SCENE VIII.

3 Sen. Hale to thy imperial honour sacred Cæsar, And from the old Rome take these wishes; You holy gods, that hitherto have held As justice holds her Ballance equal pois'd, This glory of our Nation, this full Roman, And made him fit for what he is, confirm him: Look on this Son O Jupiter our helper, And Romulus, thou Father of our honour, Preserve him like thy self, just, valiant, noble, A lover, and increaser of his people, Let him begin with Numa, stand with Cato, The first five years of Nero be his wishes, Give him the age and fortune of Emylius, And his whole raign renew a great Augustus. SONG. Honour that is ever living, Honour that is ever giving, Honour that sees all and knows Both the ebbs of man and flowes, Honour that rewards the best, Sends thee thy rich labours rest; Thou hast studied still to please her, Therefore now she calls thee Cæsar: Chor. Hale, hale, Cæsar, hale and stand, And thy name outlive the Land. Noble Fathers to his brows Bind this wreath with thousand vows. All. Stand to Eternity. Max. I thank ye Fathers, And as I rule, may it still grow or wither: Now to the Banket, ye are all my guests, This day be liberal friends, to wine we give it; And smiling pleasures: Sit, my Queen of Beauty; Fathers, your places: these are fair Wars Souldiers, And thus I give the first charge to ye all; You are my second, sweet, to every cup, I add unto the Senate a new honour, And to the sons of Mars a donative. SONG. God Lyeus ever young, Ever honour'd, ever sung; Stain'd with bloud of lusty Grapes, In a thousand lusty shapes; Dance upon the Mazers brim, In the Crimson liquor swim: From thy plenteous hand divine, Let a River run with Wine: God of youth, let this day here Enter neither care nor fear. Boy. Bellona's seed, the glory of old Rome, Envy of conquer'd Nations, nobly come And to the fulness of your war-like noise Let your feet move, make up this hour of joys; Come, come I say, range your fair Troop at large, And your high measure turn into a charge. Semp. The Emperor's grown heavy with his wine. Afra. The Senate staies Sir for your thanks. Semp. Great Cæsar. Eud. I have my wish. Afra. Wilt please your Grace speak to him? Eud. Yes, but he will not hear Lords. Semp. Stir him Lucius; the Senate must have thanks. 2 Sen. Luc. Your Grace, Sir Cæsar. Eud. Did I not tell you he was well? he's dead. Semp. Dead? treason, guard the Court, let no man pass, Souldiers, your Cæsar's murdered. Eud. Make no tumult, Nor arm the Court, ye have his killer with ye; And the just cause, if ye can stay the hearing: I was his death; that wreath that made him Cæsar, Has made him earth. Sould. Cut her in thousand pieces. Eud. Wise men would know the reason first: to die, Is that I wish for, Romans, and your swords, The heaviest way of death: yet Souldiers grant me That was your Empress once, and honour'd by ye, But so much time to tell ye why I kill'd him, And weigh my reasons well, if man be in you; Then if ye dare do cruelly, condemn me. Afr. Hear her ye noble Romans, 'tis a Woman, A subject not for swords, but pity: Heaven (If she be guilty of malitious murder) Has given us Laws to make example of her, If only of revenge, and bloud hid from us, Let us consider first, then execute. Semp. Speak bloudy Woman. Eud. Yes; This Maximus, That was your Cæsar, Lords, and noble Souldiers, (And if I wrong the dead, Heaven perish me; Or speak to win your favours but the truth) Was to his Country, to his friends, and Cæsar A most malitious Traitor. Semp. Take heed woman. Eud. I speak not for compassion. Brave Æcius (Whose blessed soul if I lye shall afflict me) The man that all the world lov'd, you ador'd, That was the master-piece of Arms, and bounty; Mine own grief shall come last: this friend of his, This Souldier, this your right Arm, noble Romans, By a base letter to the Emperor; Stufft full of fears, and poor suggestions, And by himself, unto himself directed; Was cut off basely, basely, cruelly; Oh loss, O innocent, can ye now kill me? And the poor stale my Noble Lord, that knew not More of this villain, than his forc'd fears; Like one foreseen to satisfie, dy'd for it: There was a murder too, Rome would have blusht at; Was this worth being Cæsar? or my patience? nay his Wife By Heaven he told it me in wine, and joy; And swore it deeply, he himself prepar'd To be abus'd, how? let me grieve not tell ye; And weep the sins that did it: and his end Was only me, and Cæsar: But me he lyed in: These are my reasons Romans, and my soul Tells me sufficient; and my deed is justice: Now as I have done well, or ill, look on me. Afra. What less could nature do, what less had we done, Had we known this before? Romans, she is righteous; And such a piece of justice Heaven must smile on: Bend all your swords on me, if this displease ye. For I must kneel, and on this vertuous hand; Seal my new joy and thanks, thou hast done truly. Semp. Up with your arms, ye strike a Saint else Romans, May'st thou live ever spoken our Protector: Rome yet has many Noble Heirs: Let's in And pray, before we choose, then plant a Cæsar Above the reach of envy, blood, and murder. Afra. Take up the body nobly to his urn, And may our sins, and his together burn. [Exeunt. A dead March.

We would fain please ye, and as fain be pleas'd; 'Tis but a little liking, both are eas'd: We have your money, and you have our ware, And to our understanding good and fair: For your own wisdoms sake, be not so mad, To acknowledge ye have bought things dear and bad: Let not a brack i'th' Stuff, or here and there The fading gloss, a general loss appear: We know ye take up worse Commodities, And dearer pay, yet think your bargains wise; We know in Meat and Wine, ye fling away More time and wealth, which is but dearer pay, And with the Reckoning all the pleasure lost. We bid ye not unto repenting cost: The price is easie, and so light the Play, That ye may new digest it every day. Then noble friends, as ye would choose a Miss, Only to please the eye a while and kiss, Till a good Wife be got: So let this Play Hold ye a while until a better may.