The False One: A Tragedy
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SCENE II
Enter SeptimiusSept. Here's a strange alteration in the Court;Mens Faces are of other setts and motions,Their minds of subtler stuff; I pass by nowAs though I were a Rascal, no man knows me,No Eye looks after; as I were a PlagueTheir doors shut close against me; and I wondred atBecause I have done a meritorious Murther;Because I have pleas'd the Time, does the Time plague me?I have known the day they would have hug'd me for it,For a less stroke than this have done me Reverence;Open'd their Hearts and secret Closets to me,Their Purses, and their Pleasures, and bid me wallow.I now perceive the great Thieves eat the less,And the huge Leviathans of VillanySup up the merits, nay the men and allThat do them service, and spowt 'em out againInto the air, as thin and unregardedAs drops of Water that are lost i'th' Ocean:I was lov'd once for swearing, and for drinking,And for other principal Qualities that became me,Now a foolish unthankful Murther has undone me,If my Lord Photinus be not merciful Enter PhotinusThat set me on; And he comes, now Fortune.Pho. Cæsars unthankfulness a little stirs me,A little frets my bloud; take heed, proud Roman,Provoke me not, stir not mine anger farther;I may find out a way unto thy life too,(Though arm'd in all thy Victories) and seize it.A Conquerour has a heart, and I may hit it. Sept. May it please your Lordship?Pho. O Septimius!Sept. Your [Lordship] knows my wrongs.Pho. Wrongs?Sept. Yes, my Lord,How the Captain of the Guard, Achillas, slights me.Pho. Think better of him, he has much befriended thee,Shew'd thee much love in taking the head from thee.The times are alter'd (Souldier) Cæsar's angry,And our design to please him lost and perish'd;Be glad thou art unnam'd, 'tis not worth the owning;Yet, that thou maist be useful—Sept. Yes, my Lord,I shall be ready.Pho. For I may employ theeTo take a rub or two out of my way,As time shall serve, say that it be a Brother?Or a hard Father?Sept. 'Tis most necessary,A Mother, or a Sister, or whom you please, Sir.Pho. Or to betray a noble Friend?Sept. 'Tis all one.Pho. I know thou wilt stir for Gold.Sept. 'Tis all my motion.Pho. There, take that for thy service, and farewel;I have greater business now.Sept. I am still your own, Sir.Pho. One thing I charge thee, see me no more, Septimius,Unless I send. [Exit.Sept. I shall observe your hour.So, this brings something in the mouth, some savour;This is the Lord I serve, the Power I worship,My Friends, Allies, and here lies my Allegiance.Let People talk as they please of my rudeness,And shun me for my deed; bring but this to 'em,(Let me be damn'd for blood) yet still I am honourable,This God creates new tongues, and new affections;And though I had kill'd my Father, give me GoldI'll make men swear I have done a pious Sacrifice;Now I will out-brave all; make all my Servants,And my brave deed shall be writ in Wine, for vertuous. [Exit.SCENE III
Enter Cæsar, Antony, Dolabella, ScevaCæs. Keep strong Guards, and with wary eyes (my friends)There is no trusting to these base Egyptians;They that are false to pious benefits,And make compell'd necessities their faithsAre Traitors to the gods.Ant. We'll call ashoreA Legion of the best.Cæs. Not a Man, Antony,That were to shew our fears, and dim our greatness:No, 'tis enough my Name's ashore.Sce. Too much too,A sleeping Cæsar is enough to shake them;There are some two or three malicious RascalsTrain'd up in Villany, besides that CerberusThat Roman Dog, that lick'd the blood of Pompey.Dol. 'Tis strange, a Roman Souldier?Sce. You are cozen'd,There be of us as be of all other Nations,Villains, and Knaves; 'tis not the name contains him,But the obedience; when that's once forgotten,And Duty flung away, then welcome Devil.Photinus and Achillas, and this VermineThat's now become a natural CrocodileMust be with care observ'd.Ant. And 'tis well counsel'dNo Confidence, nor trust—Sce. I'll trust the Sea first,When with her hollow murmurs she invites me,And clutches in her storms, as politick LionsConceal their Claws; I'll trust the Devil first.Cæs. Go to your rests, and follow your own Wisedoms,And leave me to my thoughts: pray no more complement,Once more strong Watches.Dol. All shall be observ'd, Sir. [Exit.Cæs. I am dull and heavy, yet I cannot sleep,How happy was I in my lawful Wars,In Germany, and Gaul, and BritannyWhen every night with pleasure I set downWhat the day ministred! The sleep came sweetly:But since I undertook this home-division,This civil War, and past the Rubicon;What have I done that speaks an ancient Roman?A good, great man? I have enter'd Rome by force,And on her tender Womb (that gave me life)Let my insulting Souldiers rudely trample,The dear Veins of my Country I have open'd,And sail'd upon the torrents that flow'd from her,The bloody streams that in their confluenceCarried before 'em thousand desolations;I rob'd the Treasury, and at one gripeSnatch'd all the wealth, so many worthy triumphsPlac'd there as sacred to the Peace of Rome;I raz'd Massilia, in my wanton anger:Petreius and Afranius I defeated:Pompey I overthrew: what did that get me?The slubber'd Name of an authoriz'd Enemy. [Noise within.I hear some Noise; they are the Watches sure.What Friends have I ty'd fast by these ambitions?Cato, the Lover of his Countries freedom,Is now past into Africk to affront me,Fuba (that kill'd my friend) is up in Arms too;The Sons of Pompey are Masters of the Sea,And from the reliques of their scatter'd faction,A new head's sprung; Say I defeat all these too;I come home crown'd an honourable Rebel.I hear the Noise still, and it still comes nearer;Are the Guards fast? Who waits there? Enter Sceva with a Packet, Cleopatra in itSce. Are ye awake Sir?Cæs. I'th' name of Wonder.Sce. Nay, I am a Porter,A strong one too, or else my sides would crack, Sir,And my sins were as weighty, I should scarce walk with 'em.Cæs. What hast thou there?Sce. Ask them which stay without,And brought it hither, your Presence I deny'd 'em,And put 'em by; took up the load my self,They say 'tis rich, and valu'd at the Kingdome,I am sure 'tis heavy; if you like to see itYou may: if not, I'll give it back.Cæs. Stay Sceva,I would fain see it.Sce. I'll begin to work then;No doubt, to flatter ye they have sent ye something,Of a rich value, Jewels, or some rich Treasure;May be a Rogue within to do a mischief;I pray you stand farther off, if there be villany,Better my danger first; he shall 'scape hard too,Ha! what art thou?Cæs. Stand farther off, good Sceva,What heavenly Vision! do I wake or slumber?Farther off that hand, Friend.Sce. What Apparition?What Spirit have I rais'd? sure 'tis a Woman,She looks like one; now she begins to move too:A tempting Devil, o' my life; go off, Cæsar,Bless thy self, off: a Bawd grown in mine old days?Bawdry advanc'd upon my back? 'tis noble:Sir, if you be a Souldier come no nearer,She is sent to dispossess you of your honour,A Spunge, a Spunge to wipe away your Victories:And she would be cool'd, Sir, let the Souldiers trim her!They'll give her that she came for, and dispatch her;Be loyal to your self. Thou damned Woman,Dost thou come hither with thy flourishes,Thy flaunts, and faces to abuse mens manners?And am I made the instrument of Bawdry?I'll find a Lover for ye, one that shall hug ye.Cæs. Hold, on thy life, and be more temperate,Thou Beast.Sce. Thou Beast?Cæs. Could'st thou be so inhumane,So far from noble Men, to draw thy WeaponUpon a thing divine?Sce. Divine, or humane,They are never better pleas'd, nor more at hearts ease,Than when we draw with full intent upon 'em.Cæs. Move this way (Lady)'Pray ye let me speak to ye.Sce. And Woman, you had best stand.Cæs. By the gods,But that I see her here, and hope her mortal,I should imagine some celestial sweetness,The treasure of soft love.Sce. Oh, this sounds mangily,Poorly, and scurvily in a Souldiers mouth:You had best be troubled with the Tooth-ach too,For Lovers ever are, and let your Nose dropThat your celestial Beauty may befriend ye;At these years do you learn to be fantastical?After so many bloody fields, a Fool?She brings her Bed along too, she'll lose no time,Carries her Litter to lye soft, do you see that?Invites ye like a Gamester: note that impudence,For shame reflect upon your self, your honour,Look back into your noble parts, and blush:Let not the dear sweat of the hot Pharsalia,Mingle with base Embraces; am I heThat have receiv'd so many wounds for Cæsar?Upon my Target groves of darts still growing?Have I endur'd all hungers, colds, distresses,And (as I had been bred that Iron that arm'd me)Stood out all weathers, now to curse my fortune?To ban the blood I lost for such a General?Cæsar. Offend no more: be gone.Sce. I will, and leave ye,Leave ye to womens wars, that will proclaim ye:You'l conquer Rome now, and the CapitolWith Fans, and Looking-glasses, farewel Cæsar.Cleo. Now I am private Sir, I dare speak to ye:But thus low first, for as a God I honour ye.Sce. Lower you'l be anon.Cæsar. Away.Sce. And privater,For that you covet all. [Exit. Cæsar. Tempt me no farther.Cleo. Contemn me not, because I kneel thus, Cæsar,I am a Queen, and coheir to this country,The Sister to the mighty Ptolomy,Yet one distress'd, that flyes unto thy justice,One that layes sacred hold on thy protectionAs on an holy Altar, to preserve me.Cæsar. Speak Queen of beauty, and stand up.Cleo. I dare not,'Till I have found that favour in thine eyes,That godlike great humanity to help me,Thus, to thy knees must I grow (sacred Cæsar,)And if it be not in thy will, to right me,And raise me like a Queen from my sad ruines,If these soft tears cannot sink to thy pity,And waken with their murmurs thy compassions;Yet for thy nobleness, for vertues sake,And if thou beest a man, for despis'd beauty,For honourable conquest, which thou doat'st on,Let not those cankers of this flourishing Kingdom,Photinus, and Achillas, (the one an Eunuch,The other a base bondman) thus raign over me.Seize my inheritance, and leave my BrotherNothing of what he should be, but the Title,As thou art wonder of the world.Cæsar. Stand up thenAnd be a Queen, this hand shall give it to ye,Or choose a greater name, worthy my bounty:A common love makes Queens: choose to be worshipped,To be divinely great, and I dare promise it;A suitor of your sort, and blessed sweetness,That hath adventur'd thus to see great Cæsar,Must never be denied, you have found a patronThat dare not in his private honour sufferSo great a blemish to the Heaven of beauty:The God of love would clap his angry wings,And from his singing bow let flye those arrowsHeaded with burning griefs, and pining sorrows,Should I neglect your cause, would make me monstrous,To whom and to your service I devote me. Enter ScevaCleo. He is my conquest now, and so I'le work him,The conquerour of the world will I lead captive.Sce. Still with this woman? tilting still with Babies?As you are honest think the Enemy,Some valiant Foe indeed now charging on ye:Ready to break your ranks, and fling these—Cæsar. Hear me,But tell me true, if thou hadst such a treasure,(And as thou art a Souldier, do not flatter me)Such a bright gem, brought to thee, wouldst thou notMost greedily accept?Sce. Not as an Emperour,A man that first should rule himself, then others;As a poor hungry Souldier, I might bite, Sir,Yet that's a weakness too: hear me, thou Tempter:And hear thou Cæsar too, for it concerns thee,And if thy flesh be deaf, yet let thine honour,The soul of a commander, give ear to me,Thou wanton bane of war, thou guilded Lethargy,In whose embraces, ease (the rust of Arms)And pleasure, (that makes Souldiers poor) inhabites.Cæsar. Fye, thou blasphem'st.Sce. I do, when she is a goddess.Thou melter of strong minds, dar'st thou presumeTo smother all his triumphs, with thy vanities,And tye him like a slave, to thy proud beauties?To thy imperious looks? that Kings have follow'dProud of their chains? have waited on? I shame Sir. [Exit.Cæsar. Alas thou art rather mad: take thy rest Sceva,Thy duty makes thee erre, but I forgive thee:Go, go I say, shew me no disobedience:'Tis well, farewel, the day will break dear Lady,My Souldiers will come in; please you retire,And think upon your servant.Cleo. Pray you Sir, know me,And what I am.Cæsar. The greater, I more love ye,And you must know me too.Cleo. So far as modesty,And majesty gives leave Sir, ye are too violent.Cæsar. You are too cold to my desires.Cleo. Swear to me,And by your self (for I hold that oath sacred)You will right me as a Queen—Cæsar. These lips be witness,And if I break that oath—Cleo. You make me blush Sir,And in that blush interpret me.Cæsar. I will do,Come let's go in, and blush again: this one word,You shall believe.Cleo. I must, you are a conquerour. [Exeunt.Actus Tertius. Scena Prima
SCENA II
Enter Antony, Dolabella, ScevaDol. Nay there's no rowsing him: he is bewitch'd sure,His noble blood curdled, and cold within him;Grown now a womans warriour.Sce. And a tall one:Studies her fortifications, and her breaches,And how he may advance his ram to batterThe Bullwork of her chastitie.Ant. Be not too angry,For by this light, the woman's a rare woman,A Lady of that catching youth, and beauty,That unmatch'd sweetness—Dol. But why should he be fool'd so?Let her be what she will, why should his wisdom,His age, and honour—Ant. Say it were your own case,Or mine, or any mans, that has heat in him:'Tis true at this time when he has no promiseOf more security than his sword can cut through,I do not hold it so discreet: but a good face, Gentlemen,And eyes that are the winningst Orators:A youth that opens like perpetual spring,And to all these, a tongue that can deliverThe Oracles of Love—Sce. I would you had her,With all her Oracles, and Miracles,She were fitter for your turn.Ant. Would I had, Sceva,With all her faults too: let me alone to mend 'em,O'that condition I made thee mine heir.Sce. I had rather have your black horse, than your harlots.Dol. Cæsar writes Sonnetts now, the sound of warIs grown too boystrous for his mouth: he sighs too.Sce. And learns to fiddle most melodiously,And sings, 'twould make your ears prick up, to hear him Gent.Shortly she'l make him spin: and 'tis thoughtHe will prove an admirable maker of Bonelace,And what a rare gift will that be in a General!Ant. I would he could abstain.Sce. She is a witch sure,And works upon him with some damn'd inchantment.Dol. How cunning she will carry her behaviours,And set her countenance in a thousand postures,To catch her ends!Sce. She will be sick, well, sullen,Merry, coy, over-joy'd, and seem to dyeAll in one half hour, to make an asse of him:I make no doubt she will be drunk too damnably,And in her drink will fight, then she fits him.Ant. That thou shouldst bring her in!Sce. 'Twas my blind fortune,My Souldiers told me, by the weight 'twas wicked:Would I had carried Milo's Bull a furlong,When I brought in this Cow-Calf: he has advanced meFrom an old Souldier, to a bawd of memory:O, that the Sons of Pompey were behind him,The honour'd Cato, and fierce Juba with 'em,That they might whip him from his whore, and rowze him:That their fierce Trumpets, from his wanton trances,Might shake him like an Earth-quake. Enter SeptimiusAnt. What's this fellow?Dol. Why, a brave fellow, if we judge men by their clothes.Ant. By my faith he is brave indeed: he's no commander?Sce. Yes, he has a Roman face, he has been at fair warsAnd plenteous too, and rich, his Trappings shew it.Sep. And they will not know me now, they'l never know me.Who dare blush now at my acquaintance? ha?Am I not totally a span-new Gallant,Fit for the choycest eyes? have I not gold?The friendship of the world? if they shun me now(Though I were the arrantest rogue, as I am well forward)Mine own curse, and the Devils too light on me.Ant. Is't not Septimius?Sce. Yes.Dol. He that kill'd Pompey?Sce. The same Dog, Scab; that guilded botch, that rascal.Dol. How glorious villany appears in Egypt!Sep. Gallants, and Souldiers, sure they do admire me.Sce. Stand further off, thou stinkest.Sep. A likely matter:These Cloaths smell mustily, do they not, Gallants?They stink, they stink, alas poor things, contemptible.By all the Gods in Egypt, the perfumesThat went to trimming these cloathes, cost me—Sce. Thou stinkest still.Sep. The powdering of this head too—Sce. If thou hast it,I'le tell thee all the Gumms in sweet ArabiaAre not sufficient, were they burnt about thee,To purge the scent of a rank Rascal from thee.Ant. I smell him now: fie, how the Knave perfumes him,How strong he scents of Traitor!Dol. You had an ill Millener,He laid too much of the Gum of IngratitudeUpon your Coat, you should have washt off that Sir,Fie, how it choaks! too little of your loyaltie,Your honesty, your faith, that are pure Ambers;I smell the rotten smell of a hired Coward,A dead Dog is sweeter.Sep. Ye are merry Gentlemen,And by my troth, such harmless mirth takes me too,You speak like good blunt Souldiers; and 'tis well enough:But did you live at Court, as I do, Gallants,You would refine, and learn an apter language;I have done ye simple service on your Pompey,You might have lookt him yet this brace of twelve monthsAnd hunted after him, like foundred Beagles,Had not this fortunate hand—Ant. He brags on't too:By the good Gods, rejoyces in't; thou wretchThou most contemptible Slave.Sce. Dog, mangy Mongrel,Thou murdring mischief, in the shape of SouldierTo make all Souldiers hatefull; thou diseaseThat nothing but the Gallows can give ease to.—Dol. Thou art so impudent, that I admire thee,And know not what to say.Sep. I know your angerAnd why you prate thus: I have found your melancholy:Ye all want mony, and you are liberal Captains,And in this want will talk a little desperately:Here's gold, come share; I love a brave Commander:And be not peevish, do as Cæsar does:He's merry with his wench now, be you jovial,And let's all laugh and drink: would he have partners?I do consider all your wants, and weigh 'em,He has the Mistris, you shall have the maids,I'le bring 'em to ye, to your arms.Ant. I blush,All over me, I blush, and sweat to hear him:Upon my conscience, if my arms were on nowThrough them I should blush too: pray ye let's be walking.Sce. Yes, yes: but e're we goe, I'le leave this lesson,And let him study it: first Rogue, then Pander,Next Devil that will be; get thee from mens presence,And where the name of Souldier has been heard ofBe sure thou live not: to some hungry desertWhere thou canst meet with nothing but thy conscience,And that in all the shapes of all thy vill[anie]sAttend thee still, where bruit Beasts will abhor thee,And even the Sun will shame to give thee light,Goe hide thy head: or if thou think'st it fitterGoe hang thy self.Dol. Hark to that clause.Sce. And that speedily,That nature may be eas'd of such a Monster. [Exit.Sep. Yet all this moves not me: nor reflects on me:I keep my gold still, and my confidence,Their want of breeding makes these fellows murmur,Rude valors, so I let 'em pass; rude honours:There is a wench yet, that I know, affects meAnd company for a King: a young plump villain,That when she sees this gold, she'l leap upon me. Enter ErosAnd here she comes: I am sure of her at midnight,My pretty Eros welcom.Eros. I have business.Sep. Above my love, thou canst not.Eros. Yes indeed Sir,Far, far above.Sep. Why, why so coy? 'pray ye tell meWe are alone.Eros. I am much asham'd we are so.Sep. You want a new Gown now, & a handsom Petticoat,A Skarf, and some odd toyes: I have gold here ready,Thou shal[t] have any thing.Eros. I want your absence:Keep on your way, I care not for your company.Sep. How? how? you are very short: do you know me Eros?And what I have been to ye?Eros. Yes I know ye:And I hope I shall forget ye: Whilst you were honestI lov'd ye too.Sep. Honest? come prethee kiss me.Eros. I kiss no knaves, no Murderers, no Beasts,No base betrayers of those men that fed 'em,I hate their looks; and though I may be wanton,I scorn to nourish it with bloody purchase,Purchase so foully got; I pray ye unhand meI had rather touch the plague, than one unworthy:Goe seek some Mistris that a horse may marry,And keep her company, she is too good for ye. [Exit.Sep. Marry this goes near; now I perceive I am hatefull,When this light stuff can distinguish, it grows dangerous,For mony, seldom they refuse a Leper:But sure I am more odious, more diseas'd too: Enter three lame SouldiersIt sits cold here; what are these? three poor Souldiers?Both poor and lame: their misery may make 'emA little look upon me, and adore me,If these will keep me company, I am made yet.1 Sol. The pleasure Cæsar sleeps in, makes us miserable,We are forgot, our maims and dangers laugh'd at;He Banquets, and we beg.2 Sol. He was not wontTo let poor Souldiers that have spent their Fortunes,Their Bloods, and limbs, walk up and down like vagabonds.Sep. Save ye good Souldiers: good poor men, heaven help ye:You have born the brunt of war, and shew the story,1 Sol. Some new commander sure.Sep. You look (my good friends)By your thin faces, as you would be Suitors.2 Sol. To Cæsar, for our means, Sir.Sep. And 'tis fit Sir.3 Sol. We are poor men, and long forgot.Sep. I grieve for it:Good Souldiers should have good rewards, and favours,I'le give up your petitions, for I pity ye,And freely speak to Cæsar.All. O we honour ye.1 Sol. A good man sure ye are: the Gods preserve ye.Sep. And to relieve your wants the while, hold Soldiers,Nay 'tis no dream: 'tis good gold: take it freely,'Twill keep ye in good heart.2 Sol. Now goodness quit ye.Sep. I'le be a friend to your afflictions,And eat, and drink with ye too, and we'l be merry:And every day I'le see ye.1 Sol. You are a Souldier,And one sent from the Gods, I think.Sep. I'le cloth ye,Ye are lame, and then provide good lodging for ye:And at my Table, where no want shall meet ye. Enter ScevaAll. Was never such a man.1 Sold. Dear honour'd Sir,Let us but know your name, that we may worship ye.2 Sold. That we may ever thank.Sep. Why, call me any thing,No matter for my name, that may betray me.Sce. A cunning thief, call him Septimius, Souldiers,The villain that kill'd Pompey.All. How?Sce. Call him the shame of men. [Exit.1 Sold. O that this monyWere weight enough to break thy brains out: fling all:And fling our curses next: let them be mortal,Out bloody wolf, dost thou come guilded over,And painted with thy charitie, to poyson us?2 Sold. I know him now: may never Father own thee,But as a monstrous birth shun thy base memory:And if thou hadst a Mother (as I cannotBelieve thou wert a natural Burden) let her wombBe curs'd of women for a bed of vipers.3 Sol. Me thinks the ground shakes to devour this rascal,And the kind air turns into foggs and vapours,Infectious mists, to crown his villanies.Thou maist go wander, like a thing heaven hated.1 Sold. And valiant minds hold poysonous to remember.The Hangman will not keep thee company,He has an honourable house to thine,No, not a thief though thou couldst save his life for'tWill eat thy bread, nor one, for thirst starv'd, drink with thee.2 Sol. Thou art no company for an honest dog,And so we'l leave thee to a ditch (thy destiny.) [Exeunt.Sep. Contemn'd of all? and kickt too? now I find it;My valour's fled too, with mine honesty,For since I would be knave I must be Coward:This 'tis to be a Traitor, and betrayer.What a deformity dwells round about me!How monstrous shews that man, that is ungratefull!I am afraid the very beasts will tear me,Inspir'd with what I have done: the winds will blast me:Now I am paid, and my reward dwells in me,The wages of my fact, my soul's opprest;Honest and noble minds, you find most rest. [Exit.