SCENE II.

_Enter_ Claudia, _and_ Marcellina.

_Claud._ Sirrah, what ails my Lady that of late She never cares for Company?

_Mar._ I know not, Unless it be that Company causes Cuckolds.

_Claud._ That were a childish fear.

_Mar._ What were those Ladies, Came to her lately From the Court?

_Claud._ The same wench, Some grave instructors on my life, they look For all the world like old hatcht hilts.

_Mar._ 'Tis true, Wench, For here and there, and yet they painted well too, One might discover where the Gold was worn, Their iron ages.

_Claud._ If my judgement fail not, They have been sheathed like rotten Ships.

_Mar._ It may be.

_Claud._ For if you mark their rudders, they hang weakly.

_Mar._ They have past the line belike; wouldst live _Claudia_ Till thou wert such as they are?

_Claud._ Chimney pieces: Now heaven have mercy upon me, and young men, I had rather make a drallery till thirty, While I am able to endure a tempest, And bear my fights out bravely, till my tackle Whistl'd i'th' Wind, and held against all weathers, While I were able to bear with my tyres, And so discharge 'em, I would willingly Live, _Marcellina_, not till barnacles Bred in my sides.

_Mar._ Thou art i'th' right, Wench; For who would live whom pleasures had forsaken, To stand at mark, and cry a Bow short, Seigneur? Were there not men came hither too?

_Claud._ Brave fellows: I fear me Bawds of five i'th' Pound.

_Mar._ How know you?

_Claud._ They gave me great lights to it.

_Mar._ Take heed, _Claudia_.

_Clau._ Let them take heed, the spring comes on.

_Mar._ To me now They seem'd as noble Visitants.

_Claud._ To me now Nothing less, _Marcellina_, for I markt 'em, And by this honest light, for yet 'tis morning, Saving the reverence of their gilded doublets, And Millan skins.

_Mar._ Thou art a strange Wench, _Claudia_.

_Claud._ Ye are deceiv'd, they shew'd to me directly Court Crabs that creep a side-way for their living, I know 'em by the Breeches that they beg'd last.

_Mar._ Peace, my Lady comes; what may that be?

_Enter_ Lucina, _and_ Lycias, _the Eunuch_.

_Clau._ A Sumner That cites her to appear.

_Mar._ No more of that wench.

_Eun._ Madam, what answer to your Lord?

_Luci._ Pray tell him, I am subject to his will.

_Eun._ Why weep you Madam? Excellent Lady, there are none will hurt you.

_Luci._ I do beseech you tell me Sir.

_Eun._ What, Lady?

_Luci._ Serve ye the Emperor?

_Eun._ I do.

_Luci._ In what place?

_Eun._ In's chamber Madam.

_Luci._ Do ye serve his will too?

_Eun._ In fair and just commands.

_Luci._ Are ye a _Roman_?

_Eun._ Yes noble Lady, and a _Mantuan_.

_Luci._ What office bore your parents?

_Eun._ One was Pretor.

_Luci._ Take heed then how you stain his reputation.

_Eun._ Why worthy Lady?

_Luci._ If ye know, I charge ye, Ought in this Message, but what honesty, The trust and fair obedience of a servant May well deliver, yet take heed, and help me.

_Eun._ _Madam_, I am no Broker.

_Claud._ I'le be hang'd then.

_Eun._ Nor base procurer of mens lusts; Your husband, Pray'd me to do this office, I have done it, It rests in you to come, or no.

_Luci._ I will Sir.

_Eun._ If ye mistrust me, do not.

_Luci._ Ye appear so worthy, And to all my sense so honest, And this is such a certain sign ye have brought me, That I believe.

_Eun._ Why should I cozen you? Or were I brib'd to do this villany, Can mony prosper, or the fool that takes it, When such a vertue falls?

_Luci._ Ye speak well Sir; Would all the rest that serve the Emperour, Had but your way.

_Claud._ And so they have _ad unguem_.

_Luci._ Pray tell my Lord, I have receiv'd his Token, And will not fail to meet him; yet good Sir, thus much Before you goe, I do beseech ye too, As little notice as ye can, deliver Of my appearance there.

_Eun._ It shall be _Madam_, And so I wish you happiness.

_Luci._ I thank you-- [_Exeunt._

SCENE [III]. [_Tumult & noise within._

_Enter_ Æcius, _pursuing_ Pontius, _the Captain, and_ Maximus, _following_.

_Max._ Temper your self _Æcius_.

_Pon._ Hold my Lord, I am a _Roman_, and a Souldier.

_Max._ Pray Sir.

_Æci._ Thou art a lying Villain, and a Traytor; Give me my self, or by the Gods my friend You'l make me dangerous; how dar'st thou pluck The Souldiers to sedition, and I living, And sow Rebellion in 'em, and even then When I am drawing out to action?

_Pon._ Hear me.

_Max._ Are ye a man?

_Æci._ I am a true hearted, _Maximus_, And if the Villain live, we are dishonour'd.

_Max._ But hear him what he can say.

_Æci._ That's the way, To pardon him; I am so easie natur'd, That if he speak but humbly I forgive him.

_Pon._ I do beseech ye noble General.

_Æci._ Has found the way already, give me room, One stroak, and if he scape me then h'as mercy.

_Pon._ I do not call ye noble, that I fear ye, I never car'd for death; if ye will kill me, Consider first for what, not what you can do; 'Tis true, I know ye for my General, And by that great Prerogative may kill: But do it justly then.

_Æci._ He argues with me, A made up Rebel.

_Max._ Pray consider, What certain grounds ye have for this.

_Æci._ What grounds? Did I not take him preaching to the Souldier[s] How lazily they liv'd, and what dishonours It was to serve a Prince so full of woman? Those were his very words, friend.

_Max._ These, _Æcius_, Though they were rashly spoke, which was an errour (A great one _Pontius_) yet from him that hungers For wars, and brave imployment, might be pardon'd. The heart, and harbour'd thoughts of ill, make Traytors, Not spleeny speeches.

_Æci._ Why should you protect him? Goe to, it shews not honest.

_Max._ Taint me not, For that shews worse _Æcius_: All your friendship And that pretended love ye lay upon me, Hold back my honesty, is like a favour You do your slave to day, to morrow hang him, Was I your bosome piece for this?

_Æci._ Forgive me, The nature of my zeal, and for my Country, Makes me sometimes forget my self; for know, Though I most strive to be without my passions, I am no God: For you Sir, whose infection Has spread it self like poyson through the army, And cast a killing fog on fair allegiance, First thank this noble Gentleman, ye had dy'd else; Next from your place, and honour of a Souldier, I here seclude you.

_Pon._ May I speak yet?

_Max._ Hear him.

_Æci._ And while _Aecius_ holds a reputation, At least command, ye bear no arms for _Rome_ Sir.

_Pon._ Against her I shall never: the condemn'd man Has yet that priviledge to speak, my Lord; Law were not equall else.

_Max._ Pray hear _Aecius_, For happily the fault he has committed, Though I believe it mighty, yet considered, If mercy may be thought upon, will prove Rather a hastie sin, than heynous.

_Aeci._ Speak.

_Pon._ 'Tis true my Lord, ye took me tir'd with peace, My words almost as ragged as my fortunes. 'Tis true I told the Souldier, whom we serv'd, And then bewail'd, we had an Emperour Led from us by the flourishes of Fencers; I blam'd him too for women.

_Aec._ To the rest Sir.

_Pon._ And like enough I blest him then as Souldiers Will do sometimes: 'Tis true I told 'em too, We lay at home, to show our Country We durst goe naked, durst want meat, and mony, And when the slave drinks wine, we durst be thirstie: I told 'em this too, that the Trees and Roots Were our best pay-masters; the Charity Of longing women, that had bought our bodies, Our beds, fires, Taylers, Nurses. Nay I told 'em, (For you shall hear the greatest sin, I said Sir) By that time there be wars again, our bodies Laden with scarrs, and aches, and ill lodgings, Heats, and perpetual wants, were fitter prayers And certain graves, than cope the foe on crutches: 'Tis likely too, I counsell'd 'em to turn Their warlike pikes to plough-shares, their sure Targets And Swords hatcht with the bloud of many Nations, To Spades, and pruning Knives, for those get mony, Their warlike Eagles, into Daws, or Starlings, To give an _Ave Cæsar_ as he passes, And be rewarded with a thousand _drachma's_, For thus we get but years and beets.

_Aeci._ What think you, Were these words to be spoken by a Captain, One that should give example?

_Max._ 'Twas too much.

_Pon._ My Lord, I did not wooe 'em from the Empire, Nor bid 'em turn their daring steel 'gainst _Cæsar_, The Gods for ever hate me, if that motion Were part of me: Give me but imployment, Sir; And way to live, and where you hold me vicious, Bred up in mutiny, my Sword shall tell ye, And if you please, that place I held, maintain it, 'Gainst the most daring foes of _Rome_. I am honest, A lover of my Country, one that holds His life no longer his, than kept for _Cæsar_. Weigh not (I thus low on my knee beseech you) What my rude tongue discovered, 'twas my want, No other part of _Pontius_: you have seen me, And you my Lord, do something for my Country, And both beheld the wounds I gave and took, Not like a backward Traytor.

_Aeci._ All this language Makes but against you _Pontius_, you are cast, And by mine honour, and my love to _Cæsar_, By me shall never be restor'd; In my Camp I will not have a tongue, though to himself Dare talk but near sedition; as I govern, All shall obey, and when they want, their duty And ready service shall redress their needs, Not prating what they would be.

_Pon._ Thus I leave ye, Yet shall my prayers still, although my fortunes Must follow you no more, be still about ye, Gods give ye where ye fight the Victory, Ye cannot cast my wishes.

_Aeci._ Come my Lord, Now to the Field again.

_Max._ Alas poor _Pontius_.-- [_Exeunt._