_Eud._ I speak not for compassion. Brave _Æcius_ (Whose blessed soul if I lye shall afflict me) The man that all the world lov'd, you ador'd, That was the master-piece of Arms, and bounty; Mine own grief shall come last: this friend of his, This Souldier, this your right Arm, noble _Romans_, By a base letter to the Emperor; Stufft full of fears, and poor suggestions, And by himself, unto himself directed; Was cut off basely, basely, cruelly; Oh loss, O innocent, can ye now kill me? And the poor stale my Noble Lord, that knew not More of this villain, than his forc'd fears; Like one foreseen to satisfie, dy'd for it: There was a murder too, _Rome_ would have blusht at; Was this worth being _Cæsar_? or my patience? nay his Wife By Heaven he told it me in wine, and joy; And swore it deeply, he himself prepar'd To be abus'd, how? let me grieve not tell ye; And weep the sins that did it: and his end Was only me, and _Cæsar_: But me he lyed in: These are my reasons _Romans_, and my soul Tells me sufficient; and my deed is justice: Now as I have done well, or ill, look on me. _Afra._ What less could nature do, what less had we done, Had we known this before? _Romans_, she is righteous; And such a piece of justice Heaven must smile on: Bend all your swords on me, if this displease ye. For I must kneel, and on this vertuous hand; Seal my new joy and thanks, thou hast done truly. _Semp._ Up with your arms, ye strike a Saint else _Romans_, May'st thou live ever spoken our Protector: _Rome_ yet has many Noble Heirs: Let's in And pray, before we choose, then plant a _Cæsar_ Above the reach of envy, blood, and murder. _Afra._ Take up the body nobly to his urn, And may our sins, and his together burn. [_Exeunt. A dead March._ EPILOGUE. _We would fain please ye, and as fain be pleas'd;_ _'Tis but a little liking, both are eas'd:_ _We have your money, and you have our ware,_ _And to our understanding good and fair:_ _For your own wisdoms sake, be not so mad,_ _To acknowledge ye have bought things dear and bad:_ _Let not a brack i'th' Stuff, or here and there_ _The fading gloss, a general loss appear:_ _We know ye take up worse Commodities,_ _And dearer pay, yet think your bargains wise;_ _We know in Meat and Wine, ye fling away_ _More time and wealth, which is but dearer pay,_ _And with the Reckoning all the pleasure lost._ _We bid ye not unto repenting cost:_ _The price is easie, and so light the Play,_ _That ye may new digest it every day._ _Then noble friends, as ye would choose a Miss,_ _Only to please the eye a while and kiss,_ _Till a good Wife be got: So let this Play_ _Hold ye a while until a better may._ * * * * * Monsieur Thomas. A COMEDY. _Actus Primus. Scena Prima._