SCENE III.

1 Shep. Do you think this great man will continue here? 2 Shep. Continue here? what else? he has bought the great Farm; A great man, with a great Inheritance, And all the ground about it, all the woods too; And stock'd it like an Emperour. Now, all our sports again And all our merry Gambols, our may-Ladies, Our evening-daunces on the Green, our Songs, Our Holiday good cheer, our Bag-pipes now Boyes, Shall make the wanton Lasses skip again, Our Sheep-sheerings, and all our knacks. 3 Shep. But hark ye, We must not call him Emperour. 1 Countr. That's all one; He is the King of good fellows, that's no treason; And so I'le call him still, though I be hang'd for't. I grant ye, he has given his honour to another man, He cannot give his humour: he is a brave fellow, And will love us, and we'l love him. Come hither Ladon, What new Songs, and what geers? 3 Shep. Enough: I'le tell ye He comes abroad anon to view his grounds, And with the help of Thirsis, and old Egon, (If his whorson could be gon) and Amaryllis, And some few more o'th' wenches, we will meet him, And strike him such new springs, and such free welcoms, Shall make him scorn an Empire, forget Majestie, And make him bless the hour he liv'd here happy. 2 Countr. And we will second ye, we honest Carters, We lads o'th' lash, with some blunt entertainment, Our Teams to two pence, will give him some content, Or we'll bawl fearfully. 3 Shep. He cannot expect now His Courtly entertainments, and his rare Musicks, And Ladies to delight him with their voyces; Honest and cheerful toyes from honest meanings, And the best hearts they have. We must be neat all: On goes my russet jerkin with blue buttons. 1 Shep. And my green slops I was married in; my bonnet With my carnation point with Silver tags, boyes: You know where I won it. 1 Countr. Thou wilt ne're be old, Alexis. 1 Shep. And I shall find some toyes that have been favors, And nose-gayes, and such knacks: for there be wenches. 3 Shep. My mantle goes on too I plaid young Paris in, And the new garters Amaryllis sent me. 1 Count. Yes, yes: we'l all be handsom, and wash our faces. Neighbour, I see a remnant of March dust That's hatch'd into your chaps: I pray ye be carefull,

And mundifie your muzzel. 2 Countr. I'le to th' Barbers, It shall cost me I know what. Who's this? 3 Shep. Give room, neighbours, A great man in our State: gods bless your worship. 2 Countr. Encrease your Mastership. Get. Thanks, my good people: Stand off, and know your duties: as I take it You are the labouring people of this village, And you that keep the sheep. Stand farther off yet, And mingle not with my authoritie, I am too mighty for your companie. 3 Shep. We know it Sir; and we desire your worship To reckon us amongst your humble servants, And that our Country Sports, Sir,— Get. For your Sports, Sir, They may be seen, when I shall think convenient, When out of my discretion, I shall view 'em, And hold 'em fit for licence. Ye look upon me, And look upon me seriously, as ye knew me: 'Tis true, I have been a Rascal, as you are, A fellow of no mention, nor no mark, Just such another piece of durt, so fashion'd: But Time, that purifies all things of merit, Has set another stamp. Come nearer now, And be not fearfull; I take off my austeritie: And know me for the great and mighty Steward Under this man of honour: know ye for my vassals, And at my pleasure I can dispeople ye, Can blow you and your cattel out o'th' Country: But fear me, and have favour. Come, go along with me, And I will hear your Songs, and perhaps like 'em. 3 Shep. I hope you will, Sir. Geta. 'Tis not a thing impossible, Perhaps I'le sing my self, the more to grace ye, And if I like your women. 3 Shep. We'l have the best, Sir, Handsom young Girls. Geta. The handsomer, the better.

'May bring your wives too, 'twill be all one charge to ye; For I must know your families. Del. 'Tis well said, 'Tis well said, honest friends; I know ye are hatching Some pleasurable sports for your great Landlord: Fill him with joy, and win him a friend to ye, And make this little Grange seem a large Empire, Let out with home-contents: I'le work his favour, Which daily shall be on ye. 3 Shep. Then we'l sing daily, And make him the best Sports. Del. Instruct 'em Geta, And be a merry man again. Geta. Will ye lend me a devil, That we may dance a while? Del. I'le lend thee two. And Bag-pipes that shall blow alone. Get. I thank ye: But I'le know your devils of a cooler complexion first. Come, follow, follow; I'le go sit and see ye. [Exeunt.

Del. Do; and be ready an hour hence, and bring 'em; For in the Grove you'l find him. Dio. Come Drusilla, The partner of my best contents: I hope now You dare believe me. Dru. Yes, and dare say to ye, I think ye now most happie. Dio. You say true, Sweet, For by my ——, I find now by experience, Content was never Courtier. Dru. I pray ye walk on, Sir; The cool shades of the Grove invite ye. Dio. O my Dearest! When man has cast off his ambitious greatness, And sunk into the sweetness of himself; Built his foundation upon honest thoughts, Not great, but good desires his daily servants; How quie[t]ly he sleeps! how joyfully He wakes again, and looks on his possessions, And from his willing labours feeds with pleasure? Here hang no Comets in the shapes of Crowns, To shake our sweet contents: nor here, Drusilla, Cares, like Eclipses, darken our endeavours: We love here without rivals, kiss with innocence; Our thoughts as gentle as our lips; our children The double heirs both of our forms and faiths. Dru. I am glad ye make this right use of this sweetness, This sweet retiredness. Dio. 'Tis sweet indeed, love, And every circumstance about it, shews it. How liberal is the spring in every place here? The artificial Court shews but a shadow, A painted imitation of this glory. Smell to this flower, here nature has her excellence: Let all the perfumes of the Empire pass this, The carefull'st Ladies cheek shew such a colour, They are gilded and adulterate vanities. And here in Povertie dwells noble nature. What pains we take to cool our wines, to allay us, [Musick below. And bury quick the fuming god to quench us, Methinks this Crystal Well.—Ha! what strange Musick? 'Tis underneath, sure: how it stirs and joys me? How all the birds set on? the fields redouble Their odoriferous sweets? Hark how the echo's—

Drus. See, Sir, those flowers From out the Well, spring to your entertainment.

Dio. Bless me. Dru. Be not afraid, 'tis some good Angel That's come to welcome ye. Del. Go near and hear, Son. [SONG. Dio. O Mother, thank ye, thank ye, this was your will. Del. You shall not want delights to bless your presence. Now ye are honest, all the Stars shall honour ye.

Stay, here are Country-shepherds; here is some sport too, And you must grace it, Sir; 'twas meant to welcom ye; A King shall never feel your joy. Sit down Son.

Hold, hold, my Messenger appears: leave off, friends, Leave off a while, and breathe. Dio. What news? ye are pale, Mother. Del. No, I am careful of thy safety, Son, Be not affrighted, but sit still; I am with thee.

And now dance out your dance. Do you know that person? Be not amaz'd, but let him shew his dreadfullest. Max. How confident he sits amongst his pleasures, And what a chearful colour shews in's face, And yet he sees me too, the Souldiers with me. Aur. Be speedie in your work, (you will be stopt else) And then you are an Emperour. Max. I will about it. Dio. My Royal Cousin, how I joy to see ye, You, and your Royal Emperess! Max. You are too kinde, Sir. I come not to eat with ye, and to surfeit In these poor Clownish pleasures; but to tell ye I look upon ye like my Winding-sheet, The Coffin of my Greatness, nay, my Grave: For whilst you are alive— Dio. Alive, my Cousin? Max. I say, Alive. I am no Emperour; I am nothing but mine own disquiet. Dio. Stay, Sir. Max. I cannot stay. The Souldiers doat upon ye. I would fain spare ye; but mine own securitie Compels me to forget you are my Uncle, Compels me to forget you made me Cæsar: For whilst you are remembred, I am buried. Dio. Did not I make ye Emperour, dear [C]ousin, The free gift from my special grace? Del. Fear nothing. Dio. Did not I chuse this povertie, to raise you? That Royal woman gave into your arms too? Bless'd ye with her bright beautie? gave the Souldiers, The Souldier that hung to me, fix'd him on ye? Gave ye the worlds command? Max. This cannot help ye. Dio. Yet this shall ease me. Can ye be so base, Cousin, So far from Nobleness, so far from nature, As to forget all this? to tread this Tie out? Raise to your self so foul a monument That every common foot shall kick asunder? Must my blood glue ye to your peace? Max. It must, Uncle; I stand too loose else, and my foot too feeble: You gone once, and their love retir'd, I am rooted. Dio. And cannot this remov'd poor State obscure me? I do not seek for yours, nor enquire ambitiously After your growing fortunes. Take heed, my kinsman, Ungratefulness and blood mingled together, Will, like two furious Tides— Max. I must sail thorow 'em: Let 'em be Tides of death, Sir, I must stem up. Dio. Hear but this last, and wisely yet consider: Place round about my Grange a Garison, That if I offer to exceed my limits, Or ever in my common talk name Emperour, Ever converse with any greedy Souldier, Or look for adoration, nay, for courtesie Above the days salute.—Think who has fed ye, Think, Cousin, who I am. Do ye slight my misery? Nay, then I charge thee; nay, I meet thy crueltie. Max. This cannot serve; prepare: now fall on, souldiers, And all the treasure that I have. [Thunder and Lightning. Sould. The Earth shakes; We totter up and down; we cannot stand, Sir; Me thinks the mountains tremble too. 2 Sould. The flashes How thick and hot they come? we shall be burn'd all. Del. Fall on, Souldiers: You that sell innocent blood, fall on full bravely. Sould. We cannot stir. Del. You have your libertie, So have you, Lady. One of you come do it.

Do you stand amaz'd? Look o're thy head, Maximinian, Look to thy terrour, what over-hangs thee: Nay, it will nail thee dead; look how it threatens thee: The Bolt for vengeance on ungrateful wretches; The Bolt of innocent blood: read those hot characters, And spell the will of heaven. Nay, lovely Lady, You must take part too, as spur to ambition, Are ye humble? Now speak; my part's ended. Does all your glory shake? Max. Hear us, great Uncle, Good and great Sir, be pitiful unto us: Below your feet we lay our lives: be merciful: Begin you, heaven will follow. Aur. Oh, it shakes still. Max. And dreadfully it threatens. We acknowledge Our base and foul intentions. Stand between us; For faults confess'd, they say, are half forgiven. We are sorry for our sins. Take from us, Sir, That glorious weight that made us swell, that poison'd us; That mass of Majestie I laboured under, (Too heavie and too mighty for my manage) That my poor innocent days may turn again, And my mind pure, may purge me of these curses; By your old love, the blood that runs between us.

Aur. By that love once ye bare to me, by that Sir, That blessed maid enjoys— Dio. Rise up, dear Cousin, And be your words your judges: I forgive ye: Great as ye are, enjoy that greatness ever, Whilst I mine own content make mine own Empire. Once more I give ye all; learn to deserve it, And live to love your Good more than your Greatness. Now shew your loves to entertain this Emperour My honest neighbours. Geta, see all handsom. Your Grace must pardon us, our house is little; But such an ample welcom as a poor man And his true love can make you and your Empress. Madam, we have no dainties. Aur. 'Tis enough, Sir; We shall enjoy the riches of your goodness. Sould. Long live the good and gracious Dioclesian. Dio. I thank ye, Souldiers, I forgive your rashness. And Royal Sir, long may they love and honour ye.

What Drums are those? Del. Meet 'em, my honest Son, They are thy friends, Charinus and the old Souldiers That come to rescue thee from thy hot Cousin. But all is well, and turn all into welcoms: Two Emperours you must entertain now. Dio. O dear Mother, I have will enough, but I want room and glory. Del. That shall be my care. Sound your pipes now merrily, And all your handsom sports. Sing 'em full welcoms. Dio. And let 'em know, our true love breeds more stories And perfect joys, than Kings do, and their glories.