CALIGULA. A TRAGEDY, As it is Acted at the Theatre Royal, BY His MAJESTY's Servants. Written by Mr. Crowne.

LONDON: Printed by J. Orme, for R. Wellington, at the Lute in St. Paul's Church-Yard, and sold by Percivil Gilborne, at the Harrow, at the corner of Chancery-Lane, and Bernard Lintott, at the Cross-Keys in St. Martins-Lane, near Long-Acre. 1698.


☞ There is lately published the History of Polybius the Megalopolitan, containing an Account of the Affairs of the whole World. Translated by Sir Henry Sheers and Mr. Dryden, in three Volumes, the third never before Printed.

Love in Ruins, or, the Fatal Discovery. Imposture Defeated, or a Trick to cheat the Devil. Mrs. A. Behns three Plays will suddenly be printed, viz. The Round-heads. City Heiress, or Sir Timothy Treat­all. Young King, or the Mistake.

An Italian Voyage, or, a Compleat Journey through Italy. In two Parts. With the Characters of the People, and the Description of the chief Towns, Churches, Monasteries, Tombs, Libraries, Pallaces, Villa's, Gardens, Pictures, Statues and Antiquities. As also, of the Interest, Government, Riches, Force, &c. of all the Princes. With Instructions concerning Travel. By Richard Lassels, Gent. the Second Edition.

Tho. Brown's New and Easie Method to understand the Roman History, by way of Dialogue, for the use of the Duke of Burgundy. Done out of French with very large Additions.

To the Right Honourable HENRY Earl of RUMNEY, Master-General of the Ordnance, Lord Warden of the Cinque-Ports, Gentleman of His Majesty's Bed Chamber, and one of the Lords of His Majesties most Honourable Privy-Council, &c.

My Lord,

AN address of this kind, from a Man so idle and unusefull as I am, is at all times unseasonable; to a Person, whom the Wisdom o' the King, and the good Fortune o' the King­dom, employ in so many great Affairs, as take up your Lordships hours. But it can never be more out of time, than now; when your Lordship is in sorrow, for the loss of your Brother, the late great Earl of Leicester, who mourns not, that knew him? All that knew him, lov'd him, if they lov'd mankind; for, a greater Example of humanity, the World, I believe, has seldom found. All honour'd him, that knew him, if they valued Truth and Wisdom: so much good sence sell from him, in his common Conversation, that none convers'd with him, but were both Entertain'd and Improv'd, if they were capable of it. And, no doubt, many great Men were the greater for his Acquaintance; and thus, tho' in a private Life, he influenc'd the publick: and the whole Kingdom was the better for him. Some survive themselves, and their Understandings die before 'em. His mind retain'd its wonderfull vigor to the last: He was pleasant to all, when years and pains [...]ad taken all pleasures from him, but what he found in doing good of his bounty, I have of­ten shar'd, and so have many more. And, I was always extreamly proud of any marks of favour from such an impartial and discerni [...] [Page] Judge. I cou'd dwell on so pleasing a subject, as the extraordi­nary Qualities of this great Nobleman: but since, Providence has ta­ken him from the World, to number up his deserts and vertues were but to set before your Lordship your losses, and the misfortunes of the Kingdom. Now I am entring on another copious subject; what does this Kingdom owe your Lordship? you have been in several Reigns, one of the greatest Ornaments of England: but you have of late been one of its fortunate preservers: your Lordship was an eminent Instrument in this Revolution, which has been so happy to England, and the greatest part of Europe. Had not this change been, almost all Europe had been overrun by France; England, for certain, had lost its Rights, Liberties, and Religion, and perhaps, been no more a Kingdom, but a Province to France, a Vassal to Vas­sals, and for all its Wealth had nothing but a Wafer. What cou'd have stop'd that inundation of power, which was rolling on, and swelling as it roll'd, delug'd many parts of Europe, and threatned all? What cou'd a formidable Fleet and Army, almost innumerable, have ask'd of a few divided Counsellors, at White-hall, which they durst have deny'd? And what a glorious figure does England now make, in comparison of what it did some years ago? It lay one Reign be­calm'd in Luxury: In another Fetter'd: In this Reign it has not on­ly freed it self, but humbled France, and protected Germany, Spain, and Holland, and appears one of the greatest Powers in Christendom. How much then is owing to your Lordship, by whose Wisdom, and Courage, this Revolution was contriv'd and carry'd on; in a Reign, when the least opposition to unlimited power, was judg'd an unpardonable Crime? But, I may quit this subject, since what your Lordship has done, will make a noble part of English History. In this Play, I set Tyranny before the Eyes of the World, and the dreadfull Consequences of lawless and boundless power. But some wou'd not have the World frightned with such a Figure nor an I­mage of a Government profan'd, which they adore: 'Tis well for 'em, that they worship an unknown God. If their Dwellings and E­states, (if they have any) lay in the reach of a mighty Prince, whose Will is Law, I believe, they wou'd be glad if they were secur'd from For­reign Invasions, by the English Seas; and from boundless power at home, by English Laws. I have suffer'd severely, and therefore may be allow'd to speak. The Favour, or rather Authority, which a mighty Neighbouring Kingdom, had in our Court some years ago, got my Inheritance, which, tho' it lay in the Desarts of America, would [Page] have enabled me (if I cou'd have kept it) to have liv'd at my ease in these beautifull parts o' the World; the loss of it has made Eng­land a Desart to me. No wonder then if I am pleased with the Suc­cesses of our Wise and Valiant King, who was born to free and do justice to opprest mankind: and, I hope, to my self. And now, I doubt not, but your Lordship, who has been so instrumental in pre­serving and establishing the Liberties of all Englishmen, will also per­mit a Poet to enjoy Poetick Liberties. I mean, that leave which has been long granted, of addressing to such great Men as your Lord­ship, for your Favour and Protection [...] ▪ I need Encouragement from others, because I have none from my self. No Man can have a meaner opinion of me, than I have of my self. I am opprest by my self, I will not say by my modesty, for modesty is a vertue; and modesty and boasting are inconsistent; my fortune has long languish­ed under an unmanly spiritless temper of mind, which makes me rather choose to suffer than give trouble to any: nay, than to seek the favour of those, who take a pleasure in obliging. A Poet may very well hope for Patronage from a Nobleman, who is of the blood of Sir Philip Sidney. And I have found your Lordship ready to as­sist me: your Lordship addrest to the late Queen of ever-blessed Me­mory, in my behalf. And, by your intercession, I had a large share of her Princely Bounty: and, no doubt, I shou'd have had more, if England had longer enjoy'd her. And now, my Lord, I humbly beg your Lordships favour, not for this Play, but my self: at least, that I may have leave thus publickly to honour my self, with the Title of,

My Lord,
Your Lordships Most humble and Most thankfull Servant. John Crowne.


I Cannot blame the World for any unkindness I receive from it, I sel­dom make any court to it. And I have so much affected retirement and sollitude, that a Writing of mine, like an Inscription on a Wall, at Belshazzar's Feast, comes from an unseen Scribe. And the Judg­ment past on Balshazzar, and my Emperor is in some measure the same: Thou art weigh'd in the balance, and art found too light. Many say, there is more levity in the Character of this Emperor, that suits with the dignity of so great a Prince, and the gravity of Tragedy. But with what does the Emperor sport himself? with the honour of Women, the for­tune and lives of Men, and the ruin of Nations. And I thought there was so much good nature among mankind, that Spectators would have trembled, when they saw Kings and Kingdoms, forc'd to yield up their Rights, Religions, Laws, and Gods, to the Lusts and Frenzies of a young fantastical Tyrant, and all the World at the disposal of a mad Man. But to please, I shou'd have shewn a more beautifull figure. So I have in Va­lerius and many other Characters in this Play. I have also beautified the Emperor's Character, and all parts of the Play, with as much good Sense and Poetry as are in any of my writings: For I will compare my self only with my self. And few of my contemporaries have pleas'd the World much more than I have done, both in Tragedy and Comedy. But many say, the Play [Page] wants Plot; I confess, I think it does. I have put little more into the Play, than what I found taken out of History. All the Characters and most of the Events in the Play, I have taken out of History; and I have made as lively Images, of what I found there, as I believe can be done by any Man. This was unknown, it seems, to a great part of my Audience, therefore they condemn'd the Character of Vitellius; his flattery to the Em­peror and courtship to the Empress: particularly his begging a Sandal of hers, as a reward for his Services, and when he had it, his carrying it in his bosome, and sometimes kissing it. This was a Complement he made to Mes­salina, the belov'd Lewd Wife of the Emperor Claudius. By his flattery and addresses in the Reigns of three or four bloody Tyrants, he kept himself not only safe and whole; but raised his fortunes to such a heighth, that his Son Aulus Vitellius, who had not one good quality, came to be Emperor of Rome. I thought most Gentlemen had more skill in History, Poetry, Courtship, and Address to Greatness than I perceive they have. But, I will not farther displease by contending. I confess, I wrote this Play, when I was under great disorder, not in mind. For I never lov'd much any part of this World, but a Friend, and merit in a Friend or Enemy. I never sought more than the bare conveniencies of life. But want of health makes life it self an inconvenience. I have for some few years been disorder'd with a Distemper, which seated it self in my head, threatned me with an Epilep­sie, and frequently took from me not only all sense, but almost all signs of life, and in my intervals I wrote this Play. Therefore if it have any Wit or Poetry in it, I wonder how they came there. But many of the first rank, both for Quality and Ʋnderstanding, have said they were pleased with it, and therefore I value it. Now I will say one word in defence of my Morals.

I cannot but take notice of some lines I have read in the Preface to the Poem call'd King Authur, where the World is told, that all who have written before the Author of the Mourning-Bride, may be asham'd, since for want of a Genius, they have depended on bawdy for their success on the Stage. I much commend that Gentleman's design of Reforming the Stage from Ob­cenity, Immorality, and Profaneness; But I wish he had taken more care of his Pen: I mean not in his Poem. I will not quarrel with that, if it gave me cause. In my notes on a Play call'd the Empress of Morocco (I call 'em mine because above three parts of four were written by me) I gave vent to more ill-nature in me than I will do again. But I am sorry that the Learned Author of King Authur, who labours so commendably for Vertue and Morality in Plays, should set an ill Example, and injure Truth and [Page] the Reputation of his Brethren. Many of my Plays have been very success­full, and yet clean. Sir Courtly Nice, was as fortunate a Comedy, as has been written in this Age; and Sir Courtly is as nice and clean in his Con­versation, as his Diet and Dress. And Surly, though he affects ill manners in every thing else is not guility of obscene talk. I have fallen, (I confess) in other Plays of mine, into a worse fault. I have, in my Jerusalems, made too beautifull an Image of an Atheist; and Atheism appears too reason­able and lovely. I am sorry there should be any thing under my hand, in de­fence of such a false, pernicious, and detestable an opinion: Some endeavour to clear me of the guilt, and wou'd perswade the World they were written by a Noble and Excellent Wit, the late E. of R—But they were Printed long before my Lord died; his Lordship in his Poem, call'd the Sessions of Poets, charges me not with theft, but my Scenes with dulness and want of Wit and Poetry, which he wou'd not have done, if they had been his own. But since there is too much Atheism in those Plays, I am content they shou'd be thought not mine, or not good. I had rather have no Wit, no Being, than employ any part of it against him that gave it.

ACT the First.
SCENE the Imperial Palace in ROME.

Enter, at several doors, Valerius Asiaticus, and Annius Minutianus.
Val. A.
MY noble Lord Minutianus,
I'm glad to see so good a Man alive,
And wonder at it; for as the times are,
When any good great Man has a new day,
He has new life, at least a new reprieve;
For by the Emperor he's decreed to die.
An. M.
Indeed, my Lord, ev'ry new day to me
Seems a new pleasing shining Prodigy:
I lift my eyes with wonder at the Sun,
Nor look to see him more when day is done;
And when night comes, I am awhile afraid
I'm not alive, but in th' Infernal shade.
Val. A.
Caesar has broke the Fortunes, and the Hearts
Of half the World; Men are but half alive.
An. M.
Sometimes your Lordship gives our hearts some hope,
But then your League with Caesar frightens us.
Val. A.
Oh! two proud Men to Friendship ne'r encline;
You may as well two lofty Mountains join.
If close in League Caesar and I appear,
It is because you do not see us near.
So when imperfectly remotely seen,
Two Mountains on each other seem to lean;
Approach 'em near, you'll find 'em wondrous wide,
Int'rest and Nature do the great divide:
Pride is a friendless Vice, and foe to Pride.
I've had success in War, and got renown;
And Caesar hates all glory but his own.
[Enter Cassius Cheraea viewing himself in a Pocket Looking-glass.
Why, how now Cassius?
Ca. Ch.
My most noble Lord!
Val. A.
Examining thy Figure in a Glass?
[Page 2] That Glass is a dissembler, Cassius.
Thou wou'dst not love it if it told thee truth,
For then the shadow on that Dial shewn,
Wou'd let thee know thy Sun is going down:
Th'art in thy fall, witness thy falling hair,
Yet thou wou'dst pass for young with all the fair.
Oh! Cassius! thou hast wander'd far from Youth,
And thy young dress tells scandalous untruth.
That th' art in heart a Hector, who wou'd guess,
Whilst th' art a wanton Paris in thy dress?
Paris was not accoutred with such Art,
Thy habit is a Libel on thy Heart.
An. M.
Oh! but a Manly daring Soul lurks deep,
Under this gentle Lady, like outside;
Which Caesar takes a pleasure to deride.
Val. A.
Nay, Caesar ought to spare him allow,
Caesar's grave only in his frowning brow:
He folds his brow in frowns; had he his will,
Basilisk like he'd with his aspect kill.
But this sierce Monarch, in unmanly dress,
Is oft extravagant to mad excess.
His Robes, like Chrystal waves, around him flow,
At once his Limbs and Lusts they lewdly shew.
His only coverings, in his wild attire,
Are blazing Gems, which make him seem o' fire.
His wrists in Bracelets far out-shine the Stars;
You'd think 'em Comets, and fear Plagues and Wars.
An. M.
Ay, and his Sandals powder'd o'r with Gems,
Exceed in splendor Regal Diadems.
Val. A.
They are so wondrous soft, and easie too,
He feels the ground no more than if he flew.
Ca. Ch.
Dresses are Politicks of Love; he's wise,
And steals to hearts of Ladies, through their Eyes.
Val. A.
Were Cassius led to die, he'd die well dress'd,
To leave a Dart in ev'ry Ladies breast;
And to his death he'd gracefully advance,
As if he only lead a solemn Dance.
And loss of life wou'd grieve him less, he'll own,
Than loss of love; the dead are lov'd by none.
Ca. Ch.
No, from dead Lovers living beauties fly,
And soon let all remembrance of 'em die.
Our Images for years in Marble stay;
Our Images in Hearts scarce last a day.
Val. A.
Well Cassius, though you soft and frail appear,
Cassius is hardy, valiant, and sincere.
[Page 3] Calm to a Friend, a tempest to a Foe,
With his hand active, though in speech he's slow.
He fights as if he had a thousand Lives,
But for preferment modestly he strives.
In Court he yields, in danger leads the way;
Wins, yet can scarce be said to gain the day.
Of speech he's sparing, lib'ral of his bloud;
To all, but to himself, he's just and good.
Ca. Ch.
This from your Lordship? I am over-paid
For all I've done.
Val. A.
No, there are great Arrears
Due to thy Fortune, and thy Honour both,
Injur'd by Caesar.
Ca. Ch.
I am wounded by him,
In a more tender part, my Conscience;
He often forces me, to ruine those
Whom I am bound in conscience to defend.
The fortunes, nay, the flesh I'm forc'd to rend
Of those, who have no faults, but Wealth or Power;
And thus my self I torture ev'ry hour.
For all the miseries I impose, I feel;
And my heart bleeds when guiltless blood I spill.
Because I faintly act this cruel part,
Caesar is pleas'd to say I want a Heart,
And has my tenderness in great disdain;
He thinks I'm not a Man, because Humane.
Val. A.
Nay, Caesar counts humanity a crime:
Well Cassius, you may have redress in time.
[Several go over the Stage, carrying Robes and Crowns.
Behold a foolish ostentatious shew,
Of Robes and Crowns, won in the German War;
Not by the Valour of the Emperor,
He never stoops in Person to subdue,
He fights by Proxy, as great Princes wooe.
He dares not look on War; a while ago,
He march'd to'ards War, and made a noise and shew,
Which through the German Woods a horror spread;
The hasty Rhine to Sea more swiftly fled.
He had two Armies.
Ca. Ch.
No, my Lord, but one.
Val. A.
Yes, Cassius, I lead gallant Men, and Caesar
A flying Camp of ranting Concubines,
Who flam'd, and gave a lustre to the day;
No Meteors were so bright, or hot as they.
Cass. Ch.
Ay, but my Lord, these falling Stars, 'tis known,
Though bright aloft, are Jellies when they're down.
[Page 4]
Val. A.
That you have often found; now what became
Of this Bravado, and attempt on Fame?
It dwindled to a Farce, and foolish Scene;
For his Light-Horse, light Concubines I mean,
With Caesar in their head began to fly,
On the first News the enemy drew nigh:
To look on a brave Foe they durst not stay,
The German Trumpets blew 'em all away.
An. M.
They have some wounds I'm told.
Val. A.
In Fame they have,
And scratches which the Quick-set Hedges gave.
Caesar is often prancing, on the Road.
To War, but long e'r danger is abroad.
Like a hot early Spring he oft sets forth,
Not to enrich, adorn, but blast the Earth;
Whilst sweet young Beauties, in their lovely May,
Like blossoms round him blow, but far more gay:
And when approaching dangers rudely threat
The splendid Prince, he and his buds retreat;
He wisely keeps in War a Regal State,
Makes danger from himself at distance wait,
But with stiff pride enters an empty Town,
His Troops have won, and assumes their renown.
Ca. Ch.
Second-hand Glory appears somewhat bear.
Val. A.
Second-hand Cloaths he may as proudly wear.
With all their Lawrels then a Prince is crown'd,
Who ne'r saw fight, nor felt a noble wound.
Wounds he has had, but they were all behind,
For yet his face danger cou'd never find;
But he'll triumph in Person, o'r the bold,
For Victories he never durst behold.
Now in triumphal pomp he enters Rome,
Leading those chain'd he durst not overcome.
And now who dares but in a look betray,
The least contempt of this illustrious day,
Sacred to th' honour of th' Imperial Sword,
And the vast pride of our vain-glorious Lord?
An. M.
You of his pride and vanity complain;
Oh! wou'd to heaven he were only vain.
But he has Vices I abhor to name;
They cover me with everlasting shame.
His Sisters were all wonderfully fair;
Part of that beauty I desir'd to share.
The youngest then seem'd to have ev'ry grace;
Her beauty gave a lustre to her race.
I humbly begg'd his leave for an address,
And angry Heaven curs'd me with success.
[Page 5] I got his Sister, and let that suffice
To express all the plagues Hell can devise.
By Heavens, he whor'd her on the Bridal Night;
Nay, which is more, he whor'd her in my sight.
Val. A.
She was his Sister I may safely swear;
No race besides affords so lewd a pair.
Enter Vitellius sad and drooping.
I pity this great Man, in War he's brave,
In Court he is a cautious fawning slave.
Cas. Ch.
He views the ground with a dejected eye.
Val. A.
And with good reason he expects to die.
An. M.
For what offence? He has rul'd Syria well,
And humbled haughty Kings who durst rebel;
As Fame reports.
Val. A.
Court deeps but few can sound;
Tyrants and Priests in mysteries abound.
Perhaps their Arts will not the light endure,
They strike most awe, like Temples, when obscure.
This sad and thoughtful Hero lets approach,
Try if his painful wounds will bear the touch.
My Lord Vitellius, you seem full o' care,
And out of Asia bring a cloudy air,
Which weighs your Eye-lids down; what shou'd it mean?
You fortunes has been smiling and serene,
And yet you sigh as if your heart wou'd break.
My Lord, I'm bruis'd, I have scarce strength to speak;
I've had a fall, which makes my Vitals bleed.
I fell from Heaven.
That's a high fall indeed.
From Caesar's favour.
(He bows low.)
Val. A.
Why de'ye bend so low?
To Caesar's Image in my thoughts I bow.
[He always bows when he names Caesar.
I honour my own thoughts when Caesar's there,
And when he's nam'd, I reverence the air,
And lowly towards the awful sound encline;
The air is then, methinks, a holy shrine.
Val. A.
Your prudent, courtly temper, I commend,
But I had rather make proud Monarchs bend,
And with crown'd Victims my devotions pay;
So I wou'd worship Caesar ev'ry day,
And now bring Princes to adore his Throne.
Caesar's my Prince—
And God.—
Val. A.
Well, that I own.
To Caesar I'll not grudge a pompous word;
And how he pleases he shall be ador'd.
[Page 6]
These shouts tell joyful news, that Caesar's nigh;
Oh! I've his glorious person in my eye.
His glitt'ring Chariot is of beaten Gold;
But in himself I Nature's pomp behold.
The bounteous Monarch, as he rides along,
Rains silver show'rs on the admiring throng.
Val. A.
Bribes to the Rabble; that a Prince so proud,
[Aside to An. M.
Shou'd stoop to purchase flattery from the croud;
From all bold Foes, but flatterers, he flies;
Flattery is a part of his high Luxuries,
And none can be too fulsome for his taste;
Thus Wit, and Gold, and Blood, we vainly waste.
An. M.
Rome pours into the Court a dazling Croud,
With an illustrious stream 'tis overflow'd.
I dare not shew my self in Caesar's sight;
My Lords farewel, may Fortune do you right.
Enter Caligula, Cesonia, Attendants, Guards. Val. A. and Vit. retire at a distance. Cass. Ch. mingles with the Guard.
Welcome to Rome once more, my Mars, my Jove;
Welcome from War, to Luxury and Love.
Well, I am pleas'd to find they've taken care
To fill the Palace with a fragrant air.
I have bestow'd more odours, on these Rooms,
Than wou'd, I think, perfume a thousand Tombs.
Sir, why do you name Tombs?
Does it become
A Heroin, to startle at a Tomb?
Nay, I cou'd dwell with pleasure, on the Graves
Of Caesar's Foes, or his rebellious Slaves.
I've a nice Nostril, with rich perfumes fed,
The least offensive vapour strikes me dead.
I can endure no sweets but what excel;
Yet of dead enemies I like the smell.
Well, if dead enemies can entertain,
Thou hast been gratify'd this last Campagne.
[Val. comes forwards, and bows low
What wou'd you have Valerius?
Val. A.
What you please;
I am attending, Sir, on your decrees.
Vit. comes forward, bows low, then covers his head and face with his Robe, turns round, then prostrates himself on the ground.
Caesar, Victorious, Gracious, Pious, Wife,
The noblest pleasure of our thoughts and eyes;
Scourge of the proud, relief of all the oppress'd;
Caesar, of Gods, the greatest and the best.
[Page 7] At Caesar's feet, I humbly prostrate lie,
To live his Vassal, or his Victim die.
But I wou'd live (if that might be allow'd)
To pay those Off'rings I've to Caesar vow'd;
Those Divine Honours are to Caesar due,
The only God that stoops to humane view.
Sir, in no Mortal all perfections dwell,
They've both been faulty, but they've both done well.
That Lord in Germany has Battels won;
[Pointing to Val.
This made the Parthian King leave Babylon,
[Pointing to Vit.
Cross his Euphrates, and his swelling pride,
To pay those Honours he till then deny'd,
Caesar's Divine protection to implore,
His Eagles, and his Images adore.
Madam, the glory wholly I disclaim,
To Caesar's Divine Genius be the fame.
Let 'em once more in Caesar's favour rise,
For all that honour him I highly prize.
Thy Will is irresistible, like Fate;
What makes me love thee at so mad a rate?
Live both in the Commands you had before;
Now is there any thing you wou'd have more?
[Vit. rises and bows low.
To kiss your sacred feet we beg your leave.
[Cal. offers his foot with scorn.
With humble thanks the bounty we receive.
Val. A.
We must give thanks for such affronts as these;
And proudly humbling us below our knees.
[Both kiss the Emperor's Sandal.
Oh! how the World is with an Emp'ror blest;
May I presume to make one more request?
What is it? speak.
The honour, Sir, to kiss
Th' Empresses Sandal;—but 'tis too much bliss.
Alas! I am afraid, I've been too bold.
Lucius, your Lips are common, I am told;
Oft to the Sandals of the fair you bend,
And to your joys from those low Stairs ascend.
Light, Sir, is common, so is vital air,
And often kiss the Sandals of the fair.
Well Lucius, I am in good humour now,
And the great honour you have begg'd bestow.
Let 'em adore you, Madam, at your feet.
Oh! bounteous Prince!
Oh! Empress! heavenly sweet.
[He kisses the Empresses Sandal, so does Val.
[Page 8]
Come, you wou'd try my bounty once again;
Speak boldly, Man, I'm in the giving vein.
I'd beg the shell of that delicious fruit,
A Sandal sweetned by that beauteous foot.
Go fetch him one with speed.
[Ex. a Lady.
Transporting joy!
For such a gracious God, who would not die?
[The Lady enters, and gives Vit. a Sandal.
Oh! 'twill recal my youth, perfume my breath,
Restore my health when I am sick to death.
Nay, when I'm dead, make life in me return;
I shall, to kiss it, leap out of my Urn.
I once look'd round me as I pass'd along,
And near me I observ'd a mutt'ring throng,
And in their looks saw discontent appear,
Which grudg'd my pomp, as if it cost too dear.
Do not they know, that Caesar cannot brook
The least offence, but in a word or look?
They who will live, must not with Caesar strive,
Or dare to let me know they are alive,
Till my commands enliven, and inspire,
And warm their bosoms, like Promethian fire.
Rome to amazing Insolence is grown;
No doubt, one spirit runs through all the Town.
Since Rome has but one proud rebellious Soul,
Which dares presume my pleasures to controul,
And in my pomp give me a secret check,
Wou'd to the Gods all Rome had but one Neck,
That I might cut of millions at a blow;
Chaerea, fling 'em to my Lions, go.
Cass Ch.
Whom shall I fling?
The Rogues I nam'd of late;
I'll silence Villains who presume to prate.
Cass. Ch.
Sir, on my knees—
I know thou art afraid;
Fear not the stubborn Rogues, thou shalt have aid.
Besides they are in Fetters.
Cass. Ch.
So am I.
Sir, from arm'd enemies I wou'd not fly;
But from obeying such severe commands,
Humanity and pity bind my hands.
Hast thou humanity, thou fearful slave?
No, thou art not a Man, because not brave.
Val. A.
Sir, I have found him brave.
So have not I,
The Coward dares not see another die;
[Page 9] When I have forc'd him to strike off a Head,
The executed wretch look'd not so dead.
[Ex. Cass. Ch.
Val. A.
Forgive me, Sir, if I am bold,
And the dark thoughts of mutt'ring Rome unfold.
Si [...] ▪ you engage in Wars, which cost you dear;
But, Sir, no reasons for those Wars appear.
Must I give reasons, Sir, for my Decrees?
I may do what I please, with whom I please.
Perhaps I burn proud Towns, and slaughter Men,
Only to please my humour, Sir—what then?
When wild Convulsions divide streams from Springs,
Roul Hills o'r Hills, the Rabble o'r their King;
Lift Common-wealths to Realms, sink Realms to States;
What are all these, but Gambols o' the Fates?
But to eternal Glory I address
In all my Wars, with infinite success.
I, for my Glory, seize on Regal Crowns;
To make my Glory blaze, burn wealthy Towns.
The Gods, for Glory, Worlds from Chaos won;
The Gods, for Glory, kindled up the Sun,
And set that noble part of Heaven o' fire;
I'm hourly urg'd by such Divine desire.
Inglorious Princes are but half alive,
And want a sence worth all the other five.
Val. A.
The Pris'ners, Sir, whom you have doom'd to bleed,
Have begg'd of me that I wou'd interceed,
Sir, with appeals to Heav'n, they all declare
They mutter'd nothing, but a Loyal Prayer
For blessings, on your Person, and your Crown,
And admiration of your great renown.
Am I delighted with a Fool's applause?
No more, by Jove, than were I prais'd by Daws.
Val. A.
Sir, these Mens lives are below your regard,
They've sent Petitions; Sir, shall they be heard?
Ay—Sing 'em.
Val. A.
Sing 'em? I've no skill in Song;
I ne'r so idly, Sir, employ my Tongue.
Then were I Caesar, I wou'd have no ear;
I wou'd no troublesome Petitions hear,
Unless sung to me with harmonious Ayres.
Priests sing, and make an Opera of their Prayers.
Val A.
Sir, one thing more: I'told by commo
From empty Bowels many murmurs came.
The last Campagne trod all our Harvests down;
And all the Horses, in or near the Town,
[Page 10] You press'd, to bring th' Imperial Treasures home:
Therefore the Farmers cannot furnish Rome,
With what supplies they're able to afford;
And here our Granaries are all devour'd.
And thus, Sir, by your Wars, you grind Mankind;
But you will let 'em have no Corn to grind.
Damn 'em, they're over-fed; the mutt'ring sounds
Came from full Bowels; Luxury abounds.
War destroys Men, but Luxury Mankind;
At once corrupts the Body, and the Mind.
And thus, a just revenge poor Brutes receive,
Who die for Rogues that deserve not to live.
Rich Knaves will engross Corn, to raise the price;
And starve Mankind, to feed their avarice.
For harmless injur'd Beasts I've some remorse;
But my chief care is for my fav'rite Horse.
That Animal is full of noble fire;
Go visit him, and how he fares enquire.
[To Vit. who goes out.
Heaven! how we spoil the pleasure o' the day.
'Tis true, my Love; but we will soon be gay.
The falls of Nations, which fill Cowards with fears,
Shall but like Water-falls delight our Ears;
And murm'ring Subjects shall, like purling streams,
But lull us deeper in our pleasing dreams.
[Ex. Omnes.


Enter Caligula, Cesonia, Guards, and Attendants.
W'are deep in Winter, yet methinks the air
Has an unnat'ral heat, I cannot bear.
Caesar's swift marches have inflam'd his veins;
He drives with all the spirit that he reigns.
I wonder not you left me far behind,
Methoughts your fiery Steeds outran the Wind;
Winds lost their breath in giving Caesar Chase,
His speed seem'd more a Rapture than a Race.
When a high Mountain shew'd him to my Eye,
I fear'd some Goddess snatch'd him to the Sky;
Then from my seat I oft fell cold and pale,
Till I beheld him flaming in a Vale,
Saw his bright Chariot, and his glitt'ring Train,
Flying like blazing meteors o'r a Plain:
[Page 11] His dazling Chariot, though a pond'rous mass
Of solid Gold, scarce bent the tender Grass.
I'm apt to think there can no prints be found
Where Caesar drove, his Steeds scarce touch'd the ground:
No, Sir, provok'd by their own fire and you,
They ran, rag'd, foam'd; I thought in Clouds you flew.
I love intemperance in all I do.
All speed to me but drowsie sloath appears,
I thought I linger'd on the Road for years,
And my dull Horses did not run, but creep;
I'd have sprung hither at one lofty leap.
Had I my will, I wou'd range Lands and Seas
As swift as thought; think and be where I please.
The very minute I begin my flight,
I'd pierce all Regions, at a start, like light.
You'd range all Lands, new beauties to subdue;
For your desires the World has not enow:
And without toyl, you'd give a beauty chace,
You wou'd but think, think in her embrace.
We call Men constant, when they're dull and tame;
Thus imperfection gets a noble name.
I have a heat which never can be cool'd;
A spirit in me which can ne'r be rul'd;
It rages whilst 'tis in my bosom pent,
Nor can a thousand Beauties give it vent.
When I am deluging your Arms with bliss,
You never think me guilty of excess.
Aegypt is not more pleas'd with flowing Nile;
But if I rove to others Arms awhile,
Of my intemp'rance you complain aloud;
Though it be but a momentany flood,
You think you have a dreadful dearth in view;
Madam, was Caesar only made for you?
Jove had, no doubt, intentions more divine,
But Caesar will not be a moment mine.
My heart in Caesar lives, to Caesar grows;
Therefore I never have an hours repose.
Repose? His many wandrings tear my veins,
And give me wounds which have tormenting pains.
You love an Emperor, that I ll not deny;
Who, but a Caesar, can your heart supply
With all the pleasure, wealth, and pow'r it craves?
Now you have Queens for your Domestick slaves,
And all delights that nature yields in call;
Were there more Emp'rors you wou'd love 'em all.
[Page 12]
No, Sir, of all Men, Emp'rors wou'd I shun,
They are mysterious, understood by none.
But this I know, what are so much above
All Kings on Earth, 'tis arrogance to love;
And, to my sorrow, I have found it vain,
For having all things, all things they disdain.
Caesar is pleas'd with beauty, whilst 'tis new,
And the next hour thinks it not worth his view.
A while I'm graceful in the Emp'rors thoughts,
And the next moment seem all over faults.
Now I've all beauties, then I've all decays;
Now sudden starts of joy, then sharp always.
Now I'm in luxury, and then in tears,
And always shaken with confounding fears.
Oh! my Cesonia, prithee have a care,
Impose not on me more than I can bear.
This Neck is soft, so is not Caesar's Heart;
This Head and Neck how easily can I part?
But though in Caesar thou hast no delight,
To thy fair self thou art a pleasing sight;
And by all Eyes thou art with wonder seen:
Oh! I am loath to stain so white a skin.
'Tis pity so much beauty shou'd be lost,
Thou wilt not be so lovely when a Ghost.
I find I'm pleasing still in Caesar's Eye,
And therefore now I'm very loth to die;
No joys in the most sweet Elizian Grove,
Can equal the Remains of Caesar's love.
With pomp and power I am pleas'd, I own;
But Caesar far outshines his glorious Throne.
Were Caesar but my equal, were he lower,
Had but that graceful person, and no more,
From all Mankind to Caesar's arms I'd fly,
And think no Goddess is so blest as I.
Oh! thou art made exactly to my mind,
Fair to perfection, fond though l'm unkind.
Faithful thou art as the severely chaste,
And yet as Venus wanton, when embrac'd.
I have a thousand Venusses in thee;
Once more I love thee to a mad degree.
New beauties for a moment snatch my Eyes,
And entertain me, whilst they're novelties.
Caesar will oft abandon me I know,
But one hours love will rich amends bestow.
I am luxurious, freely I confess,
But Caesar, Caesar is my Sovereign bliss.
[Page 13] From Caesar's Lips divine Ambrosia flows,
His breath in sweets excels the Syrian Rose;
And when I have his Arms I think I'm dress'd,
The Queen of Heaven has not so rich a Vest.
In Caesar's Arms in extafies I lie,
Like a mad Prophetess, entranc'd with joy;
Whilst a God fills me all my spirits fly.
No, my Cesonia, I must do thee right,
Thy spirit gives a life to my delight;
A livelier Beauty Caesar ne'r enjoy'd,
Thou hast more life than all thy Sex enjoy'd.
Now I'm compos'd, and fit for great Affairs,
Your Glory must a while employ my Cares.
Enter Valerius Asiaticus, Lucius Vitellius.
Oh! come my Lord, tho' in this last Compagne
You gave us too much reason to complain,
Your service, for your faults, make great amends;
And I rank you among the Emp'rors friends.
Th'art proud, and therefore I think Caesar's friend,
Thy haughty heart can to an Emp'ror bend;
My pow'rs by Jove and Nature were bestow'd,
By serving me thou serv'st an Earthly God.
Senators oft are of ignoble blood,
And all their pow'rs the Off-spring of the Croud;
Can thy proud heart endure those Men shou'd reign,
Whom thou woud'st scarce admit into thy Train?
Will one so brave, by Cowards be controul'd?
And one so rich, let Bankrupts rule his Gold?
So Wise to Blockheads for Advice repair,
In all the great Affairs of Peace and War;
Depend on the result of empty prate,
And account Fools the Oracles of State.
Val. A.
I wou'd not be a slave, to slaves, 'tis true;
Our Senators are solemn slaves to you.
If I must serve, on Caesar I'd depend;
For as the Ladies, who on Queens attend,
Are by the World Ladies of Honour stil'd,
Tho' of their Honour they have been beguil'd.
So, Sir, if Honour can to slaves be due,
They're slaves of Honour, who are slaves to you.
L. Vit.
Spoke like a Nobleman, and Man o' sence;
'Tis an illustrious thing, to serve a Prince
So great, so glorious, so renown'd, so wise,
What Vassal wou'd not such a glory prize?
Val. A.
When he has Caesar's favour in pursuit,
He'll lick the dust beneath the Tyrant's feet.
[Page 14] Caesar's a God, and Caesar says I'm proud;
A God knows all the secrets of our blood.
Therefore, no doubt, I'm ostentatious vain,
The Characters he gives me I'll maintain;
I will be proudly faithful to my trust,
To all Mankind I will be proudly just:
All danger, Sir, I'll haughtily despise,
To serve you boldly fight, as boldly advise.
Your service to your pleasure I'll prefer,
And boldly stop you, if I think you err.
Stop me?
Val. A.
By Councel, tho' it cost my Head;
Even by your self I will not be misled.
Will I be judg'd, and govern'd by my slaves?
Val. A.
I'll judge, and if I can I'll rule your Knaves.
I'll offer, and I'll suffer no abuse,
Because I'm proud; pride is of mighty use.
The affectation of a pompous name,
Has oft set Wits and Heroes in a flame;
Volumes, and Buildings, and Dominions wide,
Are oft the noble Monuments of pride.
Then I'm your lofty Building? Have a care,
This from no other Man on earth I'd bear.
Thou rul'st thy Emperor, I know not how;
More than thou dar'st demand, I dare bestow,
Have all a Vassal can from pow'r derive,
Tho'th'art the boldest proudest Man alive.
Val. A.
All this I durst not have presum'd to crave;
My thanks I'll on your foes in wounds engrave.
In serving Caesar, rich rewards proceed
From the meer conscience of the noble deed;
But yet is Caesar so Divinely good,
He over-pays his Warriors for their blood.
I'm sure, my Lord, your recompence is great,
[To Val. A.
You've Rubies for your blood, and Pearls for sweat;
Y'ave Provinces for all the Fields y'ave won,
And Realms for all the Kings y'ave undone.
L. Vit.
Higher rewards than these my service meets,
This Province, Madam,
[He takes out of his bosom the Empresses Sandal.
'Tis all over sweets.
Here dwelt a foot, a Wonder of its kind,
And left a thousand fragrancies behind.
How false are Men, both in their Heads and Hearts;
And there is falshood in all Trades and Arts.
Lawyers deceive their Clients by false Law;
Priests, by false Gods, keep all the World in awe.
[Page 15] By their false Tongues such flatt'ring Knaves are rais'd;
For their false wit, Scriblers by fools are prais'd.
Whores, by false beauty, Venusses appear;
Hect'ring Faux—braves o'r Cowards, domineer:
Look round the World, what shall we find sincere?
The Senate, Sir, attend.
Well, let 'em wait.
How dare you, in my Ear, name what I hate?
I'll have no Guardians, I'm at Age to reign;
What my Birth gave, my Courage shall maintain.
I will endure no Partners in my Throne,
I ll govern as I please, and rule alone.
Do not I trample Kings beneath my feet?
Will Caesar then let his own slaves be great?
Caesar shall be the only Soveraign Lord,
And Senate be a vain and useless word;
And therefore wholly laid aside, ere long,
Amongst the Rubbish of the Roman Tongue.
Val. A.
Then will the name of Emp'ror be low;
Sir, your Throne stands on golden Columns now,
On Men who are by Birth and Fortune great;
Wou'd you be King of Beggars, six you seat
On a vile Dunghil, on the dirty Croud?
This by your friends can never be allow'd.
Sir, your mistakes are your most dang'rous foes,
And for your service I'll your self oppose,
And in the face of any danger fly;
You have not a more faithful friend than I:
Compar'd with Caesar's service, how I slight
Danger and Death, I've often shew'd in fight.
Cherish him, Caesar.
Well, let quarrels cease;
Th'ast a great Genius, both in War and Peace.
But love not, if th'art one of Caesar's friends,
A Senate; for the very name offends.
But call 'em in, for they shall quickly know
I have a farther quarrel with 'em now.
Enter the Consuls and Senate.
When Caesar by a Triumph honour'd Rome,
How durst you tarry sullenly at home,
As if my Victories you proudly scorn'd,
Or thought 'em curses, and in darkness mourn'd?
Val. A.
Who dares reply? for to this raving Prince
What can be said, that will not give offence?
The honour, Sir, we humbly did implore
To fill your Triumphs, to be triumph'd o'r,
[Page 16] To be led Captives; but we beg in vain,
Our great devotion met your high disdain.
'Tis true, I scorn all honours you bestow,
And you resent th' affront; ha! is it so?
That were presumptuous arrogance indeed;
Sir, with united hearts, we've all decreed
The highest honours—
How? Dare you pretend
To grant me Honours? Honour must descend.
We humbly beg—
You'd beg me for a Fool;
Beg me to own you have the Sovereign rule:
By this Decree, you sawcily invade
Imperial Power, Imperial Glory shade.
Affronts from his own slaves, will Caesar bear;
Refuse, or grant me Honours, if you dare
My errors wrong the Senate I perceive;
To shew our love we humbly beg your leave.
Your love? Mankind is envious vain and proud,
Love nothing that's above 'em, bad or good.
You hate a Prince, unless he'll tamely bear
Partners in power; let Senates have a share.
Where Laws, and domineering Senates reign,
Princes are slaves in purple, slaves in grain;
Sword bearers to a many-headed Lord,
I mean the Croud, and weak upon Record;
For ev'ry Law made by the State, implies,
That Princes are defective, Senates wise.
Such Demi-Kings have half your hearts, no more,
While they have any share of Soveraign power;
But if a Prince entirely quits his Throne,
He's lov'd by all, because he's fear'd by none.
The Votes of Senators, tho' ne'r so great,
Shall but like Ecchoes my commands repeat;
So Forrests may advise, and utter Law.
L. Vit.
The wisest Monarch the Sun ever saw.
Fear me, I care not how I am abhorr'd,
Your hearts I'll have; with my Imperial Sword,
I'll rip 'em from your Breasts, when I think good:
In short, I'll have your Duty, or your Blood.
This you all know, and therefore you'll obey;
Fear is the Parent of all Sovereign sway.
Val. A.
Sir, with triumphant pomp, to Court they've brought
Your Image wrought in gold; is that a fault?
My Image may have faults, the Gold has none;
'Tis th' only faultless thing below the Sun.
[Page 17]
No, Caesar, no; if Art has done you right,
Th' Image is faultless; bring it in my sight.
If Caesar's graces in the Image shine,
There is no gold on Earth, so rich, so fine.
This shining shadow, I wou'd feign behold;
This constant shadow fix'd in solid gold.
Enter Priests in Procession singing, carrying a golden Image of the Emperor, attended by the Consuls and Senate.
The SONG Sung by the Priests.
HAIL! Mighty Prince, whose loud renown
O'r ev'ry Region flies;
On whom with wonder Gods look down,
And gaze with envious eyes.
Whom, more than Hell, all Nations fear,
And more than Heav'n obey;
Who o'r-runs Kingdoms ev'ry year,
With Jove has equal sway:
Who ruins Realms, enriches Graves,
Makes mighty Kings of humble Slaves,
And Slaves of mighty Kings;
His praise, this great Assembly here,
With all devotion sings.
Our bloody Wars are ended;
The Sword is now
But worn for shew;
And the stubborn bow unbended.
Our hours of ease, and leisure,
We'll give to pomp and pleasure,
And Songs in praise of Caesar,
Who War with glory ended.
The Sword is now
But worn for shew;
And the stubborn Bow unbended.
Now Peace begins to heal our wounds,
And all our wants repair;
We'll Plough the Seas, and Plough our Grounds,
And Plough the tempting fair:
Our lofty Tow'rs shall scale the Sky,
Our Wealth unbounded, like our joy,
Shall fly more free than air:
Our Wars are done,
And the World is won,
So now farewel to care.
[Ex. om.


The SCENE continues.

Enter Valerius Asiaticus, Annius Minutianus.
An. M.
CAESAR triumphs, and is by Rome ador'd,
For Battels won by your victorious Sword.
Val. A.
'Tis true, to triumphs he has small pretence;
Put wou'd y'ave me proudly out brave my Prince,
And boast I won those Fields he durst not see?
This wou'd be fatal saw ciness in me.
Soldiers in fight their courage shou'd display;
They have a triumph when they win the day.
Let them be brave against the bold and great,
But humble to all those beneath their feet.
An. M.
A gen'rous thought.
Val. A.
In most triumphal shews,
A conqu'ring Coxcomb o'r a beaten crows.
The fopp'ry in the Hero then appears,
The Lyon's couch'd, the Ass pricks up his Ears.
Vain ostentation does too oft enslave,
The learn'd, the wise, the mighty, and the brave.
The Man of Learning, no content can reap
From all his knowledge, till he spreads the heap,
And great applause, and admiration gains;
For that poor chaff, how he will thrash his brains?
He is-in throws before, but then he's eas'd;
When he's a publick fool he's highly pleas'd.
For Fame vain Wits take all their soaring flights;
For Fame the ostentatious Hero fights;
For shew, with wounds will be embroider'd o'r,
And deeply died in his own purple gore.
An. M.
Vain ostentation deforms ev'ry grace;
'Tis like a blister in a beauteous face.
Val. A.
'Tis hard to know, whose brains have wider flaws,
They who sit ratling chains, and pleating straws;
Or they who toyl, only for vain renown,
To wear in History a paper Crown.
Whilst Caesar now, for a design so vain,
Takes Poets and Historians in his Train;
How like a Lunatick this Prince appears,
Pleas'd because Bells hang jingling at his ears?
[...]us he resolves oblivion to subdue;
[...] and the graces of his person too,
[Page 19] In strong and lively colouring display'd,
And in bold Images, shall time invade.
For this are famous Artists kept in pay,
And Art brings forth dead Caesars ev'ry day;
You will see all our Gardens and Abodes,
And Temples crowded with those silent Gods
And for his likeness, he'll sit brooding long,
With all the pains that Birds do, to hatch their Young.
An. M.
Well, this Campaign the Emperor ventur'd far;
I think, he march'd to the frontier of War.
Val. A.
Yes, and he bore some little Princes down,
Whose fall will give no sound to his Renown:
Their Provinces he might with ease o'rerun:
On my War-Horse I could have leap'd o're one.
An. M.
Your Lordship is the Pillar of his Throne;
But, that's a truth Caesar disdains to own.
Val. A.
I support Caesar? Be not so profane;
Caesar's a God, to him all aid is vain.
An. M.
Who can that impious Flattery endure?
His Father was a mortal Man, I'm sure.
Val. A.
His Godhead both from Chance and Nature came;
'Tis a Convention in his Sacred Frame
Of Divine Atoms; it was not begot,
'Twas an original and glorious lot.
Thus his Atheistick flatterers blaspheme,
Hum'ring their hot-brain'd Emperor's waking dream.
Vast fortunes bred the frenzy, I confess;
Feeble mankind can suffer no excess:
Fortunes too high, or low, wrack humane thought,
But fortune only has not been in fault;
The Empress too, did her assis [...]nce joyn,
And often gave him Philters in his Wine;
Then this proud folly first began to Reign,
Successes turn'd, and drugs Diseas'd his Brain.
Enter Cassius Cheraea.
I'd rais'd thy fortunes by commands,
But thou hast Enemies, which hold my hands:
Howe'er I'll raise thy Honour, if I can,
I do not know a more deserving Man.
Cas. Ch.
In the esteem of such a noble Friend,
My Lord, I to an envi'd height ascend;
The Emperor's pleas'd to call me Coward, and Fool,
Because he always finds me soft and cool;
And always slow in shedding guiltless blood,
Caesar may give what titles he thinks good.
[Page 20] I've many faults, but boasting is not one;
If any thing deserving praise I've done,
I'm not much pleas'd to hear it oft proclaim'd;
But yet, methinks, I'm loath to be defam'd.
Val. A.
Oh! my good Lord, I've in this Vessel found
Excellent Metal, tho' it yields no sound.
He who seems here, only an Image drest,
A piece of fine Court-furniture, at best;
In War is more then Man.
An. M.
So I've been told.
Val. A.
I've seen Barbarians numerous, and bold,
Fly from this Man, like Locusts from a storm;
Wonders in War, I've seen him oft perform:
But of rough Cassius, after a Campaign,
No marks but in his scars and wounds remain.
Here all his time on pleasure he bestows;
He rises late, and rises to repose
On a soft Couch, where Wine drowns all his care;
Or on the softer Bosoms o' the fair.
Where Amorous dalliance, and wanton Play,
Is all the toil in which he wasts the day.
Cas. Ch.
My Lord, I love all pleasure nature yields;
The joys of wanton Beds, and bloody Fields.
Perhaps your tast'e and mine may not agree;
Whilst I have Life, I wou'd shake all the Tree:
I'd have Wine and Women, Musick and Renown,
And thus have all my days go sweetly down:
I wou'd not let one moment run to wast,
No, nor go off, with an unpleasant taste.
Fearfull and melancholy minds prepare
For their last hours by Sacrifice a [...] Pray'r,
Contemplate bones and sculls: But I design
To part with life, over a Glass o'Wine:
I'll fill my Eyes with beauty, e're they close,
And Songs shall lull me to my long repose.
Val. A.
But whilst your time you eagerly bestow
On the warm side of life, where pleasures grow:
Men think you not the gallant Man you are,
That all your Manhood lies among the fair.
An. M.
So, Caesar thinks, and tramples on his brow,
But Cassius does not seem to feel the blow;
But he is to admiration calm and tame;
And all his anger is a lambent flame.
Cas. Ch.
Oh! no, my Lord, I feel the heavy blows,
Nor have I all the patience you suppose;
[Page 21] 'Tis true, I keep my painful Wounds unseen;
But wounds, when inwardly they bleed gangreen.
Reasons there are, why I seem patient now;
But I, one day, may let the Emperor know.
I love not to oppress, or be oppress'd;
But every thing is in its season best.
Man has his hours of sleep, when he's embalm'd
With that soft unguent, and lies all be calm'd;
Trees have their seasons, when you'd think 'em dead,
But Nature finds a time to lift her head.
And shortly Cassius may his vigor shew,
And make the World ring, with a dreadfull blow,
Shall settle Regal Diadems; which now
Totter, on many a trembling Prince's brow;
But all our bonds write in Imperial gore.
That I'm a Man, and Caesar is no more.
An. M.
This sudden lofty flame has made me sweat;
Oh! Cassius, worthy of a name so great:
May'st thou in fame and fortune, far exceed
The Renown'd Cassius, who made Julius bleed.
Val. A.
Have I not told the Emperor, I'm his Friend,
That Caesar, against Caesar, I'll defend?
That, to encrease his Empire and Renown,
By Wars, which I may honourably own:
I'll in the face of my danger fly?
And dost thou hope I'll give my self the lie.
Let Caesars Life be stoln by base surprize,
And own my self a Villain in disguise?
On Faith and Honour I have fixt my foot;
And for that ground with Caesar I'll dispute.
Perhaps his favour, nothing can retain,
In my own favour I'll to death remain.
Cas. Ch.
Does not your Lordship every moment shed
Blood, guiltless blood; by guarding Caesar's head.
Val. A.
He's young and fiery; and has a Brain
Deseas'd by drugs, and Knaves the dregs of Men.
All the corruptions of a Land repair
To Courts, and fill 'em with unwholesome air:
A Monarch with great vertue is endu'd,
If he appears but moderately good?
Cassius your wrongs are not to me unknown,
Nor that all Nations under Caesar grown.
But I'll to him, and all mankin▪d be just,
Prote [...] his Person and oppose his Lust.
I'll [...] by Counsel first to stop his course;
Th [...] [...]ng, I'll to fair and open force.
[Page 22] In Caesar's faults, or yours, I'll have no share;
(Beckons to an Officer of the Guard.
Secure this Tribune, Sir, with utmost care.
An Officer,with a Guard; carry of Cassius Cheraea a Prisoner.
An. M.
My Lord, a noble spirit you display;
But yet, my Lord; this I must boldly say:
You feel not Caesar's faults, as thousands do;
A decent distance they have kept from you.
They have not yet approach'd your heart or head;
Nor seiz'd your fortune, or de [...]'d your Bed.
Va. A.
My Bed!
An. M.
Your Bed, as mine he oft has done;
His brutal Lust, has oft my Bed o're run.
On remote sires, with small concern we gaze,
But we all rise when our own dwellings blaze
Had Caesar and your Wife been kind—
Val. A.
Been kind.
No more, I sweat when e'er their names are joyn'd.
An. M.
You wisely keep her out of Caesar's sight,
And in safe privacies engross delight:
You never suffer her to see the Town,
And thus secure her honour and your own.
Val. A
My Lord, I'd stab her, if she shou'd presume
But to look towards, or own she dreamt of Rome?
Damnation! She's in Court, in this Lewd Court:
I pray, my Lord, for your own sake retire,
Of my Domestick troubles take no share,
You have enow, and more than you can bare
(Exit. An. M. Enter Julia, attended.
Why, how now, Madam, am I disobey'd?
What has allur'd you, from your Sacred shade
To Rome, where ev'ry Vice has open sway;
Revells and Rages, in sight of day?
My Lord, I'm overjoy'd with your Renown;
Spoil not my pleasure with an angry frown.
Why do you look with such a threatning brow?
My Lord, you are not in a battle now.
Val. A.
I'm in worse danger, as I've cause to fear;
For you expose my life, and honour here.
If e're you come in ravenous Caesar's eye,
Your beauty Il be devoured, and I shall die.
I'll guard my self.
Val. A.
I'll not trust your defence;
I'll hurry you a hundred Leagues from hence.
Your Beauty shall not flourish in report;
I'll furle that banner up, remote from Court.
[Page 23] Shell I display your tempting white and red,
And challenge Caesar to invade my Bed;
Provoke the proud Adulterer to my Couch,
And be Procurer to my own Reproach?
You have confin'd me, till I wished to die;
Th' unborn have as much joy in life, as I.
Val. A.
Caesar and you I labour'd to divide;
But, shame and ruin, what have I deny'd?
I out of love, confin'd you to a seat,
I do not think Elezium is so sweet.
I kept you a Luxurious Court at home;
You had the pomp, without the crimes o' Rome.
Had Reason Rul'd you, I had pleas'd your mind,
But Reason is no part of womankind.
Your Lusts and Vanities no bounds admit,
You're moderate in nothing but your Wit.
This picture of our Sex, not much allures;
Now I'll endeavour to delineate yours,
Our Follies are akin, but yours are gross,
And ours from beauty have a pleasing gloss:
Your Fop is but our Ape, he paints the face,
And acts our fool without her Charming Grace:
Both Sexes vex the World with noise, and prate;
But we confound a street, and you a state,
Our fools but seldom write; your Sex is stor'd
With fools, who will be Coxcombs on Record,
And their impertinence through ages spread;
Your scolds in Books wrangle alive, and dead.
Fighting all Women, and most Men, abhor;
But Women Cowards have wit to keep from War.
Your mighty Tyrant Lords our beauty rules;
Your greatest Wits are gull'd by Female Fools.
I've youth, I've youth, and pleasure I'll enjoy,
But fear me not, my birth and spirit are high,
Rather than taint my Family I'd die.
Val. A.
Of Caesar's wickedness I'm most in fear,
Madam, begone, you're in a mad house here;
Not where a Lunitick is held in Chains,
But where a great Imperial Madman Reigns.
Who tares the World and lays all Nations bare,
And when he has enjoy'd he strips the Fair:
Of his Lewd love those are Triumphal shews,
In jovial moodes on Fav'rites he bestows.
The beauteous Empress I have oft by night
Beheld all naked, like unclouded light,
[Page 24] Have often seen in wanton postures spread,
That brazen beauty on a Golden bed.
Whatever you suppose, e're I'd be food
To brutal Lust, Lyons shou'd drink my blood.
Val. A.
Oh! Madam, you have vertues that he slights,
And Rapes and Rapines, are his high delights.
He loves to make all Nature feel his force;
Rivers he Ravishes, and turns their course?
He levels Mountains, Elevates the Vales,
O're waves he rides, and over Lands he sails.
Nay, he builds lofty Palaces on Seas;
He scorns the Pleasure he can gain with ease:
I have been hot; but no one shou'd admire
In a watch Tower to see a bla [...]ing fire.
'Tis kindled up, to lend a needful light
To Mariners, in dangerous dead of night:
To tell 'em Land is near, they're cast away,
Unless they keep aloofe to Sea, 'till day:
For such kind ends my passion flam'd aloft,
But though my words were harsh, my heart is soft.
Now I'll no more be troublesomely wise;
Dwell where thou wilt, with thy own heart advise,
Study thy pleasures and regard not mine;
To my own bosome, I'll my fears confine.
But of my fortunes carve thy self thy share,
I will lock nothing from thee, but my care.
This gen'rous Love I never can requite;
In pleasing you, I'll place my chief delight?
Rome from this moment I renounce, abjure,
I'll not the memory of Rome endure.
Nay, in my presence, no one shall presume
To mention infamous and vitious Rome.
Val. A.
Oh! if this Town shou'd rightly be pourtray'd,
Hell must lend colours, for a dismal shade.
Climates there are, which burn the natives black,
And scorching day appears a fiery Lake.
In a more horrid Climate here we dwell,
For they are burnt by Heaven, but we by Hell.
Here bosoms oft flame with incestuous fires,
And many Sons are Brethren to their Sires,
Our Emp'ror has with high-sprung Bastards stor'd
A thousand beds, and all his Sisters Whor'd.
Oh! Monster!
Val. A.
Stay: He drags thee to his bed,
And then his fear and envy take my head;
[Page 25] None whom he fears, will he with life entrust,
And nothing that he likes escapes his Lust.
My Chariot;—I abhor a Court so Lewd:
Methinks it has a scent of Lust and Blood,
And I shall sicken, If I longer stay;
Therefore this very minute I'll away.
Val. A.
Canst thou not breath in the same air with Vice?
Then thou must quit the World; th'art over nice.
Well, I'll release thee from this dire abode,
When I've an hour on some affairs bestow'd.
Then I'll along; I hurry thee from hence,
Only to save thee from lewd violence;
Not part with beauty I so highly prize,
But to secure thee to my Arms and Eyes.

The SCENE a magnificent part of the Palace.

Enter Caligula, Cesonia, Vitellius, Attendants, Guards.
I have been building, Madam, since we went.
A palace lofty as the firmament.
The Rooms with wondrous pleasure I behold.
And mark the doors; the hinges are of gold.
If Artists, Sir, can for the work be found,
I'd have the doors yield an harmonious sound,
As all the Heavens do, when e'r they move;
And make this palace like the seat of Jove.
Wou'd this were possible to human skill.
What is impossible to Caesar's Will.
No, Caesar's genius exalts ev'ry mind,
Gives a great Soul to Arts of ev'ry kind.
How do those Gardens in thy eye appear?
The face of Winter now frowns ev'ry where.
Oh! Madam! you're the favorite of a God,
And charm'd all nature, when you came abroad;
The rugged Winter civilly withdrew,
And the sweet Spring look'd out to gaze on you.
The Zephyrs plaid, and threw the clouds away,
As dancers strip, to be more light and gay.
I wou'd enrich these Gardens, were they mine,
With Rocks of Diamonds, and Seas of Wine.
Here tydes of Wine shou'd daily ebb and flow;
The Walks with golden dust, and pearls, I'd strow,
And then I might suppose, on Stars I trod,
As it becomes the consort of a God.
Thou shalt have all the Wealth that Nature yields;
These Gardens shall excel the Elizian Fields,
[Page 26] Or the Hesperiaen Groves, so fam'd of Old,
Where all the Trees bore fruit of solid Gold.
And will that please thee? Oh! how sits the Wind?
This golden Grove brings Africk to my mind.
With much impatience, I expect from thence
An Obelisk of great magnificence.
A Wonder both for stature and extent;
I've for this Wonder, a Sea Wonder sent,
A Ship, which covers half the Sea, and more,
And with its burden makes the billows roar.
Sir, if the Ocean can the burden bear,
'Twill very soon be here, the Winds are fair.
They say, that Pyramids are Regal Tombs
Of mighty Kings, the last Retiring-Rooms.
This spacious Universe, in War o'ercome,
And laid in Ruins, shall be Caesar's Tomb.
Be Caesar's Tomb? Let me not see the hour
When he is entomb'd.
We will name Tombs no more.
Their powers to me, wou'd Destinies resign,
Eternal shou'd be Caesar's Life, and mine,
And all our days be smiling, and serene;
We wou'd not know what cares, or troubles mean.
Well may we love, I'm sure our souls agree;
Then may thy life be all serenity.
And that of pleasure thou may'st have thy fill,
Command all Caesar's power, all humane skill.
Now, Love, prepare for Caesar's golden Couch;
Th' Images smile, with hopes of thy approach.
They blaze with gold, we burn with hot desire;
There we shall all appear, nay be o' fire.
Is the Bed new? For I, when I've my choice,
Let nothng, but my Caesar, touch me twice.
It is all new, and so I think art thou;
Thou never didst appear so fair as now.
Perhaps from joy, some colour I derive;
But I have drooping beauties I'd revive.
By this days trouble, I've contracted soil;
Therefore, with Caesar's leave, I'd bath awhile.
From water then, I'll like a Venus rise,
And in my Caesar's arms dissolve in joys.
Water a Bath for beauty so Divine?
Water ennobl'd with the richest Wine,
Perfumes, and pearls dissolv'd.
Go bath an hour;
In pleasure then dissolve an Emperor.
[Ex. Ces. and Ladies.
[Page 27] Enter Pastor.
How now, old splendid Knight? thy days decline,
But thou resolv'st to make thy evening shine;
But all the lustre of thy Youth, and Age,
Has been from Buildings, Train, and Equipage.
How dar'st thou have th' ill manners, to abstain
From War, and Honour, in a Warlike reign?
In Youth I serv'd in War; Sir, now I'm old,
The relick of a Man.
But wrapp'd in gold.
Well, what's your bus'ness here?
With Caesar's leave,
From Caesar's glory pleasure to receive.
Also to let my gracious Emp'ror know
News, which perhaps some pleasure may bestow;
Th' Aegyptian Wonder is arriv'd at last.
Th' Obelisk? Where?
'Tis of a size so vast,
That, Sir, it will let nothing else appear;
And, I may say, 'tis almost ev'rywhere.
Sir, I believe, no Province is so large
As the great Ship that brought this monstrous charge.
I was of late forc'd, on a small design,
To send to Aegypt a young Son o' mine;
And in this Ship he found a passage home.
Sir, a great Nation might have there found room.
I'll see this Vessel, and its monstrous freight;
I'll go by Sea, prepare my Gallies straight.
Where is your Son?
Without, Sir.
Call him in.
Enter Lepidus.
Thou venture to the Sea? no, rather sure,
Thou hast been polishing thy self awhile,
In a sweet Bath of Milk, and Wine, and Oil.
The Sea wou'd frighten one so soft as thou,
Unless 'twas smoother than a Ladies brow.
Where blew the Wind?
In th' East, where now it blows.
You mean thro' Flutes and Trumpets, I suppose.
The Ocean was in peace with ev'ry cloud;
The Winds were only in Wind-Musick loud.
Th'ast found at Sea a serene milky way,
And to those Waters went'st to dance and play,
As Ladies do to Wells, when weather's gay.
Oh! thou hadst rather Rome, and all the World,
Shou'd be confounded, than thy hair uncurl'd.
[Page 28] Thou never wou'dst expose to rugged air,
Rings which allure, and Nets which catch the Fair.
Nature, Sir, gave me what I value more,
A great devotion for my Emperor.
Sir, in that Ornament lies all my Pride,
When Caesar pleases, any thing beside:
I can with infinite delight resign,
In duty, only I desire to shine.
Well said?
A nobler Youth I have not seen,
I love you, Sir, our tempers are akin.
The Egyptians highly flam'd with zeal of late,
For Caesar's Glory, does their heat abate.
When Caesar's mention'd by your own,
Or any Tongue, pray, Sir, bow humbly down.
Egypt with Gods is plentifully stor'd,
But, Divine Caesar there is most ador'd.
(Vit. and Lep. bow when Caesar is nam'd.
Yes, Caesar makes a glorious Figure there,
Therefore that Kingdom greatly I revere;
And often tow'rds that point of Heaven I bend,
Which Canopys that happy holy Land.
(Vit. bows toward Egypt.
The Alexandrian Jews each moment feel
Dreadfull effects, Sir, of Egyptian zeal.
And they shall quickly feel my fury too;
And so shall ev'ry disobedient Jew.
Their old dead Priests and Prophets they prefer
Above a living, new, young Jupiter;
Caesar I mean.
The Egyptian Jews have sent,
A noble Agent Learned and Eloquent.
His Life is Pious, and his Conduct Sage,
He's call'd, by some, the Plato of the Age.
Let's see this second Plato—
[Ex. Lep. and Enter Philo.
Welcome, Sir?
You are a Learned Philosopher, I'm told.
Caesar may well admit of your adress,
You have to nature intimate access,
And are her Minister; you shall be heard,
For that's a Character deserves regard.
She is my Benefactress, I must own;
I had from nature my Imperial Crown.
Nay, more a Godhead on me she bestows,
Or so it is my pleasure to suppose.
And who will plunder me of what I love;
Thunder may easier be snatch'd from Jove.
[Page 29] Your Nation spoils my Images, will you,
Assault my high Imaginations too?
To such high arrogance who dares ascend?
Sir, with the Egyptians we only contend:
We'll not thrust Caesar down, among the low
Rabble of Gods, to which th' Egyptians bow.
A Leek in Egypt is a Heavenly Lord;
Cart loads of Gods their Gardens can afford.
We'll not mix Caesar with their Herds and Flocks,
Their Rams and Goats; nor yoke him with an Ox:
Nor joyn him with the Monsters of their Nile;
Nor link him with an Ape, a thing most vile.
All these are Gods in the Egyptian Creeds;
And for refusing this our Nation bleeds.
No Age, no Sex, the Alexandrian spare:
Our Men they murder, and they force the Fair.
Jove is a Caesar in the World above;
Caesar is in this lower World a Jove.
He Thunders oft indeed, and so do I,
But he keeps always safe within his Sky;
And, in my Reign, quits not his lofty ground:
He Thunders now; I do not love that sound—
Why shou'd I shake when I hear Thunder roar,
For I've no fear.
Antipathy, no more.
Lyons are in disorder, when they hear
A poor Cock crow; yet Lyons have no fear.
These foolish qualities in Men and Beasts,
Are tricks of Nature, and her trifling jeasts.
Now will this writing Knave his Prince defame,
And with unmanly Cowardize blast my name.
Hew him to pieces Lictors;—hold—not yet.
How ready blockheads are to ruin Wit?
Swine shall not root in such a noble Bed,
Whence fame may spring to me when I'm dead.
What Divine Clemency does Caesar show?
What say you now? Is he a God or no?
My Galleys I will hasten to the Port,
And see the wonders that must grace the Court.
A throng of noble Youths the honour craves
To Row you, Sir, and be your Galley-slaves.
Well, let 'em Row; they'll Row against the stream,
Men must tug hard if they get my esteem.
Ex. Cal. Vit.
Attendants, Guards. Enter Lepidus and Salome
My Father lives, my devout prayers are heard,
Good Angels left their Heaven, to be his Guard.
[Page 30] The Tydings of your danger reach'd my ear;
Ah! what have I endeavour'd from tot'ring fear?
So much it wou'd be cruelty to tell;
A thousand times she in deep swoonings fell.
When sense return'd, grief fail'd not to revive:
Ah! how she mourn'd because she was alive?
And blam'd us all, who forc'd her to retain
A miserable Life, when you were slain?
That to deprive her, we unkindly strove,
Of happy Martyrdome for filial love?
Why wert thou so amaz'd at this Report?
Is danger any News in Caesar's Court?
Thou knewst we to a fiery furnance came,
This raging Prince is always in a flame.
Sleep cools not him, disturb'd by dreams he burns,
And when he wakes, his waking dream returns,
That he's a God: We pity this Disease,
And worship not for Gods, his Images,
If th' Images be Gods, we shou'd adore
The Men that made 'em, they are something more.
'Tis base born Godhead, which from Man descends,
If Caesar be a God, as he pretends,
His Godhead in Creation was display'd,
He needs no Image but the World he made.
Well, in the shamefull Alexandrian Rape,
Daughter, you had the happiness to scape;
But, in this Court th'art in a dan'grous place,
And therefore, always vail thy thoughts and face.
Ay, Madam, here y'are in the seat of sin;
Caesar will force the Fair he cannot win.
Oh! you have fill'd my heart with chilling fears,
To fly from him, I'd rush o're Swords and Spears:
The Croaks of Ravens, and the Shreikes of Owls,
All boding sounds threatning departing Souls,
And to the sick approaching death proclaim;
Are not so dreadfull as this Tyrants name.

SCENE, a Room in the Court.

Enter Lepidus and Salome.
OH! Madam! I was in a dreadfull fright;
Had you appear'd in our young Emperors fight.
Sir, I have no temptations to allure
So great a Prince, and therefore I'm secure.
[Page 31]
Oh! you've all qualities, can be desir'd;
You are by all, but by your self admir'd.
Y'are to a wonder fair, and yet not vain,
Your innocence and fame have not a stain.
Y'are humble tho' of high extraction sprung;
Devout, and Grave, and Prudent, tho' young.
Like all your Fathers works, your worth is high,
With great delight perus'd by every eye.
Oh! if kind Heaven wou'd grant my hearts request,
This work shou'd be immortal like the rest.
This Charity I thankfully receive;
But affairs call me hence, I take my leave.
Affairs? no, Madam, you are too severe;
Why shou'd not you Angels sometimes appear:
But, Angel like, you with the Heavens converse,
And with poor mortals will have no commerce.
Sir, you oft talk to me of Love,
I do;
And shew Religion in admiring you.
If o're my heart your Vertue had no sway,
Ah! what Celestial Law should I obey?
What Revelation shou'd not I disdain;
What miracle to me not shew'd in vain.
Till joyn'd in faith, our hearts, Sir, must not joyn;
Our Laws, which many wonders prove Divine,
From Forreign Love strictly enclose our race:
Shou'd I climb o're those Walls to your embrace,
And boldly lay all piety aside,
You wou'd not, Sir, accept me for your Bride,
For to Religion shou'd I prove untrue,
You cou'd not hope I wou'd keep faith with you.
I sin if to your Love I lend an ear,
Therefore, in generous Charity forbear.
Oh! 'tis the nature of a flame to rove,
My eyes will in your presence talk of Love.
My heavy sighs will silently complain,
And own my secret languishings and pain.
Oh! I'm afraid you own your love elsewhere,
And it will reach your angry Emperors ear.
Have you confest your Love to none.
I have;
I talk so much of Love, Men think I rave.
I mention not your name; but fair and young.
Lovely, and Love, dwell always on my Tongue;
And these serve me for every reply.
Some ask where Caesar is—in Love—say I.
[Page 32] Some ask what new rais'd Forces we prepare,
Against the spring;—I answer, young and fair.
Some, if the Towns, that Caesar took, were strong;
I answer, wond'rous beautiful and young.
Oh! Sir! avoid me, least I shou'd be won,
And then you share our fate, and be undone.
To Caesar's Image we'll not humbly fall;
And now his fury flames around us all.
A horror sits on ev'ry Jewish brow;
Our Nation has a frightful aspect now.
Sir, for my peace, give your Addresses o'r,
And for your safety never see me more.
Ah! cruel doom! and not to be obey'd;
Who can live always in a mournful shade?
Well, tho' your Laws, and you, all hope deny,
Sweet Maid! I must love on.
Ah! so must I.
Sir, pray retire, I see my Father near;
He'll be displeas'd if he shou'd find you here.
Since you command, I must, and will withdraw;
But I hope yet, in your dividing Law,
To find a passage, where our hearts may meet,
And have delights, as innocent, as sweet.
[Ex. Lep. Sal. at se­veral doors.
Enter Caligula, Attendants, Guards.
I went for a dead miracle of Art,
And a fair living Wonder charm'd my heart;
A Divine beauty! she exceeds all praise:
I sent Vitellius for her, and he stays.
How dares he let my pleasure be delay'd?
He knows I'm not of patient metal made.
'Tis dangerous my appetites to pall,
Or make 'em await a minute, when they call.
Enter Consuls, and Senators.
What wou'd you have?
1 Cons.
Caesar was pleas'd to send
His Orders to us, that we shou'd attend.
My Lords, you are all deep in Caesar's debt,
For Caesars Wars; and crimes you oft commit.
1 Cons.
Into Court-mysteries we dare not pry;
Caesar's Commands are writ (we know not why)
In Characters, which can be read by none;
So into faults we fall, to us unknown.
You say my characters cannot be read;
Our Roman Priests, and Lawyers, earn their Bread
By turning Laws, and Jupiter's Commands,
To mystick stuff, no mortal understands.
[Page 33] Thus they deceive you, yet ne'r repine;
You are their fools, why shou'd you not b [...]
2 Cons.
Sir, when your Will you legibly express,
We to our duty readily address
No; for my Wars, when I exact my due,
No streams are louder murmurers than you.
The World is all my own, 'tis all Crown-Land:
I reign from Heav'n to Hell;—perhaps beyond.
You live on the Estates I'm pleas'd to lend,
Yet you'd have me upon your Alms depend.
You are the Consuls.
1 Con.
Yes, great Sir, we are.
Those Offices you shall no longer bear
I'll chuse a Consul, that has Youth and Force,
Spirit and Fire; I'll chuse my fav'rite Horse.
Y'are rul [...]d by Brutes, who are not half so wise;
How often Fools to Magistracy rise?
Elephants carry Castles in the East;
Here Tow'rs and Towns often support a Beast.
You'll honour, only for his noble breed,
A Blockhead, and why not a noble Steed?
Our Roman Priests rule ev'ry Soul and Purse,
Yet they've no more Religion than my Horse.
Begone! begone! the charming beauty's won;
Through all my veins enlivening pleasures run.
The news! the news!
[Ex. Cons. Sen. and enter Lucius, Vitellius.
Sir, ere she was aware,
We snatch'd her up, and forc'd her to a Chair;
And then she shriek'd, and tore her beautious hair.
I would lose nothing of her, 'tis confest,
Except her hair; thou hast brought all the rest.
Yes, Sir.
Go, bring her.
[Enter Julia, forc'd by a Guard.
I'm in Caesar's pow'r;
I came to Rome in a dark fatal hour.
Oh! Caesar!
[She kneels.
Goddess!—so no doubt you are;
No mortal can be so divinely fair.
Nay, nay, at my request, sweet Madam, rise;
Let all your Graces entertain my eyes:
To Caesar grant the infinite delight
To touch, and see a hand so soft and white.
Were all thy other beauties cheats of Art,
This hand might palm a passion on my heart.
Where have you liv'd?
[Page 34]
In Woods remote from hence;
And, till this hour, in peaceful innocence.
In Woods? there were no shades, whilst you shone there:
Why wou'd you not at Caesar's Court appear,
But hide, in a remote and lonely Grove,
The only perfect Workmanship of Jove?
I saw you walk by Tibur, all alone,
In a fair Garden, bord'ring on my own;
And in amazing rapture, and transport,
I sent this Lord to bring you to my Court.
Sir, I am married to a valiant Lord,
Who has serv'd Caesar nobly with his Sword.
He loves thee not; else he wou'd love to shew
The happiness in thee his Stars bestow:
For all Mankind are ostentatious, vain;
And pleasures, when expos'd, most entertain.
Men think their fortunes droop, when they're conceal'd,
And pleasure sweetest, when 'tis air'd reveal'd.
And of my Empire too, he has possest
A part, I value above all the rest;
By Venus, I wou'd rather quit my Throne.
Madam, I may and will assume my own.
A thousand painful deaths I'll rather chuse.
I die a painful death if you refuse.
Madam, my Time, nay more, my Life you waste;
Yes, Madam, now 'tis Treason to be chaste.
Sir, for the World I'd not my Honour lose.
Oh! I'm the Fountain whence all Honour flows.
Yes, Madam; sure you are not to be told,
Men honour nothing more than Pow'r, and Gold.
I can make Vertue scorn'd, and Vice esteem'd;
I can make Hell ador'd, and Heav'n blasphem'd.
Success, Dominion, and the longest Sword,
Make any Creeds believ'd, or Gods ador'd.
Oh! save me! save me! all you Pow'rs above!
I will hear nothing, from that voice, but love.
Assist me, gracious Gods! without delay!
Does she love noise? then let my musick play.
[Cal. forces her out; she shrieks, and the Musick plays.
Vit. follows. Enter at another door Cesonia, looking in a glass.
This Bath has cleans'd my blood, and made it thin;
Has reviv'd all the Lillies in my skin,
The Roses in my cheeks, with such a red
The blushing morning leaves her watry Bed.
[Page 35] This way my Caesar went, as I'm inform'd—
The door is shut the Castle must be storm'd.
(She knocks, Vit. answers within.
Who's there?—
Your Empress.
Enter Vitellius.
I look wondrous well.
[She looks in the Glass.
Now all my Sex, nay, I my self excell:
Fresh Roses in my Cheeks now sweetly blow.
Your Emp'ror went this way not long ago.
Over that Beauty? Yes, I must confess,
That has been long his only Paradise.
There his heart liv'd, there his Lips often stray'd;
But Caesar now is by new Beauty sway'd.
Madam, your pleasure with your humble slave?
I've business—
With your Glass;—I see you have.
Well, we have now three Empresses in Town;
This beauteous Empress here, whose falling Crown,
Unknown to her, sits loosely on her head;
One Empress in a Glass, and one i' Bed.
I think I never look so clear and fair;
I'll steal on Caesar, like a shape of air.
Most Sacred Madam, Caesar now retires
For great affairs, and privacy desires.
From me?
From all the World, for half an hour.
Dare you oppose me? then I've lost my power;
And some new beauty over Caesar Reigns:
My blood will start out of my swelling Veins.
Caesar indeed, too often to his cost,
Injures himself and you; himself the most:
And your misfortune you have rightly guest.
My heart can never have a moments rest.
Why do I loyter whilst my int'rests bleed?
(She offers to go, (and he interposes.
Ha! stop me: You are a bold bawd indeed
Wert thou a flaming Mountain I'd not stay,
But thro' thy burning bowels force my way.
Enter Caligula.
How now? from whence is this presumptious noise
Who dares break in on Caesar's Privacies?
Love is the offender, Sir; Love urg'd me on
To stay your heart, e're 'tis for ever gone.
For I am told, my Interests decline;
You have found Beauty that charms more than mine.
Come, Madam, y'are Luxurious, Haughty, Vain;
Caesar you love, because you love to Reign.
[Page 36]
Caesar I love more than his Glorious Crown;
And I love Caesar let him smile or frown.
Aetna did never with more fury burn:
I love to madness, and as madly mourn.
Oh! you are mad no doubt, for who is not?
Cowards are mad, they fear they know not what.
What death is to the living ne're was shewn:
Life is not more to the unborn unknown.
The brave are mad, for fame they'll madly die,
Which after death they hope not to enjoy.
The Learn'd are mad, and madly tear their brains
For knowledge; which no mortal e're attains.
And what confusion from Learn'd madness springs,
Among Religions, Laws, States, Realms, and Kings?
And yet in Schools, where thoughtfull madness Reigns
The mad are free, and Books are bound in Chains:
The vitious are all mad, by Laws confin'd:
The Vertuous are more mad, themselves they bind:
And Jove was mad, when he made mad Mankind.
There's one great flaw runs through the Earth and Sky;
And ev'ry God and Man is mad, but I.
Wou'd I were mad; I shou'd be more at ease,
And have no sense of all my Miseries.
New Beauties vanquish Caesar ev'ry hour;
Then how does raging grief my heart devour?
My heart to Caesar fixt, more torment feels,
Than if he dragg'd me at his Chariot wheels.
I love, and hunt variety, 'tis true:
And does not Mother nature love it too?
Good Gods! how does she vary humane mold?
She often makes new faces o' the Old.
If any have in Life continued long,
We always say they're Old we do 'em wrong;
And if we call'd 'em Young, 'tis but their due,
Their Shapes and Features are entirely new.
How oft does nature change us e're we die?
She loves new faces, then why shou'd not I?
In chace of change my Nature loves to run,
Yet to amazement I have doted on.
Two years and more, I have thy will obey'd;
Others enjoy'd seem in a night decay'd.
They've sprung to Caesar's Bed, young, lovely, gay;
And I have thought 'em old by break o' day,
Have thought 'em dead with age: and I've decreed
To burn 'em or embowel 'em with speed.
[Page 37] But to thy arms I've been two years confin'd;
Th'art an Enchantress and canst fix the wind,
Back to its spring canst make a torrent run,
And stop the fiery Chariot o' the Sun.
The Beauty only cou'd not have the Power
To fix my heart: never see Caesar more.
Oh! these eternal Tempests who can bear?
I'll rather sink into profound despair.
I'm hourly broken on a golden shore,
A barren beach cou'd not afflict me more.
I never in your presence will appear;
I ll Labour to forget you ever were.
No Image of you shall my griefs renew:
And so a long farewell to Love and you.
Come back?
Only to love, and mourn in vain,
And be a follower, id my Rivals train?
I'll have thee wrack'd, to make thee own the art,
Which thus eternally enslaves my heart.
When any one but thee I've oft embrac'd,
Corrupted Water has a sweeter tast.
But thee I never can abandon long:
Thy tempting Beauty, and Inchanting Tongue,
Soon make the wandring Gods of Love return;
And now once more with violence I burn.
Oh! Caesar, Caesar! tempt my heart no more:
For can I moderately Love, Adore,
A Prince so Great, so Gracefull, so Divine?
Ah! what do I enjoy whilst Caesar's mine?
And when I loose his heart, does he believe
That I can calmly, moderately grieve?
I know in Love my Godhead I exert,
Therefore I'm lov'd by thy voluptuous heart.
Cast from thy mind all jealousie and fear;
I ll ne're forsake thee, by my Life I swear.
Your heart no beauty scarce an hour endures
I could dwell years upon a kiss o' yours.
Thou art a Golden Harp Divinely tun'd,
What Statue wou'd not dance to such a sound?
Rase from thy memory my sinfull hours,
And all my little vagabond amours;
They're meteors, and like other vagrants poor,
Soon wast their fires, and then appear no more.
Others no more the riots can supply
Of such an Epicure in Love as I;
[Page 38] Than a Plebeian fortune can support
My Guards, my Fleets, my Armies, and my Court.
But my excursions from thy arms improve
Thy joys and mine, and make new springs in Love.
So an Arabian gains by his retreats,
The livelier sense of his o'recoming sweets.
Cost what it will, to Caesar's arms I'll fly,
I cannot pay too dear for so much joy.
(She runs to Caesar's embraces.
Oh! Welcome to my arms my Charming Love?
Welcome to mine: my young Illustrious Jove.
Oh! my excess of Love gluts Caesar's heart.
If I were wise I'd temp'rate Love with art;
But I am too immoderately kind
Have I a temp'rate and a mod'rate mind?
Is Caesar to thy heart no better known?
Give me extravagant delights or none.
Mod'rate delight is but a waking dream:
And of all pleasures, Love is the supreme.
And therefore Love immoderate Love deserves:
Excess o'recomes, but moderation starves.
Fear not my wandrings; for go where I will,
I'm in my Empresses dominion still.
And tho' he wonders, I love Caesar still.
Caesar! methinks the name of Caesar charms.
Caesar I love, tho' in a Rivals arms.
More in my own embraces, I confess:
And I will Love to infinite excess.
Love to excess, th'art infinitely fair,
In my delights I can no limits bear.
But (for what reason never cou'd he known)
Our joys have bounds, and our desires have none.
(Ex. Cal. Ces. At­tendants, Guards.
Enter Valerius Asiaticus.
Val. A.
Oh! I have met with News, which makes me flame;
And every eye upbraids me with my shame.
My services have met a kind reward:
The hour I quitted my Domestick Guard,
The Emperors Bawds ravish'd my Wife away;
And he's devouring now the Luscious prey.
She comes—
Enter Julia.
Oh! Julia! what has Caesar done?
Oh! my Lord! leave me to my griefs alone.
Do not look on me, I'm a hatefull sight,
And long to hide in everlasting night.
As in my Garden I walk'd all alone,
Securely, as I thought, unseen, unknown,
[Page 39] The Emperor, from an Apartment nigh,
Often beheld me with a greedy eye,
And forc'd me thence.—Let me not tell the rest;
Oh! thou most wrong'd of Men, and yet the best.
Val. A.
New Giants have bound Jove, so he lies still,
And lets this filthy Tyrant take his fill
Of Whoredom, Blood, Rapes, Incest, what he will.
Had Caesar ravish'd from me all my Lands,
Bottomless treasures, numberless commands,
But to thy beauty never had approach'd,
Had left me thee unblemish'd, and untouch'd;
My heart is so devoted to thy love,
I wou'd not have chang'd happiness with Jove.
Oh! my dear Lord, your wrongs with patience bear,
Trust not your dang'rous passions to the air.
Val. A.
Revenge, revenge, my love I must pursue,
The Tyrant with more ease I can subdue.
And fear him not; for as the lofty Sky,
And bright full Moon, attract a mad man's eye,
This gawdy Tyrant's meditations gaze
On the bright splendors that around him blaze,
And so to others no regard he pays.
Like a fierce Panther I will hunt my prey,
And with his blood wash all my spots away.
Come, let me lead thee home.
Can you endure
To touch, or to approach one so impure?
I hate to touch my self; to draw my breath
It makes me sick; and I am sick to death.
For Love I prize, for Love I lose my life;
I liv'd your chaste, and die your martyr'd Wife.
Val. A.
Oh! Caesar! Caesar! thou shalt feel my Sword;
Shall is too sluggish, and too faint a word.
The Tyrant's fallen, on his Neck I tread;
He's dying by my Sword; nay more, he's dead.
But can one death for all his crimes atone?
He breaks thy Laws: Oh! Nature! break thy own
Let him have many Lives, be often born,
That he may often be in pieces torn.


Enter Julia and her Women.
RUN to my Lord, desire his swift return,
For I've drunk Poyson, and I burn, I burn.
Enter Valerius Asiaticus, and Annius Minutianus,
Oh! my dear Lord! I've done my honour right,
And Death will soon transport me out o' sight;
For I am all in a consuming flame,
I burn with poyson, and I burn with shame.
Val. A.
With poyson?
Poyson; but I've never been
With a worse poyson tainted, shameful sin.
Oh! I abhor the thought.
Val. A.
I've no distrust.
I've been inviolably true, and just.
No one can have a Soul more clear than I
From foul desires;—for Caesar's sin I die.
Val. A.
I do believe thou art as chaste as fair;
Wound not thy wound [...]d heart, thy griefs I share.
How much I value thee thou hast not known,
Because I love thee more than can be shown.
I, out of love, conceal'd thee in a shade.
And your Commands I boldly disobey'd,
And came to Rome.—
[She kneels.
The fatal fault forgive;
And, at the least, oh! love me, whilst I live.
Val. A.
Ay, and for ever; rise, sweet Julia, rise,
Rise to my arms, thou life of all my joys,
But a departing life my Julia dies.
Oh! wou'd to Heav'n I had dy'd, before
This shameful violation.—Oh! no more.
My blushing cheeks glow with a fiery red;
In thy dear bosome, let me hide my head.
An M.
How blest was he, before this heavy wrong,
In a soft beauty, constant, chaste, and young.
In this sweet Lady all perfections joyn;
I never had a pleasing hour with mine.
When I am dead, strew me all o'er, I pray,
With flow'rs, to shew that I was chaste as they.
Val. A.
As sweet, and lovely too.
They fade, and die,
When they are rudely touch'd; and so do I.
[Page 41] Oh! my blood rises, my cheeks glow again;
Why shou'd I blush for wicked Caesar's sin?
Val. A.
The least undecent thought thou canst not bear;
Thy Vertue, to its self, is too severe.
Oh! see! the Souls of Vestal Virgins come,
To welcome me, and grace my martyrdom;
They're all in Robes, whiter than mountain Snow.
Val. A.
Alas! she raves.
Do you not see 'em?
Val. A.
Then I perceive, the modest beauties shun
The sight of men; therefore begone,—begone.
I shall in triumph to Elizium go;
'Tis a great honour, Ladies, you bestow.
Oh! they retire.—Ladies, return again,
Admit me into your sacred spotless Train.
I'm chaste as you, tho' not so fair in fame;
For wicked Tongues, I know, will wrong my Name,
Throw on my mem'ry undeserv'd disgrace;
But your sweet Groves will hide my blushing face.
Oh! they are going, stay sweet Virgins, stay;
They're gone! they're gone! y'ave frightned 'em away.
And I'm with strangers left I know not where.
Val. A.
Th'art in his arms, to whom th'art wondrous dear.
Ha! you are Caesar.
Val. A.
No, sweet Julia, no;
I'm Caesar's mortal, and eternal foe.
Well, y'are a man, and ev'ry man I dread.
—Who's this? my Lord? I knew not what I said.
In my few moments, that my thoughts shou'd rove
From him, whom I so dearly, dearly love.
Val. A.
Lean, lean, my Julia, on my panting breast,
My love and sorrow cannot be express'd.
I'm going where no wicked Tyrant reigns;
Preserve my mem'ry
Val. A.
All thy dear Remains.
Heav'n knows how I've been faithful to your Bed?
I've lov'd you to my death, shall love when dead.
Elizium can to me no bliss afford,
Till in those happy shades I meet my Lord:
Till then—farewel.—
[She dies.
Val. A.
She's going—she is gone.
Ah! see, what beastial tyranny has done.
Her beauty's gone; Death has deflowr'd her too,
What I so lov'd I've not the heart to view.
[Page 42] Cover her face; forbear a while-those pale
Departing beauties, Death too long will veil.
I will have one cold kiss before we part.
(Kisses her.
Revenge! Revenge! Oh, how it swells my heart?
An. M.
Be well prepar'd; Rome loves a vitious Prince,
All the corrupt will rise in his defence.
Val. A.
Well, if Rome rises, I will raise it higher,
For I'll exalt it to the Clouds in fire.
But 'tis dispirited; and dares not rise;
And Caesar's scorn'd by all the brave and wise.
An. M.
Proud Tyrants who no bounds of law endure
Are common foes; and never are secure;
Their lofty Thrones they seldom long enjoy:
Streif Lyons all men labour to destroy.
Val. A.
Oh, tremble Caesar; prodigies appear,
Which say, if there be Gods, thy fall is near.
Prodigious Vertue in this Beauty shone;
Her Cause and Justice live, tho' she is gone.
Thy own prodigious Crimes th'ast cause to dread;
Vengeance they'll hurle at thy devoted head.
Eclipses are thought frightfull omens too:
This sad Eclipse thou may'st with terror view,
It threats thy life—View it, ye Gods forbid;
His frantick Lust wou'd violate the dead.
Methinks I talk too much in words abound,
And my Revenge evaporates in sound.
An. M.
Will you not set the gallant Cassius free?
Val. A.
And steal by stabs, revenge, and liberty?
My honour in full splendor I'll maintain,
I'll by fair War end this inhuman Reign.
This night, for mine, and universal good,
The Sun shall set in blood, Imperial blood.

SCENE, the Court.

Enter Caligula, Vitellius, Guards.
Beauty I love, but I hate toilsome Rapes;
I love good Wine, but wou'd not tread the Grapes.
The Chast are cold, therefore I hate the Chast;
Fruites in cold climes have an insipid tast.
I'm told by Oracles my death is nigh.
Your death!
my death; all I suspect shall die.
Valerius first shall perish by my Sword;
He can in battle face his Sovereign Lord.
[Page 43]
Nay, he's provok'd, and therefore dangerous grown.
Provok'd by pride to mount th' Imperial Throne.
And by Revenge provok'd to take my life,
Because I forc'd his fair, young vertuous Wife.
Cassius Cheraea's honest, tho' not bold:
Valerius has confin'd him, I am told.
In the mad Revels of his Rage, no doubt,
Valerius let some dangerous secrets out,
Which now he'd lock up in the dark from me:
But I'll unravel all the Villainy.
The Jews inform'd, that if they dare deny
To worship Caesars Image, they shall die;
Bey Audience.
Villains—They wou'd not presume
To slight my Will, had they not found in Rome
Rebellious spirits: and when they appear,
A Prince's fall and death are oft too near.
Nay, a young Roman, I reprov'd of late,
For being Wanton, Soft, Effeminate,
Useless to Caesar and to all mankind
Except the Fair—has sawcily design'd
To wed a Jewess, now in Caesar's Court:
With Caesar's anger none shall dare to sport.
I'll reform Rome, and all shall feel my Sword,
Whose names are written in this black Record,
(He pulls out a Poeket Book.
Then I'll to Egypt, where I'm most ador'd.
Bring in the Jews.
Enter Philo and the Jews.
What wou'd you have?—
(To Phi.
Those carvings there look well—
(To Vit.
Permission, Sir—
Permission to Rebel?—
We Sacrifice for Caesar every day.
You Sacrifice for Caesar oft, you say,
But not to Caesar. How dare you presume
To give my honour to I don't know whom?
Leave to enjoy those rights we humbly crave,
Your glorious Ancestor Augustus gave.
What are those rights?
They're by long custom known;
And all deriv'd by the Imperial Throne.
The Alexandrians slight our lofty claim;
And hourly put our dwellings in a flame,
Plunder our Treasures, seize on all our Lands,
And often in our blood embrue their hands.
The lives of thousands—
[Page 44]
Ha! the lives you say?
Oh! now my Water-works begin to play.
(He runs to the side of the Stage.
Audience from Caesar Water works can gain;
A bleeding Nation humbly begs in vain.
These streams are sweeter murmurers than you:
Now these apartments let's a moment view.
(He goes to the other side of the Stage.)
See there Gods ride on Clouds.
Can painting give
A life to shadows, one would think they live.
You've rights deriv'd from the Imperial Throne?
(To Rhi.
There I'll have Windows of transparent Stone.
(To Vit.
Which shall the fury of the Sun allay
The fiery River of a flaming day,
Will through those channels coolly, mildly pass:
Glass windows in hot climes are burning-Glass
Have you a Patent?—come let it be seen—
Under the Imperial Seal—
Of Heaven you mean;
For you are the Almighty' darling choice:
Your pray'rs have in Heaven a casting voice.
And all your Rams which at your Altars dye,
Prove batt'ring Rams, it seems and force the Sky.
Go; you are cheated fools or sawcy cheats:
And above Caesar raise your vain conceits:
Throw down the Statues of the World's great Lord,
Whilst your Imaginations are ador'd,
I will put all your Nation to the Sword.
A Glorious Prince!
We patiently resign
Our selves to Heavens Will.
And shall to mine.
You have a Daughter now in Rome, 'tis said,
Whom a young Roman dares presume to Wed.
Enter Pastor.
Oh! Pastor, you've a Son, who dares design
To wed a fair young enemy of mine.
I never heard this dreadfull News before;
If Thunder-stricken cou'd I tremble more?
Sir, our unhappy Children I perceive,
Have wickedly without their Parents leave
Or knowledge, stollen into a Marriage vow,
I never knew they Leagu'd or Lov'd 'till now.
On this offence, I'll lay a dreadfull fine;
Which shall be paid, by thy Sons blood or mine.
(To Past.
[Page 45] Secure the old Knight; and then with speed and care,
Search for his Son: Conceal him they that dare.
Philosopher, you'd have your Tribes submit,
Not to my Will, but to your aspiring Wit.
Say my pretences to Celestial power,
Are lofty frolicks of my mind, no more;
Will you presume to give my pleasure Law?
I'll be ador'd to keep the World in awe;
Ay, and by you; if you dare disobey,
Your death shall be among my sports to day.
(Ex. Cal. Vit. Guard.
We must adore him; if he's disobey'd,
[Pas. lead out a Prisoner.
We dye, for Caesar's sport were Nations made
By power Celestial, infinitely good,
For Caesar's Lust to glory, power, and blood?
Enter Lepidus.
Oh! Sir! you've wrong'd me; cruelly beguil'd
Your Friend of his belov'd and only Child.
Indeed I have not, Sir; I will confess,
I fought to gain her, but with no success.
Sir, my addresses she wou'd not receive,
Or lend an ear to 'em, without your leave;
And that I sought not, for I fear'd 'twas vain,
I know your zeal: But, Sir, did she complain?
I heard the News in Court, and not till now:
It has reach'd Caesar's ears, I know not how.
The Emperor no contempt with ease endures;
'Till you appear, your Father he secures.
And if from Caesars fierce Revenge you fly,
Your aged Father for your fault will die.
(Exit Philo and the Jews, at one door? At another, Enter Salome.)
Oh! Lovely Maid! for death I must prepare,
My sweet commerce with one so wondrous fair,
Has fallen, it seems, under the envious Eye
Of some Court-whisperer, and I must die.
This dire event, I always did forebode,
And lost the pleasure which thy Love bestow'd.
I've lov'd thee tho' my Love I have not shown,
More than 'twas fit a modest Maid shou'd own.
Oh! what delightfull harmony I hear?
But I must meet the death, which is too near▪
For angry Caesar now in Court secures
My tender Father, and he threatens yours.
If I abscond they both will die, I fear;
Therefore, to save 'em both I must appear.
Ah! dreadfull News! then th'art ensnar'd indeed,
Almighty Father of the World with speed
[Page 46] To this brave pious Youth send succour down;
For the Religion to his Father shewn.
Let not the World so great a treasure loose;
But let some other Angel interpose.
Some other Angel? then thou think'st me one,
What happiness I loose? I must be gone,
Methinks I hear my suffering Father groan.
Farewell, sweet Love—
Farewell? ah! killing word.
He parts from me to rush on Caesar's Sword
From loving me my genrous Lover dies.
And yet that Love above my life I prize.
Ah! Caesar comes? trust me to Heavens defence,
But not thy Beauty to this Lustfull Prince.
Oh! I had rather be in pieces torn
By raging Lyons, or in Aetna burn.
(Ex. Sal.
Enter, at another door, Caligula, Vitellius, Guard.
Sir, to redeem my Father, I appear
Unforc'd, unfound, and come a Voluntier.
You love a Jewess.
Sir, I do indeed.
I love her Beauty, Vertue, not her Creed.
We may accept good Forreign Coin, tho' there
The Images of Caesar's Foes appear.
Were she worth Love, she wou'd thy Love despise;
And rather choose a Lover, brave and wise:
Whose Cheeks are drain'd of all their blood by wounds,
But his good Sword with noble blood abounds;
His locks are gone, old time has cut that Comb,
But Fame and Wisdom sprout up in the room;
Then a young fool, whose brains flow all in hair,
But has no heart, and a wit bald and bare.
This from the most Effeminate Prince alive:
With thy own Lusts and Vices, Caesar strive.
Too many worthless Youths now cumber Room,
Who derive all their honours from the Womb.
They bask in lustre, which their birth bestows,
And in the lap of Fortune dully dose.
To leave their sloath, and take a noble course,
The Trumpets seem with frequent summons hoarse.
The grumbling Drums urge 'em to War in vain;
The Drones have Warlick glory in disdain.
And from their wealth and ease no more can rise,
Then from their amber tombs poor lifeless flies.
Begone; th'art an offence to Caesar's eye:
Go to thy Father and prepare to die.
[Page 47]
My self to death with pleasure I resign,
Hoping I shall redeem his life with mine.
(Ex. Lep. guarded.
Go, let Cher [...]ea speedily be brought.
He's come.
Enter Cassius Cheraea, with a Guard.
A Prisoner, Cassius? What's thy fault?
Cas. Ch.
My Lord, Valerius, who has been my Friend,
Sir, 'twas my great misfortune to offend.
Confess the truth, save thy own life and mine:
From his proud heart some dangerous design
Broke in thy hearing, e're he was aware,
And then he lock'd it up from taking air.
Cas. Ch.
He's close and dark, I believe loyal too;
I love a Virgin in the dark, 'tis true,
Not Treason, Sir, with the most lovely face:
But I've not seen him since his last disgrace.
His nature's visible enough, he's proud;
He Courts the Senate, purchases the crowd,
By their assistance to ascend the Throne:
Power is the Idol of his heart, 'tis known.
This night the memory of Augustus claims:
With all Magnificence, and publick games,
I fail not to adorn it, ev'ry year:
And I shall have a great assembly here.
This Evening my Tragedians represent
Some of those Fables, Priests of Hell invent.
Then Rome shall be a Hell and flow in blood,
A noble Fable for an interlude.
Cassius, I'll try the metal of thy Sword,
Thou shalt have the honour to obey thy Lord.
Caesar makes bloody hangmen of his Guard—
We to a noble Office are prefer'd.
When his mind changes (which will be soon,
For it has more new faces than the Moon,
And influences more this lower World)
We, by new hangmen, shall to Hell be hurl'd.
My resolutions I have let you know,
And you embrac'd 'em; now let's give the blow,
For which sick trembling Rome in secret longs:
Let's give her freedom and Revenge her wrongs.
The Tyrant by our aid, Robs, Burns, Devours:
Let's put an end to all her guilt and ours.
(Aside to the Guards.
Rome has inborn aversions to a Prince:
And I am warn'd to stand on my defence
By Oracles and Dreams—Sleep shuns my eyes;
I'm angry that I need such poor supplies.
[Page 48] Time by immortal natures may be spar'd;
But from short life to take a third seems hard.
Thanks to the Gods in yonder beauteous Bower.
You slept of late.
How long?
Almost an hour,
Ten minutes short: for, Sir, I proudly own,
I number'd 'em, and then I penn'd 'em down.
Whatever Caesar does (a Prince ador'd
By half mankind) is worthy of Record.
Then did I dream from Heaven (where I was Crown'd)
Jove spurn'd me to the Earth; nay, under the ground.
The Earth then yawn'd, and with a frightfull roar
Clos'd o're my head, and I was seen no more.
Dark Treason lurks in Rome, I know not where.
I'm in disorder—Rogues will call it fear,
And so will impudent Historians too;
How do they blacken Kings, they never knew?
Of their own vain imaginations proud
Into their stories sawcily they crowd.
Their own Reflections, Dreams, and false Conceits;
So lie with Kings, in the same fine wrought sheets,
All Rome but I, now with delight abounds:
Let Musick try, with sweet inchanting sounds
To calm my stormy thoughts, to lull my care.
Musick charm'd Hell and all the furies there
[After a short Entertainment of Musick and Dancing; Shrieks and tumultuous noises are heard from behind the Scenes. Vit. goes out.
My Guards! my Guards.
Re-enter Vit.
How now? does Rome Rebell?
One of your Statues shook and groan'd, then fell;
Th' assembly frightned then, in tumults rose;
And with blood rain'd from Heav'n the pavement flows.
For Caesar's danger nature is in pain:
There is more truth in Marble than in Men.
The fall of Rome, or Caesar's death is near:
I'll have the blood of all I've cause to fear.
Go and prepare for this design to night,
And we'll to morrow forrage in delight.
(Ex. Vit.
Now our great work no longer let's retard.
Strike when I strike.
(Aside to the Guard.
Sir, I am on the Guard:
(He approaches the Emperor.
Be pleas'd to give the Word.
[Page 49]
Stay! let me see!—
Priapus;—that is a fit word for thee.
[Cas. Ch. wounds the Emperor, and the Guard second him. The Emperor falls.
Ha! I am murder'd! murder'd! by my Guard!
Cas. Ch.
No, no; a murderer meets his just reward.
(The Em­peror strives to get up.
I'm yet alive
Cas. Ch.
How many lives hast thou?
Thou hast a thousand if th'art living now.
(They all wound him again.
Had we not kill'd thee, thousands must have dy'd
By us; as victims to thy bloody pride,
They cou'd no way, but by thy fall escape:
'Twas on my innocence a cruel rape.
Death I expect, and I'll prepare to die:
Not by the Councels of Philosophy,
I will converse with beauty more Divine,
And be inspir'd by Love, and Songs, and Wine.
My self for death with pleasure I'll compose,
And give my life an entertaining close.
(Clashing of arms is heard.
What shou'd this mean? No matter what, away;
Lest you be cut in pieces if you stay.
(Ex. Cas. and the Guard.
I am yet living, and the Villains fly;
I shall revenge my death before I die.
(He endeavours to rise.
Enter Valerius Asiaticus, Annius Minutianus, and their party, driving Soldiers before 'em. Cal rises and staggers. Val. Min. and their party return.
Val. A.
Where is this Ravisher of beauteous Wives,
Of Virgins, Realms, Religions, Laws, and Lives?
Valerius? then my death was thy design;
I'm butcher [...]d here, by Cowardly Rogues o' thine.
Val. A.
Cowards I hate, and Cowardly treason scorn,
I'll keep unstain'd the Lawrels I have worn.
A brave Revenge I fairly sought and won:
I've beat thy Guards, and thou art left alone.
I've given thy dreadfull power a dangerous blow:
Thou and thy lofty Throne both struggle now.
I'm going!—going!—whither—who can tell.
Val. A.
Whither all Tyrants go; to burning Hell.
I'd rather sink into the Hell I dread,
Than at a Rascalls foot—thus—lay my head.
(Cal. falls and dies.
Val. A.
So, he is fallen, he who lately trod
On all mankind, and call'd himself a God,
That he was mortal to his cost he found,
And in his blood now wallows on the ground.
An. M.
He wish'd all Rome had but one neck, 'tis said,
That at one blow he might all Rome behead.
Val. A.
[Page 50]
Ay, but he found too many hands in Town,
And hands, it seems, as bloody as his own.
A debauch'd vitious Prince does often find
'Tis very dangerous to corrupt mankind.
'Tis odds, he by his own corruption dies,
And crimes by crimes justly the Gods chastize.
For Cassius speedily search all the Town,
For he has wrong'd my honour and his own.
He wrought, no doubt, the Villany I fear'd;
But by his death my honour shall be clear'd.
Enter Cesonia, and her Woman.
My Caesar murder'd! stand away—forbear;
Now I've lost Caesar, what have I to fear.
Oh! here's my Caesar, I so Lov'd, Ador'd;
Lord of the World, I'm sure Gesonia's Lord,
Mangled by Villains, here in blood he lies,
In his own blood—Caesar, who gave my eyes,
Ay, and my heart, such infinite delight,
Is now a mournfull, and a dreadfull Sight.
The World to me is all a desart now;
For a lost Caesar, Gods, revenge bestow.
Revenge all Princes, by this horrid deed
All thrones are shaken, and all Princes bleed.
Revenge two Lovers, here by Villains torn;
One murder'd, and I only live to mourn
Revenge my Princely Babe, from Caesar sprung,
It cannot sin, why shou'd it suffer wrong?
Now the Tree's fallen, the little branch will soon
Decay and wither—Oh! I faint!—I swoun—
Val. A.
Help her!
Stand off; I've pleasure in my grief
Except revenge, I desire no relief.
Take up the precious relicks of your Prince:
Oh! take 'em up, whilst I've remains o' sence.
Oh! gently! gently! if you be humane,
His wounds pain me, and he feels all my pain
For his Cesonia he more dearly Loves,
Than all the beauties in th' Elizian Groves.
(They take up the Emperor.
Come, my dead Lord, with thy Cesonia dwell:
In Love at least, I all my Sex excell.
Now in the dead, and death are all my joys:
I'll weep till tears and death have quench'd my eyes.
(Ex. Ce­sonia and her Attendants, with the body of the Emperor.
Val. A.
Unhappy Princess! the worst fault she had.
Was an excess of Love, for one so bad
[Page 51] Now bring the sentenc'd Pris'ners in, with speed,
Whose unjust deaths, the Tyrant had decreed.
Enter Pastor, Lepidus, Philo, and the Jews.
Your fortunes and freedoms I restore.
The tyrants dead, he'll plague the World no more.
The dreadfull Emp'ror dead! good news indeed.
Oh! to his Vices may no Prince succeed.
Enter Salome, she runs to Lepidus.
Oh! my dear Love!
My Love! art thou so near?
Oh! how durst thou expose thy beauty here?
Ask me no Questions, I am mad with Joy,
And have not sence to make thee a reply.
I in distraction came to die with thee,
Die in thy arms, and find thee safe and free.
Val. A.
Go, marry; of each other take your fill;
And now you Jews, go, believe what you will.
Yes, marry, Son; th'ast nobly earn'd my leave.
Oh! with what joy this favour I receive.
Most Gallant Youth, not many minutes since,
When the keen weapon of a dreadfull Prince
Was on your Father drawn, you stept between;
Such an Example we have rarely seen.
Now shall we turn the edge of Law on you?
More favour to your piety is due.
My Daughter, Sir, I to your arms resign.
Oh! my dear Love, th'art mine.
And thou art mine.
Val. A.
The Imperial Throne I can with ease ascend,
I know no power which can with mine contend:
But shou'd I reign, the World which thinks me proud
Will charge me with the Guilt of Caesar's blood,
And say, the horrid Villany was done
By my command; that I might mount the throne.
I'd rather be an honest slave, I swear,
Than buy the Empire of the world so dear.
[Page 52] I never yet in crimes employ'd my Sword:
When I've the Senate to their right restor'd,
And reveng'd Caesar, as our Laws require;
I'll to some quiet privacy retire,
And there disarm'd, and all my powers laid down,
I will be great in nothing but renown,
And in my solitude till death I [...]ll mourn
Over my Martyr'd Julia's sacred Urn.


Spoken by Mr. Powell, who Acted the Emperor.
SO mad a Tyrants part I act to day,
That you will think him mad who wrote the Play.
In Comick humours he takes most delight,
And yet he rants in Tragedy to night;
And strives to give diversion for an hour,
With a young Prince, mad with excess of power.
He had that mighty power you all desire;
Power you all love, and labour to acquire,
Some have desir'd a French Invasion here
For under them, they hop'd to domineer:
But, Oh! shou'd France this nobler Realm subdue,
Ev'ry Dragoon wou'd be a Caesar too.
Poor Rogues, who for three-half-pence sell their Lives,
Wou'd lord it o're your Lands, your Selves, your Wives.
What wretched slav'ry is, we shew to day,
'Tis well you only see it in a Play:
Thanks to the Brave, who well deserve their pay.
Some gentle pity we have hopes to move
By the misfortunes of sweet vertuous Love.
The nicest Lady need not blush today,
At least, at what the Women do or say.
Chast all the beauties are they represent,
Their loves are Conjugal or Innocent.
We are young actors; yet we hope to please
By Acting Love, for love with youth agrees.
You love the Actors, who have pleas'd you long;
But th' Images of Love shou'd all be young.


Spoken by a Girl.
SInging in Plays is grown so much in vogue,
I had some thoughts to sing the Epilogue.
Since singing such delight to you affords,
To please you, we'll all turn Canary Birds.
When I'm a Woman, which will be e'ne long,
No Man, I swear, shall have me for a Song,
If you'll tempt me, do it with glitt'ring Gold,
And those enchanting words, To have and hold.
I [...]ll on those Terms yield to some worthy Man,
Have me he may, and hold me if he can.
Well, let me be an Actress I'm content,
Provided, Gallants, you'll give your consent;
I mean your gen'rous Encouragement.
But to the famous Actors you resort,
Who fled from us to an old Tennis-Court.
Thither let all the old Gallants repair,
And toss and racket the fine Beauties there,
Applaud, admire 'em, and do what they will:
If you young Sparks, will please sometimes to fill
And grace our House, with an alluring throng:
Methinks you shou'd, for most of us are young.
Tender young plants, most of our Women are;
Some, it is said, are ripe enough to bear.
Here's a Spring-Garden which deserves your care.

Persons Represented.

Mr. Powell,
Caligula, Emperor of Rome.
Mr. Williams,
Valerius Asiaticus, General of the Imperial Ar­my in Germany.
Mr. Simpson,
Annius Minutianus, A noble Roman, Married to one of the Emperor's Si­sters.
Mr. Mills,
Vitellius, Proconsul of Asia.
Mr. Thomas,
Cassius Cheraea, A Tribune in the Emperor's Guard.
Pastor, An old Roman Knight,
Mr. Evans,
Lepidus, Pastor's Son,
Mr. Disney,
Philo, A Learned Jew, Embassador from the Egyptian Jews, to the Emperor.

Mrs. Knight,
Cesonia, The Emperour's beloved Wife.
Mrs. Temple,
Julia, A young beauty, Wife to Valerius.
Mrs. Cross,
Salome, Philo's Daughter.
Consuls, Senators, Guards, Attendants.

The SCENE, the Imperial Palace of Rome, the Time, the last ho [...] of the Emperor's Life.

Books lately Printed for Richard Wollington, at the Lute in St. Paul's Church-Yard.

A Mathematical Compendium, or the Description and Use of a new sliding Rule, by which many Usefull and Necessary Questions in Arithmetick, Military Orders, Interests, Trigonometry, Planometry, Sterenometry, Geography, Astronomy, Navigation, Fortification, Gunnery, Dyalling, may be speedily resolved without the help of Pen or Compasses. By William Hunt, Philomath.

A Discourse upon the Nature and Faculties of Man, in several Essays: With some considerations on the Occurrences of Human Life. By Tim. Nourse Gent.

Familliar Letters, written by John late Earl of Rochester, to the Honourable Henry Savile Esq and o­ther Persons of Quality, with Love-Letters, written by the late Ingenious Mr. Ottway, and several Letters written by Sir George Ethridge, the late Duke of Buckingham, &c. in two Volumes, each Vol. may be had singly.

Ovid Travestie: or a Burlesque on Ovid's Epistles, by Captain Alaxander Radcliff.

The Novels, &c. of the late Ingenious Mrs. Behn, Collected into one Vol. viz. Oroonoko, or the Royal Slave. Fair Jilt, or Prince Tarquin. Agnes de Castro, or the force of Generous Love. The Lovers Watch, or the Art of Love. The Ladies Looking-Glass. The Lucky Mistake: And the Hi­story of the Nun, or fair Vow-breaker.

Reflections upon Ancient and Modern Learning. By William Wotton, B. D. Chaplain to the Right Honourable the Earl of Nottingham. The Second Edition, with Large Additions. With a Dissertation upon the Epistles of Phalaris, Themislocles, Socrates, Euripides, &c. and Aesop's Fables, by Dr. Bent­ley.

The Family Physician; being a choice Collection of Approv'd and Experienc'd Remedies, to cure all Diseases incident to Human Bodies, usefull in Families, and serviceable to Country People, by George Hartman Chymist, Servant to Sir Kelemn Digby, till he died.

A General Treatise of the Diseases of In [...]ants and Children, Collected from the most Eminent Pra­ctical Authors, by John Pechey, of the College of Physicians.

Contemplations Moral and Divine, in three parts, Written by the late Lord Chief Justice Hales, to which i [...] added the Life of the Author, by Gilbert Lord Bishop of Sarum. The third part may be had singly.

Cocker's Decimal Arithmetick, the Second Edition, very much enlarged, by John Hawkins School­master at St. George's Church in Southwark.

Vade Mecum, or the necessary Companion, containing Sir Sam. Moreland's Perpetual Almanack, shew­ing the days of the Month [...]or any year, Past, Present, or to come; a Table of the Kings Reigns since the Conquest, compared with the years of Christ. A Table of the Reign, wherein any numbers of Farthings, Half-pence, F [...]nce and S [...]il [...]ings are ready cast up, of great use to all Traders. 6. The Interest and Re­bate of Money, the Forbearance, Discount and purchase of Annuities. 7. The Rates o [...] Post-Letters, Inland and Outland, 8. Account of the Penny-Post. 9. The Principal Roads in England, shewing the distance of each Town from London, also the Market Towns on each Road, with the days of the week the Markets are kept on; also the Hundred and County each Town stands in. 10. The names of the Counties, Cities and Burrough-Towns in England and Wales, with the number of Knights, Ci­tizens and Burgesses chosen therein, to serve in Parliament. 11. The usual Rates and Fares of Coach­men, Carmen and Watermen. The Sixth Edition, much Enlarged.

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