THE PROPHETESS.

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Francis Beaumont

A
TRAGICAL HISTORY.

Persons Represented in the Play.

  • Charinus, Emperour of Rome.
  • Cosroe, King of Persia.
  • Diocles, of a private Souldier elected Co-Emperour.
  • Maximinian, Nephew to Diocles, and Emperour by his donation.
  • Volutius Aper, Murtherer of Numerianus, the late Emperour.
  • Niger, a noble Souldier, Servant to the Emperour.
  • Camurius, a Captain, and Creature of Aper's.
  • Persian Lords.
  • Senators.
  • Souldiers.
  • Guard.
  • Suitors.
  • Ambassadors.
  • Lictors.
  • Flamen.
  • Attendants.
  • Shepherd.
  • Countrymen.
  • Geta, a Jester, Servant to Diocles, a merry Knave.

WOMEN.

  • Aurelia, Sister to Charinus.
  • Cassana, Sister to Cosroe, a Captive, waiting on Aurelia.
  • Delphia, a Prophetess.
  • Drusilla, Niece to Delphia, in love with Diocles.

The Scene Rome.

The principal Actors were,

  • John Lowin.
  • Robert Benfield.
  • John Shanke.
  • Richard Sharpe.
  • Joseph Taylor.
  • Nicholas Toolie.
  • George Birch.
  • Thomas Holcombe.

Actus Primus. Scena Prima.

Enter Charinus, Aurelia, Niger.

Cha. You buz into my head strange likelihoods,
 And fill me full of doubts; but what proofs, Niger,
 What certainties, that my most noble Brother
 Came to his end by murther? Tell me that,
 Assure me by some circumstance.
Niger. I will, Sir,
 And as I tell you truth, so the gods prosper me,
 I have often nam'd this Aper.
Char. True, ye have done;
 And in mysterious senses I have heard ye
 Break out o'th' sudden, and abruptly.
Niger. True, Sir;
 Fear of your unbelief, and the times giddiness
 Made me I durst not then go farther. So your Grace please,
 Out of your wonted goodness, to give credit,
 I shall unfold the wonder.
Aur. Do it boldly;
 You shall have both our hearty loves, and hearings.
Niger. This Aper then, this too much honour'd Villain,
 (For he deserves no mention of a good man)
 Great Sir, give ear; this most ungrateful, spightful,
 Above the memory of mankind, mischievous,
 With his own bloody hands.
Char. Take heed.
Nig. I am in, Sir;
 And if I make not good my story.
Aur. Forward;
 I see a truth would break out; be not fearful.
Nig. I say this Aper, and his damn'd Ambition,
 Cut off your Brothers hopes, his life, and fortunes;
 The honour'd Numerianus fell by him,
 Fell basely, most untimely, and most treacherously:
 For in his Litter, as he bore him company,
 Most privately and cunningly he kill'd him;
 Yet still he fills the faithful Souldiers ears
 With stories of his weakness, of his life,
 That he dare not venture to appear in open,
 And shew his warlike face among the Souldiers;
 The tenderness and weakness of his eyes
 Being not able to endure the Sun yet.
 Slave that he is, he gives out this infirmity
 (Because he would dispatch his honour too)
 To arise from wantonness, and love of women,
 And thus he juggles still.
Aur. O most pernicious,
 Most bloody, and most base! Alas, dear Brother,
 Art thou accus'd, and after death thy memory
 Loaden with shames and lies? Those pious tears
 Thou daily shower'st upon my Fathers monument,
 (When in the Persian Expedition
 He fell unfortunately by a stroke of Thunder)
 Made thy defame and sins? those wept out eyes,
 The fair examples of a noble nature,
 Those holy drops of Love, turn'd by depravers
 (Malicious poyson'd tongues) to thy abuses?
 We must not suffer this.
Char. It shows a truth now;
 And sure this Aper is not right nor honest,
 He will not [now] come near me.
Nig. No, he dare not;
 He has an inmate here, that's call'd a conscience,
 Bids him keep off.
Char. My Brother honour'd him,
 Made him first Captain of his Guard, his next friend;
 Then to my Mother (to assure him nearer)
 He made him Husband.
Nig. And withal ambitious;
 For when he trod so nigh, his false feet itch'd, Sir,
 To step into the State.
Aur. If ye believe, Brother,
 Aper a bloody Knave (as 'tis apparent)
 Let's leave disputing, and do something noble.
Char. Sister, be rul'd, I am not yet so powerful
 To meet him in the field; he has under him
 The Flower of all the Empire, and the strength,
 The Britain, and the German Cohorts; pray ye be patient,
 Niger, how stands the Souldier to him?
Nig. In fear more, Sir,
 Than love or honour; he has lost their fair affections,
 By his most covetous and greedy griping:
 Are ye desirous to do something on him,
 That all the World may know ye lov'd your Brother?
 And do it safely too without an Army?
Char. Most willingly.
Nig. Then send out a Proscription,
 Send suddenly; And to that man that executes it
 (I mean, that brings his head) add a fair payment,
 No common Summ; then ye shall see I fear not,
 Even from his own Camp, from those men that follow him,
 Follow, and flatter him, we shall find one,
 And if he miss, one hundred that will venture it.
Aur. For his reward, it shall be so, dear Brother,
 So far I'll honour him that kills the Villain;
 For so far runs my love to my dead Brother,
 Let him be what he will, base, old, or crooked,
 He shall have me; nay, which is more, I'll love him.
 I will not be deny'd.
Char. You shall not, Sister;
 But ye shall know, my love shall go along too;
 See a Proscription drawn; and for his recompence,
 My Sister, and half Partner in the Empire;
 And I will keep my word.
Aur. Now ye do bravely.
Nig. And though it cost my life, I'll see it publish'd.
Char. Away then for the business.
Nig. I am gone, Sir;
 You shall have all dispatch'd to night.
Char. Be prosperous.
Aur. And let the Villain fall.
Nig. Fear nothing, Madam. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Enter Delphia, and Drusilla.

Dru. 'Tis true, that Diocles is courteous,
 And of a pleasant nature, sweet and temperate;
 His Cousin Maximinian proud and bloudy.
Delph. Yes, and mistrustful too, my Girl, take heed,
 Although he seem to love thee, and affect
 Like the more Courtier, curious complement;
 Yet have a care.
Dru. You know all my affection,
 And all my heart-desires are set on Diocles;
 But, Aunt, how coldly he requites this courtesie!
 How dull and heavily he looks upon me!
 Although I woo him sometimes beyond modesty,
 Beyond a Virgins care; how still he slights me,
 And puts me still off with your Prophecy,
 And the performance of your late prediction,
 That when he is Emperour, then he will marry me;
 Alas, what hope of that?
Del. Peace, and be patient,
 For though he be now a man most miserable,
 Of no rank, nor no badge of honour on him,
 Bred low and poor, no eye of favour shining;
 And though my sure Prediction of his Rising
 (Which can no more fail than the day or night does,
 Nay, let him be asleep, will overtake him)
 Hath found some rubs and stops, yet hear me, Neece,
 And hear me with a faith, it shall come to him;
 I'll tell thee the occasion.
Dru. Do, good Aunt;
 For yet I am ignorant.
Del. Chiding him one day
 For being too near, and sparing for a Souldier,
 Too griping, and too greedy; he made answer,
 When I am CÆsar, then I will be liberal.
 I, presently inspir'd with holy fire,
 And my prophetick Spirit burning in me,
 Gave answer from the gods, and this it was,
 Imperator eris RomÆ, cum Aprum grandem interfeceris:
 Thou shalt be Emperour, O Diocles,
 When thou hast kill'd a mighty Boar. From that time
 (As giving credit to my words) he has employ'd
 Much of his life in hunting; many Boars
 Hideous and fierce, with his own hands he has kill'd too,
 But yet not lighted on the fatal one,
 Should raise him to the Empire; Be not sad, Neece,
 E're long he shall; Come, let's go entertain him,
 For by this time I guess he comes from hunting;
 And by my Art I find this very instant
 Some great design's o' foot.
Dru. The gods give good, Aunt. [Exeunt.

SCENE III.

Enter Diocles, Maximinian, Geta, with a Boar.

Dio. Lay down the Boar.
Get. With all my heart; I am weary on't;
 I shall turn Jew if I carry many such burthens:
 Do you think, Master, to be Emperour
 With killing Swine? you may be an honest Butcher,
 Or allied to a seemly family of sowse-wives.
 Can you be such an Ass, my Reverend Master,
 To think these springs of Pork will shoot up CÆsars?
Max. The fool says true.
Dio. Come, leave your fooling, Sirrah,
 And think of what thou shalt be when I am Emperour.
Get. Would it would come with thinking, for then o' my conscience,
 I should be at least a Senator.
Max. A Sowter;
 For that's a place more fitted to thy nature,
 If there could be such an expectation;
 Or say, the Devil could perform this wonder;
 Can such a Rascal as thou art, hope for honour?
 Such a log-carrying Lowt?
Get. Yes, and bear it too,
 And bear it swimmingly. I am not the first Ass, Sir,
 Has born good office, and perform'd it reverendly.
Dio. Thou being the Son of a Tiler, canst thou hope to be a Senator?
Get. Thou being the Son of a Tanner, canst thou hope to be an Emperor?
Dio. Thou sayst true, Geta, there's a stop indeed;
 But yet the bold and vertuous—
Get. Ye are right, Master,
 Right as a Gun; For we the vertuous,
 Though we be Kennel-rakers, Scabs, and Scoundrels,
 We the discreet and bold; and yet, now I remember it,
 We Tilers may deserve to be Senators;
 And there we step before you thick-skin'd Tanners,
 For we are born three stories high; no base ones,
 None of your groundlings, master.
Dio. I like thee well,
 Thou hast a good mind, as I have, to this Honour.
Get. As good a mind, Sir, of a simple plaisterer—
 And when I come to execute my office,
 Then you shall see.
Max. What?
Get. An Officer in fury;
 An Officer as he ought to be; do you laugh at it?
 Is a Senator (in hope) worth no more reverence?
 By these hands I'll clap you by th' heels the first hour of it.
Max. O' my Conscience, the fellow believes.
Dio. I, do, do, Geta,
 For if I once be Emperour—
Get. Then will I
 (For wise men must be had to prop the Republick)
 Not bate ye a single ace of a sound Senator.
Dio. But what shall we do the whilst?
Get. Kill Swine, and sowse 'em,
 And eat 'em when we have bread.
Max. Why didst thou run away
 When the Boar made toward thee? art thou not valiant?
Get. No indeed am I not; and 'tis for mine honour too;
 I took a Tree, 'tis true, gave way to the Monster;
 Hark what discretion says, let fury pass;
 From the tooth of a mad Beast, and the tongue of a Slanderer
 Preserve thine honour.
Dio. He talks like a full Senator:
 Go, take it up, and carry it in, 'tis a huge one,
 We never kill'd so large a Swine, so fierce too,
 I never met with yet.
Max. Take heed, it stirs again;
 How nimbly the Rogue runs up! he climbs like a Squirrel.
Dio. Come down, ye Dunce, is it not dead?
Get. I know not.
Dio. His throat is cut, and his bowels out.
Get. That's all one,
 I am sure his teeth are in; and for any thing I know,
 He may have Pigs of his own nature in's Belly.
Dio. Come, take him up I say, and see him drest,
 He is fat, and will be lusty meat: away with him,
 And get some of him ready for our Dinner.
Get. Shall he be roasted whole,
 And serv'd up in a souce-tub? a portly service,
 I'll run i'th' wheel my self.
Max. Sirrah, leave your prating,
 And get some piece of him ready presently,
 We are weary both, and hungry.
Get. I'll about it.
 What an inundation of Brewiss shall I swim in! [Exit.
Dio. Thou art ever dull and melancholy, Cousin,
 Distrustful of my hopes.
Max. Why, can you blame me?
 Do men give credit to a Jugler?
Dio. Thou knowst she is a Prophetess.
Max. A small one,
 And as small profit to be hop'd for by her.
Dio. Thou art the strangest man; how does thy hurt?
 The Boar came near you, Sir.
Max. A scratch, a scratch.
Dio. It akes and troubles thee, and that makes thee angry.
Max. Not at the pain, but at the practice, Uncle,
 The butcherly, base custom of our lives now;
 Had a brave enemies Sword drawn so much from me,
 Or danger met me in the head o'th' Army,
 To have blush'd thus in my blood, had been mine honour.
 But to live base, like Swine-herds, and believe too,
 To be fool'd out with tales, and old wives dreams,
 Dreams, when they are drunk.
Dio. Certain you much mistake her.
Max. Mistake her? hang her; to be made her Purveyors,
 To feed her old Chaps; to provide her daily,
 And bring in Feasts while she sits farting at us,
 And blowing out her Prophecies at both ends.
Dio. Prithee be wise; Dost thou think, Maximinian,
 So great a reverence, and so stai'd a knowledge—
Max. Sur-reverence, you would say; what truth? what knowledg?
 What any thing but eating is good in her?
 'Twould make a fool prophesie to be fed continually;
 What do you get? your labour and your danger;
 Whilst she sits bathing in her larded fury,
 Inspir'd with full deep Cups, who cannot prophesie?
 A Tinker, out of Ale, will give Predictions;
 But who believes?
Dio. She is a holy Druid,
 A woman noted for that faith, that piety,
 Belov'd of Heaven.
Max. Heaven knows, I do not believe it:
 Indeed I must confess they are excellent Juglers;
 Their age upon some fools too flings a confidence:
 But what grounds have they? what elements to work on:
 Show me but that; the Sieve, and Sheers? a learned one,
 I have no patience to dispute this Question,
 'Tis so ridiculous; I think the Devil does help 'em,
 Or (rather mark me well) abuse 'em, Uncle;
 For they are as fit to deal with him; these old women,
 They are as jump, and squar'd out to his nature—
Dio. Thou hast a perfect malice.
Max. So I would have
 Against these purblind Prophets; for look ye, Sir,
 Old women will lie monstrously; so will the Devil,
 Or else he has had much wrong; upon my knowledge,
 Old women are malicious; so is he;
 They are proud and covetous, revengeful, lecherous;
 All which are excellent attributes of the Devil;
 They would at least seem holy; so would he;
 And to vail over these villainies, they would prophesie;
 He gives them leave now and then to use their cunnings,
 Which is, to kill a Cow, or blast a Harvest,
 Make young Pigs pipe themselves to death, choak poultry,
 And chase a dairy-wench into a feaver
 With pumping for her butter.
 But when he makes these Agents to raise Emperours,
 When he disposes Fortune as his Servant,
 And tyes her to old wives tails—
Dio. Go thy ways,
 Thou art a learned Scholar, against credit,
 You hear the Prophecie?
Max. Yes, and I laugh at it;
 And so will any man can tell but twenty,
 That is not blind, as you are blind and ignorant:
 Do you think she knows your fortune?
Dio. I do think it.
Max. I know she has the name of a rare Sooth-sayer;
 But do you in your Conscience believe her holy?
 Inspir'd with such prophetick Fire?
Dio. Yes, in my conscience.
Max. And that you must upon necessity,
 From her words, be a CÆsar?
Dio. If I live.
Max. There's one stop yet.
Dio. And follow her directions.
Max. But do not juggle with me.
Dio. In faith, Cousin,
 So full a truth hangs ever on her Prophecies,
 That how I should think otherwise.
Max. Very well, Sir;
 You then believe (for methinks 'tis most necessary)
 She knows her own Fate?
Dio. I believe it certain.
Max. Dare you but be so wise to let me try it,
 For I stand doubtful.
Dio. How?
Max. Come nearer to me,
 Because her cunning Devil shall not prevent me;
 Close, close, and hear; If she can turn this destiny,
 I'll be of your faith too.
Dio. Forward, I fear not;
 For if she knows not this, sure she knows nothing;

Enter Delphia.

Enter Niger, Geta, and Souldiers.

Get. And shall he have as you say, that kills this Aper?
Del. Now mark and understand.
Nig. The Proscription's up
 I'th' Market place, 'tis up, there ye may read it,
 He shall have half the Empire.
Get. A pretty farm i' faith.
Nig. And the Emperours Sister, bright Aurelia,
 Her to his wife.
Get. Ye say well, Friend, but hark ye,
 Who shall do this?
Nig. You, if you dare.
Get. I think so;
 Yet I could poyson him in a Pot of Perry,
 He loves that veng'ancely; But when I have done this,
 May I lye with the Gentlewoman?
Nig. Lye with her? what else, man?
Get. Yes, man,
 I have known a man married that never lay with his Wife:
 Those dancing days are done.
Nig. These are old Souldiers,
 And poor it seems, I'll try their appetites.
 'Save ye, brave Souldiers.
Max. Sir, ye talkt of Proscriptions?
Nig. 'Tis true, there is one set up from the Emperour
 Against Volutius Aper.
Dio. Aper?
Del. Now;
 Now have you found the Boar?
Dio. I have the meaning;
 And blessed Mother—
Nig. He has scorn'd his Master,
 And bloodily cut off by treachery
 The noble Brother to him.
Dio. He lives here, Sir,
 Sickly and weak.
Nig. Did you see him?
Max. No.
Nig. He is murthered;
 So ye shall find it mentioned from the Emperour;
 And honest faithful Souldiers, but believe it;
 For, by the gods, ye will find it so, he is murthered,
 The manner how, read in the large Proscription.
Del. It is most true, Son; and he cozens ye,
 Aper's a Villain false.
Dio. I thank ye, Mother,
 And dare believe ye; hark ye, Sir, the recompence?
 As ye related.
Nig. Is as firm as faith, Sir;
 Bring him alive or dead.
Max. You took a fit time,
 The General being out o' th' Town; for though we love him not,
 Yet had he known this first, you had paid for't dearly.
Dio. 'Tis Niger, now I know him; honest Niger,
 A true sound man, and I believe him constantly;
 Your business may be done, make no great hurry
 For your own safety.
Nig. No, I am gone; I thank ye. [Exit.
Dio. Pray, Maximinian, pray.
Max. I'll pray, and work too.
Dio. I'll to the Market-place, and read the offer,
 And now I have found the Boar.
Del. Find your own faith too,
 And remem[b]er what ye have vow'd.
Dio. O Mother.
Del. Prosper.
Get. If my master and I do this, there's two Emperours,
 And what a show will that make! how we shall bounce it! [Exeunt.

Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.

Enter Drusilla, and Delphia.

Dru. Leave us, and not vouchsafe a parting kiss
 To her that in his hopes of greatness lives,
 And goes along with him in all his dangers?
Del. I grant 'twas most inhumane.
Dru. O, you give it
 Too mild a name; 'twas more than barbarous,
 And you a Partner in't.
Del. I, Drusilla?
Dru. Yes,
 You have blown his swoln Pride to that vastness,
 As he believes the Earth is in his fathom,
 This makes him quite forget his humble Being;
 And can I hope that he, that only fed
 With the imagin'd food of future Empire,
 Disdains even those that gave him means and life
 To nourish such desires, when he's possess'd
 Of his ambitious ends (which must fall on him,
 Or your Predictions are false) will ever
 Descend to look on me!
Del. Were his intents
 Perfidious as the Seas or Winds, his heart
 Compos'd of falshood; yet the benefit,
 The greatness of the good he has from you,
 (For what I have confer'd, is thine, Drusilla)
 Must make him firm, and thankful; But if all
 Remembrance of the debts he stands engag'd for,
 Find a quick Grave in his Ingratitude,
 My powerful Art, that guides him to this height
 Shall make him curse the hour he e'r was rais'd,
 Or sink him to the Centre.
Dru. I had rather
 Your Art could force him to return that ardour
 To me, I bear to him; or give me power
 To moderate my passions; yet I know not,
 I should repent your grant, though you had sign'd it,
 (So well I find he's worthy of all service)
 But to believe that any check to him
 In his main hopes, could yield content to me,
 Were treason to true love, that knows no pleasure,
 The object that it dotes on ill affected.
Del. Pretty simplicity; I love thee for't,
 And will not sit an idle looker on,
 And see it cozen'd; dry thy innocent eyes,
 And cast off jealous fears, (yet promises
 Are but lip comfort) and but fancy ought
 That's possible in Nature, or in Art,
 That may advance thy comfort, and be bold
 To tell thy Soul 'tis thine; therefore speak freely.
Dru. You new create me. To conceal from you
 My virgin-fondness, were to hide my sickness
 From my Physician. O dear Aunt, I languish
 For want of Diocles's sight; he is the Sun
 That keeps my blood in a perpetual Spring;
 But in his absence, cold benumming Winter
 Seizes on all my faculties. Would you bind me
 (That am your Slave already) in more fetters,
 And (in the place of service) to adore you?
 O bear me then (but 'tis impossible,
 I fear to be effected) where I may
 See how my Diocles breaks thorow his dangers,
 And in what heaps his honours flow upon him,
 That I may meet him, in the height and pride
 Of all his glories, and there (as your gift)
 Challenge him as mine own.
Del. Enjoy thy wishes;
 This is an easie Boon, which at thy years,
 I could have given to any; but now grown
 Perfect in all the hidden mysteries
 Of that inimitable Art, which makes us
 Equal even to the gods, and Natures wonders,
 It shall be done, as fits my skill and glory:
 To break thorow bolts, and locks, a Scholars prize
 For Thieves, and Pick-locks: to pass thorow an Army
 Cover'd with night, or some disguise, the practice
 Of poor and needy Spies: No, my Drusilla,
 From Ceres I will force her winged Dragons,
 And in the air hung over the Tribunal;
 (The Musick of the Spheres attending on us.)
 There, as his good Star, thou shalt shine upon him,
 If he prove true, and as his Angel guard him.
 But if he dare be false, I, in a moment
 Will put that glorious light out, with such horrour,
 As if the eternal Night had seiz'd the Sun,
 Or all things were return'd to the first Chaos,
 And then appear like Furies.
Dru. I will do
 What e're you shall command.
Del. Rest then assur'd,
 I am the Mistris of my Art, and fear not. [Exeunt.

[Soft Musick.

SCENE II.

Enter Aper, Camurius, Guard, a Litter covered.

Aper. Your care of your sick Emperour, fellow-souldiers,
 In colours to the life, doth shew your love,
 And zealous duty: O continue in it.
 And though I know you long to see and hear him,
 Impute it not to pride, or Melancholy,
 That keeps you from your wishes: such State-vices
 (Too too familiar with great Princes) are
 Strangers to all the actions of the life
 Of good Numerianus: Let your patience
 Be the Physitian to his wounded eyes,
 (Wounded with pious sorrow for his Father)
 Which time and your strong Patience will recover,
 Provided it prove constant.
1 Guard. If he counterfeit,
 I will hereafter trust a prodigal heir,
 When he weeps at his Fathers Funeral.
2 Guard. Or a young widow following a bed-rid husband,
 (After a three years groaning) to the Fire.
3 Guard. Note his humility, and with what soft murmurs
 He does enquire his pleasures.
1 Guard. And how soon
 He is instructed.
2 Guard. How he bows again too.
Aper. All your commands (dread CÆsar) I'll impart
 To your most ready Souldier, to obey them;
 So take your rest in peace. It is the pleasure
 Of mighty CÆsar (his thanks still remembred
 For your long patience, which a donative,
 Fitting his State to give, shall quickly follow)
 That you continue a strict Guard upon
 His sacred person, and admit no stranger
 Of any other Legion, to come near him;
 You being most trusted by him. I receive
 Your answer in your silence. Now, Camurius,
 Speak without flattery; Hath thy Aper acted
 This passion to the life?
Cam. I would applaud him,
 Were he saluted CÆsar: but I fear
 These long protracted counsels will undo us;
 And 'tis beyond my reason, he being dead,
 You should conceal your self, or hope it can
 Continue undiscover'd.
Aper. That I have kill'd him,
 Yet feed these ignorant fools with hopes he lives,
 Has a main end in't. The Pannonian Cohorts
 (That are my own, and sure) are not come up,
 The German Legions waver, and Charinus
 (Brother to this dead dog) (hells plagues on Niger)
 Is jealous of the murther; and, I hear,
 Is marching up against me. 'Tis not safe,
 Till I have power, to justifie the Act,
 To shew my self the authour: be therefore careful
 For an hour or two (till I have fully sounded
 How the Tribunes and Centurio[n]s stand affected)
 That none come near the Litter. If I find them
 Firm on my part, I dare profess my self,
 And then live Aper's equal.
Cam. Does not the body
 Begin to putrifie?
Aper. That exacts my haste:
 When, but even now, I feign'd obedience to it,
 As I had some great business to impart,
 The scent had almost choak'd me: be therefore curious:
 All keep at distance. [Exit.
Cam. I am taught my part;
 Haste you to perfect yours.
1 Guard. I had rather meet
 An enemy in the field, than stand thus nodding
 Like to a rug-gown'd Watch-man.

Enter Diocles, Maximinian, Geta.

Geta. The Watch at noon?
 This is a new device.
Cam. Stand.
Dio. I am arm'd
 Against all danger.
Max. If I fear to follow,
 A Cowards name pursue me.
Dio. Now my Fate
 Guide and direct me.
Cam. You are rude and sawcy,
 With your forbidden feet to touch this ground,
 Sacred to CÆsar only, and to these
 That do attend his person; Speak, what are you?
Dio. What thou, nor any of thy faction are,
 Nor ever were: Souldiers, and honest men.
Cam. So blunt?
Geta. Nay, you shall find he's good at the sharp too.
Dio. No instruments of craft: engines of murther,
 That serve the Emperour only with oil'd tongues,
 Sooth and applaud his vices, play the Bauds
 To all his appetites; and when you have wrought
 So far upon his weakness, that he's grown
 Odious to the subject and himself,
 And can no further help your wicked ends,
 You rid him out of the way.
Cam. Treason?
Dio. 'Tis truth,
 And I will make it good.
Cam. Lay hands upon 'em,
 Or kill them suddenly.
Geta. I am out at that;
 I do not like the sport.
Dio. What's he that is
 Owner of any vertue worth a Roman,
 Or does retain the memory of the Oath
 He made to CÆsar, that dares lift his Sword
 Against the man that (careless of his life)
 Comes to discover such a horrid Treason,
 As when you hear't, and understand how long
 Y'ave been abus'd, will run you mad with fury?
 I am no stranger, but (like you) a Souldier,
 Train'd up one from my youth: and there are some
 With whom I have serv'd, and (not to praise my self)
 Must needs confess they have seen Diocles
 In the late Britain wars, both dare and do
 Beyond a common man.
1 Guard. Diocles?
2 Guard. I know him,
 The bravest Souldier of the Empire.
Cam. Stand:
 If thou advance an inch, thou art dead. [Dio. kills Camu.
Dio. Die thou,
 That durst oppose thy self against a truth
 That will break out, though mountains cover it.
Get. I fear this is a sucking Pig; no Boar,
 He falls so easie.
Dio. Hear me, fellow Souldiers;
 And if I make it not apparent to you
 This is an act of Justice, and no Murther,
 Cut me in pieces; I'le disperse the cloud
 That hath so long obscur'd a bloody act
 Ne'r equall'd yet: you all knew with what favours
 The good Numerianus ever grac't
 The Provost Aper?
Guard. True.
Dio. And that those bounties
 Should have contain'd him (if he e're had learn'd
 The Elements of honesty and truth)
 In loyal duty: But ambition never
 Looks backward on desert, but with blind haste
 Boldly runs on. But I lose time. You are here
 Commanded by this Aper to attend
 The Emperours person; to admit no stranger
 To have access to him, or come near his Litter,
 Under pretence (forsooth) his eyes are sore,
 And his minde troubled: no, my friends, you are cozen'd;
 The good Numerianus now is past
 The sense of wrong or injury.
Guard. How, dead?
Dio. Let your own eyes inform you.
Get. An Emperours Cabinet?
 Fough, I have known a Charnel-house smell sweeter.
 If Emperours flesh have this savour, what will mine do,
 When I am rotten?
1 Guard. Most unheard of villany.
2 Guard. And with all cruelty to be reveng'd.
3 Guard. Who is the murtherer? name him, that we may
 Punish it in his family.
Dio. Who but Aper?
 The barbarous and most ingrateful Aper,
 His desperate Poniard printed on his breast
 This deadly wound: hate to vow'd enemies
 Finds a full satisfaction in death;
 And Tyrants seek no farther. He (a Subject,
 And bound by all the Ties of love and duty)
 Ended not so; but does deny his Prince
 (Whose ghost forbad passage to his rest,
 Mourns by the Stygian shore) his Funeral-Rites.
 Nay, weep not; let your loves speak in your anger;
 And, to confirm you gave no suffrage to
 The damned Plot, lend me your helping hands
 To wreak the Parricide: and if you find
 That there is worth in Diocles to deserve it,
 Make him your leader.
Guard. A Diocles, a Diocles.
Dio. We'll force him from his Guards. And now, my Stars,
 If you have any good for me in store,
 Shew it, when I have slain this fatal Boar. [Exeunt.

SCENE III.

Enter Delphia and Drusilla, in a Throne drawn by Dragons.

Del. Fix here, and rest a while your Sail-stretch'd wings
 That have out-stript the winds: the eye of Heaven
 Durst not behold your speed, but hid it self
 Behind the grossest clouds; and the pale Moon
 Pluckt in her silver horns, trembling for fear
 That my strong Spells should force her from her Sphere;
 Such is the power of Art.
Dru. Good Aunt, where are we?
Del. Look down, Drusilla, on these lofty Towers,
 These spacious streets, where every private house
 Appears a Palace to receive a King:
 The site, the wealth, the beauty of the place,
 Will soon inform thee 'tis imperious Rome,
 Rome, the great Mistris of the conquer'd world.
Dru. But without Diocles, it is to me
 Like any wilderness we have pass'd o're:
 Shall I not see him?
Del. Yes, and in full glory,
 And glut thy greedy eyes with looking on
 His prosperous success: Contain thy self;
 For though all things beneath us are transparent,
 The sharpest sighted, were he Eagle-ey'd,
 Cannot discover us: nor will we hang
 Idle Spectators to behold his triumph:

Enter Diocles, Maximinian, Guard, Aper, Senators, Geta, Officers, with Litter.

But when occasion shall present it self,
 Do something to add to it. See, he comes.
Dru. How god-like he appears! with such a grace
 The Giants that attempted to scale Heaven,
 When they lay dead on the Phlegrean plain,
 Mars did appear to Jove.
Del. Forbear.
Dio. Look on this,
 And when with horrour thou hast view'd thy deed,
 (Thy most accursed deed) be thine own judge,
 And see (thy guilt consider'd) if thou canst
 Perswade thy self (whom thou stand'st bound to hate)
 To hope or plead for mercy.
Aper. I confess
 My life's a burden to me.
Dio. Thou art like thy name,
 A cruel Boar, whose snout hath rooted up
 The fruitfull Vineyard of the common-wealth:
 I long have hunted for thee, and since now
 Thou art in the Toyl, it is in vain to hope
 Thou ever shalt break out: thou dost deserve
 The Hangmans hook, or to be punished
 More majorum, whipt with rods to death,
 Or any way, that were more terrible.
 Yet, since my future fate depends upon thee,
 Thus, to ful[fi]ll great Delphia's Prophecie,
 Aper (thou fatal Boar) receive the honour [Kills Aper.
 To fall by Diocles hand. Shine clear, my Stars,
 That usher'd me to taste this common air
 In my entrance to the world, and give applause
 To this great work. [Musick.
Del. Strike Musick from the Spheres.
Dru. O now you honour me.
Dio. Ha! in the Air!
All. Miraculous.
Max. This shews the gods approve
 The Person, and the Act: then if the Senate
 (For in their eyes I read the Souldiers love)
 Think Diocles worthy to supply the place
 Of dead Numerianus, as he stands
 His Heir, in his revenge, with one consent
 Salute him Emperour.
Senat. Long live Diocles:
 Augustus, Pater PatriÆ, and all Titles,
 That are peculiar only to the CÆsars,
 We gladly throw upon him.
Guard. We confirm it,
 And will defend his honour with our Swords
 Against the world: raise him to the Tribunal.
1 Sen. Fetch the Imperial Robes: and as a sign
 We give him absolute power of life and death,
 Bind this Sword to his side.
2 Sen. Omit no Ceremony
 That may be for his honour. SONG.
Max. Still the gods
 Express that they are pleas'd with this election.
Geta. My Master is an Emperour, and I feel
 A Senators Itch upon me: would I could hire
 These fine invisible Fidlers to play to me
 At my instalment.
Dio. I embrace your loves,
 And hope the honours that you heap upon me,
 Shall be with strength supported. It shall be
 My studie to appear another Atlas,
 To stand firm underneath this heaven of Empire,
 And bear it boldly. I desire no Titles,
 But as I shall deserve 'em. I will keep
 The name I had, being a private man,
 Only with some small difference; I will add
 To Diocles but two short syllables,
 And be called Dioclesianus.
Geta. That is fine:
 I'le follow the fashion; and when I am a Senator,
 I will be no more plain Geta, but be call'd
 Lord Getianus.
Dru. He ne'er thinks of me,
 Nor of your favour.

Enter Niger.

Del. If he dares prove false,
 These glories shall be to him as a dream,
 Or an inchanted banquet.
Niger. From Charinus,
 From great Charinus, who with joy hath heard
 Of your proceedings, and confirms your honours:
 He, with his beauteous Sister, fair Aurelia,
 Are come in person, like themselves attended
 To gratulate your fortune. [Loud Musick.

Enter Charinus, Aurelia, Attendants.

Dio. For thy news,
 Be thou in France Pro-consul: let us meet
 The Emperour with all honour, and embrace him.
Dru. O Aunt, I fear this Princess doth eclipse
 Th' opinion of my beauty, though I were
 My self to be the judge.
Del. Rely on me.
Char. 'Tis vertue, and not birth that makes us noble:
 Great actions speak great minds, and such should govern;
 And you are grac't with both. Thus, as a Brother,
 A fellow, and Co-partner in the Empire,
 I do embrace you: may we live so far
 From difference, or emulous Competition,
 That all the world may say, Although two Bodies,
 We have one Mind.
Aur. When I look on the Trunk
 Of dear Numerianus, I should wash
 His wounds with tears, and pay a Sisters sorrow
 To his sad fate: but since he lives again
 In your most brave Revenge, I bow to you,
 As to a power that gave him second life,
 And will make good my promise. If you find
 That there is worth in me that may deserve you,
 And that in being your wife, I shall not bring
 Disquiet and dishonour to your Bed,
 Although my youth and fortune should require
 Both to be su'd and sought to, here I yield
 My self at your devotion.
Dio. O you gods,
 Teach me how to be thankful: you have pour'd
 All blessings on me, that ambitious man
 Could ever fancie: till this happy minute,
 I ne're saw beauty, or believ'd there could be
 Perfection in a woman. I shall live
 To serve and honour you: upon my knees
 I thus receive you; and, so you vouchsafe it,
 This day I am doubly married; to the Empire,
 And your best-self.
Del. False and perfidious villain.—
Dru. Let me fall headlong on him: O my stars!
 This I foresaw and fear'd.
Cha. Call forth a Flamen
 This knot shall now be ti'd.
Del. But I will loose it,
 If Art or Hell have any strength.

Enter a Flamen, Thunder, and Lightning.

Cha. Prodigious!
Max. How soon the day's orecast!
Fla. The Signs are fatal:
 Juno smiles not upon this Match, and shews too
 She has her thunder.
Dio. Can there be a stop
 In my full fortune?
Cha. We are too violent,
 And I repent the haste: we first should pay
 Our latest duty to the dead, and then
 Proceed discreetly. Let's take up the body,
 And when we have plac'd his ashes in his Urn,
 We'll try the gods again, for wise men say,
 Marriage and Obsequies do not suit one day. [Senate Exit.
Del. So, 'tis deferr'd yet, in despite of falshood:
 Comfort Drusilla, for he shall be thine,
 Or wish, in vain, he were not. I will punish [Ascend.
 His perjury to the height. Mount up, my birds;
 Some Rites I am to perform to Hecate,
 To perfect my designs; which once perform'd,
 He shall be made obedient to thy Call,
 Or in his ruine I will bury all. [Ascends throne.

Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Enter Maximinian, (solus.)

Enter Delphia, and Drusilla.

Del. Stand still; he cannot see us,
 Till I please: mark him well, this discontentment
 I have forc'd into him, for thy cause, Drusilla.
Max. Can the gods see this;
 See it with justice, and confer their blessings
 On him, that never flung one grain of incense
 Upon their Altars? never bow'd his knee yet;
 And I that have march'd foot by foot, struck equally,
 And whilst he was a gleaning, have been praying,
 Contemning his base covetous—
Del. Now we'll be open.
Max. Bless me, and with all reverence.
Del. Stand up, Son,
 And wonder not at thy ungratefull Uncle:
 I know thy thoughts, and I appear to ease 'em.
Max. O Mother, did I stand the tenth part to ye
 Engag'd and fetter'd, as mine Uncle does,
 How would I serve, how would I fall before ye!
 The poorer powers we worship.
Del. Peace, and flatter not;
 Necessitie and anger draws this from ye;
 Of both which I will quit ye: For your Uncle
 I spoke this honour, and it fell upon him;
 Fell, to his full content: he has forgot me,
 For all my care; forgot me, and his vow too:
 As if a dream had vanish'd, so h'as lost me,
 And I him: let him now stand fast. Come hither;
 My care is now on you.
Max. O blessed Mother!
Del. Stand still, and let me work. So now, Maximinian,
 Go, and appear in Court, and eye Aurelia:
 Believe, what I have done, concerns ye highly.
 Stand in her view, make your addresses to her:
 She is the Stair of honour. I'le say no more,
 But Fortune is your servant: go.
Max. With reverence;—
 All this as holy truths. [Exit.
Del. Believe, and prosper.
Dru. Yet all this cures not me; but as much credit,
 As much belief from Dioclesian.

Enter Geta, Lictors, and Suitors, (with Petitions.)

Del. Be not dejected; I have warn'd ye often:
 The proudest thoughts he has, I'le humble. Who's this?
 O 'tis the fool and knave grown a grave Officer:
 Here's hot and high preferment.
Get. What's your Bill?
 For Gravel for the Appian way, and Pills?
 Is the way rheumatick?
1 Suitor. 'Tis Piles, and't please you.
Get. Remove me those Piles to Port Esquiline,
 Fitter the place, my friend: you shall be paid.
1 Suitor. I thank your worship.
Get. Thank me when ye have it;
 Thank me another way, ye are an Asse else.
 I know my office: you are for the streets, Sir.
 Lord, how ye throng! that knave has eaten Garlick;
 Whip him, and bring him back.
3 Suitor. I beseech your Worship;
 Here's an old reckoning for the dung and dirt, Sir.
Get. It stinks like thee: away. Yet let him tarry,
 His Bill shall quit his Breath. Give your Petitions
 In seemly sort, and keep your hat off, decently.
 For scowring the water-courses thorow the Cities?
 A fine periphrasis of a kennel-raker.
 Did ye scour all, my friend? ye had some business:
 Who shall scour you? you are to be paid, I take it,
 When Surgeons swear you have perform'd your office.
4 Suit. Your Worship's merry.
Get. We must be sometimes wittie,
 To nick a knave; 'tis as useful as our gravitie.
 I'le take no more Petitions; I am pester'd;
 Give me some rest.
4 Suit. I have brought the gold (and't please ye)
 About the Place ye promised.
Get. See him enter'd.
 How does your Daughter?
4 Suit. Better your worship thinks of her.
Get. This is with the least. But let me see your Daughter.
 'Tis a good forward maid; I'le joyn her with ye.
 I do beseech ye, leave me.
Lictor. Ye see the Edile's busie.
Get. And look to your places, or I'le make ye smoke else.
 Sirrah, I drank a cup of wine at your house yesterday;
 A good smart wine.
Lictor. Send him the piece, he likes it.
Get. And ate the best wild Boar at that same Farmers.
2 Su. I have half left yet: your worship shall command it.
Get. A bit will serve: give me some rest: gods help me.
 How shall I labour when I am a Senator?
Del. 'Tis a fit place indeed. 'Save your Mastership;
 Do you know us, Sir?
Get. These women are still troublesom.
 There be houses providing for such wretched women,
 And some small Rents, to set ye a spinning.
Dru. Sir,
 We are no Spinsters; nor, if you look upon us,
 So wretched as you take us.
Del. Does your Mightiness
 That is a great destroyer of your Memorie,
 Yet understand our faces?
Get. 'Prethee keep off, woman;
 It is not fit I should know every creature.
 Although I have been familiar with thee heretofore,
 I must not know thee now: my place neglects thee.
 Yet, because I daign a glimpse of your remembrances,
 Give me your Suits, and wait me a month hence.
Del. Our Suits are, Sir, to see the Emperour,
 The Emperour Dioclesian, to speak to him,
 And not to wait on you. We have told you all, Sir.
Get. I laugh at your simplicitie, poor women:
 See the Emperour? why you are deceiv'd: now
 The Emperour appears but once in seven years,
 And then he shines not on such weeds as you are.
 Forward, and keep your State, and keep beggers from me.
Drus. Here is a prettie youth. [Exeunt.

Enter Diocles.

Del. He shall be prettie,
 Or I will want my will, since ye are so high, Sir:
 I'le raise ye higher, or my art shall fail me.
 Stand close, he comes.
Dio. How am I cross'd and tortur'd!
 My most wish'd happiness, my lovely Mistris,
 That must make good my hopes, and link my greatness,
 Yet sever'd from mine arms! Tell me, high heaven,
 How have I sinn'd, that you should speak in thunder,
 In horrid thunder, when my heart was ready
 To leap into her breast? the Priest was ready?
 The joyful virgins and the young men ready?
 When Hymen stood with all his flames about him
 Blessing the bed? the house with full joy sweating?
 And expectation, like the Roman Eagle,
 Took stand, and call'd all eyes? It was your honour;
 And e're you give it full, do you destroy it?
 Or was there some dire Star? some Devil that did it?
 Some sad malignant Angel to mine honour?
 With you I dare not rage.
Del. With me thou canst not,
 Though it was I. Nay, look not pale and frighted;
 I'le fright thee more. With me thou canst not quarrel;
 I rais'd the thunder, to rebuke thy falshood:
 Look here, to her thy falshood. Now be angry,
 And be as great in evil as in Empire.
Dio. Bless me, ye Powers.
Del. Thou hast full need of blessing.
 'Twas I, that at thy great Inauguration,
 Hung in the air unseen: 'twas I that honour'd thee
 With various Musicks, and sweet sounding airs:
 'Twas I inspir'd the Souldiers heart with wonder,
 And made him throw himself, with love and duty,
 Low at thy feet: 'twas I that fix'd him to thee,
 But why did I all this? To keep thy honestie,
 Thy vow and faith; that once forgot and slighted
 Aurelia in regard, the Marriage ready,
 The Priest and all the Ceremonies present,
 'Twas I that thundred loud; 'twas I that threatned;
 'Twas I that cast a dark face over heaven,
 And smote ye all with terrour.
Dru. Yet consider,
 As ye are noble, as I have deserv'd ye;
 For yet ye are free: if neither faith nor promise,
 The deeds of elder times may be remembred,
 Let these new-dropping tears; for I still love ye,
 These hands held up to heaven.
Dio. I must not pity ye;
 'Tis not wise in me.
Del. How? not wise?
Dio. Nor honourable.
 A Princess is my Love, and doats upon me:
 A fair and lovely Princess is my Mistris.
 I am an Emperour: consider, Prophetess,
 Now my embraces are for Queens and Princesses,
 For Ladies of high mark, for divine beauties:
 To look so low as this cheap common sweetness,
 Would speak me base, my names and glories nothing.
 I grant I made a vow; what was I then?
 As she is now, of no sort, (hope made me promise)
 But now I am; to keep this vow, were monstrous,
 A madness, and a low inglorious fondness.
Del. Take heed, proud man.
Drus. Princes may love with Titles,
 But I with Truth.
Del. Take heed; here stands thy destinie;
 Thy Fate here follows.
Dio. Thou doating Sorceress,
 Wouldst have me love this thing, that is not worthy
 To kneel unto my Saint? to kiss her shadow?
 Great Princes are her slaves; selected beauties
 Bow at her beck: the mighty Persian's Daughter
 (Bright as the breaking East, as mid-day glorious)
 Waits her commands, and grows proud in her pleasures.
 I'le see her honour'd: some Match I shall think of,
 That shall advance ye both; mean time I'll favour ye. [Exit.
Del. Mean time I'le haunt thee. Cry not (wench) be confident,
 E're long, thou shalt more pity him (observe me)
 And pity him in truth, than now thou seek'st him:
 My art and I are yet companions. Come, Girl. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Enter Geta, Lictors.

Get. I am too merciful, I find it, friends,
 Of too soft a nature to be an Officer;
 I bear too much remorse.
1 Lict. 'Tis your own fault, Sir;
 For look you, one so newly warm in Office
 Should lay about him blindfold, like true Justice,
 Hit where it will: the more ye whip and hang, Sir,
 (Though without cause; let that declare it self afterward)
 The more ye are admired.
Get. I think I shall be.—
2 Lict. Your worship is a man of a spare body,
 And prone to anger.
Get. Nay, I will be angry,
 And, the best is, I need not shew my reason.
2 Lict. You need not, Sir, your place is without reason;
 And what you want in growth and full proportion,
 Make up in rule and rigour.
Get. A rare Counsellor;
 Instruct me further. Is it fit, my friends,
 The Emperour my Master Dioclesian
 Should now remember or the times or manners
 That call'd him plain down Diocles?
1 Lict. He must not,
 It stands not with his Royaltie.
Get. I grant ye,
 I being then the Edile Getianus,
 A man of place, and Judge, is it held requisite
 I should commit to my consideration
 Those Rascals of removed and ragged hours,
 That with unreverend mouths call'd me Slave Geta?
2 Lict. You must forget their names; your honour bids ye.
Get. I do forget; but I'le hang their natures:
 I will ascend my place, which is of Justice;
 And mercy, I forget thee.
Suitor. A rare Magistrate!
 Another Solon sure.
Get. Bring out the offenders.
1 Lict. There are none yet, Sir, but no doubt there will be.
 But if you please touch some things of those natures.
Get. And am I ready, and mine anger too?
 The melancholy of a Magistrate upon me,
 And no offenders to execute my fury?
 Ha? no offenders, knaves?
1 Lict. There are knaves indeed, Sir,
 But we hope shortly to have 'em for your worship.
Get. No men to hang or whip? are you good officers,
 That provide no fuel for a Judges fury?
 In this place something must be done; this Chair, I tell ye,
 When I sit down, must savour of Severitie:
 Therefore I warn ye all, bring me lewd people,
 Or likely to be lewd; twigs must be cropt too:
 Let me have evil persons in abundance,
 Or make 'em evil; 'tis all one, do but say so,
 That I may have fit matter for a Magistrate;
 And let me work. If I sit empty once more,
 And lose my longing, as I am true Edile,
 And as I hope to rectifie my Countrie,
 You are those scabs I will scratch off from the Commonwealth,
 You are these Rascals of the State I treat of,
 And you shall find and feel.—
2 Lict. You shall have many,
 Many notorious people.
Get. Let 'em be people,
 And take ye notorious to your selves. Mark me, my Lictors,
 And you, the rest of my Officials;
 If I be angry, as my place will ask it,
 And want fit matter to dispose my Authoritie,
 I'le hang a hundred of ye: I'le not stay longer,
 Nor enquire no further into your offences:
 It is sufficient that I find no Criminals,
 And therefore I must make some: if I cannot,
 Suffer my self; for so runs my Commission.
Suitor. An admirable, zealous and true Justice.
1 Lict. I cannot hold: if there be any people,
 Of what degree soever, or what qualitie,
 That would behold the wonderful works of Justice
 In a new Officer, a man conceal'd yet,
 Let him repair, and see, and hear, and wonder
 At the most wise and gracious Getianus.

Enter Delphia, and Drusilla.

Get. This qualifies a little. What are these?
Del. You shall not mourn still: times of recreation,
 To allay this sadness, must be sought. What's here?
 A superstitious flock of sensless people
 Worshipping a sign in Office?
Get. Lay hold on her,
 And hold her fast,
 She'll slip thorow your fingers like an Eel else;
 I know her tricks: hold her, I say, and bind her,
 Or hang her first, and then I'le tell her wherefore.
Del. What have I done?
Get. Thou hast done enough to undo thee;
 Thou hast pressed to the Emperours presence without my warrant,
 I being his key and image.
Del. You are an image indeed,
 And of the coursest stuff, and the worst making
 That e're I look'd on yet: I'le make as good an image of an Asse.
Get. Besides, thou art a woman of a lewd life.
Del. I am no whore, Sir, nor no common fame
 Has yet proclaim'd me to the people, vitious.
Get. Thou art to me a damnable lewd woman,
 Which is as much as all the people swore it;
 I know thou art a keeper of tame Devils:
 And whereas great and grave men of my place
 Can by the Laws be allow'd but one apiece,
 For their own services and recreations;
 Thou, like a traiterous quean, keepst twenty devils;
 Twenty in ordinary.
Del. Pray ye, Sir, be pacified,
 If that be all: and if ye want a servant,
 You shall have one of mine shall serve for nothing,
 Faithful, and diligent, and a wise Devil too;
 Think for what end.
Get. Let her alone, 'tis useful;
 We men of business must use speedie servants:
 Let me see your family.
Del. Think but one, he is ready.
Get. A Devil for intelligence? No, no,
 He will lye beyond all travellers. A State-Devil?
 Neither; he will undo me at mine own weapon.
 For execution? he will hang me too.
 I would have a handsom, pleasant and a fine she-devil,
 To entertain the Ladies that come to me;
 A travell'd Devil too, that speaks the tongues,
 And a neat carving Devil. [Musick.

Enter a she-devil.

Del. Be not fearful.
Get. A prettie brown devil i'faith; may I not kiss her?
Del. Yes, and embrace her too; she is your servant.
 Fear not; her lips are cool enough.
Get. She is marvellous well mounted; what's her name?
Del. Lucifera.
Get. Come hither, Lucifera. and kiss me.
Del. Let her sit on your knee.
Get. The Chair turns: hey-boys:
 Pleasant i'faith, and a fine facetious Devil. [Dance.
Del. She would whisper in your ear, and tell ye wonders.
Get. Come; what's her name?
Del. Lucifera.
Get. Come, Lucie, come, speak thy mind. I am certain burnt to ashes. [Exeunt.
 I have a kind of Glasse-house in my cod-piece.
 Are these the flames of State? I am rosted over,
 Over, and over-rosted. Is this Office?
 The pleasure of authoritie? I'le no more on't,
 Till I can punish Devils too; I'le quit it.
 Some other Trade now, and some course less dangerous,
 Or certainly I'le tyle again for two pence. [Exit.

SCENE III.

Enter Charinus, Aurelia, Cassana, Ambassadours, Attendants.

Aur. Never dispute with me; you cannot have her:
 Nor name the greatness of your King; I scorn him:
 Your knees to me are nothing; should he bow too,
 It were his dutie, and my power to slight him.
Cha. She is her woman; never sue to me;
 And in her power to render her, or keep her;
 And she, my Sister, not to be compell'd,
 Nor have her own snatch'd from her.
Amb. We desire not,
 But for what ransom she shall please to think of;
 Jewels, or Towns, or Provinces.
Aur. No ransom,
 No, not your Kings own head, his crown upon it,
 And all the low subjections of his people.
Amb. Fair Princes should have tender thoughts.
Aur. Is she too good
 To wait upon the mighty Emperours Sister?
 What Princess of that sweetness, or that excellence,
 Sprung from the proudest, and the mightiest Monarchs,
 But may be highly blest to be my servant?
Cas. 'Tis most true, mighty Lady.
Aur. Has my fair usage
 Made you so much despise me and your fortune,
 That ye grow weary of my entertainments?
 Henceforward, as ye are, I will command ye,
 And as you were ordain'd my prisoner,
 My slave, and one I may dispose of any way,
 No more my fair Companion: tell your King so:
 And if he had more Sisters, I would have 'em,
 And use 'em as I please. You have your answer.
Amb. We must take some other way: force must compel it. [Ex.

Enter Maximinian.

Max. Now if thou beest a Prophetess, and canst do
 Things of that wonder that thy tongue delivers,
 Canst raise me too: I shall be bound to speak thee:
 I half believe, confirm the other to me,
 And Monuments to all succeeding Ages,
 Of thee, and of thy piety.—Now she eyes me.
 Now work great power of art: she moves unto me:
 How sweet, how fair, and lovely her aspects are!
 Her eyes like bright Eoan flames shoot thorow me.
Aur. O my fair friend, where have you been?
Max. What am I?
 What does she take me for? work still, work strongly.
Aur. Where have you fled, my loves and my embraces?
Max. I am beyond my wits.
Aur. Can one poor Thunder,
 Whose causes are as common as his noises,
 Make ye defer your lawful and free pleasures?
 Strike terrour to a Souldiers heart, a Monarchs?
 Thorow all the fires of angry heaven, thorow tempests
 That sing of nothing but destruction,
 Even underneath the bolt of Jove, then ready,
 And aiming dreadfully, I would seek you,
 And flie into your arms.
Max. I shall be mighty,
 And (which I never knew yet) I am goodly;
 For certain, a most handsom man.
Cha. Fie, Sister,
 What a forgetful weakness is this in ye?
 What a light presence? these are words and offers
 Due only to your husband Dioclesian;
 This free behaviour only his.
Aur. 'Tis strange
 That only empty names compel affections:
 This man, ye see, give him what name or title,
 Let it be ne're so poor, ne're so despis'd, Brother,
 This lovely man.—
Max. Though I be hang'd, I'le forward:
 For, certain, I am excellent, and knew not.
Aur. This rare and sweet young man, see how he looks, Sir.
Max. I'le justle hard, dear Uncle.
Aur. This thing, I say,
 Let him be what he will, or bear what fortune,
 This most unequall'd man, this spring of beauty
 Deserves the bed of Juno.
Cha. You are not mad.
Max. I hope she be; I am sure I am little better.
Aur. O fair, sweet man!
Cha. For shame refrain this impudence.
Max. Would I had her alone, that I might seal this blessing:
 Sure, sure she should not beg: if this continue,
 As I hope, Heaven, it will; Uncle, I'le nick ye,
 I'le nick ye, by this life. Some would fear killing
 In the pursuit now of so rare a venture;

Enter Diocles.

I am covetous to die for such a beauty.
 Mine Uncle comes: now, if she stand, I am happie.
Cha. Be right again, for honours sake.
Dio. Fair Mistris—
Aur. What man is this? Away. What sawcy fellow?
 Dare any such base groom press to salute me?
Dio. Have ye forgot me, Fair, or do you jest with me?
 I'le tell ye what I am: come, 'pray ye look lovely.
 Nothing but frowns and scorns?
Aur. Who is this fellow?
Dio. I'le tell ye who I am: I am your husband.
Aur. Husband to me?
Dio. To you. I am Dioclesian.
Max. More of this sport, and I am made, old Mother:
 Effect but this thou hast begun.
Dio. I am he, Lady,
 Reveng'd your Brothers death; slew cruel Aper;
 I am he the Souldier courts, the Empire honours,
 Your Brother loves; am he (my lovely Mistriss)
 Will make you Empress of the World.
Max. Still excellent;
 Now I see too, mine Uncle may be cozen'd:
 An Emperour may suffer like another.
 Well said, old Mother, hold up this miracle.
Aur. Thou lyest, thou art not he: thou a brave fellow?
Char. Is there no shame, no modesty in women?
Aur. Thou one of high and full mark?
Dio. Gods! what ails she?
Aur. Generous and noble? Fie, thou liest most basely.
 Thy face, and all aspects upon thee, tell me
 Thou art a poor Dalmatian Slave, a low thing,
 Not worth the name of Roman; stand off farther.
Dio. What may this mean?
Aur. Come hither, my Endymion;
 Come, shew thy self, and all eyes be blessed in thee.
Dio. Ha? what is this?
Aur. Thou fair star that I live by,
 Look lovely on me, break into full brightness;
 Look, here's a face now, of another making,
 Another mold; here's a divine proportion,
 Eyes fit for Phoebus self to gild the World with;
 And there's a brow arch'd like the State of Heaven;
 Look how it bends, and with what radiance,
 As if the Synod of the gods sate under;
 Look there, and wonder; now behold that fellow,
 That admirable thing, cut with an Axe out.
Max. Old Woman, though I cannot give thee recompence,
 Yet certainly, I'll make thy name as glorious.
Dio. Is this in truth?
Char. She is mad, and you must pardon her.
Dio. She hangs upon him; see.
Char. Her fit is strong now,
 Be not you passionate.
Dio. She kisses.
Char. Let her;
 'Tis but the fondness of her fit.
Dio. I am fool'd,
 And if I suffer this.
Char. 'Pray ye, friend, be pacified,
 This will be off anon; she goes in. [Exit Aurelia.
Dio. Sirrah.
Max. What say you, Sir?
Dio. How dare thy lips, thy base lips?
Max. I am your Kinsman, Sir, and no such base one;
 I sought no kisses, nor I had no reason
 To kick the Princess from me; 'twas no manners;
 I never yet compell'd her; of her courtesie,
 What she bestows, Sir, I am thankful for.
Dio. Be gone, Villain.
Max. I will, and I will go off with that glory,
 And magnifie my fate. [Exit.
Dio. Good Brother, leave me,
 I am to my self a trouble now.
Char. I am sorry for't;
 You'll find it but a woman-fit to try ye.
Dio. It may be so, I hope so.
Char. I am asham'd, and what I think I blush at. [Exit.
Dio. What misery hath my fortune bred me?
 And how far must I suffer? Poor and low States,
 Though they know wants and hungers, know not these,
 Know not these killing Fates; little contents them,
 And with that little they live, Kings commanding,
 And ordering both their ends and loves. O Honour!
 How greedily men seek thee, and once purchased,
 How many Enemies to mans peace bringst thou!
 How many griefs and sorrows, that like sheers,
 Like fatal Sheers, are sheering off our lives still!
 How many sad Eclipses do we shine thorow!

Enter Delphia, Drusilla, vail'd.

When I presum'd I was blessed in this fair woman.
Del. Behold him now, and tell me how thou lik'st him.
Dio. When all my hopes were up, and Fortune dealt me
 Even for the greatest, and the happiest Monarch,
 Then to be cozen'd, to be cheated basely?
 By mine own Kinsman cross'd? O villain Kinsman!
 Curse of my blood; because a little younger,
 A little smoother fac'd; O false, false woman,
 False and forgetful of thy faith; I'll kill him.
 But can I kill her hate too? No, he woos not,
 Nor worthy is of death, because she follows him,
 Because she courts him; Shall I kill an innocent?
 O Diocles! would thou hadst never known this,
 Nor surfeited upon this sweet Ambition,
 That now lies bitter at thy heart; O Fortune,
 That thou hast none to fool, and blow like bubbles,
 But Kings, and their Contents!
Del. What think you now, Girl?
Dru. Upon my life, I pity his misfortune:
 See how he weeps; I cannot hold.
Del. Away, fool;
 He must weep bloody tears before thou hast him.
 How fare ye now, brave Dioclesian?
 What! lazy in your loves? has too much pleasure
 Dull'd your most mighty faculties?
Dio. Art thou there!
 More to torment me? dost thou come to mock me?
Del. I do, and I do laugh at all thy sufferings:
 I, that have wrought 'em, come to scorn thy wailings;
 I told thee once, this is thy fate, this woman,
 And as thou usest her, so thou shall prosper.
 It is not in thy power to turn this destiny,
 Nor stop the torrent of those miseries
 (If thou neglectst her still) shall fall upon thee.
 Sith that thou art dishonest, false of faith,
 Proud, and dost think no Power can cross thy pleasures;
 Thou wilt find a Fate above thee.
Dru. Good Aunt, speak mildly;
 See how he looks and suffers.
Dio. I find and feel, woman,
 That I am miserable.
Del. Thou art most miserable.
Dio. That as I am the most, I am most miserable.
 But didst thou work this?
Del. Yes, and will pursue it.
Dio. Stay there, and have some pity, fair Drusilla
 Let me perswade thy mercy, thou hast lov'd me,
 Although I know my suit will sound unjustly
 To make thy love the means to lose it self,
 Have pity on me.
Dru. I will do.
Del. Peace, Niece,
 Although this softness may become your love,
 Your care must scorn it. Let him still contemn thee,
 And still I'll work; the same affection
 He ever shews to thee, be it sweet or bitter,
 The same Aurelia shall shew him; no further;
 Nor shall the wealth of all his Empire free this.
Dio. I must speak fair. Lovely young Maid, forgive me,
 Look gently on my sorrows; you that grieve too,
 I see it in your eyes, and thus I meet it.
Dru. O Aunt, I am bless'd.
Dio. Be not both young and cruel,
 Again I beg it thus.
Dru. Thus, Sir, I grant it.

Enter Aurelia.

Enter CHORUS.

So full of matter is our Historie,
 Yet mixt I hope with sweet varietie,
 The accidents not vulgar too, but rare,
 And fit to be presented, that there wants
 Room in this narrow Stage, and time to express
 In Action to the life, our Dioclesian
 In his full lustre: Yet (as the Statuary,
 That by the large size of Alcides's foot,
 Guess'd at his whole proportion) so we hope
 Your apprehensive judgments will conceive
 Out of the shadow we can only shew,
 How fair the Body was; and will be pleas'd,
 Out of your wonted goodness, to behold
 As in a silent Mirrour, what we cannot
 With fit conveniency of time, allow'd
 For such Presentments, cloath in vocal sounds.
 Yet with such Art the Subject is conveigh'd,
 That every Scene and passage shall be clear
 Even to the grossest Understander here.

[Loud Musick.

Dumb Shew.

Enter, at one Door, Delphia, Ambassadours, They whisper together; they take an Oath upon her hand; She circles them (kneeling) with her Magick-rod; they rise and draw their Swords. Enter, at the other door, Dioclesian, Charinus, Maximinian, Niger, Aurelia, Cassana, Guard; Charinus and Niger perswading Aurelia; She offers to embrace Maximinian; Diocles draws his Sword, keeps off Maximinian, turns to Aurelia, kneels to her, lays his Sword at her feet, she scornfully turns away: Delphia gives a sign; the Ambassadours and Souldiers rush upon them, seize on Aurelia, Cassana, Charinus, and Maximinian; Dioclesian, and others offer to rescue them; Delphia raises a mist; Exeunt Ambassadours and Prisoners, and the rest discontented.

The skilful Delphia finding by sure proof
 The presence of Aurelia dim'd the Beauty
 Of her Drusilla; and in spight of Charms,
 The Emperour her Brother, Great Charinus,
 Still urg'd her to the love of Dioclesian,
 Deals with the Persian Legats, that were bound
 For the Ransom of Cassana, to remove
 Aurelia, Maximinian, and Charinus
 Out of the sight of Rome; but takes their Oaths
 (In lieu of her assistance) that they shall not
 On any terms, when they were in their power,
 Presume to touch their lives; This yielded to,
 They lye in ambush for 'em. Dioclesian
 Still mad for fair Aurelia, that doted
 As much on Maximinian, twice had kill'd him,
 But that her frown restrain'd him: He pursues her
 With all humility; but she continues
 Proud and disdainful. The sign given by Delphia,
 The Persians break thorow, and seize upon
 Charinus and his Sister, with Maximinian,
 And free Cassana. For their speedy rescue,
 Enraged Dioclesian draws his Sword,
 And bids his Guard assist him; Then too weak
 Had been all opposition and resistance
 The Persians could have made against their fury,
 If Delphia by her Cunning had not raised
 A foggy Mist, which, as a Cloud, conceal'd them,
 Deceiving their Pursuers. Now be pleased,
 That your imaginations may help you
 To think them safe in Persia, and Dioclesian
 For this disaster circled round with sorrow,
 Yet mindful of the wrong. Their future fortunes
 We will present in Action; and are bold,
 In that which follows, that the most shall say,
 'Twas well begun, but the End crown'd the Play. [Exit.

SCENE II.

Enter Diocles, Niger, Senators, Guard.

Dio. Talk not of comfort; I have broke my faith,
 And the gods fight against me; and proud man,
 However magnified, is but as dust
 Before the raging whirl-wind of their justice.
 What is it to be great? ador'd on Earth?
 When the immortal Powers that are above us
 Turn all our Blessings into horrid Curses,
 And laugh at our resistance, or prevention
 Of what they purpose? O the Furies that
 I feel within me! whipt on, by their angers,
 For my tormentors. Could it else have been
 In Nature, that a few fugitive Persians,
 Unfriended, and unarmed too, could have rob'd me
 (In Rome, the World's Metropolis, and her glory;
 In Rome, where I command, inviron'd round
 With such invincible Troops that know no fear,
 But want of noble Enemies) of those jewels
 I priz'd above my life, and I want power
 To free them, if those gods I have provok'd
 Had not given spirit to the undertakers,
 And in their deed protected 'em?
Nig. Great CÆsar,
 Your safety does confirm you are their care,
 And that howe'r their practices reach others,
 You stand above their malice.
1 Sen. Rome in us
 Offers (as means to further your revenge)
 The lives of her best Citizens,
 And all they stand possess'd of.
1 Guard. Do but lead us on
 With that invincible and undaunted Courage
 Which waited bravely on you, when you appear'd
 The minion of Conquest; married rather
 To glorious Victory, and we will drag
 (Though all the Enemies of life conspire
 Against our undertakings) the proud Persian,
 Out of his strongest hold.
2 Guard. Be but your self,
 And do not talk but do.
3 Guard. You have hands and swords,
 Limbs to make up a well proportion'd Army,
 That only want in you an Head to lead us.
Dio. The gods reward your goodness; and believe,
 Howe'r (for some great sin) I am mark't out
 The object of their hate, though Jove stood ready
 To dart his three-fold thunder on this head,
 It could not fright me from a fierce pursuit
 Of my revenge; I will redeem my friends,
 And with my friends mine honour; at least fall
 Like to my self, a Souldier.
Nig. Now we hear
 Great Dioclesian speak.
Dio. Draw up our Legions,
 And let it be your care (my much lov'd Niger)
 To hasten the remove; And, fellow Souldiers,
 Your love to me will teach you to endure
 Both long and tedious Marches.
1 Guard. Dye he accurs'd
 That thinks of rest or sleep, before he sets
 His foot on Persian-Earth.
Nig. We know our glory;
 The dignity of Rome, and what's above
 All can be urg'd, the quiet of your mind
 Depends upon our haste.
Dio. Remove to night;
 Five days shall bring me to you.
All. Happiness
 To CÆsar, and glorious victory. [Exeunt.
Dio. The cheerfulness of my Souldiers gives assurance
 Of good success abroad; if first I make
 My peace at home here. There is something chides me,
 And sharply tells me, that my breach of faith
 To Delphia and Drusilla, is the ground
 Of my misfortunes; And I must remember,
 While I was lov'd, and in great Delphia's Grace,
 She was as my good Angel, and bound Fortune
 To prosper my designs; I must appease her;
 Let others pay their Knees, their Vows, their Prayers
 To weak imagin'd Powers; She is my All,
 And thus I do invoke her. Knowing Delphia,
 Thou more than Woman, and though thou vouchsafest
 To grace the Earth with thy celestial Steps,
 And taste this grosser air, thy heavenly Spirit
 Hath free access to all the secret Counsels
 Which a full Senate of the gods determine
 When they consider man: The brass leav'd Book
 Of Fate lies open to thee, where thou read'st,
 And fashionest the destinies of men
 At thy wish'd pleasures; Look upon thy creature,
 And as thou twice hast pleased to appear
 To reprehend my falshood, now vouchsafe
 To see my low submission. [Delphia and Drusilla appear.
Del. What's thy Will?
 False, and unthankful, (and in that deserving
 All humane sorrows) darst thou hope from me
 Relief or Comfort?
Dio. Penitence does appease
 Th' incensed Powers, and Sacrifice takes off
 Their heavy angers; thus I tender both;
 The Master of great Rome, and in that, Lord
 Of all the Sun gives heat and being to,
 Thus sues for mercy; Be but as thou wert,
 The Pilot to the Bark of my good fortunes,
 And once more steer my actions to the Port
 Of glorious Honour, and if I fall off
 Hereafter from my faith to this sweet Virgin,
 Joyn with those Powers that punish perjury,
 To make me an example to deter
 Others from being false.
Dru. Upon my soul,
 You may believe him; nor did he e'r purpose
 To me but nobly; he made tryal how
 I could endure unkindness; I see Truth
 Triumphant in his sorrow. Dearest Aunt,
 Both credit him, and help him; and on assurance
 That what I plead for, you cannot deny,
 I raise him thus, and with this willing kiss
 I seal his pardon.
Dio. O that I e'r lookt
 Beyond this abstract of all womans goodness.
Del. I am thine again; thus I confirm our league;
 I know thy wishes, and how much thou suffer'st
 In honour for thy friends; thou shalt repair all;
 For to thy Fleet I'll give a fore-right wind
 To pass the Persian Gulf; remove all lets
 That may molest thy Souldiers in their March
 That pass by land, and destiny is false,
 If thou prove not victorious; Yet remember,
 When thou art rais'd up to the highest point
 Of humane happiness, such as move beyond it
 Must of necessity descend. Think on't,
 And use those Blessings that the gods pour on you
 With moderation.
Dio. As their Oracle
 I hear you, and obey you, and will follow
 Your grave directions.
Del. You will not repent it. [Exeunt.

SCENE III.

Enter Niger, Geta, Guard, Souldiers, Ensigns.

Nig. How do you like your entrance to the War?
 When the whole Body of the Army moves,
 Shews it not gloriously?
Get. 'Tis a fine May-game;
 But eating and drinking I think are forbad in't,
 (I mean, with leisure) we walk on, and feed
 Like hungry Boys that haste to School; or as
 We carried Fish to the City, dare stay no where,
 For fear our ware should stink.
1 Guard. That's the necessity
 Of our speedy March.
Get. Sir, I do love my ease,
 And though I hate all Seats of Judicature,
 I mean in the City, for conveniency,
 I still will be a Justice in the War,
 And ride upon my foot-cloth. I hope a Captain
 (And a gown'd-Captain too) may be dispenc'd with.
 I tell you, and do not mock me, when I was poor,
 I could endure like others, cold and hunger;
 But since I grew rich, let but my finger ake,
 Or feel but the least pain in my great Toe,
 Unless I have a Doctor, mine own Doctor,
 That may assure me, I am gone.
Nig. Come, fear not;
 You shall want nothing.
1 Guard. We will make you fight,
 As you were mad.
Get. Not too much of fighting, friend;
 It is thy trade, that art a common Souldier;
 We Officers, by our place, may share the spoil,
 And never sweat for't.
2 Guard. You shall kill for practice
 But your dozen or two a day.
Get. Thou talkst as if
 Thou wert lousing thy self; but yet I will make danger,
 If I prove one of the Worthies, so; However,
 I'll have the fear of the gods before my eyes,
 And do no hurt I warrant you.
Nig. Come, march on,
 And humour him for our mirth.
1 Guard. 'Tis a fine peak-Goose.
Nig. But one that fools to the Emperour, and in that,
 A wise man, and a Souldier.
1 Guard. True morality. [Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

Enter Cosroe, Cassana, Persians; and Charinus, Maximinian, Aurelia, bound, with Souldiers.

Cos. Now by the Persian gods, most truly welcome,
 Encompass'd thus with tributary Kings,
 I entertain you. Lend your helping hands
 To seat her by me; and thus rais'd, bow all
 To do her honour; O my best Cassana,
 Sister, and Partner of my Life and Empire,
 We'll teach thee to forget with present pleasures
 Thy late Captivity; and this proud Roman,
 That us'd thee as a Slave, and did disdain
 A Princely Ransome, shall, if she repine,
 Be forc'd by various Tortures, to adore
 What she of late contemn'd.
Cas. All greatness ever
 Attend Cosroe; though Persia be styl'd
 The Nurse of Pomp and Pride, we'll leave to Rome
 Her native Cruelty. For know, Aurelia,
 A Roman Princess, and a CÆsars Sister
 Though late, like thee captiv'd, I can forget
 Thy barbarous usage; and though thou to me
 (When I was in thy power) didst shew thy self,
 A most insulting Tyranness, I to thee
 May prove a gentle Mistriss.
Aur. O my Stars,
 A Mistriss? can I live and owe that name
 To flesh and blood? I was born to command,
 Train'd up in Soveraignty; and I, in death
 Can quit the name of Slave; she that scorns life,
 May mock Captivity.
Char. Rome will be Rome
 When we are nothing; and her power's the same
 Which you once quak'd at.
Max. Dioclesian lives;
 Hear it and tremble; Lives (thou King of Persia)
 The Master of his Fortune, and his Honour;
 And though by devilish arts we were surpriz'd,
 And made the prey of Magick and of Theft,
 And not won nobly, we shall be redeem'd,
 And by a Roman War; and every wrong
 We suffer here, with interest, be return'd
 On the insulting doer.
1 Per. Sure these Romans
 Are more than men.
2 Per. Their great hearts will not yield,
 They cannot bend to any adverse Fate,
 Such is their Confidence.
Cos. They then shall break.
 Why, you rebellious Wretches, dare you still
 Contend when the last breath, or nod of mine
 Marks you out for the fire? or to be made
 The prey of Wolves or Vulturs? the vain name
 Of Roman Legions, I slight thus, and scorn;
 And for that boasted bug bear, Dioclesian,
 (Which you presume on) would he were the master
 But of the spirit, to meet me in the field,
 He soon should find that our immortal Squadrons,
 That with full numbers ever are supply'd,
 (Could it be possible they should decay)
 Dare front his boldest Troops, and scatter him,
 As an high towring Falcon on her stretches,
 Severs the fearful fowl. And by the Sun,
 The Moon, the Winds, the nourishers of life,
 And by this Sword, the instrument of death,
 Since that you fly not humbly to our mercy
 But yet dare hope your liberty by force;
 If Dioclesian dare not attempt
 To free you with his Sword, all slavery
 That cruelty can find out to make you wretched,
 Falls heavy on you.
Max. If the Sun keep his course,
 And the Earth can bear his Souldiers march, I fear not.
Aur. Or liberty, or revenge.
Char. On that I build too. [A Trumpet.
Aur. A Roman Trumpet!
Max. 'Tis; comes it not like
 A pardon to a man condemn'd?
Cos. Admit him.

Enter Niger.

The purpose of thy coming?
Nig. My great Master,
 The Lord of Rome, (in that all Power is spoken)
 Hoping that thou wilt prove a noble Enemy,
 And (in thy bold resistance) worth his conquest,
 Defies thee, Cosroe.
Max. There is fire in this.
Nig. And to encourage thy laborious powers
 To tug for Empire, dares thee to the field,
 With this assurance, if thy Sword can win him,
 Or force his Legions with thy barbed horse,
 But to forsake their ground, that not alone
 Wing'd Victory shall take stand on thy Tent,
 But all the Provinces, and Kingdoms held
 By the Roman Garrisons in this Eastern World,
 Shall be deliver'd up, and he himself
 Acknowledge thee his Sovereign. In return
 Of this large offer, he asks only this,
 That till the doubtful Die of War determine
 Who has most power, and should command the other,
 Thou wouldst entreat thy Prisoners like their Births,
 And not their present Fortune; and to bring 'em,
 Guarded, into thy Tent, with thy best strengths,
 Thy ablest men of War, and thou thy self
 Sworn to make good the place. And if he fail
 (Maugre all opposition can be made)
 In his own person to compel his way,
 And fetch them safely off, the day is thine,
 And he, like these, thy Prisoner.
Cos. Though I receive this
 But as a Roman Brave, I do embrace it,
 And love the sender. Tell him, I will bring
 My Prisoners to the field, and without odds,
 Against his single force, alone defend 'em;
 Or else with equal numbers. Courage, noble Princes,
 And let Posterity record, that we
 This memorable day restor'd to Persia,
 That Empire of the World, great Philip's Son,
 Ravish'd from us, and Greece gave up to Rome.
 This our strong comfort, that we cannot fall
 Ingloriously, since we contend for all. [Exeunt.
 [Flourish. Alarms.

SCENE V.

Enter Geta, Guard, Souldiers.

Get. I'll swear the Peace against 'em, I am hurt,
 Run for a Surgeon, or I faint.
1 Guard. Bear up, man,
 'Tis but a scratch.
Get. Scoring a man o'r the Coxcomb
 Is but a scratch with you! —— o' your occupation,
 Your scurvy scuffling trade; I was told before
 My face was bad enough; but now I look
 Like bloody Bone, and raw head, to fright Children;
 I am for no use else.
2 Guard. Thou shalt fright men.
1 Guard. You look so terrible now; but see your face
 In the Pummel of my Sword.
Get. I dye, I am gone.
 Oh my sweet physiognomy.

Enter three Persians.

2 Guard. They come,
 Now fight, or dye indeed.
Get. I will 'scape this way;
 I cannot hold my Sword; what would you have
 Of a maim'd man?
1 Guard. Nay, then I have a goad
 To prick you forward, Oxe.
2 Guard. Fight like a Man,
 Or dye like a Dog.
Get. Shall I, like CÆsar, fall
 Among my friends? no mercy? Et tu Brute?
 You shall not have the honour of my death,
 I'll fall by the Enemy first.
1 Guard. O brave, brave Geta, [Persians driven off.
 He plays the Devil now.

Enter Niger.

Nig. Make up for honour,
 The Persians shrink. The passage is laid open,
 Great Dioclesian, like a second Mars,
 His strong arm govern'd by the fierce Bellona,
 Performs more than a man; his shield struck full
 Of Persian Darts, which now are his defence
 Against the Enemies Swords, still leads the way.
 Of all the Persian Forces, one strong Squadron,

[Alarm's continued.

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.

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

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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