That only am acquainted with alarums, Would break their tender bodies.

Val. Never fear it ;

Val. It may be

I am so; therefore forward. Aecius. I have ever

hammer.

My empress swears thou art a lusty soldier;

A good one, I believe thee.

Aecius. All that goodness

Is but your grace's creature.
Val. Tell me truly,-

For thou darest tell me

Aecius. Any thing concerns you,

That's fit for me to speak, and you to pardon.
Val. What say the soldiers of me? and the
same words;

Mince 'cm not, good Aecius, but deliver
The very forms and tongues they talk withal.
Aecius. I'll tell your grace; but, with this
caution,

You be not stirr'd: For, should the gods live with
Even those we certainly believe are righteous, [us,
Give 'em but drink, they would censure them too.
Val. Forward.

Acius. Then, to begin, they say you sleep too much,

By which they judge your majesty too sensual, Apt to decline your strength to ease and pleasures; And when you do not sleep, you drink too much, From which they fear suspicions first, then ruins ; And when ye neither drink nor sleep, ye wench

much,

Which, they affirm, first breaks your understanding,
Then takes the edge of honour, makes us seem
(That are the ribs and rampires of the empire)
Fencers, and beaten fools, and so regarded.
But I believe 'em not; for, were these truths,
Your virtue can correct them.

Val. They speak plainly.
Aecius. They say moreover (since your grace
will have it;

For they will talk their freedoms, though the sword
Were in their throat) that of late time, like Nero,
And with the same forgetfulness of glory,
You have got a vein of fidling; so they term it.-
Val. Some drunken dreams, Aëcius.
Aecius. So I hope, sir.-

And that you rather study cruelty,
And to be fear'd for blood, than loved for bounty,
(Which makes the nations, as they say, despise you,)
Telling your years and actions by their deaths
Whose truth and strength of duty made you Cæsar.
They say besides, you nourish strange devourers,
Fed with the fat o' th' empire, they call bawds,
Lazy and lustful creatures, that abuse you;
A people as they term 'em, made of paper,
In which the secret sins of each man's monies
Are seal'd and sent a-working.

Val. What sin's next?

For I perceive they have no mind to spare me. Acius. Nor hurt ye, o' my soul, sir! But such people

(Nor can the power of man restrain it) when
They are full of meat and ease, must prattle.
Val. Forward.

Aecius. I have spoken too much, sir.
Val. I'll have all.

Aecius. It fits not

Your ears should hear their vanities; no profit Can justly rise to you from their behaviour, Unless you were guilty of those crimes.

Val. No more apologies.

Accius. They grieve besides, sir,

To see the nations, whom our ancient virtue
With many a weary march and hunger conquer'd,
With loss of many a daring life subdued,
Fall from their fair obedience, and even murmur
To see the warlike eagles mew their honours
In obscure towns, that wont to prey on princes.
They cry for enemies, and tell the captains,
"The fruits of Italy are luscious; give us Egypt,
Or sandy Afric, to display our valours,
There where our swords may make us meat, and
danger

Digest our well-got viands. Here our weapons,
And bodies that were made for shining brass,
Are both unedged, and old with ease and women."
And then they cry again, "Where are the Germans,
Lined with hot Spain, or Gallia? Bring 'em on,
And let the son of war, steeled Mithridates,
Lead up his winged Parthians like a storm,
Hiding the face of heaven with showers of arrows:
Yet we dare fight like Romans!" Then, as soldiers,
Tired with a weary march, they tell their wounds,
Even weeping-ripe they were no more, nor deeper,
And glory in those scars that make 'em lovely.
And, sitting where a camp was, like sad pilgrims,
They reckon up the times, and living labours,
Of Julius or Germanicus; and wonder
That Rome, whose turrets once were topt with

And ten years more addition is but nothing:
Now, if my life be pleasing to you, take it ! [Kncels.
Upon my knees, if ever any service,

(As, let me brag, some have been worthy notice,)
If ever any worth, or trust you gave me,
Deserved a fair respect; if all my actions,
The hazards of my youth, colds, burnings, wants,
For you and for the empire, be not vices;

By that style you have stamp'd upon me, soldier ;
Let me not fall into the hands of wretches !
Val. I understand you not.
Aecius. Let not this body,

That has look'd bravely in his blood for Cæsar

And covetous of wounds, and for your safety, After the 'scape of swords, spears, slings, and

arrows,

('Gainst which my beaten body was mine armour) The seas, and thirsty desarts, now be purchase For slaves, and base informers. I see anger And death look through your eyes; I am mark'd for slaughter,

And know the telling of this truth has made me A man clean lost to this world: I embrace it; Only my last petition, sacred Cæsar,

Is, I may die à Roman!

Val. Rise, my friend still,

And worthy of my love. Reclaim the soldier ;

[Exeunt.

For here and there (and yet they painted well too) One might discover, where the gold was worn, Their iron ages.

Clau. If my judgment fail not,

They have been sheath'd like rotten ships-
Marc. It may be.

Clau. For, if ye mark their rudders, they hang weakly.

Marc. They have past the line, belike.-Wouldst live, Claudia,

Till thou wert such as they are?

Clau. Chimney-pieces!

Now, Heaven have mercy on me, and young men ! I had rather make a drollery till thirty.

While I were able to endure a tempest,

And bear my fights out bravely, till my tackle

Whistled i' th' wind, and held against all weathers,
While I were able to bear with my tires,

And so discharge 'em, I would willingly
Live, Marcellina; not 'till barnacles
Bred in my sides.

Marc. Thou art i' th' right, wench:

For who would live, whom pleasures had forsaken, To stand at mark, and cry, "A bow short, signior!" Were there not men came hither too?

husband

Pray'd me to do this office; I have done it ;

It rests in you to come, or no.

Lucina. I will, sir.

Lycias. If you mistrust me, do not.
Lucina. You appear

So worthy, and to all my sense so honest,

And this is such a certain sign you have brought That I believe.

Lycias. Why should I cozen you?
Or, were I bribed to do this villainy,

Can money prosper, or the fool that takes it,
When such a virtue falls?

Lucina. You speak well, sir:

'Would all the rest that serve the emperor Had but your way!

Clau. And so they have, ad unguem.

[me,

[Aside.

Lucina. Pray tell my lord I have received his

token,

And will not fail to meet him. Yet, good sir, thus

much

Before you go; I do beseech you too,

As little notice as you can, deliver

Of my appearance there.

Lycias. It shall be, madam ;

And so I wish you happiness!
Lucina. I thank you.

[Exount.

SCENE III.-An Open Place in the City.— Tumult and noise within.

Enter AECIUS, with his sword drawn, pursuing PONTIUS; MAXIMUS following.

Max. Temper yourself, Aëcius!

Pont. Hold, my lord!

I am a Roman, and a soldier.

Max. Pray, sir!

Give me myself, or, by the gods, my friend,
You'll make me dangerous !-How darest thou
The soldiers to sedition, and I living? [pluck
And sow rebellion in 'em, and even then
When I am drawing out to action?
Pont. Hear me.

Max. Are you a man?

Accius. I am a true-hearted, Maximus, And if the villain live, we are dishonour'd.

One stroke; and if he 'scape me then, he has mercy.

Pont. I do not call you noble that I fear you; I never cared for death! If you will kill me, Consider first for what, not what you can do. 'Tis true, I know you for my general, And by that great prerogative may kill: But do it justly then.

Aecius. He argues with me:

By Heaven, a made-up rebel!

Max. Pray consider

What certain grounds you have for this.
Acius. What grounds?

Did I not take him preaching to the soldiers
How lazily they lived? and what dishonours
It was to serve a prince so full of woman?
Those were his very words, friend.

Led from us by the flourishes of fencers;
I blamed him too for women.
Acius. To the rest, sir!

Pont. And, like enough, I bless'd him then as

soldiers

Will do sometimes: 'Tis true I told 'em too,
We lay at home, to shew our country

We durst go naked, durst want meat, and money;
And, when the slave drinks wine, we durst be

thirsty;

I told 'em this too, that the trees and roots
Were our best pay-masters; the charity

Of longing women, that had bought our bodies,
Our beds, fires, tailors, nurses; nay, I told 'em,
(For you shall hear the greatest sin I said, sir)
By that time there be wars again, our bodies,
Laden with scars and aches, and ill lodgings,
Heats, and perpetual wants, were fitter prayers,
And certain graves, than cope the foe on crutches i
'Tis likely too, I counsell'd 'em to turn
Their warlike pikes to plough-shares, their sure
targets

And swords, hatch'd with the blood of many nations,

To spades and pruning knives (for those get money),

Their warlike eagles into daws, or starlings,
To give an Ave Cæsar as he passes,

And be rewarded with a thousand drachmas ;
For thus we get but years and beats.
Aecius. What think you,

Were these words to be spoken by a captain?
One that should give example?

Max. 'Twas too much.

Pont. My lord, I did not woo 'em from the

empire,

Nor bid 'em turn their daring steel 'gainst Cæsar;
The gods for ever hate me, if that motion
Were part of me! Give me but employment, sir,
And way to live; and, where you hold me vicious,
Bred up in mutiny, my sword shall tell you,
(And if you please, that place I held maintain it,
'Gainst the most daring foes of Rome,) I'm honest,
A lover of my country, one that holds
His life no longer his, than kept for Cæsar.

[Kneels.

Weigh not (I thus low on my knee beseech you)
What my rude tongue discover'd; 'twas my want,
No other part of Pontius. You have seen me,
And you, my lord, do something for my country,
And both beheld the wounds I gave and took,
Not like a backward traitor.

Acius. All this language
Makes but against you, Pontius: you are cast,
And, by mine honour and my love to Cæsar,
By me shall never be restored: In my camp
I will not have a tongue, though to himself,
Dare talk but near sedition; as I govern,

All shall obey; and when they want, their duty
And ready service shall redress their needs,
Not prating what they would be.

Pont. Thus I leave you;

Yet shall my prayers still, although my fortunes Must follow you no more, be still about you: Gods give you, where you fight, the victory! You cannot cast my wishes.

Accius. Come, my lord,

Now to the field again.

Max. Alas, poor Pontius!

¡Exeunt.

Lucina. Leave your talking.—

But is my lord here, I beseech you, sir?

Chi. He is, sweet lady, and must take this

kindly,

Exceeding kindly of you, wond'rous kindly,

You come so far to visit him. I'll guide you.
Lucina. Whither?

Chi. Why, to your lord.
Lucina. Is it so hard, sir,

To find him in this place without a guide?

For I would willingly not trouble you.

Chi. It will be so for you, that are a stranger:

Nor can it be a trouble to do service

To such a worthy beauty; and besides-
Marc. I see he will go with us.

Clau. Let him amble.

Keep the court empty, Proculus.
Proc. 'Tis done, sir.

Val. Be not too sudden to her.

Chi. Good, your grace,

Retire, and man yourself; let us alone;

We are no children this way. Do you hear, sir?

'Tis necessary that her waiting-women

Be cut off in the lobby by some ladies;

They would break the business else.

Good sir, no more of that.

Now the lusty spring is seen;
Golden yellow, gaudy blue,
Daintily invite the view.
Every where, on every green,
Roses blushing as they blow,
And enticing men to pull;
Lilies whiter than the snow,
Woodbines of sweet honey full:

All love's emblems, and all cry,
"Ladies, if not pluck'd, we die."
Yet the lusty spring hath staid;
Blushing red, and purest white,
Daintily to love invite
Every woman, every maid.
Cherries kissing as they grow,
And inviting men to taste;

Apples even ripe below.
Winding gently to the waist:

All love's emblems, and all cry,
"Ladies, if not pluck'd, we die."