A FRIEND TO THE AUTHOR, AND WELL-WISHER TO THE READER, ON "THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST."
Who with a liberal hand freely bestows
His bounty on all comers, and yet knows
No ebb, nor formal limits, but proceeds,
Continuing his hospitable deeds,
With daily welcome shall advance his name
Beyond the art of flattery; with such fame,
May yours, dear friend, compare. Your Muse hath been
Most bountiful, and I have often seen
The willing seats receive such as have fed,
And risen thankful; yet were some misled
By NICETY, when this fair banquet came,
(So I allude) their stomachs were to blame,
Because that excellent, sharp, and poignant sauce,
Was wanting, they arose without due grace,
Lo! thus a second time he doth invite you:
Be your own carvers, and it may delight you.
TO MY TRUE FRIEND AND KINSMAN, PHILIP MASSINGER, ON HIS " EMPEROR OF THE EAST."
I take not upon trust, nor am I led
By an implicit faith: what I have read
With an impartial censure I dare crown
With a deserved applause, howe'er cried down
By such whose malice will not let them be
Equal to any piece limn'd forth by thee.
Contemn their poor detraction, and still write
Poems like this, that can endure the light,
And search of abler judgments. This will raise
Thy name; the others' scandal is thy praise.
This, oft perused by grave wits, shall live long,
Not die as soon as past the actor's tongue,
The fate of slighter toys; and I must say,
"Tis not enough to make a passing play
In a true poet: works that should endure
Must have a genius in them strong as pure,
And such is thine, friend: nor shall time devour
The well-form'd features of thy Emperor.
TO THE INGENIOUS AUTHOR, MASTER PHILIP MASSINGER, ON HIS COMEDY CALLED
"A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.”
'Tis a rare charity, and thou couldst not
So proper to the time have found a plot :
Yet whilst you teach to pay, you lend; the age
We wretches live in, that to come the stage,
The thronged audience that was thither brought,
Invited by your fame, and to be taught
This lesson; all are grown indebted more,
And when they look for freedom, ran in score.
It was a cruel courtesy to call
In hope of liberty, and then, inthrall.
The nobles are your bondmen, gentry, and
All besides those that did not understand.
They were no men of credit, bankrupts born,
Fit to be trusted with no stock but scorn.
You have more wisely credited to such,
That though they cannot pay, can value much.
I am your debtor too, but, to my shame,
Repay you nothing back but your own fame.
TO HIS FRIEND THE AUTHOR, ON "A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS."
You may remember how you chid me, when
I rank'd you equal with those glorious men,
Beaumont and Fletcher: if you love not praise,
You must forbear the publishing of plays.
The crafty mazes of the cunning plot,
The polish'd phrase, the sweet expressions, got
Neither by theft nor violence; the conceit
Fresh and unsullied; all is of weight,
Able to make the captive reader know
I did but justice when I placed you so.
A shame-faced blushing would become the brow
Of some weak virgin writer; we allow
To you a kind of pride, and there where most
Should blush at commendations, you should boast.
If any think I flatter, let him look
Off from my idle trifles on thy book.
Enter THEOPHILUS and HARPAX.
Theoph. Come to Cæsarea to-night!
Harp. Most true, sir.
Theoph. The emperor in person!
Harp. Do I live?
Theoph. 'Tis wondrous strange! The marches of great princes,
Like to the motions of prodigious meteors,
Are step by step observ'd; and loud-tongued
Fame
The harbinger to prepare their entertainment :
And, were it possible so great an army,
Though cover'd with the night, could be so near,
The governor cannot be so unfriended
Among the many that attend his person,
But, by some secret means, he should have notice
Of Caesar's purpose;—in this, then, excuse me,
If I appear incredulous.
Harp. At your pleasure.
Theoph. Yet, when I call to mind you never fail'd me
In things more difficult, but have discover'd
Deeds that were done thousand leagues distant
from me,
When neither woods, nor caves, nor secret vaults,
No, nor the Power they serve, could keep these
Christians
Or from my reach or punishment but thy magic
Still laid them open; I begin again
To be as confident as heretofore,
It is not possible thy powerful art
Should meet a check, or fail.
Enter the Priest of Jupiter, bearing an Image, and followed by CALISTA and CHRISTETA.
Harp. Look on the Vestals,
The holy pledges that the gods have given you, Your chaste, fair daughters. Were't not to upA service to a master not unthankful,
I could say these, in spite of your prevention,
Seduced by an imagined faith, not reason,
(Which is the strength of nature,) quite forsaking
The Gentile gods, had yielded up themselves
To this new-found religion. This I cross'd,
Discover'd their intents, taught you to use,
With gentle words and mild persuasions,
The power and the authority of a father,
Set off with cruel threats; and so reclaim'd them:
And, whereas they with torment should have died,
(Hell's furies to me, had they undergone it!)
Chris. And what we maintain,
We will seal with our bloods.
Harp. Brave resolution!
I e'en grow fat to see my labours prosper.
Theoph. I young again. To your devotions.
Harp. Do-
My prayers be present with you.
[Exeunt Priest, CAL. and CHRIS. Theoph. O my Harpax !
Thou engine of my wishes, thou that steel'st
My bloody resolutions, thou that arm'st
My eyes 'gainst womanish tears and soft compas-
Instructing me, without a sigh, to look on [sion,
Babes torn by violence from their mothers' breasts
To feed the fire, and with them make one flame;
Old men, as beasts, in beasts' skins torn by dogs;
Virgins and matrons tire the executioners;
Yet I, unsatisfied, think their torments easy-
Harp. And in that, just, not cruel.
Theoph. Were all sceptres
That grace the hands of kings, made into one,
And offer'd me, all crowns laid at my feet,
I would contemn them all,-thus spit at them;
So I to all posterities might be call'd
The strongest champion of the Pagan gods,
And rooter out of Christians.
Mine own dear lord! to further this great work, I ever live thy slave.
Enter SAPRITIUS and SEMPRONIUS.
Theoph. No more-The governor.
Sap. Keep the ports close, and let the guards be doubled;
Disarm the Christians; call it death in any
To wear a sword, or in his house to have one.
Semp. I shall be careful, sir.
Sap. 'Twill well become you.
Such as refuse to offer sacrifice
To any of our gods, put to the torture.
Grub up this growing mischief by the roots;
And know, when we are merciful to them,
We to ourselves are cruel.
On fire that burns already at the height:
I know the emperor's edict, and my charge,
And they shall find no favour.
Theoph. My good lord,
This care is timely for the entertainment
Of our great master, who this night in person
Comes here to thank you.
Sap. Who! the emperor?
Harp. To clear your doubts, he doth return in triumph,
Kings lackeying by his triumphant chariot ;
And in this glorious victory, my lord,
You have an ample share: for know, your son,
The ne'er enough commended Antoninus,
So well hath flesh'd his maiden sword, and died
His snowy plumes so deep in enemies' blood,
That, besides public grace beyond his hopes,
There are rewards propounded.
Sap. I would know
No mean in thine, could this be true.
Harp. My head
Answer the forfeit.
There was some rumour: but it was assured,
The army pass'd a full day's journey higher,
Into the country.
Harp. It was so determined;
But, for the further honour of your son,
And to observe the government of the city,
And with what rigour, or remiss indulgence,
The Christians are pursued, he makes his stay here: [Trumpets.
For proof, his trumpets speak his near arrival.
Sap. Haste, good Sempronius, draw up our
guards,
And with all ceremonious pomp receive
The conquering army. Let our garrison speak
Their welcome in loud shouts, the city shew
Her state and wealth.
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Enter SEMPRONIUS, at the head of the guard, soldiers leading three Kings bound; ANTONINUS and MACRINUS bearing the Emperor's eagles; DIOCLESIAN with a gilt laurel on his head, leading in ARTEMIA: SAPRITIUS kisses the Emperor's hand, then embraces his Son; HARPAX brings in CALISTA and CHRISTETA. Loud shouts.
Diocle. So at all parts I find Cæsarea
Completely govern'd: the licentious soldier
Confined in modest limits, and the people
Taught to obey, and not compell'd with rigour :
The ancient Roman discipline revived,
Which raised Rome to her greatness, and pro-
claim'd her
The glorious mistress of the conquer'd world;
But, above all, the service of the gods
So zealously observed, that, good Sapritius,
In words to thank you for your care and duty,
Were much unworthy Dioclesian's honour,
Or his magnificence to his loyal servants.—
But I shall find a time with noble titles
To recompense your merits.
Whose power upon this globe of earth is equal
To Jove's in heaven; whose victorious triumphs
On proud rebellious kings that stir against it,
Are perfect figures of his immortal trophies
Won in the Giants' war; whose conquering sword,
Guided by his strong arm, as deadly kills
As did His thunder! all that I have done,
Or, if my strength were centupled, could do,
Comes short of what my loyalty must challenge.
But, if in anything I have deserved
Great Cæsar's smile, 'tis in my humble care
Still to preserve the honour of those gods,
That make him what he is my zeal to them
I ever have express'd in my fell hate
Against the Christian sect that, with one blow,
(Ascribing all things to an unknown Power,)
Would strike down all their temples, and allows
Nor sacrifice nor altars.
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