SCENE III.

_Enter_ Maximus.

_Max._ There's no way else to do it, he must dye, This friend must dye, this soul of _Maximus_, Without whom I am nothing but my shame, This perfectness that keeps me from opinion, Must dye, or I must live thus branded ever: A hard choice, and a fatal; Gods ye have given me A way to credit, but the ground to go on, Ye have levell'd with that precious life I love most, Yet I must on, and through, for if I offer To take my way without him, like a Sea He bears his high Command 'twixt me and vengeance, And in mine own road sinks me, he is honest, Of a most constant loyalty to _Cæsar_, And when he shall but doubt, I dare attempt him, But make a question of his ill, but say What is a _Cæsar_, that he dare do this, Dead sure he cuts me off; _Æcius_ dyes, Or I have lost my self: why should I kill him? Why should I kill my self? for 'tis my killing, _Æcius_ is my root, and wither him, Like a decaying Branch I fall to nothing. Is he not more to me than Wife, than _Cæsar_? Though I had now my safe revenge upon him, Is he not more than rumour, and his friendship Sweeter than the love of women? what is honour We all so strangely are bewitch'd withal? Can it relieve me if I want? he has; Can honour 'twixt the incensed Prince and Envy, Bear up the lives of worthy men? he has; Can honour pull the wings of fearful Cowards, And make 'em turn again like Tigers? he has; And I have liv'd to see this, and preserv'd so: Why should this empty word incite me then To what is ill and cruel? let her perish. A friend is more than all the world, than honour; She is a woman and her loss the less, And with her go my griefs; but hark ye _Maximus_, Was she not yours? Did she not dye to tell ye She was a ravish'd woman? Did not Justice Nobly begin with her that not deserv'd it, And shall he live that did it? Stay a little, Can this abuse dye here? Shall not mens tongues Dispute it afterward, and say I gave (Affecting dull obedience, and tame duty, And led away with fondness of a friendship) The only vertue of the world to slander? Is not this certain, was not she a chaste one, And such a one, that no compare dwelt with her, One of so sweet a vertue that _Æcius_, Even he himself, this friend that holds me from it, Out of his worthy love to me, and justice, Had it not been on _Cæsar_, had reveng'd her? He told me so; what shall I do then?

_Enter a Servant._

Can other men affect it, and I cold? I fear he must not live.

_Serv._ My Lord, the General Is come to seek ye.

_Max._ Go, entreat him to enter; O brave _Æcius_, I could wish thee now As far from friendship to me, as from fears, That I might cut thee off, like that I weigh'd not, Is there no way without him to come near it? For out of honesty he must destroy me If I attempt it, he must dye as others, And I must lose him; 'tis necessity, Only the time and means is the difference; But yet I would not make a murther of him, Take him directly for my doubts; he shall dye, I have found a way to do it, and a safe one, It shall be honour to him too: I know not What to determine certain, I am so troubled, And such a deal of conscience presses me;

_Enter_ Æcius.

Would I were dead my self.

_Æcius._ You run away well; How got you from me, friend?

_Max._ That that leads mad men, A strong imagination made me wander.

_Æcius._ I thought you had been more setled.

_Max._ I am well, But you must give me leave a little sometimes To have a buzzing in my brains.

_Æcius._ Ye are dangerous, But I'll prevent it if I can; ye told me You would go to th' Army.

_Max._ Why, to have my throat cut? Must he not be the bravest man, _Æcius_, That strikes me first?

_Æci._ You promised me a freedom From all these thoughts, and why should any strike you?

_Max._ I am an Enemy, a wicked one, Worse than the foes of _Rome_, I am a Coward, A Cuckold, and a Coward, that's two causes Why every one should beat me.

_Æci._ Ye are neither; And durst another tell me so, he dyed for't, For thus far on mine honour, I'le assure you No man more lov'd than you, and for your valour, And what ye may be, fair; no man more follow'd.

_Max._ A doughty man indeed: but that's all one, The Emperour nor all the Princes living Shall find a flaw in my Coat; I have suffer'd, And can yet; let them find inflictions, I'le find a body for 'em, or I'le break it. 'Tis not a Wife can thrust me out, some look't for't; But let 'em look till they are blind with looking, They are but fools; yet there is anger in me, That I would fain disperse, and now I think on't, You told me, friend, the Provinces are stirring, We shall have sport I hope then, and what's dangerous, A Battle shall beat from me.

_Æci._ Why do ye eye me, With such a setled look?

_Max._ Pray tell me this, Do we not love extreamly? I love you so.

_Æci._ If I should say I lov'd not you as truly, I should do that I never durst do, lye.

_Max._ If I should dye, would it not grieve you much?

_Æci._ Without all doubt.

_Max._ And could you live without me?

_Æci._ It would much trouble me to live without ye. Our loves, and loving souls have been so us'd But to one houshold in us: but to dye Because I could not make you live, were woman, Far much too weak, were it to save your worth, Or to redeem your name from rooting out, To quit you bravely fighting from the foe, Or fetch ye off, where honour had ingag'd ye. I ought, and would dye for ye.

_Max._ Truly spoken. What beast but I, that must, could hurt this man now? Would he had ravish'd me, I would have paid him, I would have taught him such a trick, his Eunuchs Nor all his black-eyed Boys dreamt of yet; By all the Gods I am mad now; now were _Cæsar_ Within my reach, and on his glorious top The pile of all the world, he went to nothing; The Destinies, nor all the dames of Hell, Were I once grappl'd with him, should relieve him, No not the hope of mankind more; all perished; But this is words, and weakness.

_Æci._ Ye look strangely.

_Max._ I look but as I am, I am a stranger.

_Æci._ To me?

_Max._ To every one, I am no _Roman_; Nor what I am do I know.

_Æci._ Then I'le leave ye.

_Max._ I find I am best so, if ye meet with _Maximus_ Pray bid him be an honest man for my sake, You may do much upon him; for his shadow, Let me alone.

_Æci._ Ye were not wont to talk thus, And to your friend; ye have some danger in you, That willingly would run to action, Take heed, by all our love take heed.

_Max._ I danger? I, willing to do any thing, I dig. Has not my Wife been dead two dayes already? Are not my mournings by this time moth-eaten? Are not her sins dispers'd to other Women, And many one ravish'd to relieve her? Have I shed tears these twelve hours?

_Æci._ Now ye weep.

_Max._ Some lazie drops that staid behind.

_Æci._ I'le tell ye And I must tell ye truth, were it not hazard, And almost certain loss of all the Empire, I would join with ye: were it any mans But his life, that is life of us, he lost it For doing of this mischief: I would take it, And to your rest give ye a brave revenge: But as the rule now stands, and as he rules, And as the Nations hold in disobedience, One pillar failing, all must fall; I dare not: Nor is it just you should be suffer'd in it, Therefore again take heed: On forraign foes We are our own revengers, but at home On Princes that are eminent and ours, 'Tis fit the Gods should judge us: be not rash, Nor let your angry steel cut those ye know not, For by this fatal blow, if ye dare strike it, As I see great aims in ye, those unborn yet, And those to come of them, and these succeeding Shall bleed the wrath of _Maximus_: for me As ye now bear your self, I am your friend still, If ye fall off I will not flatter ye, And in my hands, were ye my soul, you perish'd: Once more be careful, stand, and still be worthy, I'le leave you for this hour. [_Exit._

_Max._ Pray do, 'tis done: And friendship, since thou canst not hold in dangers, Give me a certain ruin, I must through it. [_Exit._

_Actus Quartus. Scena Prima._

_Enter Emperour_, Licinius, Chilax, _and_ Balbus.

_Emper._ Dead?

_Chil._ So 'tis thought, Sir.

_Emper._ How?

_Lici._ Grief, and disgrace, As people say.

_Empe._ No more, I have too much on't, Too much by you, you whetters of my follies, Ye Angel formers of my sins, but Devils; Where is your cunning now? you would work wonders, There was no chastity above your practice, You would undertake to make her love her wrongs, And doate upon her rape: mark what I tell ye, If she be dead--

_Chil._ Alas Sir.

_Empe._ Hang ye Rascals, Ye blasters of my youth, if she be gone, 'Twere better ye had been your Fathers Camels, Groan'd under daily weights of wood and water: Am I not _Cæsar_?

_Lici._ Mighty and our Maker.

_Empe._ Than thus have given my pleasures to destruction. Look she be living, slaves.

_Lici._ We are no Gods Sir, If she be dead, to make her new again.

_Empe._ She cannot dye, she must not dye; are those I plant my love upon but common livers? Their hours as others, told 'em? can they be ashes? Why do ye flatter a belief into me That I am all that is, the world's my creature, The Trees bring forth their fruits when I say Summer, The Wind that knows no limit but his wildness, At my command moves not a leaf; the Sea With his proud mountain waters envying Heaven, When I say still, run into Crystal mirrors, Can I do this and she dye? Why ye bubbles That with my least breath break, no more remembred; Ye moths that fly about my flame and perish, Ye golden canker-worms, that eat my honours, Living no longer than my spring of favour: Why do ye make me God that can do nothing? Is she not dead?

_Chil._ All Women are not with her.

_Empe._ A common Whore serves you, and far above ye, The pleasures of a body lam'd with lewdness; A meer perpetual motion makes ye happy; Am I a man to traffick with Diseases? Can any but a chastity serve _Cæsar_? And such a one that Gods would kneel to purchase? You think because you have bred me up to pleasures, And almost run me over all the rare ones, Your Wives will serve the turn: I care not for 'em, Your Wives are Fencers Whores, and shall be Footmens, Though sometimes my nice will, or rather anger Have made ye Cuckolds for variety; I would not have ye hope, nor dream ye poor ones Alwaies so great a blessing from me; go Get your own infamy hereafter Rascals, I have done too nobly for ye, ye enjoy Each one an heir, the Royal seed of _Cæsar_, And I may curse ye for't; your wanton Gennets That are so proud, the wind get's 'em with fillies, Taught me this foul intemperance: Thou _Licinius_ Hast such a _Messalina_, such a _Lais_, The backs of Bulls cannot content, nor Stallions, The sweat of fifty men a night do's nothing.

_Lici._ Your Grace but jests I hope.

_Empe._ 'Tis Oracle. The sins of other Women put by hers Shew off like sanctities: Thine's a fool, _Chilax_, Yet she can tell to twenty, and all lovers, And all lien with her too, and all as she is, Rotten, and ready for an Hospital. Yours is an holy Whore, friend _Balbus_.

_Bal._ Well Sir.

_Empe._ One that can pray away the sins she suffers, But not the punishments: she has had ten Bastards, Five of 'em now are Lictors, yet she prayes; She has been the Song of _Rome_, and common _Pasquil_; Since I durst see a Wench, she was Camp Mistris, And muster'd all the cohorts, paid 'em too, They have it yet to shew, and yet she prayes; She is now to enter old men that are Children, And have forgot their rudiments: am I Left for these withered vices? and but one, But one of all the world that could content me, And snatch'd away in shewing? If your Wives Be not yet Witches, or your selves now be so And save your lives, raise me this noble beauty As when I forc'd her, full of constancy, Or by the Gods--

_Lid._ Most sacred _Cæsar_.

_Empe._ Slaves.

_Enter_ Proculus.

_Lici._ Good _Proculus_.

_Pro._ You shall not see it, It may concern the Empire.

_Emp._ Ha: what said'st thou? Is she not dead?

_Pro._ Not any one I know, Sir; I come to bring your Grace a Letter, here Scatter'd belike i'th' Court: 'tis sent to _Maximus_ And bearing danger in it.

_Emp._ Danger? where? Double our Guard.

_Pro._ Nay no where, but i'th' Letter.

_Emp._ What an afflicted Conscience do I live with, And what a beast I am grown! I had forgotten To ask Heaven mercy for my fault, and was now Even ravishing again her memory, I find there must be danger in this deed: Why do I stand disputing then and whining? For what is not the gods to give, they cannot Though they would link their powers in one, do mischief. This Letter may betray me, get ye gone [_Exeunt._ And wait me in the Garden, guard the house well, And keep this from the Empress: the name _Maximus_ Runs through me like a feavour, this may be Some private Letter upon private business, Nothing concerning me: why should I open't? I have done him wrong enough already; yet It may concern me too, the time so tells me; The wicked deed I have done, assures me 'tis so. Be what it will, I'le see it, if that be not Part of my fears, among my other sins, I'le purge it out in prayers: How? what's this? _Letter read_] Lord _Maximus_, you love _Æcius_, And are his noble friend too; bid him be less, I mean less with the people, times are dangerou[s]: The Army's his, the Emperour in doubts; And as some will not stick to say, declining, You stand a constant man in either fortune; Perswade him, he is lost else: Though ambition Be the last sin he touches at, or never; Yet what the people mad with loving him, And as they willingly desire another May tempt him to, or rather force his goodness, Is to be doubted mainly: he is all, (As he stands now) but the meer name of _Cæsar_, And should the Emperour inforce him lesser, Not coming from himself, it were more dangerous: He is honest, and will hear you: doubts are scatter'd, And almost come to growth in every houshold: Yet in my foolish judgment, were this master'd, The people that are now but rage, and his, Might be again obedience: you shall know me When _Rome_ is fair again; till when I love you. No name! this may be cunning, yet it seems not; For there is nothing in it but is certain, Besides my safety. Had not good _Germanicus_, That was as loyal, and as straight as he is, If not prevented by _Tiberius_, Been by the Souldiers forc'd their Emperour? He had, and 'tis my wisdom to remember it. And was not _Corbulo_, even that _Corbulo_, That ever fortunate and living _Roman_, That broke the heart-strings of the _Parthians_, And brought _Arsaces_ line upon their knees, Chain'd to the awe of _Rome_, because he was thought (And but in wine once) fit to make a _Cæsar_, Cut off by _Nero_? I must seek my safety: For 'tis the same again, if not beyond it: I know the Souldier loves him more than Heaven, And will adventure all his gods to raise him; Me he hates more than peace: what this may breed, If dull security and confidence Let him grow up, a fool may find and laught at. But why Lord _Maximus_ I injur'd so, Should be the man to counsel him, I know not; More than he has been friend, and lov'd allegeance: What now he is I fear, for his abuses Without the people dare draw blood; who waits there?

_Enter a Servant._

_Ser._ Your Grace.

_Emp._ Call _Phidias_ and _Aretus_ hither: I'le find a day for him too; times are dangerous, The Army his, the Emperour in doubts: I find it is too true; did he not tell me 1. As if he had intent to make me odious, 2. And to my face; and by a way of terror, What vices I was grounded in, and almost Proclaim'd the Souldiers hate against me? is not The sacred name and dignity of _Cæsar_ (Were this _Æcius_ more than man) sufficient To shake off all his honesty? He's dangerous Though he be good, and though a friend, a fear'd one, And such I must not sleep by: are they come yet? I do believe this fellow, and I thank him; 'Twas time to look about, if I must perish, Yet shall my fears go formost.

_Enter_ Phidias, _and_ Aretus.

_Phi._ Life to _Cæsar_.

_Emp._ Is Lord _Æcius_ waiting?

_Phi._ Not this morning, I rather think he's with the Army.

_Emp._ Army? I do not like that Army: go unto him, And bid him straight attend me, and do ye hear, Come private without any; I have business Only for him.

_Phi._ Your Graces pleasure-- [_Exit_ Phidias.

_Emp._ Go; What Souldier is the same, I have seen him often, That keeps you company, _Aretus_?

_Are._ Me Sir?

_Emp._ I you, Sir.

_Are._ One they call _Pontius_, And't please your Grace.

_Emp._ A Captain?

_Are._ Yes, he was so; But speaking something roughly in his want, Especially of Wars, the Noble General Out of strict allegiance cast his fortunes.

_Emp._ H'as been a valiant fellow.

_Are._ So he's still.

_Emp._ Alas, the General might have pardon'd follies, Souldiers will talk sometimes.

_Are._ I am glad of this.

_Emp._ He wants preferment as I take it.

_Are._ Yes Sir; And for that noble Grace his life shall serve.

_Emp._ I have a service for him: I shame a Souldier should become a Begger: I like the man _Aretus_.

_Are._ Gods protect ye.

_Emp._ Bid him repair to _Proculus_, and there He shall receive the business, and reward for't: I'le see him setled too, and as a Souldier, We shall want such.

_Are._ The sweets of Heaven still crown ye.

_Emp._ I have a fearful darkness in my soul, And till I be deliver'd, still am dying. [_Exeunt._