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_.)

_Max._ What powerful Star shin'd at this mans Nativity? And bless'd his homely Cradle with full glory? What throngs of people press and buz about him, And with their humming flatteries sing him _Cæsar_? Sing him aloud, and grow hoarse with saluting him? How the fierce-minded Souldier steals in to him, Adores and courts his honour? at his devotion Their lives, their vertues, and their fortunes laying? _Charinus_ sues, the Emperour intreats him, And as a brighter flame, takes his beams from him. The bless'd and bright _Aurelia_, she doats on him, And, as the god of Love, burns incense to him. All eyes live on him. Yet I am still _Maximinian_, Still the same poor and wretched thing, his servant. What have I got by this? where lies my glory? How am I rais'd and honour'd? I have gone as far To woo this purblind honour, and have pass'd As many dangerous Expeditions, As noble, and as high; nay, in his destinie (Whilst 'twas unknown) have run as many hazards, And done as much; sweat thorow as many perils; Only the Hang-man of _Volutius Aper_ (Which I mistook) has made him Emperour, And me his slave.

_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._