Valentinian, a tragedy as 'tis alter'd by the Earl of Rochester, and acted at the Theatre-Royal : together with a preface concerning the author and his writings, by one of his friends.

ACT. IV. SCEN. II.

Enter Chylax at one Door, Lycinius and Balbus at another.

Lyc.

HOw now!

Chy.

Shee's come.

Balb.

Then I'l to the Emperor!

Ex. Balb.

Chy.

Is the Musick plac'd well?

Lyc.

Excellent.

Chy.

Lycinius, you and Proculus receive 'em In the great Chamber at her Entrance.

Lycin.

Let us alone.

Chy.

And do you here Lycinius. Pray let the Women ply her farther off. And with much more Discretion, one word more Are all the Maskers ready?

Lycin.

Take no care man.

Ex.

Chyl.

I am all over in a Sweat with Pimping; 'Tis a laborious moyling Trade this.—

Enter Emperor, Balb. and Procul.

Emp.

Is she come?

Chy.

She is, Sir! but 'twere best That you were last seen to her.

Emp.

So I mean. Keep your Court empty Proculus.

Proc.

'Tis done Sir.

Emp.

Be not too sudden to her.

Chy.

Good sweet Sir Retire and Man your self: Let us alone, We are no Children this way: One thing Sir! 'Tis necessary, that her She-Companions Be cut off in the Lobby by the Women, They'l break the Business else.

Emp.

'Tis true: They shall.

Chy.

Remember your Place, Proculus.

Proc.

I warrant you—

Ex. Emp. Balb. and Proculus.

Enter Lucina, Claudia, Marcellina and Lycias.

Chyl.

She enters! Who waits there? The Emperor Calls for his Chariots, He will take the Air.

Lucin.

I am glad I came in such a happy hour VVhen hee'l be absent: This removes all Fears; But Lycias lead me to my Lord, Heav'n grant he be not gone.

Lyc.

'Faith, Madam, that's uncertain! I'l run and see. But if you miss my Lord And find a better to supply his Room, A Change so happy will not discontent you.—

Exit.

Luc.

VVhat means that unwonted Insolence of this Slave? Now I begin to fear again. Oh—Honour, If ever thou hadst Temple in weak VVoman And Sacrifice of Modesty offer'd to Thee Hold me fast now and Ile be safe for ever.

Chy.

The fair Lucina; Nay then I find Our Slander'd-Court has not sinn'd up so high To fright all the good Angels from its Care, Since they have sent so great a Blessing hither. Madam—I beg th'Advantage of my Fortune, VVho as I am the first have met you here, May humbly hope to be made proud and happy VVith the honour of your first Command and Service.

Lucin.

Sir—I am so far from knowing how to merit

Your Service, that your Complements too much, And I return it you with all my heart. You'l want it Sir, for those who know you better.

Chy.

Madam, I have the honour to be own'd By Maximus for his most humble Servant, Which gives me Confidence.

Marc.

Now Claudia, for a Wager, What thing is this that cringes to my Lady?

Claud.

Why some grave States-man, by his looks a Courtier.

Marc.

Claudia a Bawd: By all my hopes a Bawd! What use can reverend Gravity be of here, To any but a trusty Bawd? States-man are markt for Fops by it, besides Nothing but Sin and Laziness could make him So very fat, and look so fleshy on't.

Lucin.

But is my Lord not gone yet do you say Sir?

Chy.

He is not Madam, and must take this kindly, Exceeding kindly of you, wondrous kindly, You come so far to visit him. I'le guide you.

Lucin.

Whither?

Chy.

Why to my Lord.

Lucin.

Is it impossible To find him in this Place without a Guide, For I would willingly not trouble you?

Chy.

My only trouble, Madam, is my fear, I'm too unworthy of so great an Honour. But here you're in the publick Gallery, Where th' Emperor must pass, unless you'd see him.

Lucin.

Bless me Sir—No—pray lead me any whither, My Lord cannot be long before he finds me.

Exeunt.

Enter Lycinius, Proculus, and Balbus. Musick.

Lycin.

She's coming up the Stairs: now the Musick, And as that softens—her love will grow warm, Till she melts down. Then Caesar lays his Stamp. Burn these Perfumes there.

Proc.

Peace, no noise without.

A SONG.

Nymph.

INjurious Charmer of my vanquisht Heart, Canst thou feel Love, and yet no pity know? Since of my self from thee I cannot part, Invent some gentle Way to let me go. For what with Ioy thou didst obtain, And I with more did give; In time will make thee false and vain, And me unfit to live.

Shepherd.

Frail Angel, that wou'dst leave a Heart forlorn, With vain pretence falshood therein might lye; Seek not to cast wild shadows o're your scorn, You cannot sooner change than I can dye. To tedious life I le never fall, Thrown from thy dear lov'd Breast; He merits not to live at all, Who cares to live unblest.

Chor.

Then let our flaming Hearts be joyn'd, While in that sacred fire; Ere thou prove false, or I unkind, Together both expire.

Enter Chyl. Lucina, Claudia, Marcellina.

Lucin.

Where is this Wretch, this Villain Lycias? Pray Heav'n my Lord be here; for now I fear it. I am certainly betray'd. This cursed Ring Is either counterfeit or stoln.

Claud.

Your fear Does but disarm your Resolution, Which may defend you in the worst Extreams: Or if that fail. Are there not Gods and Angels?

Lucin.

None in this Place I fear but evil ones. Heav'n pity me.

Chy.

But tell me, dearest Madam, How do you like the Song?

Lucin.

Sir, I am no Judge Of Musick, and the words, I thank my Gods, I did not understand.

Chy.

The Emperor Has the best Talent at expounding 'em; You'l ne'r forget a Lesson of his Teaching.

Lucin.

Are you the worthy Friend of Maximus Would lead me to him? He shall thank you Sir, As you desire.

Chy.

Madam, he shall not need, I have a Master will reward my Service, When you have made him happy with your Love, For which he hourly languishes—Be kind—

Whispers.

Lucin.

The Gods shall kill me first.

Chy.

Think better on't. 'Tis sweeter dying in th' Emperor's Arms.

Enter Phorba and Ardellia.

But here are Ladies come to see you, Madam, They'l entertain you better. I but tire you; Therefore I'le leave you for a while, and bring Your lov'd Lord to you—

Exit.

Lucin.

Then I'le thank you. I am betray'd for certain.

Phorb.

You are a welcome Woman.

Ard.

Bless me Heaven! How did you find your way to Court?

Lucin.

I know not; would I had never trod it.

Phorb.

Prithee tell me.

Call Emperor behind.

Good pretty Lady, and dear sweet Heart, love us, For we love thee extreamly. Is not this Place A Paradise to live in?

Lucin.

Yes to you, Who know no Paradise but guilty Pleasure.

Ard.

Heard you the Musick yet?

Lucin.

'Twas none to me.

Phor.

You must not be thus froward. Well, this Gown Is one o'th' prettiest, by my troth Ardelia, I ever saw yet; 'twas not to frown in, Madam.

You put this Gown on when you came.

Ard.

How dee ye? Alas, poor Wretch, how cold it is!

Lucin.

Content you. I am as well as may be, and as temperate, So you will let me be so—Where's my Lord? For that's the business I come for hither.

Phor.

We'l lead you to him: he's i'th' Gallery.

Ard.

We'l shew you all the Court too.

Lucin.

Shew me him, & you have shew'd me all I come to look on.

Phor.

Come on, we'l be your Guides; and as you go, We have some pretty Tales to tell you, Madam, Shall make you merry too. You come not hither To be sad, Lucina.

Lucin.

Would I might not—

Exeunt.

Enter Chylax and Balbus in haste.

Chyl.

Now see all ready, Balbus: run.

Balb.

I fly Boy—

Exit.

Chy.

The Women by this time are warning of her, If she holds out them; the Emperor Takes her to task—he has her—Hark, I hear 'em.

Enter Emperor drawing in Lucina. Ring.

Emp.

Would you have run away so slily, Madam?

Lucin.

I beseech you Sir, Consider what I am, and whose.

Emp.

I do so. For what you are, I am fill'd with such Amaze, So far transported with Desire and Love, My slippery Soul flows to you while I speak, And whose you were, I care not, for now you are mine, Who love you, and will do at on you more Than you do on your Vertue.

Lucin.

Sacred Caesar.

Emp.

You shall not kneel to me; rise.

Lucin.

Look upon me, And if you be so cruel to abuse me,

Think how the Gods will take it. Does this Face Afflict your Soul? I'le hide it from you ever; Nay more, I will become so leprous, That you shall curse me from you. My dear Lord Has ever serv'd you truly— fought your Battels, As if he daily long'd to die for Caesar; Was never Traitor Sir, nor never tainted, In all the Actions of his Life.

Emp.

How high does this fantastick Vertue swell? She thinks it Infamy to please too well.

Aside.

I know it—

To her.

Lucin.

His Merits and his Fame have grown together, Together flourish'd like two spreading Cedars, Over the Roman Diadem. O let not. (As you have a Heart that's humane in you) The having of an honest Wife decline him; Let not my Vertue be a Wedge to break him, Much less my Shame his undesery'd Dishonour. I do not think you are so bad a man; I know Report belyes you; you are Caesar, Which is the Father of the Empires Glory: You are too near the Nature of the Gods, To wrong the weakest of all Creatures, Woman.

Emp.

I dare not do it here. Rise, fair Lucina.

Aside.

When you believe me worthy, make me happy Chylax; wait on her to her Lord within. Wipe your fair Eyes—

Exeunt.

Ah Love! ah cursed Boy! Where art thou that torments me thus unseen, And ragest with thy Fires within my Breast, With idle purpose to inflame her Heart, Which is as inaccessible and cold, As the proud tops of those aspiring Hills, Whose Heads are wrapt in everlasting Snow, Tho' the hot Sun roll o're 'em every day? And as his Beams, which only shine above, Scorch and consume in Regions round below, Soft Love which throws such brightness thro' her eyes, Leaves her Heart cold, and burns me at her feet; My Tyrant, but her flattering Slave thou art,

A Glory round her lovely Face, a Fire within my Heart. Who waits without? Lycinius?

Enter Lycinius.

Lycin.

My Lord.

Emp.

Where are the Masquers that should dance to night?

Lycin.

In the old Hall Sir, going now to practise.

Emp.

About it strait. 'Twill serve to draw away Those listning Fools, who trace it in the Gallery; And if by chance odd noises should be heard, As Womens Shrieks, or so, say, 'tis a Play Is practising within.

Lycin.

The Rape of Lucrece, Or some such merry Prank—It shall be done Sir.

Ex.

Emp.

'Tis nobler like a Lion to invade, Where Appetite directs, and seize my Prey, Than to wait tamely like a begging Dog, Till dull Consent throws out the Scraps of Love. I scorn those Gods who seek to cross my Wishes, And will in spite of 'em be happy: Force Of all the Powers is the most generous; For what that gives, it freely does bestow, Without the after-Bribe of Gratitude. I'le plunge into a Sea of my Desires, And quench my Fever, tho' I drown my Fame, And tear up Pleasure by the Roots: No matter Tho' it never grow again; what shall ensue, Let Gods and Fate look to it; 'tis their Business.

Exit.