would reclaim a lion,
Take him by the teeth.

Max. I pray mistake me not.

Accius. Our honest actions, and the light that

breaks

Like morning from our service, chaste and blushing,
Is that that pulls a prince back; then he sees,
And not till then truly repents his errors,
When subjects' crystal souls are glasses to him,
Max. My ever honour'd friend, I'll take your
counsel.

The emperor appears: I'll leave you to him;
And, as we both affect him, may he flourish! [Exit.
Enter VALENTINIAN and CHILAX.

Val. Is that the best news?
Chi. Yet the best we know, sir.

Val. Bid Maximus come to me, and be gone [Exit CHILAX,

then.

That only am acquainted with alarums, Would break their tender bodies.

Val. Never fear it ;

They are stronger than you think; they'll hold the hammer.

My empress swears thou art a lusty soldier;
A good one, I believe thee.

Aecius. All that goodness

Is but your grace's creature.
Val. Tell me truly,—
For thou darest tell me-

Aecius. Any thing concerns you,

That's fit for me to speak, and you to pardon.
Val. What say the soldiers of me? and the
same words;

Mince 'em not, good Aëcius, but deliver
The very forms and tongues they talk withal.
Aecius. I'll tell your grace; but, with this
caution,

You be not stirr'd: For, should the gods live with
Even those we certainly believe are righteous, [us,
Give 'em but drink, they would censure them too.
Val. Forward.

Aecius. Then, to begin, they say you sleep too much,

By which they judge your majesty too sensual, Apt to decline your strength to ease and pleasures; And when you do not sleep, you drink too much, From which they fear suspicions first, then ruins; And when ye neither drink nor sleep, ye wench

much,

Which, they affirm, first breaks your understanding,
Then takes the edge of honour, makes us seem
(That are the ribs and rampires of the empire)
Fencers, and beaten fools, and so regarded.
But I believe 'em not; for, were these truths,
Your virtue can correct them.

Val. They speak plainly.

Aecius. They say moreover (since your grace will have it ;

For they will talk their freedoms, though the sword
Were in their throat) that of late time, like Nero,
And with the same forgetfulness of glory,

You have got a vein of fidling; so they term it.-
Val. Some drunken dreams, Aëcius.
Aecius. So I hope, sir.-

And that you rather study cruelty,
And to be fear'd for blood, than loved for bounty,
(Which makes the nations, as they say, despise you,)
Telling your years and actions by their deaths
Whose truth and strength of duty made you Cæsar.
They say besides, you nourish strange devourers,
Fed with the fat o' th' empire, they call bawds,
Lazy and lustful creatures, that abuse you;
A people as they term 'em, made of paper,
In which the secret, sins of each man's monies
Are seal'd and sent a-working.

Val. What sin's next?

For I perceive they have no mind to spare me. Aecius. Nor hurt ye, o' my soul, sir! But such people

(Nor can the power of man restrain it) when
They are full of meat and ease, must prattle.
Val. Forward.

Aëcius. I have spoken too much, sir.
Val. I'll have all.

Aecius. It fits not

Your ears should hear their vanities; no profit Can justly rise to you from their behaviour, Unless you were guilty of those crimes.

Val. It may be

I am so; therefore forward.
Aecius. I have ever

Learn'd to obey, nor shall my life resist it,
Val. No more apologies.

Acius. They grieve besides, sir,

To see the nations, whom our ancient virtue
With many a weary march and hunger conquer'd,
With loss of many a daring life subdued,
Fall from their fair obedience, and even murmur
To see the warlike eagles mew their honours
In obscure towns, that wont to prey on princes.
They cry for enemies, and tell the captains,
"The fruits of Italy are luscious; give us Egypt,
Or sandy Afric, to display our valours,

There where our swords may make us meat, and danger

Digest our well-got viands. Here our weapons,
And bodies that were made for shining brass,
Are both unedged, and old with ease and women."
And then they cry again, "Where are the Germans,
Lined with hot Spain, or Gallia? Bring 'em on,
And let the son of war, steeled Mithridates,
Lead up his winged Parthians like a storm,
Hiding the face of heaven with showers of arrows:
Yet we dare fight like Romans !" Then, as soldiers,
Tired with a weary march, they tell their wounds,
Even weeping-ripe they were no more, nor deeper,
And glory in those scars that make 'em lovely.
And, sitting where a camp was, like sad pilgrims,
They reckon up the times, and living labours,
Of Julius or Germanicus; and wonder
That Rome, whose turrets once were topt with
honours,

Can now forget the custom of her conquests: And then they blame your grace, and say, "Who leads us?

Shall we stand here like statues? were our fathers The sons of lazy Moors? our princes Persians? Nothing but silks and softness? Curses on 'em That first taught Nero wantonness and blood, Tiberius doubts, Caligula all vices !

For, from the spring of these, succeedin Thus they talk, sir. [princes

Val. Well,

And ten years more addition is but nothing:
Now, if my life be pleasing to you, take it! [ner
Upon my knees, if ever any service,

(As, let me brag, some have been worthy notice,
If ever any worth, or trust you gave me,
Deserved a fair respect; if all my actions,
The hazards of my youth, colds, burnings, wants
For you and for the empire, be not vices;
By that style you have stamp'd upon me, soldier
Let me not fall into the hands of wretches!
Val. I understand you not.
Aecius. Let not this body,

That has look'd bravely in his blood for Cæsar,