SCENE II.
Enter Geta, Lictors.
Get.
I am too merciful, I find it, friends,
Of too soft a nature to be an Officer;
I bear too much remorse.
1 Lict.
'Tis your own fault, Sir;
For look you, one so newly warm in Office
Should lay about him blindfold, like true Justice,
Hit where it will: the more ye whip and hang, Sir,
(Though without cause; let that declare it self afterward)
The more ye are admired.
Get.
I think I shall be. —
2 Lict.
Your worship is a man of a spare body,
And prone to anger.
Get.
Nay, I will be angry,
And, the best is, I need not shew my reason.
2 Lict.
You need not, Sir, your place is without reason;
And what you want in growth and full proportion,
Make up in rule and rigour.
Get.
A rare Counsellor;
Instruct me further. Is it fit, my friends,
The Emperour my Master Dioclesian
Should now remember or the times or manners
That call'd him plain down Diocles?
1 Lict.
He must not,
It stands not with his Royaltie.
Get.
I grant ye,
I being then the Edile Getianus,
A man of place, and Judge, is it held requisite
I should commit to my consideration
Those Rascals of removed and ragged hours,
That with unreverend mouths call'd me Slave Geta?
2 Lict.
You must forget their names; your honour bids ye.
Get.
I do forget; but I'le hang their natures:
I will ascend my place, which is of Justice;
And mercy, I forget thee.
Suitor.
A rare Magistrate!
Another Solon sure.
Get.
Bring out the offenders.
1 Lict.
There are none yet, Sir, but no doubt there will be.
But if you please touch some things of those natures.
Get.
And am I ready, and mine anger too?
The melancholy of a Magistrate upon me,
And no offenders to execute my fury?
Ha? no offenders, knaves?
1 Lict.
There are knaves indeed, Sir,
But we hope shortly to have 'em for your worship.
Get.
No men to hang or whip? are you good officers,
That provide no fuel for a Judges fury?
In this place something must be done; this Chair, I tell ye,
When I sit down, must savour of Severitie:
Therefore I warn ye all, bring me lewd people,
Or likely to be lewd; twigs must be cropt too:
Let me have evil persons in abundance,
Or make 'em evil; 'tis all one, do but say so,
That I may have fit matter for a Magistrate;
And let me work. If I sit empty once more,
And lose my longing, as I am true Edile,
And as I hope to rectifie my Countrie,
You are those scabs I will scratch off from the Commonwealth;
You are these Rascals of the State I treat of,
And you shall find and feel.—
2 Lict.
You shall have many,
Many notorious people.
Get.
Let 'em be people,
And take ye notorious to your selves. Mark me, my Lictors,
And you, the rest of my Officials;
If I be angry, as my place will ask it,
And want fit matter to dispose my Authoritie,
I'le hang a hundred of ye: I'le not stay longer,
Nor enquire no further into your offences:
It is sufficient that I find no Criminals,
And therefore I must make some: if I cannot,
Suffer my self; for so runs my Commission.
Suitor.
An admirable, zealous and true Justice.
1 Lict.
I cannot hold: if there be any people,
Of what degree soever, or what qualitie,
That would behold the wonderful works of Justice
In a new Officer, a man conceal'd yet,
Let him repair, and see, and hear, and wonder
At the most wise and gracious Getianus.
Enter Delphia, and Drusilla.
Get.
This qualifies a little. What are these?
Del.
You shall not mourn still: times of recreation,
To allay this sadness, must be sought. What's here?
A superstitious flock of sensless people
Worshipping a sign in Office?
Get.
Lay hold on her,
And hold her fast,
She'll slip thorow your fingers like an Eel else;
I know her tricks: hold her, I say, and bind her,
Or hang her first, and then I'le tell her wherefore.
Del.
What have I done?
Get.
Thou hast done enough to undo thee;
Thou hast pressed to the Emperours presence without my warrant,
I being his key and image.
Del.
You are an image indeed,
And of the coursest stuff, and the worst making
That e're I look'd on yet: I'le make as good an image of an Asse.
Get.
Besides, thou art a woman of a lewd life.
Del.
I am no whore, Sir, nor no common fame
Has yet proclaim'd me to the people, vitious.
Get.
Thou art to me a damnable lewd woman,
Which is as much as all the people swore it;
I know thou art a keeper of tame Devils:
And whereas great and grave men of my place
Can by the Laws be allow'd but one apiece,
For their own services and recreations;