For though my justice were as white as truth,
My way was crooked to it; that condemns me.
And now, Aëcius, and my honour'd lady,
That were preparers to my rest and quiet,
The lines to lead me to Elysium;

You that but stept before me on assurance
I would not leave your friendship unrewarded;
First smile upon the sacrifice I have sent ye,
Then see me coming boldly !-Stay; I am foolish,
Somewhat too sudden, to mine own destruction;
This great end of my vengeance may grow greater;
Why may not I be Cæsar? Yet no dying:
Why should not I catch at it? Fools and children
Have had that strength before me, and obtain'd it,
And, as the danger stands, my reason bids me;
I will, I dare. My dear friends, pardon me;
I am not fit to die yet, if not Cæsar.

I am sure the soldier loves me, and the people,
And I will forward; and, as goodly cedars,
Rent from Oëta by a sweeping tempest,
Jointed again, and made tall masts, defy
Those angry winds that split 'em, so will I,
New pieced again, above the fate of women,

And made more perfect far, than growing private,
Stand and defy bad fortunes. If I rise,
My wife was ravish'd well; If then I fall,
My great attempt honours my funeral.

[Exit.

Their free and liberal voices shall go with us.
Luc. Nay more, a negative (say) we allow 'em.
Semp. And if our choice displease 'em, they
shall name him.

Fulv. Promise three donatives, and large, Afranius.

And, Cæsar, once elected, present foes,
With distribution of all necessaries,
Corn, wine, and oil.

Semp. New garments, and new arms,
And equal portions of the provinces
To them, and to their families for ever.
Fulv. And see the city strengthen'd.
Afr. I shall do it.

Luc. Sempronius, these are woful times.
Semp. Oh, Brutus,

We want thy honesty again: These Cæsars,
What noble consuls got with blood, in blood
Consume again and scatter.

Fulv. Which way shall we?

[Exit.

Luc. Not any way of safety I can think on. Semp. Now go our wives to ruin, and our daughAnd we beholders, Fulvius.

Although I neither love nor hoped this,
Or like a rotten bridge that dares a current
When he is swell'd and high, crack and farewell.
A Flourish. Enter MAXIMUS, EUDOXIA, FULVIUS, LUCIUS,
SEMPRONIUS, and Soldiers.

Senators. Room for the emperor !
Sold. Long life to Cæsar!
Afr. Hail, Cæsar Maximus!

Mar. Your hand, Afranius.

Lead to the palace; there my thanks, in general,
I'll shower among ye all. Gods, give me life,
First to defend the empire, then you, fathers.—
And, valiant friends, the heirs of strength and

[ters,

I only live to find an enemy.

For me,

[Exit.

Pau. "Twill be short time.

Licippus. Any device that's handsome, A Cupid, or the god o' th' place, will do it, Where he must take the fasces.

Pau. Or a Grace.

Licippus. A good Grace has no fellow.
Pau. Let me see ;

Will not his name yield something? Maximus,
By th' way of anagram? I have found out axis;
You know he bears the empire.

Licippus. Get him wheels too; "Twill be a cruel carriage else.

Pau. Some songs too?

Licippus. By any means, some songs; but very short ones,

And honest language, Paulus, without bursting,
The air will fall the sweeter.

Pau. A Grace must do it.
Licippus. Why, let a Grace then.
Pau. Yes, it must be so;

And in a robe of blue, too, as I take it.

Licippus. This poet is a little kin to th' painter That could paint nothing but a ramping lion; So all his learned fancies are Blue Graces. [Aside. Pau. What think you of a sea-nymph? and a heaven?

Licippus. Why, what should she do there, man? There's no water.

Pau. By th' mass, that's true; it must be a
Grace; and yet,

Methinks, a rainbow-
Licippus. And in blue?
Pau. Oh, yes!

Hanging in arch above him, and i' th' middle-
Licippus. A shower of rain?

Pau. No, no; it must be a Grace.
Licippus. Why pr'ythee, grace him then.
Pau. Or Orpheus,
Coming from hell-

Licippus. In blue, too?

Pau. 'Tis the better.

And, as he rises, full of fires

Licippus. Now bless us !

Will not that spoil his lute-strings, Paulus ?
Pau. Singing,

And crossing of his arms

Licippus. How can he play then?

Pau. It shall be a Grace; I'll do it.
Licippus. Pr'ythee do,

And with as good a grace as thou canst possible,
Good Fury Paulus! Be i' th' morning with me;
And pray take measure of his mouth that speaks it.

[Exeunt.

Eud. Can a face

Long since bequeath'd to wrinkles with my sor

rows,

Long since razed out o' th' book of youth and pleasure,

Have power to make the strongest man o' th'
empire,
[woman,
Nay, the most stay'd, and knowing what is
The greatest aim of perfectness men lived by,
The most true, constant lover of his wedlock,
Such a still-blowing beauty earth was proud of,
Lose such a noble wife, and wilfully?
Himself prepare the way? nay, make the rape?
Did you not tell me so?

Max. 'Tis true, Eudoxia.

Eud. Lay desolate his dearest piece of friend.

Max. I do so;

And, till I am more strengthen'd, so I must do:
Yet would my joy and wine had fashion'd out
Some safer lie! [Aside.]-Can these things be,
Eudoxia,

And I dissemble? Can there be but goodness,
And only thine, dear lady; any end,
Any imagination but a lost one,

Why I should run this hazard? Oh, thou virtue!
Were it to do again, and Valentinian
Once more to hold thee, sinful Valentinian,

In whom thou wert set, as pearls are in salt oysters.
As roses are in rank weeds, I would find
Yet to thy sacred self, a dearer danger :
The gods know how I honour thee!

Eud. What love, sir,

Can I return for this, but my obedience?
My life, if so you please, and 'tis too little.

Max. 'Tis too much to redeem the world.
Eud. From this hour,

The sorrows of my dead lord, fare ye well!
My living lord has dried ye. And, in token
As emperor this day I honour you,
And the great caster-new of all my wishes,
The wreath of living laurel, that must compass
That sacred head, Eudoxia makes for Cæsar.
I am, methinks, too much in love with fortune;
But with you, ever royal sir, my maker,
The once-more-summer of me, mere in love
Is poor expression of my doting.

Max. Sweetest !

Eud. Now, of my troth, you have bought m dear, sir.

Max. No,

Had I at loss of mankind.

Enter a Messenger.

Eud. Now you flatter.

Mess. The senate waits your grace.

Max. Let 'em come on,

And in a full form bring the ceremony.— This day I am your servant, dear, and proudly I'll wear your honour'd favour.

Eud. May it prove so!

[Ere

Enter, in state, MAXIMUS, EUDOXIA, Gentlemen and
Soldiers; then the three Senators, FULVIUS, LUCIUS, and
SEMPRONIUS; Lictors bearing rods and axes before them.
Semp. Hail to thy imperial honour, sacred Cæsar!
And from the old Rome take these wishes;
You holy gods, that hitherto have held,
As justice holds her balance, equal poised,
This glory of our nation, this full Roman,
And made him fit for what he is, confirm him!
Look on this son, oh, Jupiter, our helper,
And, Romulus, thou father of our honour,
Preserve him like thyself, just, valiant, noble,
A lover and encreaser of his people!

Let him begin with Numa, stand with Cato,
The first five years of Nero be his wishes,
Give him the age and fortune of Emilius,
And his whole reign, renew a great Augustus!

[A Boy descends from the clouds, habited like one of the

Graces, and sings.

SONG.

Honour, that is ever living,
Honour, that is ever giving,
Honour, that sees all, and knows
Both the ebbs of man and flows;
Honour, that rewards the best,

Sends thee thy rich labour's rest;

Thou hast studied still to please her,
Therefore now she calls thee Cæsar.

Chorus. Hail, hail, Cæsar, hail, and stand,
And thy name out-live the land!
Noble fathers, to his brows,

Bind this wreath with thousand vows!

[The Boy gives a wreath, which the Senators place on the head of MAXIMUS.

All. Stand to eternity!

hh

Max. I thank ye, fathers;

And, as I rule, may it still grow or wither!
Now, to the banquet; ye are all my guests;
This day be liberal, friends; to wine we give it,
And smiling pleasures. Sit, my queen of beauty.
Fathers, your places. These are fair wars, soldiers,
And thus I give the first charge to ye all. [Drinks.
You are my second, sweet. To every cup,
I add unto the senate a new honour,
And to the sons of Mars a donative.

Boy. Bellona's seed, the glory of old Rome, Envy of conquer'd nations, nobly come, And, to the fulness of your warlike noise, Let your feet move; make up this hour of joys. Come, come, I say; range your fair troop at large, And your high measure turn into a charge.

[A martial dance by the Soldiers, during which MAXIMUS falls back upon his couch.

Semp. The emperor's grown heavy with his wine. Afr. The senate stays, sir, for your thanks. Semp. Great Cæsar!

Eud. [Aside.] I have my wish!

Afr. Will't please your grace speak to him? Eud. Yes; but he will not hear, lords. Semp. Stir him, Lucius;

The senate must have thanks.

Luc. Your grace! sir! Cæsar!

Eud. Did I not tell you he was well? He's dead!

Semp. Dead?-Treason! guard the court! let no man pass!

Soldiers, your Caesar's murdered.
Eud. Make no tumult,

Nor arm the court; ye have his killer with ye,
And the just cause, if ye can stay the hearing:
I was his death! That wreath that made him
Cæsar,

Has made him earth.

Sold. Cut her in thousand pieces! [They draw. Eud. Wise men would know the reason first.

To die

Is that I wish for, Romans, and your swords
The heavenliest way of death: Yet, soldiers,

grant me

(That was your empress once, and honour'd by ye)
But so much time to tell ye why I kill'd him,
And weigh my reasons well, if man be in you;
Then, if ye dare, do cruelly condemn me.

Afr. Hear her, ye noble Romans! 'Tis a woman;
A subject not for swords, but pity. Heaven,
If she be guilty of malicious murder,

Has given us laws to make example of her;
If only of revenge, and blood hid from us,
Let us consider first, then execute.

Semp. Speak, bloody woman!

Eud. Yes: This Maximus,

That was your Cæsar, lords, and noble soldiers,

(And if I wrong the dead, Heaven perish me,
Or speak, to win your favours, but the truth!)
Was to his country, to his friends, and Cæsar,
A most malicious traitor.

Semp. Take heed, woman.

Eud. I speak not for compassion. Brave Aëcius (Whose blest soul, if I lie, shall afflict me), The man that all the world loved, you adored, That was the inaster-piece of arms, and bounty, (Mine own grief shall come last) this friend of his, This soldier, this your right arm, noble Romans, By a base letter to the emperor,

Stuff'd full of fears, and poor suggestions,
And by himself unto himself directed,
Was cut off basely, basely, cruelly!

Oh, loss! Oh, innocent! Can ye now kill me?
And the poor stale, my noble lord, that knew not
More of this villain, than his forced fears,
Like one foreseen to satisfy, died for it:

There was a murder too, Rome would have blush'd at !

Was this worth being Cæsar? or my patience? Nay, his wife,

(By Heaven, he told it me in wine, and joy, And swore it deeply!) he himself prepared

To be abused. How? Let me grieve, not tell ye,
And weep the sins that did it: And his end
Was only me, and Cæsar: But me he lied in.
These are my reasons, Romans, and my soul
Tells me sufficient; and my deed is justice!
Now, as I have done well or ill, look on me.
Afr. What less could nature do? What less
had we done,

Had we known this before?
righteous;

Romans, she's

And such a piece of justice Heaven must smile on !

Bend all your swords on me, if this displease ye,
For I must kneel, and on this virtuous hand
Seal my new joy and thanks.-Thou hast done
truly.

Semp. Up with your arms; ye strike a saint else, Romans.

May'st thou live ever spoken our protector:
Rome yet has many noble heirs. Let's in,
And pray before we choose; then plant a Cæsar
Above the reach of envy, blood, and murder!
Afr. Take up the body, nobly, to his urn,
And may our sins and his together burn.
[Exeunt with the body. A dead march.

WE would fain please ye, and as fain be pleased;
'Tis but a little liking, both are eased;
We have your money, and you have our ware,
And, to our understanding, good and fair:
For your own wisdom's sake, be not so mad
To acknowledge ye have bought things dear and bad:
Let not a brack i' th' stuff, or here and there
The fading gloss, a general loss appear!
We know ye take up worse commodities,
And dearer pay, yet think your bargains wise;

We know, in meat and wine ye fling away
More time and wealth, which is but dearer pay,
And with the reckoning all the pleasure lost.
We bid ye not unto repenting cost:
The price is easy, and so light the play,
That ye may new-digest it every day.
Then, noble friends, as ye would choose a miss,
Only to please the eye a while, and kiss,
'Till a good wife be got; so let this play
Hold ye a while until a better may.

My poor state in my absence, how my servants,
I dare, and must believe (else I should wrong ye)
The best and worthiest.

Alice. As my woman's wit, sir,
Which is but weak and crazy.

Val. But, good Alice,

Tell me how fares the gentle Cellidè,
The life of my affection, since my travel,
My long and lazy travel? Is her love still
Upon the growing hand? does it not stop
And wither at my years? has she not view'd
And entertain'd some younger smooth behaviour,
Some youth but in his blossom, as herself is?
There lie my fears.

Alice. They need not; for, believe me,

So well you have managed her, and won her mind,
Even from her hours of childhood to this ripeness
(And, in your absence, that by me enforced still),
So well distill'd your gentleness into her,
Observed her, fed her fancy, lived still in her,
And, though Love be a boy, and ever youthful,
And young and beauteous objects ever aim'd at,
Yet here you have gone beyond Love, better'd
Nature,

Made him appear in years, in grey years fiery,
His bow at full bent ever. Fear not, brother;
For though your body has been far off from her,
Yet every hour your heart, which is your goodness,
I have forced into her, won a place prepared too,

And willingly, to give it ever harbour;

Believe she is so much your's, and won by miracle, (Which is by age) so deep a stamp set on her

By your observances, she cannot alter.

Were the child living now you lost at sea

Among the Genoa gallies, what a happiness!
What a main blessing!

Val. Oh, no more, good sister;

Touch no more that string, 'tis too harsh and

Val. A gentleman, I do assure myself,
And of a worthy breeding, though he hide it.
I found him at Valentia, poor and needy,
Only his mind the master of a treasure:

I sought his friendship, won him by much violence,
His honesty and modesty still fearing
To thrust a charge upon me. How I love him,
He shall now know, where want and he hereafter
Shall be no more companions. Use him nobly;

It is my will, good sister; all I have
I make him free companion in, and partner,
But only-

Alice. I observe you; hold your right there;