patient hearing honest Marcian And as far as I can see into your Temper I speak my serious Judgment in cold Blood With strictest Consultation on the matter I think this seeming plain and honest Marcian An exquisite and most notorious Traytor Marc. Ha! Traytor Pulch. Yes a most notorious Traytor Marc. Your Grandfather whose Frown could awe the World Would not have call'd me so╌or if he had╌ Pulch. You would have taken it╌But to the Business Was 't not enough Oh Heaven Thou know'st too much At first to own your self an Infidel A bold Contemner even to Blasphemy Of that Religion which we all profess For which your Heart's best Blood can ne'er suffice But you must dare with a seditious Army Thus to conspire against the Emperour I mention not your Impudence to me Taxing the folly of my Government Ev'n to my Face Such an Irreverence As sure no barb'rous Vandal would have urg'd Beside your libelling all the Court as if You had engrost the whole World's honesty And Flatterers Fools Sycophants Knaves Such was your Language did inhabit here Marc. You wrest my honest meaning by the Gods You do and if you thus go on I feel My strugling Spirit will no longer bear it Pulch. I thought the meaning of all rational Men Should still be gather'd out of their Discourse Nor are you so imprudent without thinking To vent such words tho' now you fain would hide it You find the Guilt and bauk the Accusation But think not you shall scape so easily Once more I do confront you as a Traytor And as I am entrusted with full pow'r Divest you in the Name of Theodosius Of all your Offices Commissions Honours Command you leave the Court within three Days Loyal plain-dealing honest Marcian Marc. Gods Gods Pulch. What now ha does the Traytor murmur If in three days mark me 't is I that doom thee Rash inconsiderable Man a Wretch beneath The Torments I cou'd execute upon thee If after three days space thou' rt found in Court Thou dy'st thy head thy head shall pay the forfeit Farewell now rage now rail and curse the Court Saucily dare to abuse the best of Princes And let thy lawless Tongue lash all it can Do like a mad-man rave deplore thy Fortune While Pages laugh at thee Then haste to the Army Grow popular and lead the multitude Preach up thy Wrongs and drive the giddy Beast To kick at Caesar. Nay if thou weep'st I am gone O Julia if I stay I shall weep too Yet 't is but just that I the Heart should see Of him who once must Lord it over me Ex. Pulcheria c. Luc. Why do you droop Sir╌Come no more o' this You are and shall be still our General Say but the Word I 'll fill the Hippodrome With Squadrons that shall make the Emp'ror tremble We 'll fire the Court about his Ears Methinks like Junius Brutus I have watcht An Opportunity and now it comes Few words and I are Friends but noble Marcian If yet thou art not more than General E'er dead of Night say Lucius is a Coward Marc. I charge thee in the name of all the Gods Come back I charm thee by the name of Friend All 's well and I rejoyce I am no General But hush within three days we must be gone And then my Friend farewel to Ceremony We 'll fly to some far distant lonely Village Forget our former state and breed with Slaves Sweat in the Eye of Day and when Night comes With bodies coursely fill'd and vacant Souls Sleep like the laboured Hinds and never think For if I think again I shall go mad Enter Leontine and Athonais c. Therefore no thought But see we are interrupted O Court O Emperor yet let Death threaten I 'll find a time Till then be still my Soul╌ No General now A Member of thy Country But most corrupt therefore to be cut off Loyal plain-dealing honest Marcian A Slave a Traytor O ye Eternal Gods╌ Exeunt Leon. So Athenais now our complement To the young Persian Prince is at an end What then remains but that we take our leave And bid him everlastingly Farewell Athen. My Lord Leon. I say that decency requires We should be gone nor can you stay with Honour Athen. Most true my Lord. Leon. The Court is now at peace The Emperour's Sisters are retir'd for ever And he himself compos'd what hinders then But that we bid adieu to Prince Varanes Athen. Ah Sir why will you break my heart Leon. I would not Thou art the only Comfort of my Age Like an old Tree I stand among the storms Thou art the only limb that I have left me She kneels My dear green branch and how I prize thee Child Heaven only knows why dost thou kneel and weep Athen. Because you are so good and will I hope Forgive my fault who first occasion'd it Leon I charg'd thee to receive and hear the Prince Athen. You did and Oh my Lord I heard too much Too much I fear for my Eternal Quiet Leon. Rise Athenais Credit him who bears More years than thou Varanes ha deceiv'd thee Athen. How do we differ then You judge the Prince Impious and base while I take Heav'n to witness I think him the most Vertuous of men Therefore take heed my Lord how you accuse him Before on make the Tryal Alas Varanes If thou art false there 's no such thing on Earth As solid Goodness or substantial Honour A thousand times My Lord he has sworn to give me And I believe his Oaths his Crown and Empire That day I make him Master of my Heart Leon. That day he 'll make thee Mistress of his power Which carries a foul name among the Vulgar No Athenais let me see thee dead Born a pale Corps and gently laid in Earth So I may say she 's chaste and dy'd a Virgin Rather than view thee with these wounded Eyes Seated upon the Throne of Isdigerdes The blast of Common Tongues the Nobles scorn Thy Father's Curse that is the Prince's Whore Athen. O horrid supposition how I detest it Be witness Heav'n that sees my secret thoughts Have I for this my Lord been taught by you The nicest Justice and severest Vertue To fear no Death to know the end of Life And with a long search discern the highest good No Athenais when the Day beholds thee So scandalously rais'd Pride cast the down The scorn of Honour and the People's prey No cruel Leontine not to redeem That aged Head from the descending Axe Not tho' I saw thy trembling Body rackt Thy wrinckles about thee fill'd with Blood Would I for Empire to the Man I love Be made the object of unlawful Pleasure Leon. O greatly said and by the Blood which warms me Which runs as rich as any Athens holds It would improve the Vertue of the World If every Day a thousand Votaries And thousand Virgins came from far to hear thee Athen. Look down ye pow'rs take notice we obey
Marcian leave the Court Marc. Thus then Madam The Emperour receiv'd me with affection Embrac'd me for my Conquests and retir'd When on a sudden all the gilded Flies That buz about the Court came flutt'ring round me This with affected Cringes and mine'd Words Begs me to tell my Tale of Victories Which done he thanks me slips behind his Fellow Whispers him in the Ear then smiles and listens While I relate my Story once again A third comes in and asks me the same favour Whereon they laugh while I still ignorant Go on but one behind more impudent Strikes on my Shoulder then they laught out-right But then I guessing the abuse too late Return'd my Knight behind a box o' th Ear Then drew and briefly told them they were Rascals They laughing still cry'd out the General 's musty Whereon I drove 'em Madam as you saw This is in short the Truth I leave the Judgment To your own Justice if I have done ill Sentence me and I 'll leave the Court for ever Pulch. First you are welcome Marcian from the Wars And still when e'er occasion calls for Arms Heav'n send th' Emperor a General Renown'd as Marcian as to what is past I think the World will rather praise than censure Pulcheria when she pardons you the Action Marc. Gods Gods and thou great Founder of Old Rome What is become of all that mighty Spirit That rais'd our Empire to a pitch so high Where is it pent What but Almighty Power Could thus confine it that but some few Atoms Now run through all the East and Occident Pulch. Speak calmly Marcian╌ Marc. Who can be temperate That thinks as I do Madam Why here 's a Fellow I have seen him fight against a Troop of Vandals In your Defence as if he lov'd to bleed Come to my arms my Dear Thou canst not talk But hast a Soul above the proudest of ' em O Madam when he has been all over Blood And hackt with Wounds that seem'd to mouth his Praises I have seen him smile still as he pusht Death from him And with his actions rally distant Fate Pulch. He has a noble Form Marc. Yet ev'n this Man That fought so bravely in his Country's Cause This excellent Man this Morning in the Presence Did I see wrong'd before the Emperour Scorn'd and despis'd because he could not cringe Nor plant his Feet as some of them could do One said his Cloaths were not well made and damn'd His Taylor╌╌Another said he look'd As if he had not lost his Maiden-head If things are suffer'd to be thus down all Authority Preeminence Degree and Vertue Let Rome be never mention'd no in the Name Of all the Gods be she forgotten ever Effeminate Persians and the Lydian softness Make all your Fights Marcian shall out no more For by my Arms it makes a Woman of me And my swoln Eyes run o'er to think this worth This fuller Honour than the whole Court holds Should be ridiculous to Knaves and Fools Should starve for want of what is necessary To Life's Convenience When luxurious Bawds Are so o'er grown with Fat and cram'd with Riot That they can hardly walk without an Engine Pulch. Why did you not inform the Emperour Marc. Because he will not hear me Alas good Man He flies from this bad World and still when Wars And Dangers come he runs to his Devotions To your new thing I know not what you call it Which Constantine began Pulch. How Marcian are not you of that Religion which the Emperour owns Marc. No Madam if you 'll see my naked thought I am not of their Principle that take A wrong so far from bearing with a Foe I would strike first like old Rome I wou'd forth Elbow the neighbouring Nations round about Invade enlarge my Empire to the bounds Of the too narrow Universe Yes I own That I despise your holy Innovations I am for the Roman Gods for Funeral Piles For mounting Eagles and the fancied greatness Of our Fore-Fathers Methinks my heated Spirit Cou'd utter things worth losing of my Head Pulch. Speak freely Marcian for I know thee honest Marc. O Madam long long may the Emperour live But I must say his gentle Disposition Suits not alas the Oriental sway Bid him but look on Pharamond O Gods Awake him with the Image of that Spirit Which like a Pyramid revers'd is grown Ev'n from a point to the most dreadful greatness His very Name already shakes the World And still in Person heading his first Squadrons Like the first Caesar o'er the hardy Gauls He seems another Thunderbolt of War Pulch. I oft have blam'd my Brother most for this That to my hand he leaves the State Affairs And how that sounds you know╌╌ Mar. Forgive me Madam I think that all the greatness of your Sex Rome's Clelia and the fam'd Semiramis With all th' Amazonian Valour too Meet in Pulcheria yet I say forgive me If with reluctance I behold a Woman Sit at the Empire 's Helm and steer the World Pulch. I stand rebuk'd╌ Marc. Mark but the growing French The most auspicious Omen of their greatness That I can guess is their late Salique Law Blest by their Priests the Salii and pronounc'd To stand for ever which excludes all Women From the Imperial Crown But oh I speak The least of all those infinite grievances Which make the Subjects murmur In the Army Tho' I proceeded still like Hannibal And punisht ev'ry Mutineer with Death Yet oh it stabb'd me through and through the Soul To pass the Wretches Doom because I knew With Justice they complain'd for hard they fought And with their Blood earn'd that forbidden Bread Which some at Court and great ones though un-nam'd Cast to their Hounds while the poor Soldier 's starv'd╌ Pulch. Your pity too in mournful fellowship No doubt might sooth their murmurs Marc. Yes it did That I might put 'em once again in heart I said 't was true the Emperour was to blame Who dealt too coldly with his faithful Servants And paid their great Arrears by second hand I promis'd too when we return'd to Court Things should be mended╌ But how oh Gods forgive my Blood this Transport To the Eternal Shame of Female Councils And to the blast of Theodosius Name Whom never Warlike Chronicle shall mention O let me speak it with a Roman Spirit We were receiv'd like undone Prodigals By curst ungrateful Stewards with cold looks Who yet got all by those poor Wretches ruine Like Malefactors at the hands of Justice I blush I almost weep with bursting rage If thus receiv'd how paid our long Arrears Why as intrusted Misers pay the Rights Of helpless Widows or the Orphans Tears O Soldier for to thee to Thee I speak it Bawd 's for the drudgery of Citizens Wives Would better pay debilitated Stallions Madam I have said perhaps too much if so It matters not for he who lies like me On the hard ground is sure to fall no further Pulch. I have given you
has banisht me and I obey The Court and I shake Hands and now we part Never to see each other more the Court Where I was born and bred a Gentleman No more till your Illustrious Bounty rais'd me And drew the Earth-born Vapour to the Clouds But as the Gods ordain'd it I have lost I know not how through Ignorance your Grace And now the Exhalation of my Glory Is quite consum'd and vanisht into Air. Pulch. Proceed Sir╌╌ Marc. Yet let those Gods that doom'd me to displease you Be Witnesses how much I honour you╌ Thus worshipping I swear by your bright self I leave this infamous Court with more content Than Fools and Flatterers seek it But oh Heaven I cannot go if still your hate pursues me Yes I declare it is impossible To go to Banishment without your Pardon Pulch. You have it Marcian is there ought beside That you would speak for I am free to hear Marc. Since I shall never see you more what hinders But my last words should here protest the Truth Know then Imperial Princess matchless Woman Since first you cast your Eyes upon my meanness Ev'n till you rais'd me to my envy'd height I have in secret lov'd you╌ Pulch. Is this Marcian Marc. You frown but I am still prepar'd for all I say I lov'd you and I love you still More than my Life and equal to my Glory Methinks the warring Spirit that inspires This Frame the very Genius of old Rome That makes me talk without the fear of Death And drives my daring Soul to acts of Honour Flames in your Eyes our Thoughts too are a-kin Ambitious fierce and burn alike for Glory Now by the Gods I lov'd you in your Fury In all the Thunder that quite riv'd my hopes I lov'd you most ev'n when you did destroy me Madam I 've spoke my heart and cou'd say more But that I see it grieves you your high Blood Frets at the Arrogance and sawcy Pride Of this bold Vagabond may the Gods forgive me Farewell a worthier General may succeed me But none more faithful to the Emperour's Interest Than him you are pleas'd to call the Traytor Marcian Pulch. Come back you have subtilly play'd your part indeed For first th' Emperour whom you lately school'd Restores you your Commission next commands you As you 're a Subject not to leave the Court Next but oh Heav'n which way shall I express His cruel Pleasure he that is so mild In all things else yet obstinate in this Spite of my Tears my Birth and my Disdain Commands me as I dread his high Displeasure O Marcian to receive you as my Husband Marc. Ha Lucius what what does my Fate intend Luc. Pursue her Sir 't is as I said she yields And rages that you follow her no faster Pulch. Is then at last my great Authority And my intrusted Pow'r declin'd to this Yet oh my Fate what way can I avoid it He charg'd me streight to wait him to the Temple And there resolve oh Marcian on this Marriage Now generous Soldier as you 're truly noble O help me forth lost in this Labyrinth Help me to loose this more than Gordian Knot And make me and your self for ever happy Marc. Madam I 'll speak as briefly as I can And as a Soldier ought the only way To help this Knot is yet to tye it faster Since then the Emperor has resolv'd you mine For which I will for ever thank the Gods And make this Holy-day throughout my Life I take him at his word and claim his promise The Empire of the World shall not redeem you Nay weep not Madam though my out side 's rough Yet by those Eyes your Soldier has a Heart Compassionate and tender as a Virgins Ev'n now it bleeds to see those falling Sorrows Perhaps this Grief may move the Emperour To a Repentance Come then to the Tryal For by my Arms my Life and dearer Honour If you go back when given me by his Hand In distant Wars my Fate I will deplore And Marcian's Name shall ne'er be heard of more Exeunt SCENE the Temple Theodosius Athenais Atticus joyning their hands╌Marcian Pulcheria Lucius Julia Delia c. Leontine Attic. The more than Gordian knot is ty'd Which Death 's strong Arm shall ne'er divide For when to bliss ye wafted are Your Spirits shall be wedded there Waters are lost and Fires will die But Love alone can Fate defie Enter Aranthes with the Body of Varanes Arant Where is the Empress Where shall I find Eudosia By Fate I am sent to tell that cruel Beauty She has rob'd the World of Fame her Eyes have giv'n A blast to the big Blossom of the War Behold him there nipt in his flowry Morn Compell'd to break his promise of a Day A Day that Conquest would have made her Boast Behold her Lawrel wither'd to the Root Canker'd and kill'd by Athenais scorn Athen. Dead dead Varanes Theo. O ye Eternal Pow'rs That guide the World why do you shock our Reason With acts like these that lay our Thoughts in dust Forgive me Heav'n this start or elevate Imagination more and make it nothing Alas alas Varanes But speak Aranthes The manner of his Fate Groans choke my words But speak and we will answer thee with Tears Arant His Fever would no doubt by this have done What some few minutes past his Sword perform'd He heard from me your progress to the Temple How you design'd at midnight to deceive him By a Clandestine Marriage But my Lord Had you beheld his Racks at my Relation Or had your Empress seen him in those Torments When from his dying Eyes swoln to the Brim The big round drops rowl'd down his manly Face When from his hallowed Breast a murmuring Croud Of groans rush'd forth and echo'd All is well Then had you seen him O ye cruel Gods Rush on the Sword I held against his Breast And dye it to the Hilts with these last words╌ Bear me to Athenais╌ Athen. Give me way my Lord I have most strictly kept my promise with you I am your Bride and you can ask no more Or if you did I am past the power to give But here oh here on his cold bloody Breast Thus let me breath my last Theo. O Empress what what can this transport mean Are these our Nuptials these my promis'd Joys Athen Forgive me Sir this last respect I apy These sad remains╌And oh thou mighty Spiit If yet thou art not mingled with the Stars Look down and hear the wretched Athenais When thou shalt know before I gave consent To this indecent Marriage I had taken Into my Veins a cold and deadly Draught Which soon would render me alas unfit For the warm Joys of an Imperial Lover And make me ever thine yet keep my word With Theodosius Wilt thou not forgive me Theo. Poison'd to free thee from the Emperor Oh Athenais thou hast done a deed That tears my Heart what have I done against thee That thou should'st
brand me thus with Infamy And everlasting shame Thou might'st have made Thy choice without this cruel act of Death I left thee to thy will and in requital Thou hast murder'd all my Fameâ•Œ Athen. O pardon me I lay my dying Body at your Feet And beg my Lord with my last sighs intreat you To impute the fault if 't is a fault to love And the ingratitude of Athenais To her too cruel Stars Remember too I begg'd you would not let me see the Prince Presaging what has happen'd yet my word As to our Nuptials was inviolable Theo. Ha! she is going see her languishing Eyes Draw in their Beams the sleep of death is on her Athen. Farewell my Lord alas alas Varanes To embrace thee now is not immodesty Or if it were I think my bleeding Heart Would make me criminal in Death to clasp thee Break all the tender niceties of Honour To fold thee thus and warm thee into Life For oh what Man like him cou'd Woman move O Prince belov'd O Spirit most divine Thus by my Death I give thee all my Love And seal my Soul and Body ever thineâ•Œ Dies Theo. O Marcian O Pulcheria did not the Power Whom we adore plant all his Thunder-bolts Against Self-murderers I would perish too But as I am I swear to leave the Empire To thee my Sister I bequeath the World And yet a gift more great the Gallant Marcian On then my Friend now shew thy Roman Spirit As to her Sex fair Athenais was Be thou to thine a Pattern of true Honour Thus we 'll atone for all the present Crimes That yet it may be said in after-times No Age with such Examples cou'd compare So Great so Good so Vertuous and so Fair Ex. Omnes FINIS Epilogue THrice happy they that never writ before How pleas'd and bold they quit the safer shore Like some new Captain of the City Bands That with big looks in Finsbury Commands Swell'd with huge Ale he cries beat beat a Drum Pox o' the French-King uds bud let him come Give me ten thousand Redcoats and alloo We 'll firk his Crâ—qui and his Conde too Thus the young Scriblers Mankinds sense disdain For ignorance is sure to make 'em vain But far from Vanity or dang'rous pride Our cautious Poet courts you to his side For why should you be scorn'd to whom are due All the good days that ever Authors knew If ever gay 't is you that make 'em fine The Pit and Boxes make the Poet dine And he scarce drinks but of the Criticks Wine Old Writers should not for vain glory strive But like old Mistresses think how to thrive Be fond of ev'ry thing their Keepers say At least till they can live without a Play Like one that knows the Trade and has been bit She doats and fawns upon her wealthy Cit And swears she loves him meerly for his Wit Another more untaught than a Walloon Antick and ugly like an old Baboon She swears is an accomplisht Beau-garson Turns with all winds and sails with all desires All hearts in City Town and Court she sires Young callow Lords lean Knights and driv'ling Squires She in resistless flattery finds her ends Gives thanks for Fools and makes ye all her Friends So should wise Poets sooth an awkard Age For they are Prostitutes upon the Stage To stand on points were foolish and ill-bred As for a Lady to be nice in Bed Your wills alone must their performance measure And you may turn 'em ev'ry way for pleasure FINIS A Catalogue of some Plays Printed for R. Bently and M. Magnes in Russel-Street near Covent-Garden TArtuff or the French Puritan Forc'd Marriage or the Jealous Bride English Monsieur All Mistaken or the mad Couple Generous Enemies Andromacha A Tragedy Calisto or the Masque at Court Country-Wit A Comedie Destruction of Jerusalem 2 parts Miseries of Civil-War Henry 6. with the Murder of the Duke of Glocester Nero a Tragedie Gloriana a Tragedie Sophonisba or Hanibals overthrow Alexander the Great or the Rival Queens Mithridates King of Pontus Caesar Borgia Son of Pope Alexander 6. Oedipus King of Thebes Theodosius or the Force of Love The Plain Dealer The Town Fop or Sir Timothy Taudry Abdellazar or the Moors Revenge Madam Fickle or the Witty False one The Fond Husband or the Plotting Sisters The Vertuous Wife or good luck at last The Fool turn'd Critick a Comedy Squire Oldsap or the Night Adventurers The Mistaken Husband a Comedy Mr. Limberham or the Kind-Keeper Notes and Observations on the Empress of Morocco The Orphan or Unhappy Marriage The Souldier of Fortune in the Press