SCENE I.

Before a Monastery.d

Shouts within; then enter VORTIGER, carrying the crown.

VORT. Will that wide-throated beast, the multi

tude,

Never leave bellowing? Courtiers are ill
Advised when they first make such monsters.
How near was I to a sceptre and a crown!
Fair power was even upon me; my desires
Were casting glory, till this forked rabble,
With their infectious acclamations,

Poison'd my fortunes for Constantine's sons.
Well, though I rise not king, I'll seek the means
To grow as near to one as policy can,
And choke their expectations.

Enter DEVONSHIRE and STAFFford.

Now, good lords,

In whose kind loves and wishes I am built
As high as human dignity can aspire,

Are yet those trunks, that have no other souls
But noise and ignorance, something more quiet?
DEVON. Nor are they like to be, for aught we
gather:

Before a Monastery] The place of action is not noted in the old ed., and Middleton seems to have troubled himself little about the matter. After some hesitation, I have marked the present scene " Before a Monastery," on account of what Constantius says at p. 131:

"in mind

I will be always here; here let me stay."

That the scene cannot be within the monastery, is shewn by the entrance of the two Graziers.

Their wills are up still; nothing can appease them; Good speeches are but cast away upon them.

VORT. Then, since necessity and fate withstand me, I'll strive to enter at a straiter passage.

Your sudden aid and counsels, good my lords. STAFF. They're ours no longer than they do you service.

Enter CONSTANTIUS in the habit of a monk, attended by GERMANUS and LUPUS: as they are going into the monastery, VORTIGER stays them.

VORT. Vessels of sanctity, be pleas'd a while
To give attention to the general peace,

Wherein heaven is serv'd too, though not so purely.
Constantius, eldest son of Constantine,
We here seize on thee for the general good,

And in thy right of birth.

CONST. On me! for what, lords?
VORT. The kingdom's government.

CONST. O powers of blessedness,

Keep me from growing downwards into earth again! I hope I'm further on my way than so.—

Set forwards!

VORT. You must not.

CONST. HOW !

VORT. I know your wisdom

Will light upon a way to pardon us,

When you shall read in every Briton's brow

The urg'd necessity of the times.

CONST. What necessity can there be in the world, But prayer and repentance? and that business

I am about now.

VORT. Hark, afar off still!

We lose and hazard much.-Holy Germanus

They're] Old ed. "They are."
I'm] Old ed. “I am.”

And reverend Lupus, with all expedition

Set the crown on him.

CONST. No such mark of fortune

Comes near my head.

VORT. My lord, we're forc'd to rule you. CONST. Dare you receive heaven's light in at your eyelids,

And offer violence to religion?

Take heed;

The very beam let in to comfort you

May be the fire to burn you. On these knees,

[Kneeling. Harden'd with zealous prayers, I entreat you Bring not my cares into the world again! Think with how much unwillingness and anguish A glorified soul parted from the body Would to that loathsome jail again return: With such great pain a well-subdu'd affection Re-enters worldly business.

VORT. Good my lord,

I know you cannot lodge so many virtues,

But patience must be one.

As low as earth

[Kneeling with DEVONSHIRE and STAFFORD.

We beg the freeness of your own consent,

Which else must be constrain'd; and time it were
Either agreed or forc'd. Speak, good my lord,
For you bind up more sins in this delay
Than thousand prayers can absolve again.
CONST. Were't but my death, you should not
kneel so long for't.

VORT. 'Twill be the death of millions if you rise not, And that betimes too.-Lend your help, my lords, For fear all come too late.

[They rise and raise CONSTANTIUS.

We're] Old ed. we are."

CONST. This is a cruelty

That peaceful man did never suffer yet,
To make me die again, that once was dead,
And begin all that ended long before.
Hold, Lupus and Germanus: you are lights
Of holiness and religion; can you offer

The thing that is not lawful? stand not I
Clear from all temporal charge by my profession?
GER. Not when a time so violent calls upon

you.

Who's born a prince, is born a general peace,1
Not his own only heaven will look for him
In others' acts, and will requite him there.
What is in you religious, must be shewn
In saving many more souls than your own.
CONST. Did not great Constantine, our noble
father,

Deem me unfit for government and rule,
And therefore preas'd' me into this profession?
Which I've held strict, and love it above glory.
Nor is there want of me: yourselves can witness,
Heaven hath provided largely for your peace,
And bless'd you with the lives of my two brothers:
Fix your obedience there, leave me a servant.

[They put the crown on the head of CON

STANTIUS.

ALL. Long live Constantius, son of Constantine, King of Great Britain!

CONST. I do feel a want

Who's] Old ed. "Who is."

i general peace] Compare p. 127, 1. 12.

acts] Old ed. "actions:" so afterwards in Act iii. Sc. i. the old ed. has " If I ensnare her in an action of lust."

requite] Old ed. "require."

preas'd] i. e. pressed. Old ed. "prais'd." Prease for press is very common in our early poets.

m

I've] Old ed. "I have."

And extreme poverty of joy within ;

The peace I had is parted 'mongst rude men;
To keep them quiet, I have lost it all.

What can the kingdom gain by my undoing?
That riches is not best, though it be mighty,
That's purchas'd by the ruin of another;

Nor can the peace, so filch'd, e'er" thrive with them:
And if't be worthily held sacrilege

To rob a temple, 'tis no less offence
To ravish meditations from the soul,
The consecrated altar in a man:

And all their hopes will be beguil'd in me;
I know no more the way to temporal rule,
Than he that's born and has his years come to him
In a rough desert. Well may the weight kill me;
And that's the fairest good I look for from it.

VORT. Not so, great king: here stoops a faithful

servant

Would sooner perish under it with cheerfulness,
Than your meek soul should feel oppression
Of ruder cares: such common coarse employments
Cast upon me your servant, upon Vortiger.
I see you are not made for noise and pains,
Clamours of suitors, injuries, and redresses,
Millions of actions, rising with the sun,
Like laws still ending, and yet never done,
Of power to turn a great man to the state
Of his marble monument with over-watching.
To be oppress'd is not requir'd of you, my lord,
But only to be king. The broken sleeps

Let me take from you, sir; the toils and troubles,
All that is burthenous in authority,

Please you lay it on me, and what is glorious
Receive't to your own brightness.