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.

SCENE III.

Opens and discovers 5 or 6 Dancing-masters practising.

1 Dan.

That is the damn'st shuffling Step, Pox on't.

2 Dan.

I shall never hit it. Thou hast naturally All the neat Motions of a merry Tailor, Ten thousand Riggles with thy Toes inward, Cut clear and strong: let thy Limbs play about thee;

Keep time, and hold thy Back upright and firm: It may prefer thee to a waiting Woman.

1 Dan.

Or to her Lady, which is worse.

Enter Lycinius.

Ten dance.

Lycin.

Bless me, the loud Shrieks and horrid Outcries Of the poor Lady! Ravishing d'ye call it? She roars as if she were upon the Rack: 'Tis strange there should be such a difference Betwixt half-ravishing, which most Women love, And through force, which takes away all Blame, And should be therefore welcome to the vertuous. These tumbling Rogues, I fear, have overheard 'em; But their Ears with their Brains are in their Heels. Good morrow Gentlemen: What is all perfect? I have taken care Your Habits shall be rich and glorious.

3 Dan.

That will set off. Pray sit down and see, How the last Entry I have made will please you.

Second Dance.

Lycin.

'Tis very fine indeed.

2 Dan.

I hope so Sir—.

Ex. Dancers.

Enter Chyl. Proculus and Lycias.

Proc.

'Tis done Lycinius.

Lycin.

How?

Proc.

I blush to tell it. If there be any Justice, we are Villains, And must be so rewarded.

Lycias.

Since 'tis done, I take it is not time now to repent it, Let's make the best of our Trade.

Chy.

Now Vengeance take it: Why should not he have settl'd on a Beauty, Whose Modesty stuck in a piece of Tissue? Or one a Ring might rule? or such a one That had a Husband itching to be honourable, And ground to get it? If he must have Women,

And no allay without 'em, why not those That know the Mystery, and are best able To play a Game with judgment, such as she is? Grant they be won with long siege, endless travel, And brought to opportunities with millions, Yet when they come to Motion, their cold Vertue Keeps 'em like Beds of Snow.

Lycin.

A good Whore Had sav'd all this, and happily as wholsom, And the thing once done as well thought of too. But this same Chastity forsooth.

Chy.

A Pox on't. Why should not Women be as free as we are? They are, but will not own it, and far freer, And the more bold you bear your self, more welcom, And there is nothing you dare say but Truth, But they dare hear.

Proc.

No doubt of it —away, Let them who can repent, go home and pray.

Exeunt.

Scene opens, discovers th' Emperor's Chamber. Lucina newly un∣bound by th' Emperor.

Emp.

Your only Vertue now is Patience, Be wise and save your Honour; if you talk—

Lucin.

As long as there is Life in this Body, And Breath to give me words, I'le cry for Justice.

Emp.

Justice will never hear you; I am Justice.

Lucin.

Wilt thou not kill me Monster, Ravisher? Thou bitter Bane o'th' Empire, look upon me, And if thy guilty eyes dare see the Ruines Thy wild Lust hath laid level with Dishonour, The sacrilegious razing of that Temple, The Tempter to thy black sins would have blusht at. Behold, and curse thy self. The Gods will find thee, That's all my Refuge now, for they are righteous; Vengeance and Horror circle thee. The Empire, In which thou liv'st a strong continu'd Surfeit,

Like Poyson will disgorge thee; good men raze thee From ever being read agen; Chast Wives and fearful Maids make Vows against thee; Thy worst Slaves, when they hear of this, shall hate thee, And those thou hast corrupted, first fall from thee, And if thou let'st me live, the Souldier Tired with thy Tyrannies break thro' Obedience, And shake his strong Steel at thee.

Emp.

This prevails not, Nor any Agony you utter Madam: If I have done a sin, curse her that drew me; Curse the first Cause, the Witchcraft that abus'd me; Curse your fair Eyes, and curse that heav'nly Beauty, And curse your being good too.

Lucin.

Glorious Thief! What restitution canst thou make to save me?

Emp.

I'le ever love —and ever honour you.

Lucin.

Thou canst not; For that which was my Honour, thou hast murder'd; And can there be a Love in Violence?

Emp.

You shall be only mine.

Lucin.

Yet I like better Thy Villainy than Flattery; that's thy own, The other basely counterfeit. Fly from me, Or for thy safeties sake and wisdom kill me; For I am worse than thou art: Thou maist pray, And so recover Grace —I am lost for ever, And if thou let'st me live, thou'rt lost thy self too.

Emp.

I fear no loss but Love—I stand above it.

Lucin.

Gods! what a wretched thing has this man made me? For I am now no Wise for Maximus; No Company for Women that are vertuous; No Family I now can claim or Countrey, Nor Name but Caesar's Whore: Of sacred Caesar! (For that should be your Title) was your Empire, Your Rods and Axes that are Types of Justice, And from the Gods themselves—to ravish Women. The Curses that I owe to Enemies, ev'n those the Sabins sent, When Romulus (as thou hast me) ravisht their noble Maids, Made more and heavier light on thee.

Emp.

This helps not.

Lucin.

The sins of Tarquin be remember'd in thee, And where there has a chast Wife been abus'd, Let it be thine, the Shame thine, thine the Slaughter, And last for ever thine the fear'd Example. Where shall poor Vertue live now I am fallen? What can your Honours now and Empire make me, But a more glorious Whore?

Emp.

A better Woman. If you be blind and scorn it, who can help it? Come leave these Lamentations; you do nothing But make a noise—I am the same man still, Were it to do agen: Therefore be wiser; by all This holy Light I would attempt it. You are so excellent, and made to ravish, There were no pleasure in you else.

Lucin.

Oh Villain!

Emp.

So bred for man's Amazement, that my Reason And every help to do me right has left me: The God of Love himself had been before me, Had he but Eyes to see you, tell me justly How should I choose but err—then if you will Be mine and only mine (for you are so precious) I envy any other should enjoy you; Almost look on you, and your daring Husband Shall know he has kept an Off'ring from th' Emperor, Too holy for the Altars—be the greatest; More than my self I'le make you; if you will not, Sit down with this and silence: for which wisdom, You shall have use of me, if you divulge it, Know I am far above the faults I do, And those I do, I am able to forgive; And where your credit in the telling of it May be with gloss enough suspected, mine Is as my own Command shall make it. Princes Tho' they be sometimes subject to loose Whispers, Yet wear they two edg'd Swords for open Censures: Your Husband cannot help you, nor the Souldiers; Your Husband is my Creature, they my Weapons, And only where I bid 'em strike—I feed 'em,

Nor can the Gods be angry at this Action, Who as they made me greatest, meant me happiest, Which I had never been without this pleasure. Consider, and farewel. You'l find your Women Waiting without.

Ex. Emperor.

Lucin.

Destruction find thee. Now which way shall I go—my honest House Will shake to shelter me—my Husband fly me, My Family, Because they're honest, and desire to be so. Is this the end of Goodness? This the price Of all my early pray'rs to protect me? Why then I see there is no God—but Power, Nor Vertue now alive that cares for us, But what is either lame or sensual; How had I been thus wretched else?

Enter Maximus and AEcius.

AEcius.

Let Titus Command the Company that Pontius lost.

Max.

How now sweet Heart! What make you here and thus?

AEcius.

Lucina weeping. This is some strange offence.

Max.

Look up and tell me. Why art thou thus? my Ring! oh Friend I have found it! You are at Court then.

Lucin.

This and that vile Wretch Lycias brought me hither.

Max.

Rise and go home. I have my Fears, AEcius. Oh my best Friend! I am ruin'd. Go Lucina, Already in thy tears I've read thy Wrongs. Already found a Caesar? Go thou Lilly, Thou sweetly drooping Flower; be gone, I say, And if thou dar'st—outlive this Wrong.

Lucin.

I dare not.

AEcius.

Is that the Ring you lost?

Max.

That, that AEcius, That cursed Ring, my self and all my Fortunes have undone. Thus pleas'd th' Emperor, my noble Master, For all my Services and Dangers for him,

To make me my own Pandar! was this Justice? Oh my AEcius! have I liv'd to bear this?

Lucin.

Farewel for ever Sir.

Max.

That's a sad saying; But such a one becomes you well, Lucina. And yet methinks we should not part so slightly; Our Loves have been of longer growth, more rooted Than the sharp blast of one Farewel can scatter. Kiss me—I find no Caesar here. These Lips Taste not of Ravisher, in my opinion. Was it not so?

Lucin.

O yes.

Max.

I dare believe you. I know him and thy truth too well to doubt it. Oh my most dear Lucina! oh my Comfort! Thou Blessing of my Youth! Life of my Life!

AEcius.

I have seen enough to stagger my Obedience. Hold me, ye equal Gods! this is too sinful.

Max.

Why wert thou chosen out to make a Whore of, Thou only among millions of thy Sex? Unfeignedly vertuous! fall, fall chrystal Fountains, And ever feed your Streams, you rising Sorrows, Till you have wept your Mistress into marble. Now go for ever from me.

Lucin.

A long farewel Sir! And as I have been faithful, Gods, think on me.

AEcius.

Madam farewel, since you resolve to die. Which well consider'd, If you can cease a while from these strange thoughts, I wish were rather alter'd.

Lucin.

No.

AEcius.

Mistake not. I would not stain your Vertue for the Empire, Nor any way decline you to Dishonour: It is not my profession, but a Villain's; I find and feel your loss as deep as you do, And still am the same AEcius, still as honest; The same Life I have still for Maximus, The same Sword wear for you where Justice bids me, And 'tis no dull one. Therefore misconceive me not.

Only I'd have you live a little longer.

Lucin.

Alas Sir! why Am I not wretched enough already?

AEcius.

To draw from that wild man a sweet repentance, And goodness in his days to come.

Max.

They are so. And will be ever coming, my AEcius.

AEcius.

For who knows but the sight of you, presenting His swoln sins at the full, and your wrong'd Vertue, May like a fearful Vision fright his Follies, And once more bend him right again, which Blessing If your dark Wrongs would give you leave to read, Is more than Death, and the Reward more glorious; Death only eases you. This the whole Empire Besides compell'd and forc'd by violence, To what was done. The deed was none of yours; For should th' eternal Gods desire to perish, Because we daily violate their Truth, Which is the Chastity of Heav'n? No Madam—

Lucin.

The Tongues of Angels cannot alter me. For could the World again restore my Honour, As fair and absolute as ere I bred it, That World I should not trust; again, the Emperor Can by my Life get nothing but my Story, Which whilst I breathe must be his Infamy: And where you counsel me to live, that Caesar May see his Errors and repent; I'le tell you, His Penitence is but increase of Pleasure; His Pray'rs are never said but to deceive us; And when he weeps, (as you think, for his Vices) 'Tis but as killing Drops from baleful Yew-trees, That rot his harmless Neighbours, if he can grieve As one that yet desires his free Conversion, I'le leave him Robes to mourn in—my sad Ashes.

AEcius.

The Farewel then of happy Souls be with thee, And to thy Memory be ever sung, The Praises of a just and constant Woman: This sad day whilst I live, a Souldier's Tears I'le offer on thy Monument.

Max.

All that is chast upon thy Tomb shall flourish;

All living Epitaphs be thine; Times Story, And what is left behind to piece our Lives, Shall be no more abus'd with Tales and Trifles.

AEcius.

But full of thee stand to Eternity, Once more farewel—Go find Elizium, There where deserving Souls are crown'd with Blessings.

Max.

There where no vicious Tyrants come: Truth, Honour, Are keepers of that blest Place; go thither.

Ex. Lucina.

AEcius.

Gods give thee Justice. His Thoughts begin to work, I fear him yet; He ever was a worthy Roman, but I know not what to think on't. He has suffer'd Beyond a man, if he stand this.

Max.

AEcius, Am I alive, or has a dead Sleep seiz'd me? It was my Wife th' Emperor abus'd thus, And I must say—I am glad I had her for him. Must I not AEcius?

AEcius.

I am stricken With such a stiff Amazement, that no Answer Can readily come from me, nor no Comfort. Will you go home, or go to my House?

Max.

Neither. I have no home, and you are mad AEcius, To keep me Company—I am a Fellow My own Sword would forsake, not tyed to me. By Heav'n I dare do nothing.

AEcius.

You do better.

Max.

I am made a branded Slave, AEcius, Yet I must bless the Maker. Death on my Soul! shall I endure this tamely? Must Maximus be mention'd for his Wrongs? I am a Child too; what do I do railing? I cannot mend my self. 'Twas Caesar did it. And what am I to him?

AEcius.

'Tis well remember'd; However you are tainted, be not Traitor.

Max.

O that thou wert not living, and my Friend!

AEcius.

I'le bear a wary Eye upon your Actions: I fear you, Maximus, nor can I blame you,

If you break out; for by the Gods, your Wrong Deserves a general Ruine. Do you love me?

Max.

That's all I have to live on.

AEcius.

Then go with me. You shall not to your own House.

Max.

Nor to any. My Griefs are greater far than Walls can compass; And yet I wonder how it happens with me. I am not dang'rous, and in my Conscience, Should I now see the Emperor i'th' heat on't, I should scarce blame him for't: an awe runs thro' me, I feel it sensibly that binds me to it, 'Tis at my Heart now, there it sits and rules, And methinks 'tis a pleasure to obey it.

AEcius.

This is a Mask to cozen me. I know you, And how far you dare do. No Roman farther, Nor with more fearless valour, and I'le watch you.

Max.

Is a Wifes loss— More than the fading of a few fresh Colours?

AEcius.

No more, Maximus, To one that truly lives.

Max.

Why then I care not; I can live well enough, AEcius: For look you, Friend, for Vertue and those Trifles, They may be bought they say.

AEcius.

He's craz'd a little. His grief has made him talk things from his nature. Will you go any ways?

Max.

I'le tell thee Friend, If my Wife for all this should be a Whore now, 'Twou'd vex me, For I am not angry yet. The Emperor Is young and handsom, and the Woman Flesh, And may not these two couple without Scraching?

AEcius.

Alas, my Maximus!

Max.

Alas not me, I am not wretched, for there's no man miserable But he that makes himself so.

AEcius.

Will you walk yet?

Max.

Come, come; she dares not die, Friend, that's the truth on't She knows the enticing Sweets and Delicacies Of a young Princes Pleasure, and I thank her,

She has made way for Maximus to rise. Wilt not become me bravely?

AEcius.

Dearest Friend, These wild words shew your violated mind, Urg'd with the last extremity of grief; Which since I cannot like a Man redress, With tears I must lament it like a Child; For when 'tis Caesar does the injury, Sorrow is all the Remedy I know.

Max.

'Tis then a certain truth that I am wrong'd, Wrong'd in that barb'rous manner I imagin'd: Alas, I was in hopes I had been mad, And that these Horrors which invade my Heart, Were but distracted melancholy Whimseys: But they are real truths (it seems) and I The last of men, and vilest of all Beings. Bear me cold Earth, who am too weak to move Beneath my load of Shame and Misery! Wrong'd by my lawful Prince, robb'd of my Love, Branded with everlasting infamy. Take pity Fate, and give me leave to die: Gods! would you be ador'd for being good, Or only fear'd for proving mischievous? How would you have your Mercy understood? Who could create a Wretch like Maximus, Ordain'd tho' guiltless to be infamous? Supream first Causes! you, whence all things flow, Whose infiniteness does each little fill, You, who decree each seeming Chance below, (So great in Power) were you as good in Will, How could you ever have produc'd such ill? Had your eternal minds been bent to good? Could humane happiness have prov'd so lame, Rapine, Revenge, Injustice, thirst of Blood, Grief, Anguish, Horror, Want, Despair and Shame, Had never found a Being nor a Name. 'Tis therefore less impiety to say, Evil with you has Coeternity, Than blindly taking it the other way, That merciful and of election free,

You did create the mischiefs you foresee. Wretch that I am, on Heav'n to exclame, When this poor tributary Worm below, More than my self in nothing but in name, Who durst invade me with this fatal Blow, I dare not crush in the revenge I owe. Not all his Power shall the wild Monster save; Him and my shame I'le tread into one Grave.

AEcius.

Does he but seem so? Or is he mad indeed?—Now to reprove him, Were council lost; but something must be done With speed and care, which may prevent that Fate Which threatens this unhappy Emperor.

Max.

O Gods! my Heart, would it would fairly break; Methinks I am somewhat wilder than I was, And yet I thank the Gods I know my Duty.

Enter Claudia.

Claud.

Forgive me my sad Tidings Sir—She's dead,

Max.

Why so it should be—

[He rises]

How?

Claud.

When first she enter'd Into the House, after a world of weeping, And blushing like the Sunset— Dare I, said she, defile my Husband's House, Wherein his spotless Family has flourisht? At this she fell—Choakt with a thousand sighs! And now the pleas'd expiring Saint, Her dying Looks, where new born Beauty shines, Opprest with Blushes, modestly declines, While Death approacht with a Majestick Grace, Proud to look lovely once in such a Face: Her Arms spread to receive her welcome Guest, With a glad sigh she drew into her Breast: Her Eyes then languishing tow'rds Heaven she cast, To thank the Powers that Death was come at last. And at the approach of the cold silent God; Ten thousand hidden Glories rush'd abroad.

Max.

No more of this—Begon. Now my AEcius, If thou wilt do me pleasure, weep a little;

I am so parcht I cannot—Your Example Has taught my tears to flow—Now lead away Friend, And as we walk together—Let us pray, I may not fall from truth,

AEcius.

That's nobly spoken.

Max.

Was I not wild, AEcius?

AEcius.

You were troubled.

Max.

I felt no sorrows then, but now my Grief, Like festering Wounds grown cold begins to smart, The raging Anguish gnaws and tears my Heart. Lead on and weep, but do not name the Woman.

Exeunt.