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قراءة كتاب The False One: A Tragedy
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is attended like her Birth,
Until her Beauty, or her royal Dowre,
Hath found her out a Husband.
Ach. How this may
Stand with the rules of policy, I know not;
Most sure I am, it holds no correspondence
With the Rites of Ægypt, or the Laws of Nature;
But grant that Cleopatra can sit down
With this disgrace (though insupportable)
Can you imagine, that Romes glorious Senate
(To whose charge, by the will of the dead King
This government was deliver'd) or great Pompey,
(That is appointed Cleopatra's Guardian
As well as Ptolomies) will e're approve
Of this rash counsel, their consent not sought for,
That should authorize it?
Achil. The Civil war
In which the Roman Empire is embarqu'd
On a rough Sea of danger, does exact
Their whole care to preserve themselves, and gives them
No vacant time to think of what we do,
Which hardly can concern them.
Ach. What's your opinion
Of the success? I have heard, in multitudes
Of Souldiers, and all glorious pomp of war,
Pompey is much superiour.
Achil. I could give you
A Catalogue of all the several Nations
From whence he drew his powers: but that were tedious.
They have rich arms, are ten to one in number,
Which makes them think the day already won;
And Pompey being master of the Sea,
Such plenty of all delicates are brought in,
As if the place on which they are entrench'd,
Were not a Camp of Souldiers, but Rome,
In which Lucullus and Apicius joyn'd,
To make a publique Feast: they at Dirachium
Fought with success; but knew not to make use of
Fortunes fair offer: so much I have heard
Cæsar himself confess.
Ach. Where are they now?
Achil. In Thessalie, near the Pharsalian plains
Where Cæsar with a handfull of his Men
Hems in the greater number: his whole troops
Exceed not twenty thousand, but old Souldiers
Flesh'd in the spoils of Germany and France,
Inur'd to his Command, and only know
To fight and overcome; And though that Famine
Raigns in his Camp, compelling them to tast
Bread made of roots, forbid the use of man,
(Which they with scorn threw into Pompeys Camp
As in derision of his Delicates)
Or corn not yet half ripe, and that a Banquet:
They still besiege him, being ambitious only
To come to blows, and let their swords determine
Who hath the better Cause.
Ach. May Victory
Attend on't, where it is.
Achil. We every hour
Expect to hear the issue.
Sep. Save my good Lords;
By Isis and Osiris, whom you worship;
And the four hundred gods and goddesses
Ador'd in Rome, I am your honours servant.
Ach. Truth needs, Septimius, no oaths.
Achil. You are cruel,
If you deny him swearing, you take from him
Three full parts of his language.
Sep. Your Honour's bitter,
Confound me, where I love I cannot say it,
But I must swear't: yet such is my ill fortune,
Nor vows, nor protestations win belief,
I think, and (I can find no other reason)
Because I am a Roman.
Ach. No Septimius,
To be a Roman were an honour to you,
Did not your manners, and your life take from it,
And cry aloud, that from Rome you bring nothing
But Roman Vices, which you would plant here,
But no seed of her vertues.
Sep. With your reverence
I am too old to learn.
Ach. Any thing honest,
That I believe, without an oath.
Sep. I fear
Your Lordship has slept ill to night, and that
Invites this sad discourse: 'twill make you old
Before your time:—O these vertuous Morals,
And old religious principles, that fool us!
I have brought you a new Song, will make you laugh,
Though you were at your prayers.
A[c]h. What is the subject?
Be free Septimius.
Sep. 'Tis a Catalogue
Of all the Gamesters of the Court and City,
Which Lord lyes with that Lady, and what Gallant
Sports with that Merchants wife; and does relate
Who sells her honour for a Diamond,
Who, for a tissew robe: whose husband's jealous,
And who so kind, that, to share with his wife,
Will make the match himself:
Harmless conceits,
Though fools say they are dangerous: I sang it
The last night at my Lord Photinus table.
Ach. How? as a Fidler?
Sep. No Sir, as a Guest,
A welcom guest too: and it was approv'd of
By a dozen of his friends, though they were touch'd in't:
For look you, 'tis a kind of merriment,
When we have laid by foolish modesty
(As not a man of fashion will wear it)
To talk what we have done; at least to hear it;
If meerily set down, it fires the blood,
And heightens Crest-faln appetite.
Ach. New doctrine!
Achil. Was't of your own composing?
Sep. No, I bought it
Of a skulking Scribler for two Ptolomies:
But the hints were mine own; the wretch was fearfull:
But I have damn'd my self, should it be question'd,
That I will own it.
Ach. And be punished for it:
Take heed: for you may so long exercise
Your scurrilous wit against authority,
The Kingdoms Counsels; and make profane Jests,
(Which to you (being an atheist) is nothing)
Against Religion, that your great maintainers
(Unless they would be thought Co-partners with you)
Will leave you to the Law: and then, Septimius,
Remember there are whips.
Sep. For whore's I grant you,
When they are out of date, till then are safe too,
Or all the Gallants of the Court are Eunuchs,
And for mine own defence I'le only add this,
I'le be admitted for a wanton tale
To some most private Cabinets, when your Priest-hood
(Though laden with the mysteries of your goddess)
Shall wait without unnoted: so I leave you
To your pious thoughts. [Exit.
Achil. 'Tis a strange impudence,
This fellow does put on.
Ach. The wonder great,