Chapter XI: Part 11

_Piso._ I'll mount thee if I live for't,
Give me patience, heav'n, to bear this blessing I beseech thee;
I am but man, I prithee break my head
To make me understand I am sensible.

_Fath._ Lend me your Dagger, and I will, Sir.

_Piso._ No.
I believe now like a good Christian.

_Fath._ Good Sir, make hast; I dare not go without ye
Since I have so mistaken.

_Piso._ 'Tis no matter,
Meet me within this half hour at St. _Marg'rets_.
Well, go thy ways, old Lad, thou hast the trick on't.

[_Exit_ Piso.

_Enter_ Angelo, _and_ Julio.

_Ang._ How now? the news?

_Fath._ Well, passing well, I have 'em,
Both in a leash, and made right for my purpose.

_Jul._ I am glad on't, I must leave you.

_Ang._ Whither man?

_Jul._ If all go right I may be fast enough too.

_Ang._ I cry you mercy, Sir, I know your meaning,

_Clora's_ the woman, she's _Frank's_ Bedfellow,
Commend me to 'em, go, _Julio_,
Bring 'em to supper all, to grace this matter;
They will serve for witnesses.

_Jul._ I will, farewel.

[_Exit_ Julio _at one door, and_ Ang. _and_ Fath.
_at another_.

SCENE II.

_Enter_ Clora, Frank, _and_ Frederick, _and Maid_.

_Fred._ Sister, I brought you _Jacomo_ to the door,
He has forgot all that he said last night;
And shame of that makes him [more] loth to come,
I left _Fabricio_ perswading him, but 'tis in vain.

_Fran._ Alas, my fortune, _Clora_.

_Clor._ Now _Frank_, see what a kind of man you love,
That loves you when he's drunk.

_Fran._ If so,
'Faith, I would marry him; my friends I hope
Would make him drink.

_Clor._ 'Tis well consider'd, _Frank_, he has such pretty humours then,
Besides, being a Souldier, 'tis better he should love
You when he's drunk, than when he's sober, for then he
Will be sure to love you the greatest part on's life.

_Fran._ And were not I a happy woman then?

_Clor._ That ever was born, _Frank_, i' faith--

_Fred._ How now, what says he?

_Enter_ Fabricio.

_Fab._ 'Faith, you may as well 'tice a Dog up with a Whip and Bell
As him, by telling him of Love and Women, he swears
They mock him.

_Fred._ Look how my Sister weeps.

_Fab._ Why, who can help it?

_Fred._ Yes, you may safely swear she loves him.

_Fab._ Why, so I did; and may do all the oaths,
Arithmetick can make, e're he believe me;
And since he was last drunk, he is more jealous
They would abuse him; if we could perswade him
She lov'd, he would embrace it.

_Fred._ She her self
Shall bate so much of her own modesty
To swear it to him, with such tears as now
You see rain from her.

_Fab._ I believe 'twould work,
But would you have her do't i'th' open street?
Or if you would, he'll run away from her,
How shall we get him hither?

_Fred._ By entreaty.

_Fab._ 'Tis most impossible, no, if we could
Anger him hither, as there is no way
But that to bring him, and then hold him fast,
Women, and men, whilst she delivers to him the truth
Seal'd with her tears, he would be plain
As a pleas'd Child; he walks below for me
Under the window.

_Clor._ We'll anger him I warrant ye,
Let one of the maids take a good Bowl of water,
Or say it be a piss-pot, and pour't on's head.

_Fab._ Content, hang me if I like not the cast of it rarely,
for no question
It is an approv'd Receipt to fetch such a fellow;
Take all the women-kind in this house, betwixt the Age of one,
And one hundred, and let them take unto them a pot or a
Bowl containing seven quarts or upwards, and let them
Never leave, till the above named
Pot or Bowl become full, then let one of them stretch out
Her Arm, and pour it on his head, and _probatum est,_ it
Will fetch him, for in his anger he will run up, and then let
Us alone.

_Clor._ Go you and do it. [_Exit Maid._

_Fran._ Good _Clora_, no.

_Clor._ Away I say, & do it, never fear, we have enough of that
Water ready distill'd.

_Fran._ Why, this will make him mad, _Fabricio_,
He'll neither love me drunk nor sober now.

_Fab._ I warrant you; what, is the wench come up?

_Enter Wench._

_Clor._ Art thou there, wench?

_Wench._ I.

_Fab._ Look out then if thou canst see him.

_Wench._ Yes, I see him, and by my troth he stands so fair I could not
Hold were he my Father, his hat's off too, and he's scratching
His head.

_Fab._ O, wash that hand I prithee.

_Wench._ 'Send thee good luck, this the second time I have thrown thee
Out to day, ha, ha, ha, just on's head.

_Fran._ Alas!

_Fab._ What does he now?

_Wench._ He gathers stones, God's light, he breaks all the
Street windows.

_Jac._ Whores, Bawds, your windows, your windows.

_Wench._ Now he is breaking all the low windows with His Sword,
Excellent sport, now he's beating a fellow that laugh'd at him,
Truly the man takes it patiently; now he goes down the street
Gravely, looking on each side, there's not one more dare laugh.

_Fran._ Does he go on?

_Wench._ Yes.

_Fran. Fabricio_, you have undone a Maid [Frank _kneels_.
By treachery; know you some other better,
You would prefer your friend to? if you do not
Bring him again, I have no other hope,
But you that made me lose hope, if you fail me,
I ne'r shall see him, but shall languish out
A discontented life, and dye contemn'd.

_Fab._ This vexes me, I pray you be more patient, [_Lifts her up._
If I have any truth, let what will happen,
I'll bring him presently, do ye all stand
At the Street door, the maids, and all, to watch
When I come back, and have some private place
To shuffle me into; for he shall follow
In fury, but I know I can out-run him
As he comes in, clap all fast hold on him;
And use your own discretions.

_Fred._ We will do it.

_Fab._ But suddenly, for I will bring him hither
With that unstopt speed, that he shall run over
All that's in's way; and though my life be ventur'd
'Tis no great matter, I will do't.

_Fran._ I thank you,
Worthy _Fabricio_. [_Exeunt._

SCENE III.

_Enter_ Jacomo.

_Jac._ I ever knew no woman could abide me,
But am I grown so contemptible, by being once drunk
Amongst 'em, that they begin to throw piss on my head?
For surely it was piss, huh, huh. [_seem to smell._

_Enter_ Fabritio.

_Fab. Jacomo_, how do'st thou?

_Jac._ Well, something troubled with waterish humours.

_Fab._ Foh, how thou stink'st! pre'thee stand further off me,
Me thinks these humours become thee better than thy dry
Cholerick humours, or thy wine-wet humours; ha?

_Jac._ You're pleasant, but _Fabritio_ know I am not in the mood of
Suffering jests.

_Fab._ If you be not i' th' mood I hope you will not be moody,
But truly I cannot blame the Gentlewomen, you stood evesdropping
Under their window, and would not come up.

_Jac._ Sir, I suspect now, by your idle talk
Your hand was in't, which if I once believe,
Be sure you shall account to me.

_Fab._ The Gentlewomen and the Maids have counted to you already,
The next turn I see is mine.

_Jac._ Let me dye but this is very strange; good _Fabritio_
Do not provoke me so.

_Fab._ Provoke you? you're grown the strangest fellow; there's no
Keeping company with you, phish; take you that.

[Sidenote: Fab. _gives him a box o'th' ear suddenly, and throws him_
_from him, and goes his way, whilst_
Jaco. _draws his Sword_.]

_Jac._ O all the Devils! stand Slave.

_Fab._ Follow me if thou dar'st.

_Jac._ Stay coward, stay. [Jac. _runs after_ Fabricio.

SCENE IV.

_Enter_ Fred, Fra, Clora, _and Servant, and Maid_.

_Clara._ Be ready for I see _Fabritio_ running,
And _Jacomo_ behind him.

_Enter_ Fabritio.

_Fab._ Where's the place?

_Fred._ That way _Fabritio_. [_Exit_ Fabritio.

_Enter_ Jacomo.

[Sidenote: Fred, Clor. _and Maid, lay hold on_ Jacomo.]

_Jac._ Where art thou treacher,
What is the matter Sirs?
Why do you hold me? I am basely wrong'd,
Torture, and hell be with you; let me go.

[Sidenote: _they drag him to_
_a chair and hold_
_him down in't_.]

_Fre._ Good _Jac._ be patient, and but hear
What I can say, you know I am your friend,
If you yet doubt it, by my soul I am.

_Jac._ S'death stand away;
I would my breath were poyson.

_Fred._ As I have life, that which was thrown on you,
And this now done, were but to draw you hither
For causes weighty, that concern your self,
Void of all malice, which this Maid my Sister
Shall tell you.

_Jac._ Puh, a pox upon you all; you will not hold me
For ever here, and till you let me go,
I'le talk no more.

_Fran._ As you're a Gentleman
Let not this boldness make me be believ'd
To be immodest; if there were a way
More silently to be acquainted with you,
God knows, that I would choose, but as it is
Take it in plainness: I do love you more
Than you do your content, if you refuse
To pity me, I'le never cease to weep,
And when mine eyes be out I will be told
How fast the tears I shed for you do fall,
And if they do not flow abundantly,
I'le fetch a sigh shall make 'em start, and leap,
As if the fire were under.

_Jac._ Fine mocking, fine mocking.

_Fred._ Mocking? look how she weeps.

_Jac._ Do's she counterfeit crying too?

_Fred._ Behold how the tears flow, or pity her
Or never more be call'd a man.

_Jac._ How's this? soft you, soft you my Masters: is't possible
think you,
She should be in earnest?

_Clo._ Earnest? I in earnest: she's a fool to break so many sleeps,
That would have been sound ones, & venture such a fane, and
So much life, for e're an humorous asse i'th' world.

_Fra._ Why _Clora_? I have known you cry as much
For _Julio_, that has not half his worth,
All night you write and weep too much I fear,
I do but what I should.

_Clora._ If I do write,
I am answer'd _Frank_.

_Fran._ I would I might be so.

_Jac._ Good _Frederick_ let me go, I would fain try
If that thing do not counterfeit.

_Fred._ Give me your Sword then.

_Jac._ No, but take my word,
As I am man, I will not hurt a creature
Under this roof, before I have deliver'd
My self, as I am now, into your hands,
Or have your full consent.

_Fred._ It is enough.

_Ja._ Gentlewoman, I pray you let me feel your face; I am an
Infidel, if she do not weep: Stay, where's my handkerchief?
I'le wipe the old wet off, fresh tears come, pox on't
I am a handsom, gracious fellow amongst women, and
Knew't not Gentlewoman; how should I know these tears are
For me? is not your Mother dead?

_Fran._ By heaven they are for you.

_Jac._ 'Slight I'le have my head curl'd, and powder'd tomorrow
By break of day; if you love me, I pray you kiss me,
For if I love you, it shall be such love, as I will not be
Asham'd of, if this be a mock-- [_kisses._
It is the heartiest, and the sweetest mock
That e're I tasted, mock me so again-- [_kiss again._

_Fred._ Fy _Jacomo_? why do you let her kneel
So long?

_Jac._ It's true I had forgot it-- [_lifts her up._
And should have done this twelve-moneth; pray you rise.
_Frederick_, if I could all this while have been perswaded she could
Have lov'd me, dost thou think I had not rather kiss her
Than another should? and yet you may gull me for ought
I know, but if you do, hell take me if I do not cut
All your throats sleeping.

_Fred._ Oh do not think of such a thing.

_Jac._ Otherwise, if she be in earnest, the short is I am.

_Fran._ Alas, I am.

_Jac._ And I did not think it possible any woman
Could have lik'd this face, it's good for nothing, is't?

_Clor._ Yes it's worth forty shillings to pawn, being lin'd
almost quite
Through with velvet.

_Fran._ 'Tis better than your _Julio's_.

_Jac._ Thou thinkest so,
But otherwise, in faith it is not _Frank_--

[_whilst_ Jacomo _is kissing_ Frank.

_Enter_ Fabritio.

_Fab._ Hist _Jacomo_; How do'st thou Boy? ha?

_Jac._ Why very well, I thank you Sir.

_Fab._ Do'st thou perceive the reason of matters, and passages
Yet Sirrah, or no?

_Jac._ 'Tis wondrous good Sir.

_Fab._ I have done simply for you, but now you are beaten to some
Understanding, I pray you dally not with the Gentlewoman
But dispatch your Matrimony, with all convenient speed.

_Fred._ He gives good counsel.

_Jac._ And I will follow it.

_Fab._ And I you, prethee do not take it unkindly,
For trust me I boxt thee for thy advancement,
A foolish desire I had to joggle thee into preferment.

_Jac._ I apprehend you Sir, and if I can study out a course
How a bastinadoing may any wayes raise your fortunes
In the State, you shall be sure on't.

_Fab._ Oh Sir keep your way, God send you much joy.

_Clora._ And me my _Julio_.
O God I hear his voyce, now he is true,
Have at a marriage _Frank_, as soon as you-- [_Exeunt all but_ Fred.

_Enter a Messenger._

_Mess._ Sir I would speak with you.

_Fred._ What is your has[t]y business friend?

_Mess._ The Duke commands your present attendance at Court.

_Fred._ The cause?

_Mess._ I know not in particular; but this
Many are sent for more, about affairs
Forraign I take it Sir.

_Fred._ I will be there
Within this hour, return my humble service.

_Mess._ I will Sir. [_Exit Messenger._

_Fred._ Farewel friend, what new's with you?

_Enter a Servant_.

_Ser._ My Mistris would desire you Sir to follow
With all the hast you can, she is gone to Church,
To marry Captain _Jacomo_, and _Julio_
To do as much for the young merry Gentlewoman,
Fair Mistris _Clora_.

_Fred. Julio_ marry _Clora_?
Thou art deceiv'd I warrant thee.

_Ser._ No sure Sir,
I saw their lips as close upon the bargain
As Cockles.

_Fred._ Give 'em joy, I cannot now go,
The Duke hath sent for me in hast.

_Ser._ This note Sir, when you are free, will bring you where they are.

[_Ex._

_Fred. reads._ You shall find us all at Signeur _Angelo's_,
Where _Piso_, and the worthy _Leila_
Of famous memory are to be married,
And we not far behind.
Would I had time
To wonder at this last couple in hell.

_Enter Messenger again._

_Mess._ You are stai'd for Sir.

_Fred._ I come, pray God the business
Hold me not from this sport, I would not lose it. [_Exeunt._

SCENE V.

_Enter Father_, Piso, Angelo, _and_ Lelia.

_Ang._ God give you joy, and make you live together
A happy pair.

_Piso._ I do not doubt we shall.
There was never poor gentleman had such a sudden fortune,
I could thrust my head betwixt two pales, and strip me out of
My old skin like a Snake: will the guests come thou saidst
Thou sentest for to solemnize the Nuptials?

_Fath._ They will, I lookt for 'em e're this.

_Enter_ Julio, Jacomo, Fabritio, Frank, Clora.

_Jul._ By your leave all.

_Fath._ They're here Sir.

_Jul._ Especially fair Lady
I ask your pardon, to whose marriage-bed
I wish all good success, I have here brought you
Such guests as can discern your happiness,
And best do know how to rejoyce at it;
For such a fortune they themselves have run,
The worthy _Jacomo_, and his fair Bride,
Noble _Fabritio_, whom this age of peace
Has not yet taught to love ought but the warrs,
And his true friends, this Lady who is but
A piece of me. [_Exit Father._

_Leli._ Sir, you are welcom all,
Are they not Sir?

_Piso._ Bring in some wine, some of the wine _Lodowick_ the fool
Sent hither: who ever thou bid'st welcom shall find it.

_Leli._ An une[x]pected honour you have done
To our too hasty wedding.

_Jac._ Faith Madam, our weddings were as hasty as yours,
We are glad to run up and down any whither, to see where
We can get meat to our wedding.

_Piso._ That _Lodowick_ hath provided too, good Asse.

_Ang._ I thought you _Julio_ would not thus have stollen a marriage
Without acquainting your friends.

_Jul._ Why I did give thee inklings.

_Ang._ If a marriage should be thus stubber'd up in a play, e're almost
Any body had taken notice you were in love, the Spectators
Would take it to be but ridiculous.

_Jul._ This was the first, and I will never hide
Another secret from you.

_Enter_ Father.

_Fath._ Sir, yonder's your friend _Lodowick_, hide your self
And 'twill be the best sport--

_Piso._ Gentlemen, I pray you take no notice, I'm here.
The coxcomb _Lodowick_ is coming in.

_Enter_ Lodowick.

_Lod._ Is that the Lady?

_Fath._ That is my Lady.

_Lod._ As I live she's a fair one; what make all these here?

_Fath._ O Lord Sir she is so pester'd--

_Fab._ Now will the sport be, it runs right as _Julio_ told us.

_Lod._ Fair Lady health to you; some words I have, that
Require an utterance more private,
Than this place can afford.

_Lel._ I'le call my husband,
All business I hear with his ears now.

_Lod._ Good Madam no, but I perceive your jest,
You have no husband, I am the very man
That walk'd the streets so comely.

_Lel._ Are you so?

_Lod._ Yes faith, when _Cupid_ first did prick your heart.
I am not cruel, but the love begun
I'th' street I'le satisfie i'th' chamber fully.

_Lel._ To ask a Madman whether he be mad
Were but an idle question, if you be,
I do not speak to you, but if you be not
Walk in the streets again, and there perhaps
I may dote on you, here I not endure you.

_Lod._ Good Madam stay, do not you know this Ring?

_Lel._ Yes it was mine, I sent it by my Man,
To change and so he did, it has a blemish,
And this he brought me for it; did you change it?
Are you a Goldsmith?

_Lod._ Sure the world is mad,
Sirrah, did you not bring me this ring from your Lady?

_Fath._ Yes surely Sir, did I, but your worship must ev'n bear with me;
For there was a mistaking in it, and so, as I was
Saying to your worship, my Lady is now married.

_Lod._ Married? to whom?

_Fa._ To your worships friend _Piso_.

_Lod._ S'death to _Piso_?

_Piso within._ Ha, ha, ha.

_Ang._ Yes Sir I can assure you she's married to him, I saw't
With these gray eyes.

_Lod._ Why what a Rogue art thou then! thou hast made
Me send in provision too.

_Fa._ O a Gentleman should not have such foul words in's mouth.
But your Worships provision could not have come in at a fitter time;
Will it please you to tast any of your own wine?
It may be the Vintner has cozen'd you.

_Lod._ Pox I am mad.

_Ang._ You have always plots Sir, and see how they fall out.

_Jac._ You had a plot upon me, how do you like this?

_Lod._ I do not speak to you.

_Fab._ Because you dare not.

_Lod._ But I will have one of that old Rogues teeth set in this Ring.

_Fat._ Do'st not thou know that I can beat thee?
Dost thou know it now? (_discovers himself._)

_Lod._ He beat me once indeed.

_Fat._ And if you have forgot it, I can call a witness,
Come forth _Piso_--remember you it?

_Piso._ Faith I do call to minde such a matter.

_Fat._ And if I cannot still do't, you are young
And will assist your Father in law.

_Piso._ My Father in law?

_Ang._ Your Father in law, as sure as this is widow _Leila_.

_Piso._ How widow _Lelia_?

_Fat._ I' faith 'tis she, Son.

_Lod._ Ha, ha, ha, let my provision go, I am glad I
Have mist the woman.

_Piso._ Have you put a whore upon me?

_Lel._ By heaven you do me wrong, I have a heart
As pure as any womans, and I mean
To keep it so for ever.

_Fa._ There is no starting now, Son, if you offer't
I can compel you, her estate is great,
But all made o're to me, before this match,
Yet if you use her kindly, as I swear
I think she will deserve, you shall enjoy it
During your life, all save some slender piece
I will reserve for my own maintenance,
And if God bless you with a child by her,
It shall have all.

_Piso._ So I may have the means,
I do not much care what the woman is:
Come my sweet heart, as long as I shall find
Thy kisses sweet, and thy means plentifull,
Let people talk their tongues out.

_Lel._ They may talk
Of what is past, but all that is to come
Shall be without occasions.

_Jul._ Shall we not make _Piso_, and _Lodowick_ friends?

_Jac._ Hang 'em they dare not be Enemies, or if they be,
The danger is not great, welcom _Frederick_.

_Enter_ Frederick.

_Fred._ First joy unto you all; and next I think
We shall have wars.

_Jac._ Give me some wine, I'le drink to that.

_Fab._ I'le pledge.

_Fran._ But I shall lose you then.

_Jac._ Not a whit wench; I'le teach thee presently to be a Souldier.

_Fred. Fabritio's_ command, and yours are both restor'd.

_Jac._ Bring me four glasses then.

_Fab._ Where are they?

_Ang._ You shall not drink 'em here, 'tis supper time,
And from my house no creature here shall stir
These three dayes, mirth shall flow as well as wine.

_Fa._ Content, within I'le tell you more at large
How much I am bound to all, but most to you,
Whose undeserved liberality
Must not escape thus unrequited.

_Jac._ 'Tis happiness to me, I did so well:
Of every noble action, the intent
Is to give worth reward, vice, punishment. [_Exeunt Om._

Prologue.

_To please you with this Play, we fear will be_
_(So does the Author too) a mystery_
_Somewhat above our Art; For all mens eyes,_
_Ears, faiths, and judgements, are not of one size._
_For to say truth, and not to flatter ye,_
_This is nor_ Comedy, _nor_ Tragedy,__
_Nor_ History, _nor any thing that may_
_(Yet in a week) be made a perfect Play:_
_Yet those that love to laugh, and those that think_
_Twelve pence goes farther this way than in drink,_
_Or Damsels, if they mark the matter through,_
_May stumble on a foolish toy, or two_
_Will make 'em shew their teeth: pray, for my sake_
_(That likely am your first man) do not take_
_A distaste before you feel it: for ye may_
_When this is hist to ashes, have a Play._
_And here, to out-hiss this; be patient then,_
_(My honour done) y'are welcom Gentlemen._

Epilogue.

_If you mislike (as you shall ever be_
_Your own free Judges) this Play utterly,_
_For your own Nobleness yet do not hiss,_
_But as you go by, say it was amiss;_
_And we will mend: Chide us, but let it be_
_Never in cold blood: O' my honesty_
_(If I have any) this I'le say for all,_
_Our meaning was to please you still, and shall._

THE PROPHETESS. 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.

I am so confident--

_Max._ 'Faith, so am I too,
That I shall make her Devils sides hum.

_Dio._ She comes here;
Go take your stand.

_Max._ Now holly, or you howl for't. [_Exit._

_Dio._ 'Tis pity this young man should be so stubborn.
Valiant he is, and to his valour temperate,
Only distrustful of delays in Fortune;
I love him dearly well.

_Del._ Now, my Son _Diocles_,
Are ye not weary of your game to day?
And are ye well?

_Dio._ Yes, Mother, well and lusty,
Only ye make me hunt for empty shadows.

_Del._ You must have patience, Rome _was not built in one day_:
And he that hopes, must give his hopes their Currents.
You have kill'd a mighty Boar.

_Dio._ But I am no Emperour:
Why do you fool me thus, and make me follow
Your flattering expectation hour by hour?
Rise early, and sleep late? to feed your appetites,
Forget my Trade, my Arms? forsake mine honour,
Labour and sweat to arrive at a base memory?
Oppose my self to hazards of all sorts,
Only to win the barbarous name of Butcher?

_Del._ Son, you are wise.

_Dio._ But you are cunning, Mother;
And with that Cunning, and the faith I give you,
Ye lead me blindly to no end, no honour:
You find ye are daily fed, you take no labour;
Your family at ease, they know no market,
And therefore to maintain this, you speak darkly,
As darkly still ye nourish it, whilst I,
Being a credulous and obsequious Coxcomb,
Hunt daily, and sweat hourly, to find out
To clear your mystery; kill Boar on Boar,
And make your Spits and Pots bow with my Bounties;
Yet I still poorer, further still--

_Del._ Be provident,
And tempt not the gods dooms; stop not the glory
They are ready to fix on ye. Ye are a fool then;
Chearful and grateful takers, the gods love,
And such as wait their pleasures with full hopes;
The doubtful and distrustful man Heaven frowns at.
What I have told you by my inspiration,
I tell ye once again, must, and shall find ye.

_Dio._ But when? or how?

_Del. Cum Aprum interfeceris._

_Dio._ I have kill'd many.

_Del._ Not the Boar they point ye;
Nor must I reveal further, till you clear it.
The lots of glorious men are wrapt in mysteries,
And so deliver'd; common and slight Creatures,
That have their ends as open as their actions,
Easie and open fortunes follow.

_Max._ I shall try
How deep your inspiration lies hid in ye,
And whether your brave spirit have a buckler
To keep this arrow off, I'll make you smoke else.

_Dio._ Knowing my fortune so precisely, punctually,
And that it must fall without contradiction,
Being a stranger, of no tye unto ye,
Methinks you should be studied in your own,
In your own destiny, methinks, most perfect,
And every hour, and every minute, Mother,
So great a care should Heaven have of her Ministers;
Methinks your fortunes both ways should appear to ye,
Both to avoid and take. Can the Stars now,
And all those influences you receive into you,
Or secret inspirations ye make shew of,
If an hard fortune hung, and were now ready
To pour it self upon your life, deliver ye?
Can they now say, take heed?

_Del._ Ha? pray ye come hither.

_Max._ I would know that; I fear your Devil will cozen ye,
And stand as close as ye can, I shall be with ye.

_Del._ I find a present ill.

_Dio._ How?

_Del._ But I scorn it.

_Max._ Do ye so? do ye so?

_Del._ Yes, and laugh at it, _Diocles_.
Is it not strange these wild and foolish men
Should dare to oppose the power of Destiny?
That power the gods shake at? Look yonder, Son.

_Max._ Have ye spy'd me? then have at ye.

_Del._ Do, shoot boldly,
Hit me, and spare not, if thou canst.

_Dio._ Shoot, Cousin.

_Max._ I cannot; mine arm's dead, I have no feeling;
Or if I could shoot, so strong is her arm'd Vertue,
She would catch the arrow flying.

_Del._ Poor doubtful people,
I pity your weak faiths.

_Dio._ Your mercy, Mother,
And from this hour a Deity I crown ye.

_Del._ No more of that.

_Max._ O let my Prayers prevail too,
Here like a tree, I dwell else; free me, Mother,
And greater than great Fortune, I'll adore thee.

_Del._ Be free again, and have more pure thoughts in ye.

_Dio._ Now I believe your words most constantly,
And when I have that power ye have promis'd to me.

_Del._ Remember then your Vow, my Niece _Drusilla_,
I mean to marry her, and then ye prosper.

_Dio._ I shall forget my life else.

_Del._ I am a poor weak woman, to me no worship.

_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?