MAXIMINUS

Now equal Caesar, brave Dioclesian, the days at leisure To return thee thanks for aiding Maximinus in these wars, In happy time thy succour came from France, To make us Conquerors of Britain, which else might Yet have been a doubtful day: when thou wantest aid, Bid Maximinus come with this joint force, Weel make the world our own. It was the best, the shout and full applause Was only Albons, for which unto thy Knighthood late Given in Room, we add the stewardship of Great Britain Under Maximinus, and Dioclesian : go to thy Barony Of Verrolam, two legions there shall still attend one thee, To quell and persecute these Christians: Who will not stoop unto our Roman God, Shall feel the stroke of our revengeful Rod. Bassianus, be you Competitor with Lord Albon, And with severity, through the conquered Cities pursue The Christians to their Martyrdoms: — Whose that? Would would would, misery makes her desperate, thou addest a Triumph woman to our state, to brandish forth such Fruitless Menaces; to Prison with her, weel think of Further torments: I'll prostetute thy body to some Slave, And if the issue prosper, make him a Hangman. Weel hold no dispute with women, away with her: Rochester Castle shall be your palace? you're Like to keep A hard House on't. No more words, away with her. Your words are mine if you have needs in France, weel Feast, And bring you to the British shore, then partly unto our work. Our Daughter Leodice, weel leave to keep her court at Canter bury, Rutullus, take it to your charge, to see erected one the Conspicuous promonts of our Land, Beacons, which may stand In ken of other, by whose sudden fierce on the least invasion, we may be called to Arms. Where is Lord Albon ? What, thy Sword sleeping in thy scabbard Knight? thou ar Too gentle in thy Stewardship, these Hidra headed Christians More increase thy persecution; speak Prince of Knights, for Such and honour we bestowed on thee: why art not wading in a Sreame of blood? true Roman use to swim in such a flood. Yet substitute to Room. Is this Albon? It's as we suspect, that painful Schoolmaster Am. is her , Make swift and careful search through Virulome, Lop him and the head is perished. Where is he traitor? Why didst thou not fly for thine own safety? Hale him to the Temple, or force him kneel unto our Roman God, or kill the henticke. If he recant not, torture, no mercy show. A recreant friend worse than and open foe. A second limb is from our body cut, in Albons relapse; it is That pedant Prince, that seminary Knight Amphiabell, that Poisons thus the current of our State: Bassianus, with two Roman Legions pursue that Cambriam sectarist Amphi: his flight Will be to Wales, lay desolate the confines of that superstitious Virgin, that with her sorcerous devotion works miracles, By which she draws Christians, faster then we can kill they: Let her feel our vengeance. What means this? We, or our best of help he might command, by virtue of that Love he lent to us: Rutullus, collect 10000. ablest Britons By our express command, let them be mixed with two Roman Bans, With both pass the Sea, and in our name greet Di ole : Say we Do wish our personal Arm with him, did not increasing troubles Stay us here: so should it be; the rest weel write to him, Rutullus haste, this must not be delayed: Bassianus to thy charge, My self to mine, our works are one to scourge the Christians, Blood is the theme we treat in Roman hand, Weel write the comment large over all the Land. Exeunt. Resolve me yet, you stubborn Christians, Cannot the several tortures which we do inflict, Yet melt the Iron of your hardened hearts, To make you bow unto our Roman gods? Speak, will you obey our hest? Renowned Albon, on thy head I'll set A Crown of gold. Let me yet win thee foolish man: Remember what honours we, and Dioclesian Heaped upon thee: giving thee the style Britons Stewardship, The Prince of Knights, Lord of Varlome. But not the last: For to thy scorn I'll add millions of Christian flames, to death and tortures. I will drag them hence in Chains to H lnurst Hill, three miles rome Verolome, Where Albons Lord, there after blows, And spiteful buffetings, for honour of his Knighthood, once held the chief, He shall have a Knight to be his Headsman. This fiend Amphiabel, From whose damned Teat he sucked this poison, Shall there be bound by a fixed stake, To which nailed fast, the Navel of his belly Being opened, then with your sword prick him, And force him run about Like a wheel, Till he has spun his Guts out: and that dispatched, Saw off his traitorous head. Away with them; Albon is the first shall die: Go drag they hence; this day weel Quaff the blood of Christians: call forth more: So perish all will not our gods adore. What are all these? Honest fellows: Back, and give the Prisoners room. Mean time, even here you both shall dance with death; Yet if our Gods you'll serve, prolong your breath. Call a Hangman, flay that Villain straight, and tear that woman's Flesh with burning Pincers. Because thou once Wertenberg daughter to a King Enjoy thy wish, so death may forth with strike, Meet him in any shape thou best shall Like. Dispatch and launch her arm, but save the blood The which this day to holy Jupiter I'll sacrifice. Dispatch him; and drag her body hence. Flay him alive: Yet stay, because you are so lovesick, we'll give You a drink to cure it: Pour into a Cup His sweethearts blood, and give it us. And you shall quaff your fill: So, put in Poison, spice it well; There drink thy last, and sink with her to hell. Convey that other body hence, and give it uriall as befits her state: for this, bestow It on these shoemakers, as he bequeathed it. Use your own pleasures; where's Bassianus ? How chanced our Daughter, bright Leodice, Came not to see these slaughtered Christians? Is she not well? let her be kept with care, And to the gods of Room these Trophies rear. Flourish, exit Maxim. My Horse and Armour villains: High Jupiter protect us; what neglect is this, The Beacons fired, and a whole Land asleep, When Foes come armed in Thunder? Guard the Court, see to our Daughters safety, I fear these sudden tumults have disturbed her. Enter Shoemakers with staves. Why d'ee cry thus? say, whither run ye? And what's the cause on't? I am amazed, what Drum is this? Stand on your guard. Whom at your landing saw you up in Arms, That fright the Country thus? Thanks for thy news, We'll read them straight. What news brings Lutius? I am glad it is no worse; run Bassianus, And sing this comfort to our Daughters ears, These Letters of your noble Victories Are as your self most welcome, on whose head Our brother Dioclesian lays the glory of the Conquest over the Vandals and the Goths : He writes, he gave unto thy manly Thigh The sword of Kight-hood, wishing us to add more Honours on thee, which at his arrival, His, and our hand shall do with royal bounty. Now Bassianus, speak, how fares our daughter? Not to be found, why where's her Nurse? Speak doting Beldame; where's my daughter. O dismal chance Search every room; This dismal clamour May so fear her blood, that death may Seize her haste: if in the Court you miss her; See't proclaimed, that whosoever brings me Her alive, goes laden with rewards; If nobly born, we give her him to wife: Make haste, slip not and hour, While I set on to meet the Emperor. Exit. Great Dioclesian, our renowned Brother, In France your happy and triumphant deeds We here in Britain thus congratulate: The Vandal and the Goes we hear, have paid The price at full for daring insolence. The man you sent, and praise so Royal Sir, Shall ever live within our Princely favour; One call the Captain hither. Brave Soldier, your high spoken merit Breathed from and Emperors love, claims endue regard From his and our hands: cast therefore but your eye On all the Kingdom, what you can espy to please you, Ask, and take it. A prisoner noble Sir, what is he? King Allureds Queen thy Mother? Thou here shalt live right deer in our regard; Lutius by this our Signet free the Queen from Prison, And give her knowledge of her Princely son: Oh were our Daughter found, so much I love thee, Thou shouldst enjoy my bright Leodice. What shouts are these? Look out. A shout within: Enter Nurse. Why what's the matter? Would? my Daughter? Say, where is she? Where? who found her? With usicks sweetest strains conduct they in, Our sorrows wither, as our joys begin. Life cannot be more welcome; which is he Doubles my joys in my Leodice? I'll Triple his rewards for finding her: And to be sure my Daughter, not to lose thee more, Great Emperor see To do all honour unto this Prince, and thee, I give my only daughter for his wife. By my Daughter: Though a stranger to thee, he's a Prince born, Son to a King, and well deserves thy love. Sure her sudden fright hath made her mad: Was she not frantic when thou foundest her first? Nay, she's mad still; how dare you stand this scorn? This is a Prince, that but a beggar born. Found Girl. How am I vexed with fools and mad men! Defend me Jupiter, she's mad, Stark mad. Strange frenzy, Why does my Daughter so dishonour me? Here's strange and dark Enigma's, Speak plain, whose Child is't? And yours? God's-life he has lain with her, She's his Whore; attach the Villain, Tortures shall force his baseness to confess it. Can this be true? Whom Heaven would save from danger, never can fallen. My blessing compass both: Nurse, what say you to this? Most welcome, and most wished for, Royal Princess, your fetters off, Imprisonment we here take off, Go, embrace your sons. With them receive your Daughter To your love: Wonders hath fallen Since you have a Prisoner been; You, and your Sons, and we are grown a kin. You all have done your best To make our comforts full: for which we'll pay Rewards to all, and crown this happy day. What is't? What Month would you have it kept in? Take it: These lines of Fate thus in one circle met, If Dioclesian please shall here close up. Thus; it's more honour to make Kings, Than be such: then let these twain, Being English born, be Britain Kings again. This in the North shall rule. To Crispine this: And this rich gift beside; The fair Leodice to be his Bride. What is't my Son? Built what Religious Monuments you please, Be true to Room, none shall disturb your peace. Set forward Princes, Fortune's Wheel turns round; We Kingdoms loose, you the same hour fit Crowned. And thus about the World she spreads her wings, To ruin, of raise up the Thrones of Kings.