LES FEMMES ILLUSTRES OR THE Heroic Harangues OF THE Illustrious Women Written in FRENCH by the Exqui●… Pen of MONSIEUR de CUDDERY GOVERNOR OF NOSTRE D●…. Translated By JAMES INNS. EDINBURGH, Printed by THOMAS BROWN 〈…〉 GLEN and JOHN Book Sellers Anno 〈…〉 168● TO HER ROYAL HIGHNESS MARY of ESTE DUCHESS of ALBANY and YORK: MADAM. TO Celebrate Eternally the Honour of famous Heroines and perfectly to Sotemnise the glory of the fair Sex, do Illustrious Queens and Princes prostrate themselves at your Royal feet: The noise of your Bounteous worth hath so over-ecchoed the specious Universe, that they (but from your Royal perfections) co●ld never hope to obtain, what they have long strayed through the World in: quest of: Become now weary with wandering, and toiled with fatigue, pity pleads in their behalf for lodging, and charity proclaims aloud that their glory will be for ever Eclipsed, if the Rays of your Heroic and Noble Virtue dissipate not the clouds which benight it, by taking them in protection: Their Garlands will want the choicest Laurels of their acquired praise, if your Royal Excellencies Crown not the Trophies of their merit by sustaining their conquests: And they will not only lie always under the lash of calumny, but be irrecoverably ship wracktif their recourse to your Royal Highness for defence be rejected. Such has been the impatient Ambition of these Magnanimous Spirits, to be addressed to you for particular tuition, that if they could have traveled in English without a guide, they would have certainly rendered themselves where I have made bold to present them, knowing you only worthy to maintain their glory. Oppressed with the stormy malice of frowning fortune, they fly to the altars of security, plunged in grief they Solace themselves with entreating for shelter from untainted honour; and though by redoubled misfortuns they be surcharged with sorrow, they shall retake their courage under your Royal Tutelage, being fully assured that your Illustrious Patronage is of sufficient power to stop the froward carrier of volatile unconstancy, and justly persuaded to find a delectable retreat, where the Princely Pattern of accomplished Virtue, and the glorious Model of sincer perfection is presented to Posterity. May your Royal Highness therefore, in bestowing a favourable look on Illustrious Ladies, (whose arduous desires have been to partan of a comfortable and delicate ●●●●rity with you;) Be graciously pleased to accept of my thus consecrating this my Translation of the first part of the Heroic Harangues that thereby I may avouch, I have safely lodged these renowned worthies in the closet of Princely Excellency; Have securely harboured them in the haven of safety; have quietly laid to rest their wearied ghosts under the shadow of Roy, all Goodness: And in fine, sound them out a Noble repose, where the only refuge could be had worthy of Heroic Souls. Since then in your Royal Person virtue is completely perfect, and does from thence so splendidly renew its lustre that to defend the interest of famous He●iones must be Universally acknowledged your propriety, I humbly beg liberty to leave them to the peaceable enjoyment of ●our Illustrious inclination, having Royalty for their Tutilare Angel, and a glorious resting place in recompense of their sufferings. Your esteem Madam, is the onlything can render this unpolisht work perfect and your approving of my oblation will render me most happy, in obtaining the honour of presenting my Royal Princes with these humble devoirs of. Madam Your ROYAL HIGHNESSES Most Humble, Most Faithful and ever Devoted Servant, JAMES INNS. THE AUTHOR'S DEDICATION TO LADIES I Present the Illustrious Women, to the most Illustrious of Women, and conjures them to take them in protection; By sustaining the Glory of these heroic persons, they mantain their own propriety, and by a generous Interest defend themselves in defending these: for me beautiful and Loulie Ladies, who have always been the adorer of your Sex, if so be this work please you, and contribute any thing to your Reputation, I shall arrive at the end I have proposed to myself; Yet nevertheless, if by that goodness which is natural to you, You will protect me; And if the malice of men should induce me to the necessity of having need of so 〈◊〉 a refuge, tell them, if you please; what I am going to say to you, and I shall endeavour to make them silent, if you judge me worthy ●o speak. Let them know then, For instructing them of my design, that the fortunate success I had of the translation which I made of the harangues of Manz●●●, hath partly obliged me to undertake these, I desire to see if I can work as lively in original as in Copy, and that I wander not, because I travel without a guide. But if they think it strange that I have chosen Women for expressing my meditations, and imagine that Oratorical Art is absolutely unknown to you, abuse them I conjure you, and defend me with so much Eloquence, that they shall be compelled to confess there is no want of it in you, and consequently I am not deceived in my choice: Certainly among the thousands of rare qualities that the Ancients have noticed in your Sex; They have always said that you possess Eloquence, without art, without Labour, and without Pains, and that nature gives liberally to you, that which stud●● sells to us at a dear rate: That you are born the same which we become at last, and that scailitie of speaking well is natural to you, in place of being acquired by us. Yet it may be they will say to me, if Ladies be so naturally Eloquent why do not I make them punctually observe all parts of orations, as Rhetoric teaches in the schools? What may not be ●een in this book (Pardon me famous Lady 〈◊〉 the harsh words I am going to speak 〈…〉) Exerdes, Mariationes, Epilo●ues, Exag●● 〈◊〉. Metapb●●●s, D●gresssit●●s, 〈…〉 and all the beautiful figures, which usually d●●enrich works of this kind. To this I can answer them, that they are heir more fitly placed. The delicacy of art consists in making believe there is none at all. You carry flies on your faces, which by your dressing are put there, to make the whiteness of your Complexion shine the clearer: Yet they are placed so orderly, that it might be said they are living, and that they fly at hazard. You make curls and rings of your hair, but with such a subtle negligence and agreeable cairlesness, that it might be judged 〈◊〉 the wind, than your hands had been helping to nature. Just so heir I have endeavoured to make my Heroines Eloquent; Yet I have not thought that the Eloquence of a Lady should be the same of a Master of Arts; The li●le St●e●● and the Classes the Colleges and the Palace the Court and the Vniversiys; Have as differing ways as if they were a people far from other: And what would they do to see a Lady of the Let ne country among the young. People of the Court: They would look upon her as a Ma●ster, and scorn her. This, famous Persons, is what you have to say to them upon the subject ●●hand, but if they insist that I have observed no order of Chronologie heir, how I have placed my 〈…〉; That they will see C●e●pas a before 〈…〉 after Zenob●a, etc. Tell them it is ●ue, but this error is voluntar, and if I dare say, Judicious. I have imitated at this time the Skill of their who make nosegays, who mix by a regular confusion Roses and Jassamine, the flower of Orange, and the Pomgraned, the Tulips and the junquille, to the end that from this so pleasing mixture of colours there appear ane agreeable diversity still to please the sight; Just so heir I have chosen in history the finest matter and the most different that I could; And have so orderly mixed, and so fitly concealed them, that it is almost impossible but the reader shall be diverted. But divyn persons, if any remark slightly that among Heroines, there are more afflicted then content; Answer, it is ane ordinary thing, that fortune and virtue are two old enemies, that all beauties are not happy and that compassion and pity are not the least agreeable and least touching resentments which this sort of reading can give. You have yet to answer these who find it strange that the Title of my Book should be the Illustrious WOMEN or the HEROIC HARANGUES: And who will say, that Women and Harangues are not the same thing you have I say, to answer them that the example of Herod●●es authorises me, and condemns them: And if it was not forbidden him to name the nine books of his history M●lpomene, Er●stone, Cleo, Vnavia, Terficor, Eurerpe, 〈◊〉, Calli●p●ia, and Pila●●ea, which are the names of the nine Muses, these who are Good esse and not Books, this which I have do may very well be permitted me. Moreover if it be observed, that in part of my Harangues, there are some Meditations which have been seen in MODERN Tragedies: Where these same Heroines are introduced: I do conjure you to hinder 〈◊〉 from being so unjust as to suspect my having taken them from thence And for my vindication say if you please, that there are certain Universal Notions which necessarily occurs to all the World, when they treat of the same Subjects. Further if there be any strange thing in my work, that hath not been taken from the Moderns: But which they and I have taken from Antiquity. I believed it requisite to adorn those Harangues with all that History had that was pleasant and remarkable, concerning the Subject I treat of; And I have made a curious enough search whereby to merit some Glory: However I was so scrupulous in it, that I have marked with a different character all that it did furnish me with, so much for Meditation to make slanderers silent: as for envy, I have no such esteem of myself, as to dare believe, that I can make it speak. In fine to make an end of answering all the objections that can be made against me, if any does take the Medalles of those Heroines, for Medailles made for pleasure, and think them false, because their inscriptions are French, in stead of those which are true, that are Greek or Latin: Answer if you please that they who are curious to know, will defend me from the ignorance of them who know not: And that I have made these inscriptions in our Language in favours of them who do not understand Latin, and who cannot read Greeck. Behold Noble Ladies, what you have to say for me, or to speak more truly. what I had to say to you, for to end this discourse by which I have begun, if so be, you are satisfied I cannot fail to be contented: And if this Triumphing Arch which I have set up, to the Glory of your Sex, be not judged unworthy of you, it shall not be the last work I shall undertake for you, I meditat a second Volumn of Harangues, whose subject are no less great than the first: They have also something more peireing, and more proper for divertisement: But you think it convenient after this first race, that I withdraw to the end of the career, that before I make a second, I behold the scaffolds, and try to know in your eyes if my address hath pleased you. ARTEMISA TO SOCRATES. THE FIRST HARANGUE. ARGUMENT. AFter that Artemisa had employed the most knowing Architectures of her time, to build a glorious Monument, which was since one of the seven wonders of the World: the love she had for her dear Mausole, was not fully satisfied; she caused Socrates and Theopompus, the two most famous Orators of antiquity come from Greece, and by truly Royal Liberality, she obliged these great men to set their Eloquence at work in favours of the King her Husband, that they might eternise his memory; it was in ask this Favour, that this fair comfortless spoke to them in this manner, when the excess of her love made her forget that she was speaking before the famous Socrates. ARTEMISA to SOCRATES. IT is from you, O Famous Orator, that expect the immortality of Mausole; It is you must give a Soul to all the Statues I set up; It is you must make- 〈◊〉 a Tomb, which the revolutions of Ag●● cannot destroy, and which will eternise Mausole, Socrates, and Artemisa together. Do not think that I believe Time or Fortune will respect, the Gold, the Marble, the Jaspire, the Porphire, and the Oriental Alabaster, which I employ to build Him a sumptuous Monument? No, I know that these three hundred Pillars, in which all order is carefully observed, whose foundations are so sollidli● fixed, whose Chapiters', are so magnific, and where Art surpasses the Matter, shall one day be but pitiful Ruins, and after a little Time shall be nothing at all; those low Sculptures, which are at the four Faces of the Sepulchre, shall Successively be defaced by injurious Seasons, and but with pain shall some imperfect figures be there perceived, of all those things which we admire to day. Those Obelisques which seem to defy Tempests, may be one day beat down with Thunder, and turned 〈◊〉 Dust, these smoking Vessals, those extinguished Terches, these trophies of Arms, and all the Ornaments that Architecture is capable of, shall not hinder the destruction of this Work: In fine Socrates. When I have wasted all my Treasures for this Tomb, and that by the skilful hands of Scopas, of Briaxes, of Timothy and of Leochares. I have put it in condition to pass for one of the wonders of the World, if after all this none take care to preserve his Memory by writings: The statues which I have set up, the Gold, the Marble, the Jaspire, the Porphire, the Alabaster, the Pillars, the low Sculpte●● the Obelisques the smoking Vessals, the extinguished Torches, & all the Ornaments of Building 〈…〉 in the work, shall not (I say) hinder 〈…〉 his Architectures, his Sculptors, and Artemisa herself from being buried in Oblivion, and from be 〈…〉 known to the Ages which come 〈…〉 never been: It belongs then to you 〈…〉 〈◊〉 to give more solid foundations to this structure: It is you must animat these Marbles by magnificent Inscriptions; It is you must revive Mausole, it is you must make me live Eternally, although I feel my Death very near approaching: I desire not Socrates, that you make Eulogies of Busire, or that you give praises to Helen, as you have done at other times, I give you a more easy and more Illustrious Subject, the virtues of Mausole, and the lawful love of Artemisa, are a more Noble subject, than the inhumanity of Busire, or the slightness of Helen your Eloquence shall have no crime to disguise: All the craft that Rhotorick teaches for Imposing of Fables, & rendering them seemingly true, will but serve you to persuade to truth: and without Printing any thing of sophists, it shall suffice that you writ as an Orator, as a Philosopher and as a Historian together, Eloquence that rare privilege, which the gods have bestowed on men as a ray of their divinity, should never be employed but for protecting innocence; or eternising virtue. They who have made a goddess of persuasion, have not designed to render it a slave to the Capricioes of men: and doubtless they know as well as I that Eloquence is a gift of Heaven which none ought to profane, the power it has of excit●ing or appeasing, the 〈◊〉 violent passions; of softening the hardest hearts; of persuading the most incredulous; of forcing the most obstinate, of constraining even to our will, and of 〈◊〉 us in opposition to ourselves, by quitting our 〈◊〉 opinions to follow these of others; all these advantages, I say, have not been given him to serve himself with injustice: On the contrary, it is that which the gods have chosen to make the World see virtue as lovely as it is, and to cause it every day make new conquests. It is by possessing of it, that men acquire Immortality by making others immortal: It is it which in ●ight of Time and change of Things preserves the me●●o●ie of brave actions; It is it which maugre the destruction of Kingdoms and Empires, does perpetuate the 〈…〉 of Kings and Emperors, and when their ●●tie 〈◊〉 are no more in their Tombs, when their Pansies are destroyed, their most famous Towns desolated, 〈◊〉 their very Kingdoms have changed their Names, 〈◊〉 the whole Earth see an image of their vertu●● Yea many ages after their death they have lived among men, they have still Friends and Subjects, they are consulted for the Government of their lives, their good qualities are imitated, they have new Eulogies made them, envy finishes not their Glory, they get all the Praises the merit, there if so great veneration had for them, that People go not to the places where they dwelled, without some kind of fear; and if there yet remain any old Ruins of their Buildings, some does respect that in them which time did not regaird, they look upon them with pleasure, and prefers them to all the Magnificence of the Moderns, and the Limners also adorn their Tablets, with their Illustrious Ruins, and with eternising their memories. After all this wonder not Socrates, that I so passionately desire, your Eloquence to make a Panegirick, for my dear lord: I know in what esteem it was through all Greece, and I certainly foresee that Ages to come will render it Justice. All the writings that bear the Name of Socrates, or of Theopompus, shall be reverenced, by time, by fortune and by all men. They shall pass among all Nations, and in all Ages without having any wrong done to them, and shall carry win● them the reputation of them whom they speak of: Also there may be Famous Persons found, who by the esteem they have of your work, will make you speak of Languages, which have not yet been invented, who by the brightness of your Glory, will believe they add sorn thing to their own by publishing of them Speak then 〈◊〉, speak then Socrates to the end, that all men may speak after you. But do not think, that there are any thoughts of vanity, mingled with the Prayer that I make to you; No Socrates, I will not have you search in my Person not Life, whereof to me a Magnificent Elegy, I will not have you speak of my Noble Birth; I will not that you tell I was Born with the Crown of Hallicarnassus; I will not have you tell that though a Woman, I did know the the Act of Sovereign Reigning; I will not that you acquaint Posterity, with the Extraordinary Esteem the great Xerxes had of me, I will not have you tell that ● made a Voayage into Greece with him. I will not have you make known that I had the first Place in his Co●● 〈◊〉 and that mine was ever followed; I will not 〈◊〉 you speak of the Exploits I did in that War, nor 〈◊〉 exceeding Price which the Athenians promised to any that would deliver me into their hands: Only I Will have you tell that Artemisa was Queen of Caria. Because she Married Mausole who was King of it: That Artemisa above all Virtues, did ever love that which is most Necessary to her Sex: That Artemisa never had any other Passion, But that of perfectly loving Her Husband; that Artemisa after losing him, lost all desire of Life; and in fine, that Artemisa after that Misfortune, had no other care but the Celebrating of his Memory. But after you have said all those things, and praised Mausole as much as he Merited, after I say, you have painted out my Grief, or to speak better my despair as great as it is, forget not to declare to Posterity, that after I had builded the most Sumptuous Monument that never was seen; I could not find one Urn that I belived worthy to enclose his Ashes. Crystal, Alabaster, and all the Precious Stones which Nature produces, cannot me thinks abundantly testify my affection: It must needs be Noble and Liberal, to give him an Urn of Gold covered with Diamonds, but to give him the Heart for an Urn, it must be Artemisa. There it is Socrates, where I shut up the Ashes of my dear lord; there it is Theopompus, where I lay to rest his dear Relics, waiting impatiently, till his Tomb be in condition to receive the Urn a live which I have given him. It is truly my Heart should serve for an Urn to the Ashes of my dear Mausole; Me thinks I give them a new life by putting them there, and again me thinks they Communicate that mortal coldness to me which I feel in them. Moreover it is very just that since Mausole was always in my heart while he lived, he should also be there after his death: May be if I had put his Ashes in this Urue of Gold all covered with Jewels, may be (I say) some unjust Conqueror should come to open his Tomb, and with a Profane and Sacralegious hand take away the Urn, and cast his Ashes with the Wind, and separate mine from those of Mausole. But as I use them, we shall be inseparable. There is no Tyrrant can trouble my rest, because none ●an divide me from my dear lord. Behold, Socrates, what I will have you say of me. But for my dear lord, forget nothing that may be Glorious to him, nor any thing that was Effectually in him. Tell that he was feared of his Enemies, beloved of his Subjects, and in Veneration among the Princes his Neighbours. Speak of the great qualities of his Soul, as well as of the favours he received from Nature; Praise his Valior in War, his Sweetness in peace, and his Equity and Meekto all the World, In fine from the Idea of an accomplished Prince, and you shall make the true Picture of Mausole; Yet after you have said all things of this Noble Husband; Speak zealously of the love he had for me, and of that which I had always for him. ●aint this passion as strong as pure and as faithful as it is; undeceive these who believe that Crym is the nourisher of Love, and who thinks that a Lawful passion can be neither fervent, long or agreeable; Let them see that Mausole and I give an exemple which destroys their Experience and all their Reasons: Because as our Love had always much Innocency, it did not forbear to have great Zeal, in lasting even to death, and being infinitely agreeable to us; Speak then with the Elegy, of that holy Tie, which forces two Virtuous Persons to Love each Other Eternally. And if possible make haste to satisfy me Employ also your Eloquence toperswade them who work at the Tomb of Mausole, to make as great dispatch as they possibly can, in advancing their work, for mine gins to be finished. The few ashes that remain of my dear Mausole, will be quickly consumed, and that once done I have no more to do in the World, all that is on the Earth can no more touch my Spirit: I am insensible of all things but grief, and the only desires of my Soul are to be Reunited to my dear Mausole, and to know certainly that you take care of his Glory; your own should oblige you to this, compassion should carry you forward in it, and if it be permitted to propose other recompenses to Philosophers then the sole desire of well doing, consider what the expenses are that I am at, for Building of this Magnificent Tomb, and judge from thence that she who spends so much of her Treasures upon dumb Marbles, will not be ingrate when you speak to the Glory of her dear Mausole; But whatsoever diligence you make to satisfy me, nor the Architectures nor you shall so soon make an end of your work as I shall finish mine: and if I be not mistaken I shall dy● soon enough, to permit you to Illustrate the Panegor●● of Mausole, with the death of his Arte●●isa. THE EFFECT OF THIS HARANGUE. THis Virtuous QUEEN obtained her wish, Socrates and Theopompus did speak of her dear Mausole, but in so advant ageous terms, that some-have acoused them of flattery for her Money: As for her, it was not without reason that she pressed the Builders, for this Sumptuous Monument was scarce finished, before she had her Place in it. They who did begin this Mervellous work left it not unfinished: It was of a long time one of the wonders of the World, and Her Glory which had more solid foundations than it, continuous yet in the Memory of Men, with that of Mausole, and the Illustruous Artemisa. MARIAM TO HEROD. THE SECOND HARANGUE. ARGUMENT. FEw are Ignorant that Herod put his Wife to death, but all do not know what She said in her defence, the two Historians who writ of her; One was not in her time, and the other was a Flatterer of Her Husband: So that it belongs to us to try the Truth, in the Ignorance of the one & Malice of the other; for me I acknowledge I am ranked in Mariamnes party, and whither it be by Pity or Reason, whither I say her beauty hath blinded or her Innocency made me clear sighted, I cannot believe that a Princess descended from the Macabees Illustrious Blood, had put a blemish on her Reputation: But I will rather love to believe that Herod was still Herod, I would say an unjust and bloody man: Behold then the Apology of this unfortunat Beauty, who hath more Excellency in her mouth then is in mine. Hear her than speak I Conjure you, and remark in her Noble Pride the true Caralter of Ma●iamnes Humour. MARIAM TO HEROD. IT is neither fear of death, nor desire of life that makes me speak to day: and were I but assure that posterity would do me justice when I shall be no more. I myself would help my Accusers and Enemies: I would look upon the last of my days as the first of my happiness, and would wait the hour of my Death with so great, Constancy, that it should render these who Persecute me confused. But since they would as much against, my virtue as my life, it were great Coward liness to endure a Calumny without repelling it: Innocence and Glory are two such precious Jewels, that all things should be done to preserve them. Suffer then my lord (if it be suitable for the Granddaughter of Hircane to call you so) that to let you see the purity of my Soul, I recall to your Memory, what you are, and what I am, to the end that Comparing my past Actions with the Accusations which are now made against me, you may some way prepare your Spirit to believe these truths which I ought to tell it. Doubtless you have not forgot that I am come of that famous Race, which for many Ages by past hath given Kings to Judea: That all my Predecessores did Justly hold that Sceptre which you have, that by their Birth right they carried the Crown which Fortune hath put upon your Head, and that if things had been according to ordinar Order, so far from being my Judge, I might have reckoned you in the Number of my Subjects, and lawfully taken that power of you, which you Usurp over me; However as this high birth obliged me to a not common Virtue, Hircane did no sooner command me to be your Wife, knowing th●● obedience I owed him, without considering the in-equality that was betwixt us. I received you for my husband, and although that my inclinations (thanks to Heaven) were quit contrate to yours, you know in what manner I have lived with you: and if you had need to expect more Complacency, and more Testimony of Affection from me, when your very Alliance was as Honourable to me, as mine was Glorious to you. Since that my lord, even to the death of Hircan, what have I done? what have I said? what have I thought against you? Nothing, but that I could not rejoice in your Victories, because they were fatal to my Relations, and again, because I had a heart as great as the Nobleness of my Birth, I could not step upon the Th● one of my Predecessors without shedding tears: Because I could not do it in Justice; at least in the quality of Herod's Wife. But you know that being unable to hinder a just Resentment which Reason and Nature hath given me I took all possible care to conceal my grief from you. I endeavoured myself at that time to justify you in my mind; and seeing that you had Ambition without Cruelty, I have rather pitted than accused you. I called that Passion the error of great Spirits, and the infallible sign of a Person born for great things. How many times have I said to myself, if fortune would give you lawful Enemies, you would be the greatest Prince of the Earth? How many times have I wished that great and Marvellous Spirit which you have, that invincible heart which makes you undertake all things, might carry you against a People over whom you might be a Conqueror and not an Usurper. Alace, did you know all the Vows that I have made for your Glory, you would not believe me capable of having desires to Tenebrate its Splendour by forgetting my own. And perhaps it is for that fault that Heaven punishes me; yet I cannot wish that I had dove it; and although I see myself to day in hazard of losing my Life, I cannot repent, for having preserved you by my Counsels, when con●are to all appearance you would trust the Traitor Barsaphane, I do not Reproach you of that good office. I only Remember you of it, thereby to let you see I have still done all I could. But since that I avouch that I have no more lived so, I have no more concilled my sorrows, I have no more stopped my voice, I have weeped, I have cried, I have excessiuly groaned and complained; But what less could the Grand Daughter of Hircane do, who is expired by your orders & by your cruelties? What less, I say, could the Sister of young Aristobulus do, who perished by your Inhumanity, for securing the Sceptre in your hands? Ah! No, no, Patience would have been Criminal at that time. I was without doubt born for the Throne, but I would not mount it, because I could not without Treading on the Bodies of my Grandfather and Brother. That Throne was wet with their Blood, I ought at least to wash it with my tears; since it is not permitted me to shed that of their Enemies. Woe is me! what object worthy of compassion, was that, to see the Successor of so many Kings, that Reverend old man, receive his death, from him whom he had made his allay; ● tremble with horror only to think of it, nor could I withdraw my thoughts, if the image of young Aristobulus did not present itself to my eyes. What had that unfortunate Youth done to merit such unhapiness? He was Young, he was Virtuous, he was brave in all things, and his greatest fault was doubtless, that he resembled me. But alace! that fault should have been advantageous to him at such a time: for if it was true that you had such Passionate Love for me, as you would have constantly persuaded me was in your heart; though Aristobulus had not been my Brother, though he had not been innocent, you should have always respected my Image in him. The Resemblance of a person Beloved, hath made Arms fall from most cruel hands, and caused them change their designs. But insensible that I am what do I, to speak in this manner to him who would do so to my own Life; And who not content with overturning though Thrones of my Fathers, causing kill my Grandfather, drown my Brother & extirpating all my Race, would also this day ravish me of Honour, by unjustly accusing me of three faults, which I could never be capable of? I have been so little Accustomed to commit them, and am so innocent of those which are imposed upon me that I doubt if I can well Remember the Accusations which are made against me. Nevertheless, I think my Enemies say, that I have sent my ●ictu●e to A●th●ny; that I have had too particular intelligence with Joseph; and that I would have attempted your Life. O! Heavens is it possible, that Mariam is obliged to answer such things? And may it not be sufficient to tell, it is Mariam whom they Accuse, to say that she is Innocent? No, I will see that without remembering my state, or my virtue, I must put myself in condition of being unjustly condemned: And although my birthiss such that I ought not to give account of my Actions but to God alone; yet I must Vindicat myself before my Accusers, my enemies and my Judges together. You say then, that I have sent my Picture to Anthony, whom I know not, and who did never see me: and without noticing any Circumstance, if not that he was then in Egypt, yet you would have this Accusation pass for a constant truth; But tell me a little, what Limner drew it? who was he who carried it? who are they to whom Anthony has shown it? where are the letters he writ to thank me for so great a favour? For it is not to be believed that he has received so extraordinary a Testimony of my affection without giving me thanks. The heart of Mariam is not so little Glorious a conquest, though there have been many Kings in the Earth, who would have esteemed it a Glory to have done it, and who would not have done all things for deserving it. Nevertheless there appears no signs of the care that Anthony has taken, either to Conquer or to Preserve me: And surely in that Occasion, I must not only have forgot my proper Glory, but altogether lost my Reason, to have dreamt of such a crime as I am Accused of. But if it had been in the time that you did all things for him, even in sending all your Jewels to him, and opposing the Roman Empire for his sake, I had been somewhat judicious in my choice; And I ought not to believe that Anthony who stimulates him. self by Generosity, should betray a man from whom he ●rath had so many Obligations, for a person whom he knows not at all. But if it be since that, that you have not been well together, by the divices of Cleopatra, there is yet less appearance there: And I should have been very inconsiderate, to have given arms myself to my Energy; (for at that time your interest was also mine) and moreover, what seeming truth can there be, if I were a● infamous as I am innocent, that at the time when all the Earth was filled with the love of Anthony and Cleopatras I should have sent him my Picture; Had Rome found that expedient, to cure her of the charms of that Egyptian? Had the Empire need of that Remedy, or had I any desire to Sacrifice myself to the vanity of that unfortunat Princess, whose jealousy would not have failed to have been most highly Refulgent? No, Herod, nothing of this is come to pass: And the Innocence of Mariam is so great, that her very Enemies, cannot propose crimes to her seeminglic true. And moreover, you know that that which is called Beauty in me, never gave me vanity: And that I have always taken more pains, to be Virtuous then fair. Yet I do not deny, that there hath been a Picture of Mariam, which has passed among all Princes of the Earth, and which perhaps will be a long time preserved there. Yes, Herod, there is an invisible Image of Mariam, which wanders through the World; which makes her innocent Conquests; and which without her consent, makes secret Enemies to you. Her high-Birth, her Virtue, her Patience, and your Cruelty, are the only Colours that are made use of in this Picture: And the Blood which I am going to shed, shall doubtless perfect the rendering of it adorable to Posterity. But to answer the second Accusation that is made against me, which though false, hinders not my changing of Colon●, by the confusion I am in, to be constrained to speak of such a thing: I shall say with joy, that thanks to Heaven, I have no other witness against me but you who during the time of this supposed crime was at Laodicea: And by Consequence, was incapable of answering for my Actions. So well am I assured, that neither your eyes, nor your ears, could declare any thing against my innocence: And although that your Court be all composed of your slaves, or of my enemies; that your veris Sister who hates me, and through envy and by interest of State, hath observed with Extraordinary care, even the least things that I have done or spoken, (I say) I am ver●● certain, that she dares not maintain before me, ●o have heard on word, or remarked one single look, which could make the modesty of Mariam suspected. It is no● but that I know very well she can tell a lie: 〈…〉 which makes me speak with so much boldness, is 〈◊〉 I know me to have more Virtue than she has Malice: and that having Heavon for my Protector, I cannot believe that if at least I do perish, I shall not obtain Grace to die in that manner, that your injustice and my innocence shall be equally manifested. And truly at this time we need but open our eyes to see that these Accusations which are made against me, are but pretexts to loss me. For what likeliehood is there, if I were guilty of such a crime, that I would have chosen the husband of Salome, my cruelest Enemy, and Herod's confident? But a confident to that degree that all things were trusted to him: 〈◊〉 there was no wicked design, which was not communicated to him. He was partner in all your crimes. He was the gaoler & not lover of Mariam; & to say all: It was he should plunge the poniard in my heart, to obey your wil O! Heaven who did ever see such Testimonies of Love! Why Herod, you might at parting bid me adieu with tears; you might look upon as you have done, with eyes wherein I saw but signs of Affection; and at the same time meditate my death. Ah! If you could (which I doubt not) you might very well also to day, feign that you believe me culpable to make me die Innocent. And tell me not as a favour, that this command was the effect of the strong passion you had for me: the death of the person beloved can never be a Testimony of Affection. Hatred and Love have not the same operations; they may some times reign successiulie in the heart, but never together. Every man who loves well lives not without the person beloved, yet he can always die without her; and her death can never be an agreeable thought to him. He should regrate his being separated from her; and not regrate that she died not with him. But your way of loving is only peculiar to yourself, and your inclinations are so Naturally cruel, that poisons, and daggers, are the best gifts that can be received from yond, when you would testify your Friendship. Pray you tell me how you can Accommodate all those things. You say that I have sent my picture to Anthony, and consequently that I had an intelligence with him: and at the same time, you again Accuse me of having one with Joseph: because say you, you having trusted to him the thing in the World, which was of ●greatest Importance to you; and he having discovered it to me, it is impossible but that I should have given myself absolutely to him for that advertisement. Consider well Herod, what you say? Anthony and Joseph, could they be both together in my heart? were these two rivals of the same quality and merit? And this Mariam, whose Birth is so great and Illustrious; whose Soul is so High and so Glorious, that her Noble pride is by some rather taken for a fault then a virtue; could she be capable for alike weakness, for two men so different, who could have no conformity together, if not that it had been equally impossible for them to have touched my heart, when they would have endeavoured it. This conquest is not so easy as you think: and truly I wonder, that you who could never do it, judges it hath cost others so little. I do acknowledge that Joseph did discover to me the wicked design that you had against me: but I also avouch, I believed him not. I did immediately think that it was a Treachery of Salome, who to make me carry myself the more excessiulie against you, to the end of advancing my death: had invented that device: imagining with herself, that my death would trouble me more, than did that of Hircane, and of my brother. And that which made me the more believe it was so, was that I saw him undertake to persuade me, that I ought to be infinitle obliged to you for that excess of love, which you testified to me at that time: adding also, that he told me not the design, but when you was ready to return: and that so far from making a Mysterious Secret, he told it in presence of my Mother, and before all my Women. It is certain, that as I ought also to know all from you, I doubted the truth of what Joseph told me. I thought being the Mother of your Children you was incapable of such barbarous thoughts: And in effect, without determinating the matter in my mind, I waited your return. I received you then with the same Melancholy that I have alwayies had, since the death of Hireane and Aristobulus, without testifying any more: and observing all your actions, I acknowledge that I ever doubted the truth of joseph's discourse. The malice of his. Wire, made me also more suspicious: and when I was speaking to you, it is true, I rather designed to inform myself of the thing, then to reproach you. For if 〈…〉 been true that I had a particular Affection for Joseph, and that I had taken what he said, as the pure effect of of his compassion to me; I had sooner died than had spoken of it, and that unfortunate man should have also lived. Nevertheless, behold, all the Testimonies of good will that he has got from me: no body sales that we have had too private correspondence together: No body says he hath come often to my apartments; and in fine, I have done nothing for him, but what his most cruel enemy might have done, if they had known the same thing: surly I should have rewarded him ill to treat him thus. You say also that hatred and vengeance, caused me to favour Joseph, after having known your design: but know that great Spirits never fail by example. The erimes of others gives them so much horror, that they are never more stronglic confirmed in good, then when they see evil committed: and for me, I think I should have been less innocent, if you had been less unjust. In fine, for conclusiones, if Mariam descended from so many Illusturous Kings, had desired to give her affection to any, it should not have been to the husband of Salome, nor to the favourite of Herod: And if for the punishing of others crimes, she had been capable, she had not caused him be put to death, whom she believed would preserve her life. You know too well what was my wonder, when after the discourse which I made to you. I knew by your answer all was true: I was so surprised, that I almost lost my speech. Nevertheless I did not foresee the Accusation which is this day made against me: And the only knowledge of your crime, and of joseph's innocence, whom I exposed to your cruelties, caused all my grief. Since that Salome improving that misfortune for my Ruin, as she designed long ago, hath doubtless persuaded you, that I would attempt your life: and behold the only crime wherein there can be a witness found against me, but if I be not deceived, she does more justify then convict me: For what liklie-hood is there, that in a design of this Importance, I should have trusted a man of so low condition? And what seeming truth is there, if it were true that I had correspondence with Joseph, but that it was ●●ther he then I made this proposition? Used I to 〈◊〉 with such Persons? Hath this man come to my Apartment? Have I set him beside you? Is he come of my Family? Is he a Relation to any of My Officers In what place have I spoken to him? in what manner have I suborned him? Let him show the Jewels that I have given him? Make him let the money be seen that he has gotten for so great a design? For it is not Rational, to think that upon simple hope, he would undertake the hazard of his life. It may be he will answer, that since he had no design to do the deed, but on the contrare to adverise you, he did not think of a reward. But I can say to that impostore, that not to give me reason of suspecting him, he always accepted what I offered to him: And that also not having spoken, and not being able to show, is a strong and convincing persuasion of his lie: for in fine, Gold is the Complice of all Crimes and Hope is the only Portion of great Spirits: But for the Base and Mercenary, they must be moved by the sight of a certain reward; otherways that sort of People will not serve you: And too many Examples of your Reign, should have taught you what I say. Yet though it be true, that it cannot be made appear, that either I or mine, have had any dealing with that man, it is not so of Salome your heart and my enemy. It is a long time since my Women foretold me of it, that contrary to the Custom and Decorum of the quality she keeps to day, he often went to entertain her, even in her Closer: However, because I could never stoop to take notice of such things, and by excess of virtue, did not easily suspect others; I heard that Discourse without making any Restection upon it. But if you would oblige them to give account of so many Conversations as they had together, I am assured that you would not find them answer you punctually. And moreover, in what place have I taken poison; who prepared it? from whence caused I bring it? And wherefore, if I had such intentiones, was it to have employed that man: was is not easy for me, when we have eat so many times together; to have poisoned you with my own hand, without trusting 〈◊〉 body? Why should not I have attempted it at your return from Laodicea, as well as they pretend I have done after your return from Rhodes, since the unhappy Joseph discovered to me then your cruel Intentiones, as walk as when the unfortunate Son hath told me since? In fine Herod, all those things are without likeliehood, and there is no Spirit so ignorant, who sees not clearly, that if I were not descended from the Kings of Judea; If I were not virtuous, I should have no enemies; and my Death should not be resolved upon; I should not have sent my Picture to Anthony; I should not have had Intelligence with Joseph; I should not have attempted your life; and consequently mine should have been secure. But because I am of too Illustrious blood, and because my Soul is too great, to suffer the baseness and unworthiness of my enemies; Mariam must die, she must perish, she must be sacrificed to the hatred of her Persecutores: they desire it so, and she is resolved to it. Think not unjust and cruel Herod, that I speak with intention to incline you to pity: I think of preserving my Reputation, and not of moving your heart. For as I said in the beginning of my discourse, it is neither fear of death, nor desire of life, that makes me speak to day. The first prepares Crowns for me, and the other can give me nothing but troubles. It is not then hope of escaping from the danger I am in, that makes me take care to justify myself: I know my sentenee is signed my Executioners are ready to strike off my head, and that my Tomb is already opened to receive me: But that which moved me to it, was to the end, that all who hear me, may let Posterity know, that my very enemies could not with all their malice, slain the virtue of Mariam: Nor find a plausible pretext for condemning her. If I obtain this favour from them who hear me, I die almost without grief: and I shall absolutely say, without Regrate, if the Children I leave you were Banished their paternal house: For I doubt not because they are Virtuous, but that they will acquire your hatred as well as I. The complaints that they shall make for my death, will be crimes against you: You will believe they design against your life by lamenting the loss of mine. Woe is me! I see them already Maltreated by that slave, who was your first wife: I see them submit to the violent humour of your Son Antipater, to the calumnies of Solome, to the outrages of 〈◊〉; and to your own cruelty. And perhaps these same Executioners who put me to death, will shed their blood, or to speak better, will make an end of shedding mine. I already see you unjust and cruel finishing so many Murders: But do not hope to enjoy peaceably the Fruits of such fatal Victories. You seek a repose which you shall not find; You shall be your own Accuser, your Judge, and your Hangman: The Ghosts of so many Kings as I am come of whom you have abused in my Person, shall environ you on all parts: Those of Old Hircan and of Young Aristobolus, shall disturb all your Life: You shall always see yourself covered with the Blood of your Children: And the Image of Mariam pursued by these Executioners who wait on her, shall ever follow you foot by foot. You shall always see that whither awake or asleep, which shall reproach you for her death: You shall have Repentance in your heart, Shame, Confusion, and Despare: You shall wish for the death you give to others: My Virtue shall appear then as pure as it is: your Crimes shall seem as great as they are: And perhaps you shall have the misfortune to repent without amending: And I doubt not, but after you have violated all Rights, Divine and Humane, some will do the same to yourself. Yes, I already see the eldest of your Children (for mine will never be capable of it) desirous to give you that poison, which you accuse me unjustly of. I see (I say) all the Administratores of your fury, become your most cruel Enemies: Salome, Pher●●●, and Antipater, shall be most violently obnoxious to you: I see you hated of all People, detested of all Princes, execrable to Posterity: and perhaps you shall become then so odious to yourself, that after you have; shed all the blood of your Race. Despair shall put ● Dagger in your hand, to deliver the World from so dangerous an Enemy, But it may also be that your cause make an end when you would, and your shall have the misfortune to endure in this life the punishments that are prepared for you in an other. Behold, unjust and cruel Her●●●, the Prophecy which the unhappy Mariam dying unjustly, makes of you: who in this 〈◊〉 last day, looks upon you rather as a Subject revolted, ●● as her Tygrant then either as her King or Husband. THE EFFECT OF THIS DISCOURSE. This afflicted and generous Beauty, obtained what she desired from her Husband, and from Posterity; For the first gave her death, and the other hath preserved her glory: I shall think mine great, if after so many Ages, I could also contribute something to hers and if my Meditations were not thought unworthy of her. I would say more, if the Author of the holy Court had not said all: But as he was too careful to leave any thing is so Noble a Field, I am too Vain to appear unprofitably there after him. It suffices that I behold his Triumph without lying me to his chariot, and I Love better to quit my Arms, then to see him amidst his Trophies. CLEOPATRA TO MARK-ANTHONIE. THE THIRD HARANGUE. ARGUMENT. AFter the loss of the Battle of Actium, Occasioned by Cleopatra's flight, which was followed by that of Anthony: Herhad some opinion, that she would Betray him, and testisled his Resentments to her. But that Lovely and Just Egyptian, who desired to take away from him any impression that could be disadvant agious to her: Did thus speak to him in behalf of her innocenoie. I have surely established these words, which I put in the mouth of that Queen, upon the Conjectures of History: And according to my sense, see what she could say at that time, so that Irritated Lover. CLEOPATRA TO MARK-ANTHONIE. IS it true then, that Anthony could suspect Cleopatra to have favoured his Enemy? that he could think she would with her own hand pluck the Crown from him, which Victory was putting upon his head? And to say all in one word, that he believed she had betrayed him? Ah if it be so, and if by my Discourse I cannotremit reason in your Soul, by giving it other thoughts of my fidelity. I desire no more life; and death is the end of my wishes. No Anthony, if I be dead in your heart, I will live no longer in the World: And perhaps my death will let you see, that I have not desired yours. But I pray you tell me (O Illustrious Emperor) what way, by what liberalities, or by what hopes could Octavius corrupt my fidelity? This surely cannot be a new Passion, that hath surprised my heart in conquering his; Since we are equally unknown to other. This could not be so by presents, for what could I receive from him, which I have not received from you, who has given me whole Kingdoms, and made me reign over the most part of Asia? but if it were true, that I could have resolved to leave you, and follow his party, what security could I have taken from his words? where are the pedges he has sent me in assurance of our Treatit? What places hath he rendered to me? Why Anthony, could I have trusted myself to Caesar's word he who is Octavi●● brother: He who publicly deelared War against 〈◊〉 in Rome, and who did know me much better, 〈◊〉 the name of that Egyptian, more famous (said he) by her Enchantments then by her beauty, than not by that of Cleopatra? Why Anthony, could I have been assured of him? By that Cleopatra should have loaded herself with Chains? she should have with her own hands tied her arms to the Triumphing Chariot of her Enemy, and which is also worse, Anthony's Enemy. And by an imprudence and ungratitude which never had example, she should have betrayed a man who betrayed his own glory for love of her; who hath made himself enenmy to his Country for her sake; who hath abandoned Caesar's sister, rather than forsake her? Who hath divided his power with her? Who hath preferred her interests to those of the Roman Empire? and who, to say all, hath absolutely given her his heart. Ah! My Anthony, all those things are unliklie: And it almost suffices to see, that I have not forgot my obligations to you, to make me be thought innocent. But if it be permitted me to add one other Reason: I shall say, that as none that is generous doth as easily forget the good deeds of any other; so none loves to loss their own propriety: and seldom would we by injuries deform the good offices which we do to any Body. Consider then if it be possible (pardon me for speaking so) that after I had done all for you that I have done, I myself would extinguish the remembrance of it in your Soul: And of my own inclination, infuse hatred in the heart, whose Empire hath cost me so many Vows and so much Pains. For if you Remember, My dear Anthony, you was rather my conquest, than I yours: fame had given me a Picture of you, which possessing me with admiration, made me design to overcome in your person the Conqueror of all others. And though my eyes had sometimes gained famous Victories, and could have counted among their Captives Caesares and Halph gods: Yet I trusted not to their Charms, I suspected my beauty at that time; I thought it had not force enough to conquer you: And as you was the most Magnificent of all men, I did not wish that love should take possession of your heart, but by magnificency: And that the day of its Pr●sall should seem rather to be a day of Triumph then of Battle. I desired to dasle your eyes then by the beauty of my Arms: for if you remember, My dear Anthony, the first day that I say you, I shinned in a ship, whose Poop was all of Gold, the sails Purpell, and the oars Silver, which by their Equal Cadence, imitated the sound of divers instruments concording together. I was under a Pavilion or wrought Gold, and knowing your Birth was divine, because you are descended of Hercules, you are not ignorant, that I had a Vesture like that which is given to Venus. All my Women were Splendidlie Clothed as Nymphs: and a hundred Cupidons' round about me: Were also an effect of the desire I had to overcome you; For in fine, My dear Anthony, that little Armour was only made against you. It was not then without design that I overcame you: I employed all things to that end: And nothing that Beauty, Skill, or magnificency could do was fogot at that time. I know very well it is imprudence, to speak to you of all those things, in a time so differing from the felicity of that: but that day was so glorious to me, that I can never loss the memory of it: And moreover, to speak rationally, that Remembrance is not unprofitable for my Vindication. For to think any way, that I myself would loss my conquests? such thoughts never entered in the mind of any Conqueror: Certainly Alexander would have rather chosen to loss Macedonia then Persia: That Kingdom was his Father's Estate; But this was truly his own: And by the same Reason, I would have rather lost myself then lost you. You know also if I be not mistaken that I was no severe Conqueress: the Chains I gave you were of no weight: my Laws had nothing of Rudness in them: and in the manner I used you, it had been hard to know, who was Victorious. Since that, what have I done Anthony, to make me be suspected? It is true I forgot my own Glory, but it was for love of you. Yes, I have suffered myself to be opprobriated in Rome: and although the pride of your Country, that treats all strangers like Barbarians, and all Queens (like slaves) hindered me from being your Wife, the affection which I have for your Person is so strong, that I have not left off to be yours. Yes, Anthony, I loved you more than my honour, and more than my life: I thought it could not be unjust to love a man worthy of being ranked among the gods: And that the Passion which I had in my Soul, had so noble a cause, that it would render me excusable: so that without considering what misfortuns were prepared for me, I have most constantly loved you, ever since the f●●st day that I gave you my promise. Judge from that if I had power to betray you, or to speak better if I would betray myself. It is true, I fled, but generous Anthony, if I took the flight it was for love of you, I slighted the Victory to preserve your life: And your person was dearer to me, than your glory or my own. I Well see that this Discourse Astonishes and surprises you. But for your comprehension, permit me to tell what condition my Soul was in, when in the midst of the Fight, I saw you all covered with Darts and Flams. The death which I saw in so many places made me apprehensive of yours: all the Enemy's Javelines seemed by me to address themselves against you: And, in the manner, that my imagination represented the affair to me, I thought all Caesar's Army desired to fight none but Anthony. I many times fancied that I saw you dragged by force into the enemy's vessalls, or fall dead at their feet. And although those who were round about me, assured me, that I was deceived by my eyes, and that the Victory was still uncertain; What did I not say in those fatal moments? And what grief did I not feel? Ah! my dear Anthony, did you but know the sorrows of a Soul, that sees the Person beloved every minute in hazard of dying; you would find it the most terrible torment, that can ever be endured. My heart received all the blows which were aimed at you; I was captive every time, I thought you so, and death itself hath nothing so rude, as what I suffered at that time. In that deplorable condition, I found no remedy for my grief: and my imagination using greater Ingenuity for my Persecution; after having persuaded me that all the enemies desired your death, immediately persuaded me, that they resolved to preserve your life, thereby to make themselves Masters of your liberty. The first thought did certainly give me a little ease: But the image of Caesar's Triumph, presenting itself all at once to me, I relapsed into my former despair. It was not, my dear Anthony, that I believed you capable of following a conquerors Chariot: But I thought that to shun that supreme misfortune, you would have recourse to death: So that whatever way it was, I always found myself equally unhappy. I bethought me of what poison I should choice that I might follow you: And there is no fatal Resolution which passed not in my mind I thought more than twenty times to cast myself into the Sea, to free me from the agony I was in: Yet because I could not die with out forsaking you, I could not pursue that design. But coming of a sudden to consider the strong Passion which you always testified to me, I thought if you should see me abandon the army, you would also forsake it & by that found I the means of preserving your life, and liberty together. For (said I to myself, after framing that Resolution) Cesar doth not seek Victory so much, as the life or liberty of Anthony: And upon condition that he have neither the one nor the other, I shall be glad to loss the Battle. In fine, my dear Anthony, I did what my affection and despair counselled me to do: And you did what I expected from your love I had no sooner seen, you quit your Ship, and take a Galley to follow me: but my heart was sea●ed with a Surprisal of Joy: Me thought it was I gained the Battle, because I preserved you: And beginning to think that Cesar would be content to exchange his for for●●●e for mine, I was partly comforted of all my disgrace●. But that which yielded me most satisfaction in that 〈◊〉 day was to see Anthony capable of preferring Cleopatra to the desire of conquering his enemies: that he loved better to follow her though unfortunate, then to p●●sue the Victory and in fine, that the Empire of the Wor●● was not so dear to him as Cleopatra. This thought 〈◊〉 so pleasant that though my fright ranked us among the conquered, I cannot repent me, and as the case is, the Battle of Actium shall not be so glorious ●● Cesar as to Cleopatra. He overcame Soldiers who wanted their Commander, but Cleopatra saw the most Valiant of all the Heroes, throw away his Arms, and follow her. But to perfect my vindication, 〈…〉 my dear Anthony, that how soon you was disengaged from your Ships, I caused a Banner be set upon the Poop of mine, to advertise you where you should find me. Judge then if that could be the action of a Criminal; For if I had designed to be separated from you, it was easy for me not to have received you: Because I had sixty sail, and you had but one single Galley. If I had betrayed you I might have easily delivered you unto Caesar's hands: And by that given him truly the Victory. If I had essayed to rank myself on the enemy's side; if the flight which I took, might have been suspicious to you; I shall say your suspicions are lawful: But on the contrare, my flight having been the effect of my despair and love you should complain of fortune and not accuse Cleopatra. Further, do not imagine, that that Victory shall either be very Glorious to Cesar, or your retreat shameful to you; You fled not from your enemies, you but followed Cleopatra. Your Soldiers were conquered by Cesar, but you was only by love. If this Battle had been the first occasion of War, wherein you had been found, your Valior might have been questioned: but it is so universally known, that none are ignorant of it. There are almost no People, among whom you have not given proof of your courage in the beginning of your Youth: And certainly you must have given many, because the great Julius Cesar choice you to command the left wing of his army, in the famous Battle of Pharsalia; and in a day whereon the conquest of the Empire of all the World depended. And moreover, Octavius knows sufficiently that you are skilful in the art of fight and conquering: That Battle which you gained against Cassius, will not permit him to doubt: And less also the Victory you had of Brutus: When at this time it may be said, that you have overcome Octavius his conquerors: Because you know, that he lost the Battle some days before, and basely fled in presence of these, whom you soon after did overcome: But with this difference that Love caused your flight, and perhaps fear made his. You ●ee then my dear Anthony, that you are conquered without disgrace, and that your enemies has overcome without honour. And moreover, our affairs are not yet desperate: you have a strong Army near Actium, which is not yet under Caesar's Colours: My Kingdoms have also men, money, & fortified places: and I wish that, all my Subjects may loss to the last drop of their blood to preserve yours and your liberty. But in fine, when fortune shall unjustly take from you these Crowns, which your merit, and valiour have gained by force: Know that Cleopatra's love shall not diminish. No my dear Anthony, when that enemy of Illustrious Persons, shall reduce us to live under a Cottage of Straw, in some place remote from the Society of the World; I shall have for you the same passion, that I had in that blessed hour, wherein you gave Kingdoms: And wherein twenty two Kings were to be seen in your Train. Think not then that misfortune can fright me: there is but one which I can never suffer with you: And doubtless which you also will not endure. Yes, Cleopatra can be exiled with Anthony and not complain: She can Renounce all the Splendour of Royalitie, and yet preserve her desires of life, but bondage is that which she can never endure, and which she knows you will not suffer no more than she. Be then assured, that so far from having intelligence with Cesar, I give you my promise, to die rather than trust to him, or put myself in hazard of serving his Triumph. No Anthony, Cleopatra shall never carry Chains ● And if fortune be so perverse to her, that she can have no way to choose, but that of Rome or of Death; The surrendering of her life, shall justify your love to her, and her innocence. But before we come to that extreme remedy, let us do all things to resist our enemies. Let us preserve life so long as we can without shame: For in fine, it should not be indifferent to us, while we love each other perfectly. My dear Anthony I perceive, me thinks by your eyes, that my discourse hath not been unprofitable: They tell me that your heart reputes, of having unjustly suspected me; That it sees my innocence as pure as it is; and that the love it has for me is so great, that it forebears not yet to love the person, who rob your hands of the Victory. For me, my dear Anthony, you shall always be my strongest and last passion; I do acknowledge, that in the time I did not know you, Julius Caesar's glory did touch my heart: And that I could not hinder myself from loving a man, who over all the Earth, passed for the first or Mortals. A man (I say) whom you formerly judged worthy the Empire of all the World: Because you gave him his first honour, by putting a Diadem upon his head in the middle of Rome, and who after his death, by a brave and Heroic Oration which you made to the Roman People, caused him be set up amongst the gods: Who chased Brutus and Cassius; burned their Places; And Signalised your Courage and Friend ship. But since the time I have seen you, I can assure you, that you have soveraignlie reigned in my Soul; and shall reign there continually. It is an Empire which fortune hath not given you, and which being without its domination, shall ever be yours in spite of its unjustice. It may overturn Kingdoms and Empires, but it shall never change my heart: And whatever doth usually destroy the strongest affections, shall but fortify mine. And to testify to you, that I can love better than you, I will not suspect your Friendship of any weakness. Yes Anthony, I do believe that although Cleopatra hath caused all your misfortunes, she shall ever make all your happiness: and that without repenting you of having ever loved her, she shall always reign in your heart, as you do in hers. Let us go then my dear Anthony, Let us go to Alexandria, to do our last Endeavours, to conquer those who have overcome us: it is there where perhaps we shall yet find wherewithal to subdue the insolence of our enemies. But if it come to pass that Heaven hath resolved our Ruin; that fortune become constant to persecute as; that hope be absolutely denied us; that all your friends abandon you; that all my subjects betray me, and join with the stronger party; if (I say) it come to pass that all those things befall us; we shall still find our Tomb in Alexandria; And to merit from our enemies the favour, of letting our Ashes remain there together, we must Signalise our death, by shunning bondage: and in that manner, we shall Rob them of the Noblest fruits of their Victory, and conquer Cesar himself by death. THE EFFECT OF THIS HARANGUE. THey who Love, let themselves be easily persuaded, by things which can please them: And the vol●● of this fair Monster of Nilus, failed not to Attract Anthony's mind, to what she desired. He did not follow Cleopatra, to forsake her afterward: And his Choler being the Effect of his love, as well as his flight had been, it was as easy to appease it as to fly. He then believed all she said to him: He repent that he had suspected her fidelity: But repenred not the loss of the Empire of the World, for preserving Cleopatra. He followed her to Alexandria? Where though she was more Generous that second, than the first time, they were not always happy; And of all the things which she promised him Cleopatra could give Anthony, but the half of her Tomb. SISIGAMBES TO ALEXANDER. THE FOURTH HARANGUE. ARGUMENT. AFter Conquering the Indians, Alexander the Great Married Statira, one of Darius his Daughters. Then was it that Sisigambes, Mother of that Princess, abandoned her Soul to the joys and Inclinations which she had for that Invincible Conqueror. She at that time Remembered all that he had done for her; And as her Soul was Noble, she immediately testified her gratitude to him in this manner. SISIGAMBES to ALEXANDER. IT is truly this day, O Invincible Alexander, that I believe you to be the son of Jupiter: an ordinary man cannot be capable of so much Virtue. There have been several times Victories and Conquerors known; But there was never a person found like you who has made the portion of the Conquered equal with the Victorious: Nor none who have divided the Empire which they have Conquered, with the Children of their enemies. In fine, Alexander, though you were of Humane Blood, and not of that of the gods; It is most certain that you deserve Incense and Altars. I leave to the Famous Testimonies of your Valour, the Publication of those Marvellous Exploits you have done, in making you Master of the World: For I Propose to entertain you, only with your Clemency and Goodness. You know, Generous Alexander, if I should for your glory Erect a Trophy of your Enemy's Spoils; I should there find Subject of making sorrowful Tears flow abundantly, in a day wherein I ought to express joy. This does not proceed from my not knowing, that I shall not there see the Body of my Son: For I Remember you was so generously good, as to cover it with your Royal Cloak, and bedew it with your Tears; When coming to the Place where he expired by the cruelties of Treacherous Bessus, you saw that great Prince in so deplorable a condition. No. Alexander, in this Juncture of affairs, I should not look upon you as the old enemy of Darius, but as the revenger of his Death, as the protector of his Mother and Wife; as the Husband of his Daughter, and as the lawful Heir of the great Cyrus his Throne. In Effect▪ you know what were my Sons last words: He testified his Gratitude of the Obligations that I was indebted to you for: He made Vows for your Glory; He assured you he died your Friend and Servant; And without employing those few Moment's he had to live, in Deploring his Misfortune; He wished you Conqeror of the Universe; He hoped you would revenge his Death; That you would take care to perpetuate his Memory; and he also left to you, the rewarding Polistratus, for that little water he gave him, that he might the more distinctly pronounce those things which he had to say for your Glory. O my dear Darius, you was truly my Son in speaking so of Alexander! I give thanks to the gods, that at last you had Power to acknowledge, what we own to his Clemency, and Goodness. It is for those two Virtues, O Invincible Heros! That I admire you this day: The whole Earth is filled with the noise of your Victories: you are the Master a● Conqueror of all men; the meanest of your Exploits are known to all; The very Plays of your infancy shall be Patterns to all Kings that come after you: What your Conquests have been is every where known: None are ignorant of what a Glorious War you made in Greece; The Splendid Ruins of Thebes which you razed, are eternal signs that you was its Conqueror. The Battle which you gave at the passage of the Garnick, equally manifests your conduct and courage: None can be ignorant of what you did in the day of Issus; Nor of what passed at the famous Siege of Tyre. The Battle of Arbella had too remarkable Circumstances, not to be known of all the Earth. The Conquest of the Indians, and the defaite of Porrus on the Bank of Hidaspes, are Eternal Monuments of your Glory. For not only is it known, that you excelled that great King; But it is also known that after you had Conquered his Kingdom, you Restored it to him greater than it was before: And in this manner, if it be allowed so to speak; You may not only be called the overcomer of this Prince, but the Conqueror of Porrus: Because it seems you did not fight but to make him greater. The City of Oxidraxes, where you so resolutlie 〈◊〉 yourself, is seen of all the Earth: It is looked upon as the field of Battle? Where your great Heart seemed equally to defy death and fortune, and where you Surmounted both. In fine, Alexander, there may be every where found Testimonies of your Valour and Conquests; Wherefore, without speaking to you, I content myself with praising your Clemency and Goodness. But, what do I say? Those two Virtues are as Generally known as your courage: for if, as I have already said, you are Master and conqueror of all men; It may be also said that you are all men's Benefactor. It will be said that the gods have remitted into your hands all the favours they used to bestow; That they have established you to be the distributor of good deeds; And that they have given you Commission to make all the World happy. You do no sooner Conquer a Kingdom, but you give it: your enemies are no sooner your Subjects, but they become your friends: And you not sooner Conquer them, but you become their Protector. I have so famous an example in my Person of what I say, that I cannot doubt it without being Criminal. For, O Invincible Alexander! I shall never forget the favours I have received from you: Yes, I shall always remember that dismal-day, wherein my Daughter and I became your Prisoners: Fear of bondage had possessed our Spirits with such horrid Visions that death appeared the greatest happiness that could befall us. We had lost the Battle with the Throne; we believed Darius already lost; And that which was most insupportable to us, was, we thought that we should be necessitated, to die by our own hands, to shun the Insolence of the Conquerors. But alace! I did not then know Alexander; For, said I to myself, I am Mother of the greatest of his Enemies, because Darius is the most powerful of all them who resisted him: And judging of you by the rest, I feared you as much then, as I love you now. This unjust fear was of no continuance in my mind: the sight of you quickly dissipated it, and I also remember, the first time, I had the honour of seeing you. You pardoned me a fault. For because I did not know you, and because the trouble I was in, gave me not liberty 〈◊〉 Reason well on the matter, you know I took the Generous Ephistion for you: And that without being angry? you said to me, that I was not mistaken, because he was the second Alexander. That sign of Moderation towards me, and of Friendship towards your Favourite, began to give me juster thoughts of you: And to remit in my Soul that hope which fear had chased from it. And surly you also to day does well testify, that Ephistion is as dear to you as yourself: Because having designed to Marry the Eldest of my Daughters yourself, you gave the other to this second Alexander. Since that, what have you not done for me? You have not only treated me as a Queen, though I was Captive; But you have treated me as your Mother, and you have done me the favour always to call me so. Every time that any new Subject of grief did befall me, you have had the goodness to Solace me; I have seen you in consideration of me weep for your Victories; I have seen you Regrate Darius his Death; I have seen you careful of his Funerals and Tomb; I have seen you expose your life to Revenge his death; I have seen you punish the Traitor Bessus who did assasine him; I have seen you reward them who were faithful to him; And I see you also this day restore Darius to the Throne, by placing there his Daughter and mine. But the most wonderful of all the Actions that I have seen you do for Darius; Is that I have some times seen this Alexander Conqueror of the Universs, have so much Virtue, as not to trust to his own: And not to expose himself to the eyes of Darius his Wife, fearing lest he should be Conquered by her beauty. Ah! After all this it must certainly be acknowledged, that all that can be said of you is far below your merit: you have both together the chastity of my Sex, and the Virtues of all the Heroes, who have only preceded you in age. There can be no good qualities which are not to be found in your Person in the highest degree: And it may be said that Virtues are Perfectionated in your Soul, and take a new lustre. That which is temereity in any other, is but simple Effect of your courage, and excess of good cannot be vicious in you. You give profuselie, and yet without prodigality: Because you do not only proportionat the presents you make to them who receives them, but to him who gives them. So that, Towns, whole Provinces, Millions of Gold, Sceptres and Crowns, are things which Alexander can give without being Prodigal: For as he has received more favours from Heaven then any other; it is also he should give more than all others. This truth is so well known to you, and you practise it so perfectly; That after having Conquered all the World, and having given it almost wholly to divers Persons; when you have been sometimes asked what you would Reserve for yourself; You have answered, Hope. And truly I have often wondered to see, that you no sooner had any thing in your power, but you did put it in that of an other: And nevertheless, you desisted not to be always giving. This Reflection made me think, that Alexander might be said to be like the Sea, which no sooner receives in its Vast Breast the Tribute which all the Fountains, the Rivers and the Floods carry to it, but it renders it with Usury to some other part of the World. What she takes from the Persians, she gives back to the Greecks; The Ship wracks which she makes does not enrich her; She makes no body poor but to augment some others fortune; And without keeping any thing either of what is given her, or of what she Usurps; She always rolls her Vawes with an equal Motion. Just so is it with things that you receive from the Gratitude of your Subjects, of the tributes they pay to you, or of the Conquests you make. You receive them with one hand, and gives them with the other: The very booties which you take from your Enemies, does but make Rich your Soldier's 〈◊〉 So that, be it in Peace, or in war, during a Tempest, or during a Calm, you equally do good to all, without doing any to yourself. Yet there is this difference, between the Ocean and you, that all which goes from the Sea returns to it, but what goes from your hands never comes back to them again. Further, it shall be glorious for you to see People in your History, who have refused your gifts, because you gave too much: And that there shall be none found Complaining that you gave too little. Your liberality is so much the more Execllent, in that it is not blind. You do good to all the World, but you do it not always without choice. All the days of your life are not those of Donationes to the People, where without distinction, you throw Treasures among the crowd: Where the happy only have the advantage. Aristotle's Disciple knows better how to use Riches; and knows better how liberality must be practised. Yes Alexander, You have reconcilled Fortune with Virtue: We see Philosophers, Poets, Musicians, Limners, and Sculptors in abundance, and yet do not work but only for your Glory and their own. We see (I say) Philosophers practise that Policy which they teach in Governing great Kingdoms; We see Poets carry at once a Harp of Gold, and a Quiver of Ibonie; To sing your Triumphs, and command your Provinces. We see Musicians, whose Luttes are of Ivory; Who employ not their voices, but to praise you, and to speak of your felicity. We see Limners as Rich as the Mighty Princes have been formerly, who employed them to work. We see Sculptors, not only make use of Marble, Alabaster, and Porphire in their statues; but have Palaces of their own, where all those things are seen. In fine, all good Sciences and all good Arts, flourish under your reign. Also it shall be said, that as the gods have made a Miracle of you, Nature was likewaies desirous to make its chiefest works for love of you. You have Aristotless, Xenophantess, Apelless and Licippess, who owing their felicity and Glory to you, shall also bestow their Labour upon yours. All future Ages that shall see the pictures which these Famous men will leave of you, either by their writings, or by their tablets, or by their statues, shall doubtless envy that of the great Alexander. All the Virtues of that time shall wish to have been in this. You shall be the Model of great Pinces', and the foil of perverse: And while there shall be men, you shall be spoken of as a god. I certainly wonder an more, that our great Xerxes with all his power could not perfect what designs he had conceived: For since Greece ought to Educate you: The gods had reason to preserve the Conquest of the World for you. If Xerxes had accomplished his enterprise, perhaps he should have been called the Tyrran and whip of the Universe: But for you, you are the Legitimate Prince of all the People whom you have Conquered. You are sent from Heaven for the World's felicity: And there was just Subject for Hamnon the Oracle of Jupiter to say, That you was his Son, and was Invincible. No Alexander, none can exceed you, neither in War nor in Virtue: And after the design you have made to day, of replacing Darius on the the Throne by dividing it with his Daughter Statira: There is nothing more remains for you to do, and nothing more for me to wish, but the Continuance of your Glory. It is not that I fear it can be taken from you: No, there is no such thought in my mind: But I fear that men's unjustice will render them unworthy of having you long for their Master: Or that the gods jealous of our happiness recall you to themselves. If which come to pass, I do assure you, O invincible Alexander! not to stay in the World after you: I could live after Darius, who was my Son; But after all the Obligations which I have had from you, I shall not survive Alexander. I had not told you, such sad thoughts in a day of rejoicing, if I had not believed that it would be advantageous to you, that it should be known there was a Princess, that there was (I say) a Mother, and if I dare say a Virtuous Mother, who without baseness, and without unjustice, hath loved you better than her own Son, though you was her enemy. Pardon me then so doleful a thought, because it is Glorious to you: And believe that when my wishes are exhausted, not only shall your Glory be immortal, but likewaies your Person. THE EFFECT OF THIS HARANGUE. ALexander must be known, if the Effect of this Discourse be questioned. That great and Generous Soul did again redouble his good Offices, to that Illustrious Princess: And did so gain her Heart; That when soon after the death of this invincible Conqueror came to pass in Babylon, she failed not to keep her promise, for she died of sorrow. And certainly that death was a Glorious sign of Alexander's goodness: And when some Excellent Orator, shall employ all his Art, to make him a Famous Elegy: when he has (I say) Magnificently Exaggerated all his brave Actions, I believe I shall say something Greater and more Extraordinary: When I only say that Sisigambes endured the death of her Son Darius, and could not bear with that of the great Alexander. She lived after the one, and died after the other; And Virtue was of more force with her then Nature. O the brave Panegirick! But why? it was Alexander. SOPHONISBA TO MASSINISSA. THE FIFTH HARANGUE. ARGUMENT. AFter that by the Romans assistance, Massinissa had Reconquered the Kingdom of his Fathers, and taken Syphax prisoner, who had Usurped it: He Beseidged and took the town of Sirthe, where Sophonisba Wife of this Captive King, was retired. The charms of that fair African, made strong impressions in his heart, and the Numideans being Naturalie inclined to Love, he was no sooner Victorious, but he began to feel himself Conquered. But coming to make Reflections upon the Austere Humour of Scipio, he questioned not his being desirous to have that Beautiful Captive Queen led in Triumph, to hinder which he Married her the same day, not thinking that after that, any hodie would make Triumph of the Wife of a King, allied to the Roman People. But scarcely was this sudden Marriage celebrated, when Scipio being informed of it, sent by Lellius to ordain Massinissa, to come to him and give account of his Victory. But Sophonisba who had a Natural aversion to the Romans, and more also to bondage; having seen something in the eyes of Lellius that threatened Triumph, did in this manner speak to Massinissa, at his going to part from her. SOPHONISBA TO MASSINISSA. MY LORD. I Well see by Lellius Procedure, that fortune is not yet weary of Persecuting me: That after having in one and the same day, lost my Crown, my Husband and my Liberty, and by a Capricio of that inconstant thing, found again my Liberty, and Illustrious Husband, and a Crown; I well see (I say) that it is yet ready after such strange accidents to make me loss all things. Lellius looking upon me hath doubtless judged me sufficiently pretty, to honour Scipio's Trumph, and to follow his Chariot I have seen in his eyes the Idea of what he bears in his mind, and the design which he has in his heart: But perhaps he has not discovered what I have in mine. He knows not that desire of Liberty is much stronger in me, then that of Life: And that for preserving the first, I am capable of losing the other with joy. Yes I clearly perceive my dear Massinissa that You are going to fight against strong enemies: The Austerity of Scipio's Humour, joined to the Roman Austerity shall doubtless make him give You a sharp Reprimand: he will think it strange, that in the very day of your Victory, and in the very day of your Re-taking the Crown which belonged to You. You should have thought of Marriage: And have chosen for you Wife, not only that of your Enemy, but a Captive, a Carthaginean, the Daughter of Hasdru●●ll, and the Enemy of Rome. Nevertheless my Lord, remember, that at this time, You should not look upon me, nor as the Wife of Syphax, nor as a Captive, nor as a Carthaginean, nor as Hasdruballs' Daughter, nor as Enemy of Rome, though I Glory in being so; But as the Wise of the Illustrious Massinissa. Remember also, that I consented not to receive that honour till after that you promised me that I should not fall in the Romans power: You have engaged your word, be sure than not to fail, I desire not that You expose yourself to the loss of the Senate's Friendship for preserving me, because your hard Fortune hath made You need it. But I only desire, that in pursuance of what You have sworn to me, you will hinder me from falling alive in Scipio's power. I doubt not but Syphax in the condition he is in, will say to his Conqerour, that I am the cause of his Misfortune; That I have loaded him with Irones, that I made him friend to Carthage, and Rome's enemy. Yes Generous Massinissa, I avouch all these things And if I could rob the Romans of You, I would esteem myself happy: And believe that my death should be truly worthy the Daughter of Hasdruball. Pardon me, my dear Massinissa, for speakieg so boldly to You. But since this is the last time, perhaps that I shall ever see You, I shall joyfully tell You what have always been my sentiments: To the end, that by the knowledge I shall give You, of that aversion which I ever had to bondage, You may be the more easily induced, to think of my Liberty. How soon I had opened my eyes to the light, the first thing I learned, was that there Were a People, who without anle right, but what the strong imposes upon the weak, would make themselves Masters of all others: And while my infancy lasted. I heard no discourse but of the Roman Triumphs; Of Kings whom they had chained; Of famous Captives which they had made; Of the Miseries of these unfortunate men; And of all the things that are done in those fatal Spectales, where the Romans pride makes up the Noblest fruit of the Victory. Those images were so early Imprinted in my mind, that nothing could ever banish them thence. Since I became more Reasonable by age, I have had more Aversion for that Roman Eagle; which sees nothing but the rapines it makes: And which flies not above the heads of Kings, but to take off their Crowns. Perhaps it will be said to me, that the Romans give so many Kingdoms as they Usurp? And that they make as many Kings as they 〈◊〉 to their Chariot. But my dear Massinissa, if you will rightly Consider the business, You will find that they give, no Sceptres, but to have the more famous slaves: And that if they put Crowns upon their Vassals heads, it is but to have the pleasure of seeing them laid at their feet; because that by their orders, they will have homage paid to them. Vanity is the Soul of that Nation: It is its only work: It is but for it that it makes Conquests; Usurps Kingdoms; Desolates all the World; And unsatisfied in being absolutely Mistress of all that great Part of the Universe, which is of its Continent; Passes the Seas to come and Disturb our Repose. For if only a desire of augmenting its Confines, and encreassing its riches, caused it make War, it would be content to overturn Thrones, and putting them to death who Lawfully Possessed them. But because pride is their chief instigator; A simple Citizen of Rome, must for his Glory, and for the People's divertisement, Drag Kings chained after his Triumphing Chariot. O Gods! Is it possible that Conqueros can be so inhuman! Is it possible to find Conquered Kings so cowardly to endure such cruel Usage? Yes, without doubt, and too many examples of this kind, have made it known, that all Princes are not Generous. Nevertheless it is certain, that Irons and Crowns, Sceptres and Chains, are things which should never be seen together: A Chair drawn by Elephants, should not be followed by Kings; And by Kings tied like Criminal, with whom no signs of Royalty are left, but to signalise their shame, and the Glory of their Conqueror. But what Glory can he have who Triumphs in this sort? For if these whom he has overcome are baise, (as there is great appearance because they live:) It is no just Subject of vanity to have outbraved them. And if these unfortunate men, testified courage in their defaite; It is great inhumanity in him who treats thus Princes who have done nothing, but defend their Crowns; Their Country; Their Wives; Their Children; Their Subjects; And their Domestick-Gods. But if for the Glory of their Conquerors, and for the Pleasure of the People they would have Triumphs; It would be more Glorious for them, to cause carry the Enemy's arms whom they have killed with their own hands, then to have themselves followed by Kings whom they have not fought. Chariots filled with broken arms, Bucklers, Lances, Javelins, and Standards taken from the Enemies; Would make a show less Lamentable and more agreeable to the eyes of the People. But Gods! Is it possible that Kings are destined for such infamy? That these same People, who have Combats of Gladiators and of wild Beasts given them for their divertisement; Should also be the cause of such fatal Ceremony; And extract their pleasure from the ignominy and misfortune of Kings; That it should be, that they who delight in seeing four thousand men, by a horrid brutality kill one another in one day; And who find their happiness in seeing Tigers and Lions devour each other; Is it possible (I say) that Kings oppressed with Irons, should be draged for these same People? For me, my dear Massinissa, I find something so strange in this sort of Triumph, that I doubt if it be more disgraceful to the Conquered, then to the Victorious; and in my particular, I know very well, that I shall neither do the one nor the other. Judge then my dear Massinissa, if a person who would not enter Rome in a Triumphing Chariot, followed by a hunger chained Kings; Can resolve to follow with Irons, that of the proud Scipio. No, Sophonisba's Soul is too great for that; If I were but a Carthaginean, I shall never be capable of it: If I were but Hasdrubals daughter, I shall never resolve to do it: If I were but the Wife of the unfortunate Syphax, it is a weakness that shall never come in my mind: And If I were but the slave of the Illustrious Massinissa, I shall not follow any other Conqueror. But being both together, a Carthaginean; Hasdruballs daughters; Wife to Syphax, and Massinissa, and Queen of two great Kingdoms: Scipio needs not think to make Triumph of Sophonisba. No, Generous Massinissa, if the chains they would give me were of Diamonds; And all the Irons Glister with Gold and precious Stones; And if they would assure me that I should be immediately restored to the Throne, how soon I were untied from the Triumphant Chariot, I would choose death in prejudice of Royalltie: And if my hand should once carry Irons, I should no more think it worthy to carry a Sceptre. In fine, I have so strong an aversion for slavery and bondage, and my Spirit is so delicate in such matters, that if I thought Scipio would cause carry my Picture in Triumph, I would pray you to put all the Limners of Numidea to death. But no, I condemn myself for that thought: For if the insensible Scipio does carry my Image in his entering into Rome, he shall rather publish my Glory then his own; It will be seen that I could die, when I could live no longer with honour: And that a Feminine courage surpassed the Roman Vanity. I doubt not Generous Massinissa, if you do not with all your force oppose Scipio's severity, but that you will be compelled to give me death, for acquitting you of your promise; For besides the public interest, there is also his own particular. He Remembers that his Father and Uncle are formerly dead in Africa: He looks upon me as a fit victim to appease their Ghosts: And Joining together in his heart, Rome's Glory and his own vengeance, it is not to be believed that Hasdruballs Daughter shall obtain her Liberty. Yet Generous Massinissa, I think, it will be very unjust, if in the same day wherein you Re-take the Crown of Numidea, your Wife should be tied to a Triumphing Chariot: It is me thinks, to make you at once, a King and a Slave: Because if (what you have said to me be true) that my sorrow and tears, added to the little beauty I have, hath touched your heart, and forced you to love me as much as yourself; This will be a Triumphing over you as well as me. Consider well Massinissa, If you can be my Spectator that day: Or if you will not think me unworthy of having done me the honour to Marry me, if I should be capable of disgracing you so much: But do not fear that I shall expose you to such sorrow: If Scipio be inexorable, and you keep your promise to me, my death shall vindicat what choice you have made. How ever before we have recourse to this last extremity, do all you can to move the heart of that insensible Creature: Tell him I have wholly rendered myself to you: That of all the booty, which your Valour hath acquired to the Romans: You ask only one slave from them. But if his unjustice would oblige you to deliver her into his hands, as if you were the meanest Soldier of his Legions; Tell him then that this slave is your Wife: And that she cannot be made Triumph of without Triumphing over you: And that the Blood which you have lost, in the service of the Reipublick, deserves their giving you Permission to let her live in Freedom. Let him know that you have found her in your Kingdom, in your Palace, and upon your Throne: That in Reason she belongs to you; And cannot be taken from you without injustice. But if these weighty Reasons prevaill not, pray him tenderly: And if at last you cannot make him flexible, Remember your promise, and fail not to keep it. I perceive by your eyes, my dear Massinissa, that it will grieve you to present me with such a lamentable gift: I well see (I say) that it will trouble you to send poison to her, to whom you have given a Diadem, your heart and liberty: I know that it is a rigid thought, and that it will be a doleful sight to you to see those same Torches which gave light at my Marriage, must burn at my Funerals: And that the same hand which you gave me in pledge of your faith, must be that which must open my Tomb: But in fine, all those things shall be more supportable to you, (if you be Generous as I believe you are) then to see me chained: They who say that true Generosity consists in undergoing fatal accidents with constancy; And that abandoning life for eviting misfortune, is according to their opinion a yielding the Victory to Fortune: These People (I say) knows not what is the true Glory of Princes. This thought is good for Philosophers, but not for Kings, whose whole Actions should be Heroic Patterns of Valour. But if quitting of life be allowed (which I doubt not) it must assuredly be, to shun the infamy of being led in Triumph. It is a great unhappiness to a King, to have his Subjects revolt: But if he should then think of dying I would esteem him baise: Because he may fight and punish them. It is a great misfortune for a Prince to loss a Battle: But because it is often seen, that they who are conquered to day, may be Victorious to morrow: He must stand firm, and not abandon himself to despair. In fine, all misfortunes that can have an honourable remedy, should not make us have recourse to the Tomb: But when all things are lost, there remains no more for our choice, but enains or death; We must break the cords of life to escape those of bondage. Behold my dear Massinissa, all I had to say to you: Remember it then I conjure you: And do not Listen so much to what Scipio will say to you, as not to Remember your promise, and the discourse which I have made to you. It is (if I be not deceived) so just and rational, that you cannot dissaprove of it. Go then, my dear and well beloved Massinissa, go fight for my liberty and your Glory, against the insensible Scipio. Ask him Venerablie, if after he was not willing to see the fair prisoners he hath made, in his new conquests, why he should desire to see a Woman tied to his Chariot, whose looks had power to conquer Massinissa? Let him fear that I become not his conqueror, in stead of his desiring to be mine: And that at least the austere Virtue which he professes, should serve to hinder his desires of Triumphing over me. You may well perceive, my dear Massinissa, that my mind is not troubled, and that I speak to you with abundance of tranquillity: And I do also assure you, that in the condition I find myself, there is nothing I regrate, but my being constrained to be so soon separated from you. Doubtless this is the only thing can touch my heart: For having seen my Country desolated; Syphax prisoner; The Crown fallen from off my head; And what is yet worse, Sophonisba ready to be Scipio's Captive: After (I say) all those things; My Tomb shall be a refuge, and resting place to me, if I could enter there without abandoning you. But I have this comfort in my misery, that having ever had an Irreconcilable hatred to the Romans Tyranny: I have at least this advantage to have been the captive of a Numidean and not of a Roman: But also of a Numidean who is my Husband and Liberator: And whose slave I no sooner was, but I was absolute Mistress of his Soul. Go then my dear Massinissa, and fail not to keep your promise to the unhappy Sophonisba: Who will with much impatience expect Liberty, or Poison. THE EFFECT OF THIS HARANGUE THis beautiful and deplorable Queen obtained her desire, because Massinissa obtained nothing from Scipio. He sent death to her, because he could not preserve her Liberty free from danger. And this Sluggard, preferred his interest, and the Romans Friendship, to the life of that Generous Person. I should have patiently endured his losing of it to have preserved his Glory, if he could do it no other way: But that this Gallant man should have lived eighty years after such a loss, and still friend to the Romans; Is that which hath made me Choleric against him, every time I see this accident in History: And which also makes me Silent, because if I had writ more, I must have reproached him. Pity Sophonisba with me my dear Reader, and because I endeavour to divect you, be at least so complacent as not to approve of the action, of the insensible and too wise Massinissa. ZENOBIA TO HER DAUGHTERS. THE SIXTH HARANGUE. ARGUMENT. THis Discourse and the Precedent, lets us clearly see, that all things have two Faces: And that we may arrive at the same end, by different ways, I mean at Virtue. Sophonisba would die, the Valiant Zenobia would live; And both would live and die by Principels of Generosity. The one beholds Liberty as the Chief good: The other believes that Chief good consists in Sovereign Wisdom. The one could not endure the Idea of a Chariot, because she believed it Ignominious to its Followers: The other followed the Chariot without trouble, because she thought nothing shameful but crime. The one beheld a Conqueror's Triumph with despair, as a mighty disgrace: The other considered it with disdain, as a chance of Fortune. The one died, the other lived: The one searched Glory, where the other believed it Infamy: However as I have said, the one and the other had a Virtuous Subject: So true is it that all things have divers Faces, according to the bias they are regarded. You have heard the Reasons of the one, hear also the other, and then judge of both: ZENOBIA TO HER DAUGHTERS. IT is now a long time, dear & unfortunat Princesses, that I have seen your tears trickle in vain: My Constancy hath to no purpose taught you, that Heroic Spirits can endur great sorrows without despair: The Idea of the Throne which you have lost, and of the chariot which you have followed, being always fresh in your memory, makes my example Fruitless: And all the days of your life, renew your affliction. You still carry in your hearts the Irons which you had on your hands, that cursed day wherein you entered Rome: And without losing any of that Noble pride, which Illustrious Birth inspires in them who are born with that advantage; Aurellian Triumphs yet over you, every time you call to mind his Triumph. I am very sorry, O my Daughters, that having made you partakers of my disgraces, I cannot give you constancy to support them. Yet it's the only heritage I can leave you a dying, and I do most affectionately wish that that Virtue may pass from my heart into yours: To the end that being unable to live as Queens, you may at least reign over yourselves, If through excess of misfortune, any could with Reason despair, it is certain Zenobia may do it: For as she has had more Glory than any of her sex could ever obtain; So her misfortunes have been more deplorable, than any was ever heard of You know that on my side you may reckon the Ptolomees Kings of Egypt for your fore Fathers, and that I am come of the Illustrious Blood of Cleopatra. But alace! It may be said that the Triumphant Chariot which Augustus appointed for her, is come to me by right of succession: And that I have only followed what was prepared for her. Yet Fortune hath treated me with greater inhumanity: For you are not ignorant that I followed a chariot, which I thought I led, and which I had caused do with design to make Triumph of him, who Triumphed over me. You also know, that the beginning of my life, was full of happiness; The Valiant Odenat your Father, and my dear Lord; After he had given me the Crown of Palmiranea would also make me partaker of his Glorious conquests. And I can say without vanity, and without wronging that Heros that if he gave to Zenobia the Crown which she carried; She did also with her own hand add leaves of Laurel to that which Victory had put upon his head. Yes my Daughters, I can say without offending the memory of Odenat, that we together conquered all the East: And being encouraged by just resentments we did undertake to revenge upon the Persians the indignities they made the Emperor Valerian suffer whom Sapor keeped prisoner; When in the interim the infamous Galienus his Son abandoned himself to all sorts of delight. Yet Odenat did not forebear to send him all the prisoners we made in that War: We took the best places in Mesopotamia; Carres, and Nisibea rendered to my dear Lord: And pursueing the Victory, we routed at Ctesiphont, an innumerable multitude of Persians; We made many Satrapps prisoners; their King also fled away: And continuing almost wholly Victorious, in all our Encounters; Renown made such Proclamations of Odenates Valour, that Galienus in fine roused himself. Then stimulated by fear rather than gratitude, he made him Colleague in the Empire: And to give him also more honour, you know he caused Medalles be made, wherein my dear Odenat dragged the Persians captives, ever till then I had felicity: Victory and Fortune equally favoured me: But alace! And must I say it? When my dear Odenat was assasined with the eldest of my Children; I passed from one extremity to an other: And became as miserable as I had been happy. Then was it my Daughters, that I had need of all my Virtue, to endure that misfortune: And certainly Odenates death, is that, which hath made the loss of my freedom the less rude. I had more trouble to follow my dear Lord to the Tomb, than I had to follow Aurelians chariot: And his lamentable Pomp, made me shed mere tears, than did all the Magnificence of the Triumph was made of me. But though my grief was excessive, I spent not too long time in weeping: I thought of preserving the Empire for my Children, and of washing of the Blood which he shed, with that of his enemies. And as it might have been said, that Valour was the Soul of that Heros; I made vows to pass my Life time, in gathering Palms to put upon his Tomb: That it might be one day said, my hand alone had revenged his death; Preserved the Empire for his Children; And Elevated a Trophy to his Glory. I believed (I say) that it was more worthy, to hang above his Coffin, the spoils of these enemies I should conquer, then to drown his Ashes with my tears: And being this resolved I took arms in one hand, and the reins of the Empire in the other. I was always of the opinion, my Daughters, that all Virtues could not be incompatible: That it was not impossible for one Person to possess them all: That those of men might be Practised by Women: That true Virtue affects no Sex: That one may be both chaste and Valiant: testify great courage at one time, and humility at an other: Be severe and meek at several Occasions: Command and obey: Know how to carry Irons and a Crown with the same countenance: It is by this consideration; (my Daughters) that I have done things so appearentlie different; though I have ever been what I am to day. But to recount all my life to you, you know that death, which rob me of my dear Odenat, did not take the happiness of his arms from me. On the contrate, I though his valtor joined itself with mine: I slighted the Army which Galienus, sent against me, under the conduct of Heraclean: And unsatisfied with this first Victory, I went into Egypt, and made me absolute Mistress of my Predecessors Kingdom. From thence I was at Ancyre, the Metropolis of Galatia: I carried likewaies my arms through all Berhinea, to Calcedonea, and below Bosphore, and after I had conquered the Persians divers times, and spread the noise of my Victories over all the Universe; Aurelian, guided by Fortune, and being more capable of useing a Sword, than Galienus was; Came at last in Person to stop the course. I should Exactly re-count all my misfortunes to you, as I have done my felicity, if I did not know, that you remember them but too much: Nor should I have undertaken to Repeat my Victories, if your extreme Melancholy made me not think, that your thoughts entertaining nothing but sorrow full imaginations, you had forgot them. Surely you are not ignorant which way Aurelian conducted me to Rome: Doubtless you remember, how Herclamones Perfidy, made him take the City of Theanea: How Maugre my conduct and courage, Aurelian by his craft gained the Battle of Antioch: How Zabas Industry put my Person in safety: How I retreated to Emesa: How I rallied my Troops: How I gave Battle to Aurelian a second time; who after thinking he had lost, was in fine Victor in spite of all my endeavours. You know also I abandoned Emesa, and went to shut myself up in Palmiranea, waiting for the succourss which the Persians, the Saracens, and the Armenians promised me: You know (I say) that Aurelian came there and besieged me, with a strong Army which was composed of Pannoneans, Dalmatians, Mesiness, Celtes, a quantity of Moors, and a multitude of other Troops, drawn out of Asia, Theanea, Mesopotamea, Sirea, Phenitia- and Palestina. You know (I say) that I saw at that time, as great Preparation of War against me: As there needed be, to conquer the whole Earth. However I lost not my heart at that time: You know that I defended the Walls of Palmeranea, with so much courage as conduct; That Aurelian himself was dangerously wounded thereby an Arrow, which may be was drawn at him by my hand: For the gods knows, if I spared my life, to preserve your Liberty: And further, I know since my having been at Rome, that Posterity will know. I did not forsake the Throne, which belonged to you, without defending it. Aurelian having writ to his Friend Macapor, Said, It was true, that he fought against a Woman: But a Woman who had more Archers under her pay, then if she had been a man, against a Woman who hath Prudence in danger, and who by her foresight, hath made so great Preparations of War, to Oppose his conquest, that it was impossible to imagine, what prodigious number, of Darts, and Stones she had provided. In fine (said he speaking of me) there is no place about the Walls of Palmiranea, that is not defended by many Machinations: Its Veins Lenches every hour Artificial sire upon us, and in few words, she fears like a Woman, and fights like a Person affeared. Behold my Daughters, what my Enemy hath said of me: And surely he had not Reason to say, that I feared, because when he sent to offer me life and pardon, (for his letter was writ in these terms) if I would render him the place, and if I would deliver into his hands all my Jewels and Treasures: I answered him so resolutely, that Aurelian was offended. I remember among other things that I said, I told him, that never any but he sought of me what he desired: Remember you (said I to him) that Virtue should as well govern affairs of War. as those of peace; And further, I let you know, that the Persians assistance, which we expect, will not fail us: We have on our party, the Armenians, and Sarasines: And Aurelian, since the robbers of Sirea did beat your army; What shall we do when we have all the forces, which we wait for from these places? Surely you will then abate some of that great pride, with which as if you were wholly victorious, you command me to render. You see, my Daughters, that while you was in the Temple praying to the Gods, I did all things possibly for your Preservation, and never did any unglorious action. Finally you know, that Aurelian did defate the Persians, who were coming to our relief: And seeing it absolutely impossible to save that place, I was at least desirous to secure my Person: But Fate which had resolved my Ruin, made Aurelian at last my Conqueror, and me his prisoner. How soon he saw me, he asked ' from whence came it, that I had the boldness to attack the Roman Emperors and despise their forces: Aurelian (said I to him) I acknowledge you for a lawful Emperor, because you know how to Conquer; But for Galienus and such as he, I never had that esteem of them. Till now, my Daughters, you cannot accuse me of cowardice: I have formerly carried a Crown without vanity; I have had my hand sufficiently firm, to hold at once a Sceptre and a Sword: I have equally known the Arts of fight and of reigning: I have known how to Conquer, and which is more, I knew how to use the Victory: I have received good Fortune with Moderation: And in the very time, wherein Youth & the weakness of my Sex, might have made me proud of that little beauty I had: I have without pleasure heard, all the flatterers of the Court, paint me in their verses, with Lilies and Roses; say that my Teeth were Oriental Pearls: That my Eyes, black as they were, shined clearer than the Sun; And in fine that Venus herself was not so beautiful as I My Daughters I have told you all these things and I have extended myself more than I ought: To make you comprehend that in all the actions of my life, I was never guilty of Imbecility: Think not then, that in the most important of all the actions I have done, or wherein there was greatest need of courage, that my heart ever failed me, more than at other times. No, my Daughters, I have done nothing in all my life, that gives me more Satisfaction of myself, then that I had power to follow a Triumphing Chariot with constancy. It is truly, at such times, that a great Spirit it requisite, let it not be said to me, in such encounters that despair is a Virtue, and constancy a weakness. No, Vice can never be Virtue, nor can Virtue ever be Vicious. Let none say to me, that such constancy is more proper for Philosophers than Kings: But know, my Daughters, that there is no difference betwixt Philosophers and Kings: If not that the one teaches Veritable Wisdom, and the other should practise it. In fine as Sovereigns own their example to their Subjects, and because they are in the sight of all the World; There is no Virtue, which they ought not to imitate. Yet among all these that are most necessare for Princes, Constancy is the more Illustrious, as being the most difficile: But for that despair, which puts the dagger in the hand of them who would evit Bondage, it is rather infirmity than Virtue. They cannot look upon Fortune when it is Irritated: It would not sooner attack them, but they eat fight it: It would not sooner destroy them, but they promote its designs: By a weakness unworthy of them, they yield the Victory to this airy thing: And by a Precipitous action, without knowing often what they do, they quit the Irons, in abandoning their lives, whose sweetness they only loved, without being able to endure the bitter. For me, my Daughters, who am of an other opinion; I mantain that they who live with Glory, should die as slowly as possible: And that to speak rationally, a sudden death is rather a sign of Remorse of Repentance, and Imbecility, then of great courage. It may be, some will say to me, that I am of a Race which should never carry Irons: That since Cleopatra would not follow Augustus his Chariot, I should never have followed that of Aurelian: But there is such a difference between that great Queen and me, that all her Glory consisted in her death: And I made mine consist in my life. Her reputation had not been advantageous to her, if she had not died by her own hand; And mine should never have been at the height it is come to, if I had deprived myself of the Glory, of knowing to carry Irons, with such Grandeur of Courage, as if I had Triumphed over Aurelian, as he did of me: If Cleopatra had followed Augustus his Chariot, she would have seen a hundred odious objects in her traversing Rome, which would have reproached her of her former Imprudences: The People would have certainly caused her understand by their murmur a part of her wanting conduct: But for me, I was very certain, that I could see nothing about the Chariot which I followed, but men whom I had formerly conquered and witnesses of my Valour and Virtue. I was, I say, assured to hear no Contumely, and to Understand no Speeches but of my present misfortune, and of my former Victories. Behold, said the People, the Valiant Zenobia: Behold the Woman who did gain many Victories: Admire her constancy in this encounter: Might it not be said, that these chains of Diamonds, which she carries, do rather seen to adorn than bind her; And that she leads the Chariot which she follows? In fine, my Daughters, in the time I was all loaded with Irons, or to name them better, Chains of Gold and Jewels, like a Noble Slave; In the time of all that Magnificent Triumph, which is undoubtedlie the most unpleasant day of Bondage; I was at freedom in my heart, and had my mind quiet enough, to see with pleasure, that my constancy, drew tears from some of my enemies, Yes, my Daughters, Virtue hath so strong charms, that their Roman austerity could not resist them; And I saw some among them weep for Aurelians Victory and my misfortune: Moreover, none should be so cowardly, as to let the mind be troubled, with things that do not at all touch it, if they be perfectly wise. All the great preparations that are made for these Triumphs should not fright a rational Soul: All these guilded Chariots, these chains of Diamonds, these Trophies of Arms, and the multitudes of People who flock together, to see that fatal Ceremony, should not make a Generous Person timorous, It is true, my chains were weighty; But when they hurt not the mind, they do not much incomode the arms that carry them: And for me in that deplorable state, I many times thought that as fortune had made me follow a Chariot, I myself had done it for Triumph; By that same Revolution which befalls all things in the World: You may perhaps one day have Sceptres made to you, of these same chains which I carried. But in fine, if this should not come to pass, afflict yourselves moderately: Be more careful to approve yourselves worthy of the Throne; Then to remount it: For in the humour I am of, I have more esteem of a simple slave, if he be faithful, then of the most potent King in the World, if he be not Generous. Think then my Daughters, of enduring your Bondage with more constancy: And believe certainly, that if I have been conquered by Aurelian: Mine surpassed fortune, it may be seen through all the course of my life, that death did not fright me, if I could have had Glory by it: I have seen it a hundred times under a more terrifying countenance then the most desperate have ever seen: Cato his dagger, Brutus his sword, Porcias' burning coals, Mithradates his poison, nor Cleopatra's asps, are any way so fearful. I have seen greeles of darts and arrows fall upon my head; I have seen the points of a hundred lances presented to my heart; And all this without any thoughts of fear. Think not then, if I had believed death could have been Glorious to me, but that I could have found it by my own hand. It was accustomed to conquer others; And it would have broken my Irons if I would: But I thought my share of Glory would be greater, to carry them without weeping, then to spill my Blood through feebleness or despair. They whose satisfaction only consists in themselves, quits the Throne with less regrate than others: They who encounter nothing but contentment in their minds, are constrained to seek their happiness, in things that they are strangers to. It may be then you will ask me, what remains for Princesses to do, who have lost their Empire and Liberty? I shall answer you reasonably, that since the Gods were desirous to give your courage so Noble a Subject, you are obliged to use it well: And to make all the World know, by your Patience and Virtue, that you merit the Sceptre which is taken from you; And that the Irons which were given you, were unworthy of you, This, my Daughters, is what remains for you to do: And if you could let yourselves be moved by my example and reasons; You should find that your life might yet be pleasing and Glorious to you. At least you have this advantage, that in the condition your Fortune is, it cannot become worse than it is: So that if you can but once accustom yourselves to it, nothing can afterwards trouble your repose. Remember that of the many millions of men whom the World contains, there are not an hundreth who carry Crowns: And do you believe, my Daughters, that all these men are unhappy, and that there is no pleasure but on the Throne? If it be so, O how you are deceived! There is no condition of life, but hath pain and pleasure: And it is true Wisdom, to know how to use all equally, if Fortune bring you to the trial of it. They who kill themselves, know not that while People are living, they are in a state of acquiring Glory: There is no Tyrran can hinder me from Immortalising my name every day, if he let me live, and if I be Virtuous: And if my very silence, do make me suffer any punishment, while I endure it with constancy, it shall not forebear to speak of me. Let us live then, my Daughters, because we can do it with honour: And because we also have the means left us of testifying our Virtue, the Sceptre, the Throne, the Empire which we have lost, were they not given us by Fortune: But constancy comes directly from the gods. It was from their hands I received it: And for that cause you ought to imitate it: It is the true sign of Heroes, as despare is of the weak or inconsiderate. Trouble not yourselves then, for what posterity will say of me? And do not fear that the day of Aurelians Triumph, hath obscured my Victories; Since as I said to you, it was the most Glorious of my life. And moreover I know that Aurelian hath made a picture of me at his speaking to the Senate which shall make me known to Posterity: Preserve it then, my Daughters, that when I shall be no more, the remembrance of what I have been, may oblige you to be always what you ought. Behold the culores wherewith Aurelian hath painted his tablet: I have learned (said he) that I be not reproached of doing an action so little worthy of great courage, by Triumphing over Zenobia: But they who blame me, knows not what Praise I Merit, if they knew what a Woman she was: How well advised Counsels she had: How courageous she showed herself, and constant in keeping good Order: How Imperious and Grave she was among Soldiers: How Liberal when her affair obliged her: And how severe and exact, when necessity constrained her: I could say it was by her assistance, that Odenat conquered the Persians, and pursued the King Sapor to Ctesiphont: I could affirm that this Woman had so possessed all the East and Egypt with the terror of her arms: That neither the Arabians, Sarasians nor Armenianes dared to move. Let them who are displeased with these Actions be silent; For if there be no honour in having Conquered and Triumphed over a Woman what will they say of Galienus in contempt of whom she mantained her Empire. what will they say of Claudius a Holy and Venerable Prince; Who being employed in the War with the Goths, by a laudable Prudence, suffered her to reign; To the end, that this Princess employing her arms elsewhere, he might with the greater facility accomplish his other enterprises. Behold my daughters, what my conqueror hath said of me, though I followed his Chariot. Have the same Equity, I conjure you: And believe that whosoever liveth thus, need not kill himself to Immortalise his Name. THE EFFECT OF THIS HARANGUE. THis Discourse lets it be seen, that a per suasive Orator, may prevail with others: These Princesses lived, as their Mother had no desires of death; And the Gardens that Aurelian gave them for their dwelling place, and which are called to this day Tivoly, seems more pleasing to them, them the Coffin. History gives account that this Generous Queen was highly esteemed by all the Roman Ladies: And that her Daughters were Married to the most Illustrious Families. It was little for their Birth, but much for their misfortune: Because these same People thought Anthony and Titus unworthily Married, though they espoused Queens. This was a Noble thought; But it was that of the Masters of the World. And who says that, says all. PORCIA TO VOLUMNIUS. THE SEVENTH HARANGUE. ARGUMENT. AFter that Brutus and Cassius were defaited and killed: Porcia Wife to the first, and Daughter to Cato of Utica, testified by her discourse and actions, that she would follow her Husband's fate, and that she would live no longer. Her Relations who were willing to hinder her from dying, after they had taken all things from her, thas could advance such fatal designs, sent Volumnius the Philosopher, who had been the intimate friend of Brutus, to endeavour to persuade her by reason, that she ought not to abandon herself to despair. But this Generous Wife, after she had most impatiently heard him answered him in this manner. PORCIA TO VOLUMNIUS. IT is in vain, O wise Volumnius, that my Relations have chosen you to persuade me to live after the loss I have had: Seeing it is incredible that the same Philosopher, who put the Sword in the hand of the Illustrious Cato my Father, and afterward in that of my dear Brutus, can make me believe that it is just or possible for me to preserve my life. No Volumnius, in the state I am Reduced to, I neither can nor aught to live: You know that contrare to my Sex, that Philosophy which you employ against me, is not altogether unknown to me; And that the Virtuous Cato my Father, madh me learn it with greatcare. Think not then that the Resolution I take, is the Effect of a Spirit blinded with its own grief, and of despair without Reason. I have meditated upon it a long time: And in the Vicissitudes of things, I have form a design, which I shall execute to day. Any other but I might satisfy their Husband's Ashes, with shedding of tears all the rest of their days, but the Daughter of Cato, and Wife of Brutus should do it an other way. Also I am very well assured, that Porcia has too great a Soul, to lead a Life Unworthy of her Birth; And of the honour of having had for her Father and Husband, the two most Illustrious of the Ancient Romans: But for them who live to day, they are the Remains of Julius Caesar's slaves; or to say better, they are enraged Tigers, who tear their Mother's bowels, by desolating their Country. Woe is me! Who could ever have thought, that the Roman People, were become enemies of their own Liberty? That it could be they themselves, who not only forged the chains which did captivate them; Who not only set upon the Throne him who was the cause of so many men's deaths, that he might come to it; But who was also capable of weeping for the death of a Tyrran; Place him in the rank of the gods; And criminally pursue, a man, who to give them liberty, hazarded his life & despised Caesar's Friendship? For what would not he had obtained from him, if he could have submitted to Bondage? His Irons should have been certainlie-lighter then others: And for a little pains which he might have taken, he might have been Master of him who was of all the World. But Brutus was too Generous, to establish his particular felicity, upon the Ruin of the Reipublick: He knew that the first duty took, or aught to take away all other: That owing all things to his Country, he owed nothing to Cesar: That being born a Roman Citizen, he ought to hate Tyranny: That not to be ungrate to his Country, he must be partly against Cesar: And that being of the first Brutus his Race, he owed the assistance of his Arms and Valour, to the oppressed Reipublick. Nevertheless after he had done all these things, these cowardly and insensible People, exiled him, for whom they should have erected atues in all their public places. Yet this great ungratitude wearied not the virtue of Brutus: you know, O wise Volumnius! All that he has done for his Country: Nor do I tell it to make you learn; But to employ that little life that remains in me, to speak of his Heroic Actions, and to conjure you, to make them known to Posterity. Remember then, Volumnius, that though all the Romans were ungrate to him, he desisted not to do all things for them: And when these Sluggards, in place of one Tyrran had suffered three; He had more compassion for them, than resentment of their ungratitude: And without thinking of his own Preservation, what did he not to make them happy? Maugre what they had been? But these enemies of Virtue are so well accustomed to slavery, that they hoard up their chains as their de●●est Treasures: And all along, after that Brutus had broken them, they themselves renewed them with care: And Rome which many ages bypast commanded all the Earth, now voluntarlie submits to Tyranny. O Cato, O Brutus! Who could ever have thought it? And who could believe, that the gods would protect crime, and oppress innocence. Yet I plainly see what it is that provockes' Heaven to p●mish us: The death of Brutus is Rome's chastisement, and the greatest unhappiness that can ever besail it: And certainly it is for Rome's punishment, that the gods permitted him to end his days. For Brutus, his pains are his reward: The Romans ungratitude contributes to his Glory: And his very death doth so Illustrate his life, that it is almost a shame for me to weep. Moreover I assure you, that I have weeped more for his absence, than death. I than looked upon my 〈◊〉 as being unlimited: And my Soul being balanced between hope and fear, I solaced myself with weeping. But to day when I have no more to loss, and when I see an infallible way of ending my misery; My Soul is more tranquil: And though my grief be greater than any was ever felt, I endure it with less impatience; Because I know it shall be quickly finished. Do not then tell me that I ought to live, for preserving the memory of Brutus: The action he did is so Heroic and Noble, that it shall ever be remembered by all men. He shall always be regarded as the first and last of the Romans. And the Tyrrans who shall reign after this we have now, shall likewaies serve to preserve a Glorious remembrance of him; So long as there shall be Kings seen in Rome, it will be remembered, that the Old Brutus chased them, and that the last died in saving that liberty which the first had acquired. For I doubt not but Rome shall be continually in slavery: Being undoubtable, that if its freedom could have been recovered, Brutus would have restored it: But since he could not do it, he had at least the Glory of dying without being a slave. Think it not strange then, that being Daughter and Wife to two men, who were even free to death, I would partake of that Glory with them. And yet to speak truly, Brutus shall not be altogether at liberty, If I were so base as to live a Captive. There will be somewhat wanting to his Glory, if I forget mine: The affection that he had always to me, makes our interests unseparable. I was of the conspiracy, because I knew it before it was executed: It is but just then that I should follow Brutus his destiny: And know Volumnius that she whose mind was resolute enough, to stab herself with a Proigniard, to endure and suppress the smart, thereby to testify to her husband, that she could conceal a secret; Will not easily change her resolution of dying. The images of Cato, and of my dear Brutus, do so fill my spirit. that I see no other thing: And me thinks their death is so worthy of envy, that I took upon it as the chiefest good can ever befall me. Remember, Volumnius, that the true zeal of Virtue consists in the desires of imitating it: For they who praise Virtuous People, without traceing them so much as they can, deserves blame raither then praise, because they know the good and do not follow it: Cato is dead with this advantage, to have had it said by Cesar, that he envied his death, because it deprived him of the Glory of his Pardon: And I wish that Octavius may envy Brutus, for having chosen a Wife abundantly courageous to follow him to the Tomb. It is there we shall enjoy a liberty which we can nomore loss; While the Romans shall groan under the weight of their Irons. But a day will come, when the name of Brutus shall be in veneration among them: When they shall desire that good which they refused: And when the blood of Cato and Brutus shall confound and make them blush. Yes, these Roman Citizens, who saw themselves Masters of the Earth; Who had Kings for their Subjects, whose Glory was without tashe, and whose power had no Authority above it but that of the Gods, shall become infamous slaves: And their Bondage shall be so rigid, that they shall not be Masters of their own will. They shall take from the Tyrrans all their vices: And Rome which was a Seminary of Virtue, shall be a receptacle of vile Adulatores. O Heavens! That the Inclinatons of such mighty People, should be thus altered in an instant? All these millions of men, who fought on the plains of Pharsalia, under Pompey's colours, were they all killed in that battle? Or have they lost their hearts in losing it? All these Kings who hold their Crowns, of the Senate's authority, are they all ungrate? And is there none who could suffer Brutus to unburthen them of their chains? The desire of freedom, which is so strong among all the creatures who live upon the Earth, is it extinguished among men? And is the blood of a dead Tyrran, so dear to the Romans, that to honour his memory, and to wear mourning, they must load themselves with chains all their life? Yes, all the Roman Legiones have lost their hearts; All the Kings own Vassals, are ready to lay their Crowns at their Tyrrans feet; All the Romans do prefer servitude to liberty; Caesar's Ashes are in veneration among them; And for their last misfortune Brutus hath abandoned them. However, do not think, Volumnius, that he desired to forsake me: It is true when we parted in the City of Elea, he would not let me go with him, although I did all things possible for it; Because said he the journey would be very troublesome to me: And because I might be of more profit to him at Rome; Then in this army. But at that time it was not so: I know Brutus minded me a dying: He expects me in the place where he is; And he doubts not, but Porcia remembers, that the Illustrious Cato loved better to tear his entrails, then to surrvive his contreyes' freedom: And that she having more valide reasons to persuade her; will not fail to follow the way that he hath pathed for her. When life can be neither honourable, nor happy, it is great wisdom to abandon it: Being certain, that it should be no longer dear to us, then when it can serve for our Glory, or that of our Country: Since it is so, I ought no more to preserve mine. Yes, Volumnius, I own my death to my own Glory; To that of Cato; To that of Brutus: And to that of Rome. But do not think that this death shall be rude to me: I go to a place where Virtue is certainly known, and rewarded. That terrifying apparition which Brutus saw, without being frighted at the Town of Sardis, and afterwards at philip, appears not to me, I see but my husband's ghost calling me; And which seems to be impatient till mine be with it. I see that of Cato, which retaining a father's authority, seems to command me to make haste and quite a place unworthy of Porcias' Virtue. Judge, Volumnius, if this Vision affrights me: And if in the two ways I have to follow, I can have any difficulty in, choosing; From one side, I see my country desolated: All the Earth covered with the blood of our friends; Our persecutors became our Masters; All my relations in Bondage: And to say all, nothing in the World can be more dear to me then the Ashes of Brutus. Behold, Volumnius, what I see from that side: But from the other, I see nothing but felicity: My Father and Husband wait for me; The first requires the fruits of the instructions he gave me; And the other, the reward of the affection he testified to me. Yes, Generous Cato, yes Illustrious Brutus, Porcia shall do what she ought at this time, and nothing shall be able to hinder her. For think not. O wise Volumnius, that inclinations can be compelled: Because by it, we partly resemble the Gods: It is a privilege which Heaven hath given us. Tyrranes cannot force it: It is not under their domination: And when the Soul is 〈◊〉 and resolute, the designs are never changed. Believe not then, that my Relations care can hinder me to die. Or that your reasons can any way brangle my Spirit. Cato would not let himself be moved with his sons tears, and Porcia shall not yield to those of her Relations, nor your discourse; Brutus to escape Bondage could resolve to leave me; And by what reason, should it not be easier, and also juster for me then him, to end my life. My freedom is as dear to me, as his was precious to him: But I have this advantage, and pleasure in death, that whereas he could not be free without aband oning me: I need but follow him, to preserve my liberty. You see then, O wise Volumnius, ●fter all that I have said to you; That death is glorious. ●ecessare, and pleasing to me. Think not then of hindering me, because your care will be also to no purpose. They who have been made change such reso●utions, are certainly subject to persuasion: They have ●n the bottom of their heart a secret resentment, which opposes their desire; And their own Timeritie is a strong enough defence, to preserve their life. They are of such People that would die, to the end that some or other might come and hinder them. But with me, it shall not go so: I conceal not my design; I will not deceive my Guards: I tell them freely, that I shall escape from their hands: And that death shall free me from the pain I am in. Yes, Volumnius, I do to die. O Illustruous and great Cato! O Generous Brutus! Come and receive my Soul. See dear ghosts, if I be worthy the name ●ear, do not disown me for what I am. For if I be not mistaken, my death shall not be unworthy of a true Roman. See my dear Brutus, if I have any faintings in this last hour: Or rather if I have not great impatience to be with you. O Generous Cato, you see, that daggers, poison, and every thing that could seem to assist my design, are taken from me: My Chamber is become my prison; I have neither precipes, nor cords; And I have Guards who are careful of me. But by taking all those things from me, they cannot take away my desire of death, nor the memory of your Virtue. I remember, O Illustrious Cato, of that Glorious day; Wherein you excelled Cesar, by remounting yourself. You than told your Guards, that your life was not i● their power; Because to finish it. you needed but stop your breath, or dash your head against the Wall. It is then in imitation of so Generous a pattern, that I go to find my dear Brutus. Behold, O Illustruous Husband, the last action of Porcia; Judge of her life, by her death: And of the passion which I have had for you, by these burning coals, which I hold, ready to choke me. THE EFFECT OF THIS HARANGUE. IN saying these last words, She did what she said. And by a steadfast courage, which procures admiration and horror, she made it appear, that things are not easy and impossible, but according to the manner they are looked upon: And that when any body loves one better than their life, they have no pr●uble in following their death. BERINICEA TO TITUS. THE EIGHT HARANGUE. ARGUMENT. IN the time of the Judean War, Titus became passionately in love with Berinicea, Queen of Chalsis, Daughter of Mariam: And according to the opinion of some he Married her Secretly. At his Return to Rome, where he brought her, the Roman People, who treat all strangers like Barbarians, and Queens as well as others, did not approve of that alliance: so that the Emperor Vespasian ordered his Son to send her back; It was in that troublesome conjuncture, that this afflicted Princess, speak thus to the great Titus. BERINICEA TO TITUS. THink not, O Illustrious and generous Titus, that I complain of your parting from me: Siuce on the contrare, knowing you as I do, I rather Pity then Accuse you: And without saying any thing against you, I only desire your liberty, to complain of Fortune: Which having favoured you so much in all actions of War, doth treat you so cruelly to day in my person: For I doubt not but you shall be more sorrowful to abandon me, than you was joyful in all your Victories. I know that though ambition be as strong a passion as love; It does not surmount it in your Soul: And I will also believe to comfort me in my disgrace, that if you were in condition to dispose absolutely of yourself, you would prefer the possession of Berinicea, to the Empire of all the World. But this reason of state, which Authorises so many Crimes, and so much Violence, cannot endure that after the invincible. Titus, hath so many times hazarded his life, to secure the Romans felicity, should think of his own particular. Yet I have never heard it said, that love was a shameful passion, when its object was honest: On the contrare, I thought it a sign of great Spirits, because all the Horces of antiquity were capable of it. I thought (I say) that when this passion reigns in a Generous Soul, it inspires it with new desires of acquireing Glory: Nevertheless, I plainly see that this is not the Emperors, nor the Senate's opinion; And that I am deceived in my conjectures. Had you chosen for the object of your love, a person absolutely unworthy of you, their complaints should be more tolerable, and I should merit the treatment I receive, if I had in fused any baise or shameful thought, in the Soul of Titus: but if I be not mistaken, they cannot reproach you of having made an Alliance too unequal. Alexander thought that he did nothing against his own Glory, when he Married Roxana, though she was both a Captive and Stranger: And that error which love caused him commit, hindered not the noise of his Victories, from coming to us: Nor his being ranked among the most Illustrious Heroes. The fault which you are reproached off, hath nothing comparable to that: For in fine, you know, I am Mariamnes granddaughter; I have all the ancient Kings of Judea, for my Predecessors, and I myself do carry a Crown, which me thinks should oblige the Senate, not to treat me so cruelly. Yes Titus, Palestina hath had Heroes, as well as Rome. The Jonathanes, the Davids, the solomon's, from whom I am come, have perhaps done as brave actions, as the Romules, the Numa Pompiliuses or the Cesares: And the Noble and Rich spoils, which you took in the Temple of Jerusalem and wherewith you adorned your Triumph, makes Rome too much see the Grandeur, and magnificence of my Fathers. If I were of a blood that were enemy to the Reipublick, as formerly Sophonisba Hasdruballs Daughter was, I would say that they had reason to fear, that after having conquered the Generous Titus, I would make my Victory fatal to the Senate: And at last, cause him do actions contrare to his Authority. But I am of a Race accustomed to receive Crowns from the Roman Emperors: The great Agrippa my Father, did hold the Kingdom of Lisania, of Cajus his liberality, as well as that of Chalsis, whose Sceptre I carry this day, The second Agrippa my Brother, received the same favour from the Emperor your Father: And his death made it sufficiently known, that he was not ungrate. It was in your presence he lost his life, having a desire to oblige the inhabitants of Gamalia to render themselves, and acknowledge Vespasians authority: However to comfort me for his death, they banish me like a Criminal. They say I would overthrow the Empire; And scarce can they find a corner of the Earth, fart enough from Rome, wherein to send me in exile. Yet you know, O my dear Lord, that I have committed no other fault, but the receiving the honour which you have done to me, by giving me the Glorious Tittle of your Wife: the innocent conquest that my eves made of your heart, is that which makes me culpable; The Romans would have you be their Captive, and not mine: They would (I say) dispose of your love, and hatred as they please; And choose a Wife for you according to their fancy, and not according to your inclinations. Moreover, my dear Lord, I know my tears may be suspected, by them who know me not: They of my enemies who will see my grief, doubtless will say, that I regrate the Empire as much as Titus: And that Ambition hath a greater share of my Soul, than Love, But if you truly love me as much as you have told me, You will judge my thoughts by your own: And You shall certainly know that your person only causes all my sorrow, as it did all my felicity. No, Titus, the Roman Magnificence hath not transported me: The Throne which You expect; Contributed nothing to the affection I have for You: And the Virtues of your Soul, and the love which. You testified to me, were the only things I considered, when I did resolve to love You. Take then when You please, a Person with whom You shall divide, the Sovereign Power You shall one day have, without thinking I wish her any harm; But for favours sake, never divide the heart where You made me reign. It is an Empire which belongs to me, and which You cannot take from me without injustice, You cannot, my dear Titus, accuse me of ask too much; Because I demand nothing but what you gave me. No more can you say, that this heart is not in your power; That Vespasian holds it in his hands; That the Senate disposes of it; And in fine, that you are not its Master. All slaves, though as strongly fettered with chains as they possibly can, enjoy this privilege: They love and hate what seems good to them: And their will is as free in the Irons, as if they were on the Throne. Since it is so, you must certainly enjoy the same freedom, and shall not resuse me the favour I ask from you. You may get a Wife for the Illustrious Titus, to content the Capricoes of the People: But you must not give a Rival to Berinicea. She must be single in your Soul, as you are in hers: And though she be separated from you, yet she shall ever be present in your mind: If it be so I shall patiently endure my exille. But Gods! can I think never to see you again. No, Titus, it is absolutely impossible for me: my fate is inseparable from yours: and though Vespasiane and the Senate's authority do all they can, I must not quit you. It would be imbecility to abandon you: you might reproachfullie say to me, that fear of being male-treated, made me too ready to obey the order I received for going out of Rome, and in fine, you might accuse me of little love, But no, I will contradict that thought: It would be ingratitude to use it so, Berinicea must not cost you the Empire: Preserve it then, and let her departed. It is enough to her that you complain: And that when you are arrived to the Crown, you then call to mind that the possession which you shall have, did cost you Berinicea. Truly, Titus, there is some strange thing in our adventure: For it should be the least thing to think, that these same people, who already prepare themselves to acknowledge you for Master of all the Earth, would be Law givers to you, in an affair of such importance to you, and of so little to them? And that these same persons, over whom you shall have an absolute power, to dispose of their fortunes and lives; May not suffer you to love me? Am I Wife or enemy of all the Romans; Have they jealousy, or hatred to me? Fear they that I will prevail with you to rebuild the walls of Jernfalem? Have I interprised any thing against the common good, or have I offended any of them in particular? No Titus, I have done nothing, I have said nothing, I have thought nothing against them: And my greatest crime is that I am unhappy, and that you love me. But would to Heaven, that I be in that manner Criminal all my life: Continue, my dear Lord, to give them, new subject of hating me by loving me always: Testify to them, that the Victim which you sacrifice for them is dear to you: And for your glory as much as mine, make them know that the affection you have for me, hath lawful fundationes. Conceal my faults, and carefulie exaggerate the few good qualities are in me: tell them that the affection which I had for you, served in stead of merit. And in fine, that you have found in my person, she object worthy of your love. For me, I am not troubled to justify what I have for you; your Valour and Virtue are so equally known through all the Earth, that I need not tell for what reasons I love you, This sentiment is so universal, that though you were not infinitely Good, you should not be obliged to me. But my dear Titus, shall I tell you something, that is in my mind! Yes because my affection hath caused it, you cannot be displeased and you are too just to condemn Berenieta, when you shall know that she is only guilty of excess of Love. I would not in the condition that things are in to day, rob you of the Crown which you ought to carry, by obliging you to follow me: For, my dear Lord, there is no corner of the Earth, where the Illustrious Titus can live unknown. But if it be permitted me to tell you all that I think, I wish that being born without Crown, without Kingdom, and without Empire, we could leave together in some place where Virtue alone should Reign with us. I wish (I say) that you were not what you are. And yet I would not have you changed, In fine, the excess your grief and affection, makes that finding nothing that satisfies me, among all things possible, I am constrained for my consolation, to make wishes which are impossible to execute, Pardon me, my door Titus, If I would rob you of a Crown: I reprehend myself because I know by your eyes you are no off●●●ded. Till now I never thought that I could see you grieved, and not be a partaker with you: Yet surely that which I see Painted in your face, sweeteneth my affliction: Your tears diminishes the bitterness of mine: And in the condition my Soul is in, I can have no reflection so pleasing as to see you infinitely afflicted. Yes Titus, my despair is so great, that since I cannot live happy with you, there are moments wherein I shall wish that we were always unhappy, so that we could but be together. Yet this unjust thought does not last long in my mind: And passing from one extremity to another, I shall wish that I were yet more unfortunate, and that you were not at all. Methinks then the Romans have reason to exile me, because I am capable of disturbing the repose of their Prince. I wish I could departed without afflicting you; Carry away in my heart, your sorrow with my own: And by so tender a thought, I pity you more than myself. Moreover, if I can possibly live without you, I am sure I shall hear often news of you, though you yourself should give me none: Fame will tell me of all your brave actions: And I hearty wish that it would load itself with my tears, as well as with your exploits, thereby to let you know that neither time nor absence, had any way Diminished my sorrows or affection. Remember, my Dear Titus, every time that your heart makes you do a brave action; That there Berenicea shall find both a subject of joy and of grief. She shall rejoice at your glory, and afflict herself for the loss she has had: But when that doth come to pass, she shall ever love you equally. Nevertheless, I think I shall not be long in pain, to partake of what befalls you: for my grief which I feel is so great, That I believe it cannot be long. If my exile had been caused by your inconstancy, that you had changed your thoughts of of me; That your disdain had been the cause of my disgrace; I should have comforted myself by complaining of you; I should mitigate my Torment, by calling you ungrate & perfidious: Choler & despite should divide my heart: I might one day hope to love you no more: And whether by resentment or glory, I should almost departed from you without weeping. But as matters go, I see call over subjects to afflict me; And nothing that can sweeten my grief. I not only loss a lover, I loss a Faithful lover; And I loss him in such a manner, that it permits me not to complain of him, I accuse the Senate and the people, that I may not complain of the Emperor, because he is his Father: And without being able to accuse him, If not of his having loved me too well, I depart the unhappiest woman that ever was! But unsensible that I am, what do I say? By that I find some cause to comfort me: Because I quit Titus, and he not me fortune plucks me from him against his will: It threatens to take the Crown from him, If he consent not to my banishment: And at this time I have the satisfaction, of seeing my dear Titus esteem me more than the Empire of all the World. However it is true, that I must forsake him: Yet I have this little comfort at our parting, to know that I dwell in his heart, and that nothing can chase me thence. If I be not mistaken I see by your silence that you consent to what I say; Your sighs does assure me, and your tears permit me not to doubt. You have too delicate a Soul to be capable of infidelity or forgetfulness: Unconstancy is a fault, which cannot be fowd in you, be cause it is certainly, a sign, of imbecility or little Judgement. The heart must not be given without a long premeditation: But when once given it must never be retaken. For me, I find we have more right over others goods, which belong not to us; then we have of the presents which our liberality gives Others things may sometimes come under our power without injustice: But what we once give, should never again be ours. It is a renouncing of all right we have to pretend to it; And no Law can with equity put us in possession of it. Since it is so, I am assured to have always the possession of your heart: It is by that thought that I can hope to live in my exile. It is the only thing can support my life: And for that only can I, say that I am not absolutely unhappy. I hope the Romans will in time know, that as your love to me had nothing of injustice, sol have inspired you with nothing but rational thoughts. I desire not Titus, that you loss yourself for preserving me; I will not have you oppose the Emperor; I will not have you acquire the Senate's hatred; I will not have you irritate the People against you; I will not have you endeavour to make the Legions Rebel; I will not have you refuse the fair Arricidea, who I know is appointed for you; I will not (I say) have you lose the Empire for love of me. On the contrare I counsel and conjure you to obey the Emperor, to follow the Senate's advice; to content the humours of the people; to keep your legiones, to make new conquests; to receive on the Throne the too happy Arricidea: and preserve the Empire which Fate promises, and birth gives you. But when to my prejudice you have satisfied all the World, be so just as to remember, that Berenicea should by your only passion. If I obtain this favour from you, I shall departed with some pleasure Maugre all my sorrows: & so far from making imprecationes against my Enemies, I shall make Vows for their felicity, as I shall do for your preservation. May you then O Titus, gain so many Victories as you give Battles? May you Reign over your people with as much Authority as clemency? May you be feared of all the Earth? May you have so much Glory 〈◊〉 you merit? May your Reign be as happy, as I am unfortunate? In fine may you do so many brave actions both by your excellent Valour, and rare goodness: That by consent of all Nations you may one day be called. The love and delight of mankind. THE EFFECT OF THIS HARANGUE. THese wishes were too passionate, no to be èx●●ushed, Titus, Was as great, and as much beloved, as Berenicia did wish: And if the since of History deceive me not, she was his last passion, according to her desires, So that it may be said that she obtained all that she asked, though she parted from R●me and abandoned Titus. PANTHEA TO CYRUS. THE NINTH HARANGUE. ARGUMENT. PAnthea Queen of Susania, being taken prisoner of War by the great Cyrus, was favourably treated, in acknowledgement of which courtesy, she obliedged Abdradates her Hushand, to for sake the Lydeane party, and join his Arms with those of this invincible Conqueror. But that mighty man of War, to signalise his gratitude and courage, asked permission from Cyrus to fight in the advance guards in the day of Battle: That glorious favour being granted to him, he did prodigious, things and so little spared himself, that he gained the Battle and loft his life. His body was brought back all covered with wounds to ●he inconsolable Panthia: And Cyrus having gone to comfort her. or rather to hear a part of her affliction for a loss equal to them both, this sorrowful Princess spoke to him in these words. PANTHEA TO CYRUS. YOu see, O Great a●● Generous Cyrus, what the Victory hath cost you: Abdradates hath been the Victim, which has made the Gods Propitious to you His Blood hath died the Laurels, which are wreathed about your head. He is dead in Crowning of you: And to speak truly of the matter, Cyrus and Panthea, are rather the cause of his death, than the Lydeans Valour. Yes, Cyrus, your Generosity, his gratitude and mine, have put him in the deplorable condition that he is in. You see him all covered with his own blood, and with that of your enemies. The great many wounds he hath received over all his body, are certain proof of what he gave to them who fought him. His mighty Courage, changed that of the Egyptians into despair: And that Illustrious hand, which they have almost separated from his arm, (alace! what an object to Panthea!) makes it sufficiently seen, that he quitted not his arms but by quitting his life. He was seen, Generous Cyrus, fight with such Ardency, that it was said, that the gaining of that Battle, aught to put the Crown of the World upon his head. He hath retributed the obligations I had from you, with his person, his blood, and his life: And in this manner, O invincible Cyrus, (as I have told you already) your Generosity, his Gratitude and mine, have caused his death and my misery. However I do not accuse you; I am too just to do that: On the contrate, I thank you kindly, for offering your assistance to comfort me, I praise in you, O Cyrus, that Generous sentiment, which makes your shed tears, the very day of your Victory: And which makes you grieve more for the death of your friend, then rejoice for the gaining of the Battle, and defaiting all your enemies. But after I have done your Virtue this justice, suffer me, without either accusing you, or repenting me, to complain of the rig our of my fate, which owing the preservation of my honour to you, would oblige me myself to expose my dear Abdradates to a fight, where multitudes made him Succumb. It was only for the love of me, that he abandoned Croesus' forces: For though he had just enough cause not to serve him, the memory of the dead King his Father, who loved him dearly, made him not abandon the Son, though less Virtuous. But I no sooner made my obligations from you known to him, than he freely offered to acquitt me with you, for so sensible an obligation. Your fame had formerly disposed his heart, to consent to what I asked: And having already esteemed you infinitely, it was easy for him to love you. In fine, Cyrus, you know, he testified at that time, great Gratitude to you, and great love to me. No, said he to me, Generous Panthea, Abdradates cannot be your Protectors enemy: He hath dried up your tears, and I must spend my blood in his service, he hath been careful of your glory, and my Valour must increase his: He hath lost a man whom he very much loved, by Protecting you I ought to repair that loss; And if it be possible, not let it be perceived in the day of Battle, that Araspes is not there. Yes, said he to me a loud, I shall loss my life, or I shall testify to Cyrus, that they who receive benefits as they ought, are some times as generous as they who give them. Woe is me! Must I tell it, I never gainsaid this discourse: And without apprehending any fatal Event from so Noble an Intention, I praised his resolution and design I thanked him for that, which was to become the cause of my supreme misfortune; & contributing to my own unhappiness, I excited his courage to do thins which have caused his death to day; And yet which will make him live Eternally. O cruel Remembrance! O injustice of Fortune! of all the Conquerors, why should Abdradates only been overcome? And having so profitably shed his blood, for gaining of the Battle, why should he almost have been the only one, who enjoyed not the Fruits of the Victory? But it was not in this encounter alone, that I contributed to my own Disaster: So great was my blindness, that I expected that fatal day, like a day of Triumph: My spirit was filled with nothing but hope; My imagination presented me with nothing but what was agreeable; I looked upon the conclusion of the fight. as the Commencement of my 〈◊〉: Me thought I saw, Abdradates returning all garnished with Palms, and his Chariot overloaded with the spoils of his enemies: And in that consideration, I took more pains to make his Armour Glorious then strong. I knew Abdradates his Valour, but I did not also know Fortune's Malice. I had so much fear that his brave Actions, should not be sufficiently known, that I employed all my Jewels, to make his Coat of Armour the more remarkable. But insensible that I am, what do I say? Doubtless I was in paction with his enemies: I was minded to show them where to strike: I was the cause of all the wounds that Abdradates received: It was I who pierced his heart: And covered all his body with blood and wounds, I guided all his Assailants hands: And as if it could not have been enough that the Generous did fight him, in emulation of his extraordinary courage: I would also make the Avaricious and Mercenary have the same designs. In fine, I armed all Croesus' army against him: Some only by desiring to conquer a man, who seemed to be the God of War; And others by the Richness of the Booty. It was my hand put on Abdradates his Armour that cursed day: yes Generous Cyrus, I myself brought the cause of my ruin to him: and though in that very instant, a secret horror seized me, which foretold my misery. I despised a revelation, which was sent me by the Gods, and though I could not restrain my tears, I was so unjust as to conceal them from my dear, Abdradates. Me thought it would be a robbing him of his heart, to testify to him that I wanted one at such a time: But imprudent that I was? I ought to have showed him my Tears with all their bitterness: For I doubt not, If by my grief I had let him know, that my life depended upon the preservation of his; But he would have taken a little more care of himself than he did. He would have equally considered your glory and my life: But O Illustrious Cyrus, it seems at that time that I neither cared for that of Abdradates nor my own: For when I had made an end of arming him, and had led him to the Magnificent Chariot that waited for him; I did neither speak to him of himself nor of me; But Wholly of your obligations to me, I remembered him that when you might have used me as a slave, you treated me like a Queen that having had the misfortune of displeasing a man whom you loved better than yourself, you was so generous, as to defend one from him; and that after so heroic an action: I promised to you that he would be as faithful and profitable to you, as Araspes had been, Behold. Generrous Cyrus, what I said to my Dear Abradates, being ready to departed from me for the last time. And as his thought were never differing from mine, Would to the Gods (said he to me, putting his hand upon my head and lifting up his eyes to Heaven) That I may show myself to day as a deserving friend to Cyrus, and as a husband worthy of Panthea. And having so said he left me; And looking upon me so long as it was possible when he was in the Chariot, he commanded his Postilion to drive. And being depryved of embracing my dear Abdradates any more, all I could do was, to kiss the outside of the Chair wherein he did sit. Adieu, Would I have said to my dear Abdradates; When an excesive greiefe, which surprised me all at once did hinder me. And although the Chariot did begin to go away from me, I did not forbear to follow it: But when Abdradates perceived it: Go (said he to me) generous Panthea, expect my return with hopes of seeing me a●one, Woe is me? I did not then know, that the Chariot whose magnificence atracted the eyes of all its beholders, and which seemed to have been made for a day of Triumph; would be Abdradates his coffin: However I did no sooner lose sight of him, when my waiting women having put me in my Litter, and brought me back to my Aunt: I ceased to hope, and began to fear, My imagination, which till then had entertained me with Crowns and victories, than presented nothing to my view but dooleful objects: and according to the acount is given me of the business I saw in my Melancholy, revenge all that hath befallen my dear Abdradates, Yes Cyrus, I saw him in the front of the Battle, impatient to shed his blood for your glory. I saw him furiously repulse the Lydeanes; I saw him break the Battalions he attacked: I saw him give Death wheresoever he carried his Arm, pursuing his flying enemies, covering the fields with dead bodies: and in my Vision, me thought I saw his Chariot conduted by Victory. But alace! That apparition was quickly defaced by an other? I saw of a sudden that that which should have obliged Abdradates his soldiers to stick close to him, made them abandon him. The great dangers wherein he did cast himself, daunted his followers courage, and augmented that of the Egyptianes'. I saw him abandoned by the most part of his Suoldiers, and invelopped among his enemies. yet I saw him make bright day thorough the lances, the darts and the javelie of them he did assaulte● saw him like in lighting among the ranks: Overthrew all that he encountered: Break the Chariots that opposed him: Kill the men who drove them, attaque and defend himself at once: And in fine conquer all that withstood his Valour. But after he had with his own hand erected a trophy to your and his own glory and had taught your Soldiers, which way they should obtain the victory. After (I say) he had covered all the fields with blood, dead bodies, broken arms, and Chariots dashed to pieces: These same men whom he had killed, These Arms which he had broken, and these very Chariots which he destroyed: Did (O Cyrus shall tell it) overturn that of my Abdradates. If he had conquered fewer enemies, he had not been overcome: They whom he had surmounted, were more fatal to him, than they he had to fight: But in fine I saw Abdradates oppressed by the crowd, I saw him all overwounded, disputing for his life, even to the last drop of his blood! O terrifying vision! I saw him fall dead, and a dying conqueror them who caused him die, and in effect, O Cyrus, you know that your Soldiers fought better to have the dood body of Abdradates, than they did to save Abdradates his life. Judge what condition could my Soul be in dureing such a lamentable sight: But that was nothing in come parison of what I suffered, when I saw Abdradates his Chariot return all loaded with the spoils of his enemies: And above that fa●all Trophy, the body of that Illustrious Heros all covered with wounds, pale, dead, and bleeding, O Cyrus! O Panthea! O doleful victory! What object to my eyes! And what grief to my soul! It is so great, that I wonder it hath not already deprived me of all sorrow, every thing I see Torments me, and every thing I think of makes me despair, for Cyrus, when the unlawful passion of Araspes. gave me cause to complain; If I had then had my recourse to Death, I had preserved Abdradates his life I had secured my honour, And you should not have had cause to accuse a man who was beloved of you I should have altogether satisfied my husband, my own glory, and the great Cyrus I owed him that respect not to have complained of his favourite and if I had been rational, death should have hindered my complaints then, And my tears to day. But fate had otherwise resolved it: Would t the Gods in so sad as adventure, that as Abdradates showed himself, a husband worthy of Panthea and worthy of Cyrus, his friendship I may also manifest to posterity, that Panthea was a wife worthy of Abdradates; And that she was not unworthy of Cyrus his protection. I well perceive. O excellent Prince, by the many sacrifices that are prepared, and by the magnificent ornaments; That are brought to me upon your account: That you design to make the obsequies of my dear Abdradates, such as are suitable to this Illustrious Conqueror: But because his Glory is the only thing, that I ought to care most for; O great Cyrus, let Posterity know, by a Glorious Monument, and by true Inscriptions, what Abdradates was. Eternise altogether, your glory, his, and my unhappiness. The Gold and the Marble which you will make use of in it, will not be unprofitable to you: And the Tomb which you cause build, to Immortalise Abdradates, shall make yourself immortal. There are more People who can do a brave action, then give account of it themselves: Who can acknowledge and publish it as it ought to be. Have not that Jealousy, which Glory gives to the most Illustrious: And believe that if You take care of that of Abdradates, the Gods will also take care of yours. The blood which he has lost for you, merits me thinks this gratitude: Nor shall I doubt my obtaining what I desire of you. I see that you consent to me; And that I have no sooner thought of my request, but your goodness oblidges me to thank you. However I have another yet to ask of you: It is, O Illustrious Cyrus, that without hastening the doolfull Pomp of my dear Abdradates, I may be yet suffered a while to wash his wounds with my tears. All the Victims that are necessare for appeasing his Ghost, are not yet in that order they should be: O Cyrus, let them not then be pressed: I shall not make them wait long, my last fare-wells shall be quickly said. And moreover, it is very just that since he died for me, I shed so many tears as he did drops of blood: And since I ought to see him no more in this World, I may enjoy the sight of him so long as it is possible for me. Yes Cyrus, that lamentable and most pitiful object, is the only good I have remaining. It is both my despare and comfort: I cannot see it without dying, and perhaps I shall die how soon I am deprived of seeing it any more. Wherefore I 〈◊〉 you that I be not pressed: And because you ●●tyed me to tell you into what place I would go; I promise to you, that you shall quickly know the place that I shall choose for my retirement. THE EFFECT OF THIS HARANGUE. ALace! This beautiful and sad Queen, was but too true: For scarcely had she deceived Cyrus, by making him believe that she was capable to live after the death of Abdradates; (And that Generous deceit was the issue of her Harangue) but she choose her retiring place; I mean her husbands Tomb. I say Cyrus was not well gone from her, but she plunged a Poiniard in her heart, and expired upon the dead body of Abdradates. This Generous monarch was incredibly grieved: And to eternise the memory of these two rare persons, and his own gratitude with them; He builded for them a Glorious Monument: Where many ages after his, the Marble and the Brass, declared the Virtues of Panthea, and the Valour of Abdradates: And the River Pactose which is there represented, upon whose banks this Tom was builded, seems to tell that she esteems their Relics more precious, than all the Gold that rolls on her sands. AMALASONTHA TO THEODATES. THE TENTH HARANGUE. ARGUMENT. A Malasontha daughter of Theodorick the great, Reigned after the death of Eutharick her Husband, eight years in Italy with a marvollous Splendour dureing the minority of Athalarick her Son. But this young Prince being dead, whither it was that she would discharge herself partly of state affairs; Or that she believed the Goths were desirous of a King; She placed upon the Throne Theodates, Son of Amalfreda, Sister to Theodorick her Father: Yet with intention to partake of the Sovereign Authority with him. But this ungrate man, had the Sceptre no sooner in his hand, than he banished this great Princess: Who immediately upon her departure, did express herself in these words. AMALASONTHA TO THEODATES. HAve you forgot, Theodates, which way you was conducted to the Throne? Have you forgot how you received that Crown which you carry? Have you forgot of whom you hold that Sceptre which I see in your hands? And that absolute power which I so cruelly have trial of to day; Did it come to you by your Valour? Was it given you by the Laws of this Kingdom? Or by the depopulation of all the Goths? Have you conquered that great Extent of Earth, which acknowledges your Authority? Are you either Conqueror; Usurper, or Legitimate King? Answer every thing Theodates: Or at least let me answer for you: Because if I be not deceived, you cannot make it for your advantage: And I am more indulgent then to oblige you, to tell any thing that would be irksome to you. They who desire not to acknowledge a benefit, can have no greater punishment then to be forced to publish it: Wherefore I will not constrain you, to avouch from your own mouth, that neither by right of Birth, nor of a Conqueror, nor by that of our Laws, could you while I am alive have any pretensions to the Kingdom of the Goths: Because I was in possession of it, as Daughter, Wife, and Mother of them whose in was; And who left it to me after them, as their lawful Heiress. Nor are you ignorant that you are born my Subject: And that you would have still been so; If by a very extraordinare goodness, I had not descended from the Throne to conduct you to it. However after I had taken the Crown from off my own head to give it you; After I had deposited my Sceptre in your hands, and was resolved to make a King of your Person: After all that it was, seen that I had much ado, to make the Goths obey you; It was seen (I say) that the first things you did, was to recall to the Court, all them whom I had banished for their crimes: And after you had chosen my greatest enemies for your principal Ministers. Theodates. That same Theodates, whom Amalasontha Daughter of Theodorick the great, had made a King: Whom she by her own hand had Crowned; And to whom as a manifest proof of her power, she demitted the Regal authority, unjustly exilles her, who gave him the power of banishing her. O Heavens! Is it possible to see the like ungratitude among men? And is it also possible that Amalasontha hath made so bad a choice? No Theodates I am not like you: I will not condemn you without hearing: You must certainly have some reason for hating and banishing of me. What did I against you while you was my Subject? Or what have I done against you, since I have made you a King? I remember very well in the time you was under my morigiration; And when I had the power of punishing, or rewarding you; I very well remember, that multitudes of Tuscans, having come to complain to me, of the violences your avarice made you commit against them, I remember (I say) that being angry not see you guilty of a passion, unbefiting Theodoricks' Nephew; I used all my endeavours to make you comprehend, that such desires, were base and unjust. It is true I obliged you to restore things, which did not belong to you: But it is also true that I did nothing but what reason and equity would have me do, I know I told you at that time, that avarice was the infallible sign of a mean Spirit: That almost all covetous People were cowards: That they who so pationatlie desire to heap up Treasures, take but little care to acquire Glory: And in fine, that Avarice for the most part was always the companion of ungratitude. See Theodates, what I have done against you: I have endeavoured to correct a wicked inclination, with which you was born: But do you know Theodates, what was then my intention? I thought of putting a Crown upon your head: I thought of giving my Subjects no cause to reproach you, when you should become their King: I thought to hinder them from fearing, that you would be their Tyrran, rather than Sovereign: And that they should not apprehend, that he who had already usurped their Fortunes, when he was but a Subject like themselves, would not entirely Ruin them, when he should be their Master. Behold Theodates, the true cause of the sharpness of that Reprimand, which hath infused that hatred in your Soul against me. Nevertheless, I wonder, that having spent the most part of your life, in studying Plato's Philosophy you should take it ill, to be corrected by any body. They who so carefully learn Wisdom, should me thinks practise it: And I cannot think it strange enough, that you should so well remember, the reprehension I gave you, and not remember more what I have done for you. When I resolved your Coronation, I did it not rashly, I considered what you was; I endeavoured to foresee, what you would one day be. I found two inclinations in you which did not please me: The first was that negligence, which you always have had of warlike affairs: And the second, that insatiable desire, of acquiring every day new Riches. Yet I thought that the one would oblige you to be wise. And for the other, I thought that a man who believed his avarice could be satisfied, with usurping three or four foot of ground from his Neighbours; Would be cured of that infamous passion when I gave him a Kingdom. I believed (I say) that when that avarice wanted an object it would at least become a Noble ambition; That you would thereafter take as much care to merit the Fortune I had given you, as you have always had to purchase new. Treasures; And I believed in fine, that of a covetous and slothful Subject, I should make a prudent and understanding King. But I should have also thought, that he who could not endure Neighbours at his Country house; And who was so unjust, to augment his Limits by paces; I say, I might have very well thought, that a man of that humour, would never resolve to partage a Throne with me. Truly Theodates, I do not at all think, that you have well excogitated what you do, for is it possible, after I have given you a great Kingdom; After I have made you Master of the Goths and all Italy? That you can appoint for the place of my banishment, that little Island of Bolsina, situated in the middle of a lake, where there is hardly place for a small Castle? No, Theodatts, let us not disguise the truth: The place of my banishment, should be rather called my prison, or rather perhaps my Tomb. May be I shall there find my Executioners, thinking to find my guards: And it may also be, that in this very time I am speaking to you, You are vexed at the length of my discourse, because by it the fatal moment of my death is postponed. However, you are not yet in condition to accomplish the crime which you are ready to commit: Consider Theodates, what you are undertaking, Perhaps my death may cost you your life. Eternise then your name some other way then by ungratitude: do not begin your reign with an unjust action: And if it be possible, let your repenting for a wicked design, make you undertake better. Consider if I had not been willing to have you reign, I should not have made you a King: And that it be not thought, that I did set you upon the Throne, but to precipitate you from it. Wherefore, what do you apprehend of me? Or to say better, what should you not fear, if you exill me? Do you think that the Goths and Italians, will endure without murmuring, the Daughter of Theodorick, to be unworthily treated, by a man whom they do hate so much already, when he was but her Subject? That secret hatred which they have to you, will appear how soon they can find a pretext for it: They will equalie think of revenging the abuse done to me, and also themselves: And in that manner, without Amalasonthas' contributing to your Ruin, she shall not forbear to overthrow the Throne whereon she hath placed you. The injury you do to me, doth not reach me only, all the Princes of the Earth ought to be concerned with it: And if I be not deceived, you have Neighbours, who under the Title of Protectors of innocence, or revengers of my death, shall make incursions into some parts of your Dominions. If Fortune had otherways treated me, That I had lost the Throne in some other manner, Had my Subjects revolted; Had the Emperor Justinian made War against me; Haddit Bellisarius conquered me; Or had any other conquerors usurped my Kingdom; I should have been the more easily comforted: But to see that by my own hand, the Crown is taken from me, to give it to my persecutor; Is that which puts a stand to my Constancy, and all my Virtue. Ha! Theodates! Can you see Amalasontha, at the foot of the same Throne where I have formerly seen you, as my Subject, as a Criminal, and as a Supplicant? Can you (I say) see me there, unjstlie condemned to perpetual banishment? Without having done any other crime in all my life, but that I gave you the Sovereign Power? Perhaps that is the cause why Heaven punishes me: It would revenge upon me all the injustices you will commit; And make me myself experimently feel that, which doubtless you will make others undergo. However because my Intentions were most sincere; I cannot repent me of what I have done for you: But since I am so Generous as not to repent me of a good action; Be you also so just as to repent of a wicked design: And if you will not do it for love to me, let it be done for love to yourself. Ungratitude is a Popular vice, which hath never been seen upon the Throne but with Monsters: And as liberaltie and gratitude are the true Virtues of Kings; Avarice and ungratitude, are vices which they should never be capable of. They are the distributors of benefits, and rewards: That which is avarice in the heart of a Subject, should be Prodigality, in him and that which is ungratitude, should be Ambition in the Soul of a Sovereign. Yes Theodates, a King may be ambitious and prodigal, without being dishonoured: But he can never be either covetous, or ungrate, without being the object of his Subjects disdain, and without being execrable to Posterity. Doubtless your Books have taught you what I say, and what only experience hath taught me; But you think if I be not mistaken, that it is easier to make a fine discourse then to do a brave action. It is not that the way to Virtue is defficile, if the inclinations be Noble: On the caontrare, it brings its reward along with it; And the pleasure of doing well, is the more agreeable Value. But that which gives you the trouble of bringing yourself to it, is that all your inclinations are against you. You cannot be just, without fight against yourself: you cannot be thankful, without betraying your thoughts: you cannot be liberal without tearing your heart: And to say all in one word, you cannot follow virtue without abandoning yourself. Yet consider, Theodates that you have but one enemy to subdue: Undertake that War if you believe me, and be assured it will be glorious to you. You need besiege no City; You need give no Battle: You have not Incommodious Voyage to undergo; You need not exhaust your so much beloved Treasures, to raise arms; You need not hazard your life on that occasion; You need not go into a far country to seek your enemies; You need not disturb that profound repose, you so much delight in; For in fine, without going out of your closet, you may find in yourself, your adversary and defender. Your inclinations will oppose your reason; But if your will do but join with the juster party, and if you will strongly dispute the Victory; You shall no sooner design the Conquest, but you shall be Victorious: Or to explain myself more clearly, you shall no sooner be resolved to abandon vice: and embrace Virtue, but you shall be Virtuous. perhaps you will say to me, that this Civil War, which will pass without any witnesses but yourself, will not be glorious to you. because it will not be known: But think not Theodates, that Virtue is a thing that can be hidden. You shall not sooner be of its party, but all the Earth shall know it. You shall gather no more Treasures, but to enrich your Subjects: You shall not let yourself be obliged, but to reward them who Oblige you: You shall reign over your People, with as much Equity as Clemency, you shall behold inveneration by all the Princes your Neighbours: You shall no more banish Amalasontha: And your name shall be glorious, in all Ages to come. Behold Theodates, what Victorious fruits you may reap, which does not at all depend upon the caprice of Fortune, nor of the chance of arms: It is absolutely in your power. But to leave you the freedom, of assaulting and conquering this enemy, whom I have Crowned; I withdraw, and does yield all the glory of the Combat to yourself. THE EFFECT OF THIS HARANGUE. THis discourse wrought effects in Theodates his person; But not such as Amalasontha expected. This Monster of ungratitude and cruelty, would not so much let himself be moved by the tears of that Queen, as to remember the obligations he had from her: And because he was ashamed to see her, he hastened her Departure. Yet his inhumanity dallied not: For some few days after, he induced them who were enemies to the Virtues of that great princess, to go and kill her with a Poniard in her Prison. but this did not pass unpunished: He did not long enjoy the fruits of his crimes: He lost the Sceptre and his Life: And to speak rationally, his death was the Effect of this Harangue: Which in fine, armed his just revengers against him. LUCRETIA TO COLLATINUS. THE ELEVENTH HARANGUE. ARGUMENT. THis Harangue hath need of no Argument: And none are ignorant that when the young Traquin ravished Lucretia, she neither concealled his crime, nor her own misfortune! She told both the one and the other to her husband: And to excit his revenge, she made appear to him the abuse that was done to her, With all the Circumstances that could aggravat it. Though there have been several ages since this accident happened, and that it is almost as old, as ancient Rome: It cannot yet be decided, if she did well in killing herself after her misfortune, 〈◊〉 as she had not done better, to have let Tarquin kill her, and died innocent, though she had not been believed so, Reader, hear her Reasons, and because her case is exposed to the eyes of all the Universe, and that all men an her judges; Give your vote after so many; And make use of a privilege, which every one hath acquired: But because she is going to speak, do not condemn her without hearing. LUCRETIA TO COLLATINUS. WOE is me! Can Lucretia possibly seo Collatinus, without daring to call him her husband? Yes. Reason will have it, and I will not oppose it. No, Collatinus, I am no more your Wife: I am an unhappy creature, whom the indignation of the Gods hath chosen, to be the object of the most horrid Tyranny, that ever was heard of. I am no more that Lucretia, whose Virtue charmed you more than her beauty: I am an unfortunate Soul, which an others crime hath made culpable. But to oblige me to speak with Tranquillity to you in so great a trouble; Swear to me, that you will revenge the abuse I have received. Let me see desires of Vengeance in your eyes: Show me the Poigniard, which should obliterate the injury that was done to me: ask arduouslie the Tirrans name from me. But alace can I tell it? Yes. Lucretia, for your vindication and chastisement, thou must to day, be altogether thy accuser, thy witness, thy party, thy defender, and thy judge. Know then, Collatinus, that that Lucretia, who did ever love her honour, better than her life, or yours; Whose chastity was always without blemish; The purity of whose Soul is incorruptible; Hath suffered in your place, a base, an infamous Person the son of a Tirran, and a very Tirran himself. Yes, Collatinus, the perfidious Tarquin, whom you called your friend, when you brought him to me the first time that I had seen him; (and would to the Gods it had been the last day of my life?) That Traitor, I say, hath made Triumph of Lucretia's chastity. By despising his own Glory, he hath lessened yours, by having absolutely benighted mine; And by a cruelty which never had example, he hath reduced me, to the most deplorable condition, that Woman whose whole inclinations are Noble, could ever see. I perseive Generous Collatinus, that my discourse astonishes you; And that you are in pain to believe what I say: Yet it is a certain truth. I am witness and asociate of Lucretia's crime. Yes Collatinus though I am yet alive I am not innocent: Yes my Father, your daughter is guilty, for having survived her glory: Yes, Brutus, I merit the hatred of all my Neighbours: And when I have committed no other crime, but the giving love to a cruel Tirran, who by the abuse he hath done to me; hath altogether violated the Laws of men of friendshp, offended the Roman People, and despised the Gods; It is enough to merit the hatred of all the World. Woe is me! Is it possible, that Lucretia could inspire such base thoughts; that her fatal beauty could kindle a flame, which should be her own destruction? And that her looks which were so innocent, could give such criminal desires? But what is thy wonder, insensible that thou art! Rather wonder that thou did not tear thy heart, before thy great misfortune. Then was the time Lucretia wherein you should have testified courage, and the love that you had to Glory You should have then died innocent; Your life would have been spotless; and without question the Gods would have ●een careful of your reputation. Butinfine the busifiess is not so. I am unhappy, unworthy to fee the right; Unworthy of being Spurius Lucretius his Daughter; Unworthy of being Collatinus his Wife; And unworthy of being a Roman. Now Collatinus I ask of you, what punishment Lucretia deserves, Deprive her of your affection: Blot her our of your Remembrance. Revenge the abuse that has been done to her, only for love to yourself, and not out of love her. Look upon her no more but as infamous: And though her misfortune be extreme, deny her that compassion, which is had of all that are miserable. But nevertheless, if it were permitted me, after I have spoken against myself, to say some what in my defence; I would say Collatinus, without contradicting truth; That I have not obscured my Glory, but by having loved Glory too well. Tarquin's cajoleries, did not touch my heart. His passion gave me none: His presents did not at all suborn my fidelity: Nor love nor ambition brangled my Soul: And if I desired to speak for myself, I can only say, that I loved my Reputation too much. Yes Collatinus, Lucretia's crime was that she preferred fame to true Glory. When the insolent Tarquin came into my Chamber; I being awaked saw a Poiginard in his hand; And having brought it to my Throat to hinder my out-cries, he began to speak of a passion he had for me; The Gods knows what were then my thoughts; And if death appeared terrible to me. In that condition I equally despised the prayers and threats of the Tyrran: His demands and offers were equally rejected: Neither love nor fear, had any place in my Soul: Death did not affright me, And so far from apprehending, I many times desired it. My Virtue had nothing to fight against at that time: I was not pendulous to preser death to the Tyrrans love: And I know no horrid pain, which I would not have joyfully endured, to have preserved my honour. But when my coustancie had wearied the Tirrans patience: That he saw neither his prayers, tears, presents, promises, threats, nor death itself could move my heart: That Barbarian, inspired by the furies, said it I resisted his desires any longer, he would not only kill me; But to make me infamous to Posterity, he would 〈◊〉 slave who accompanied him: To the end that 〈…〉 him dead in my bed, it should be thought that I 〈◊〉 forgot my honour for that slave, and that he wing 〈…〉 zeal to you, had punished us, as being guilty of that crime. I avouch with shame, that that discourse wrought on my Spirit, what the certainty of death could not do: I lost strength and reason; I yielded to the Tirran; And the fear of being thought infamous, is the only thing that made me so. No, Collatinus, I cannot endure that Lucretia should be accused, to have failed in her honour: That the memory of it was eternally blasted: And thinking that she should be execrable to you, hindered her from dying at that instant, and makes her live till now. I did all things to oppose the Tyrrans violences, except killing myself. I desired to live, that I might preserve my Reputation, and that I should not die unrevenged: And a false image of true Glory, taking possession of my heart; made me commit a crime, which I feared to be accused of. However the Gods are my witnesses, that my Soul and desires are wholly pure, my consent contributed nothing to that doleful accident, neither in the beginning, progress nor end of it. You know, Generous Collatinus, that when you brought the Tirran as your Friend, I was not voluntarlie the cause of his unjust passion; I scarce lifted up my eyes to look upon him: And that Illustrious Victory, which my Modesty gained to you that day, should make you sufficiently remember, that I have not drawn upon myself, the misfortune that is befallen me. After that, I did not see the treacherous Tarquin, until that dismal day, wherein he made prize of Lucretia. Virtue. But what do I say? Tirrans have no power over the will, I am yet the same Lucretia who so much loved glory; Because it is certain that mine is altogether innocent. The tears which flow from my eyes, are not the effects of my remorse: I repent not for the fault I have committed, but only that I died not before that of another. We were two in the crime, and but one Criminal: And my conscience does check me of nothing, but my having preferred my reputation and revenge, to a Glorious death. That which hath caused my misfortune, is that I believed the Glory of my death would not be known: I doubted the equity of the Gods at that time: And without remembering that they do miracles when they please, and that they are protectors of innocence; I have lived longer than I ought because I have survived my chastity. Think not Collatinus, that I will diminish my crime to appease your fury; I see in your eyes more splen against Tarquin then hatred to Lucretia: Doubtless you rather pity then accuse me, and all the former actions of my life, assist to vindicate me in your heart. And moreover, as I have said already, though I am unwillinglie guilty, yet I consent that Collatinus do love me no more. I speak not this to flatter you; But only to carry you the more ardently on to revenge. Me thinks, in vindicateing myself, I make the Tirran the more odious: The more innocent I appear, the more guilty he seems: The more unhappy I am, the more he deserves to be, and the more tears I shed, the more blood you should make him shed. Behold, Collatinus, the cause of my discourse, of my tears and of my life. Let me not be said to have lived infamous to no purpose: Think of revenge, Generous Collatine, consider what you are, and what your enemy is, or to speak better the public enemy. You are a Roman, you are Virtuous, you are Noble; And if I dare also say so, you are Lucretia's husband. But for him he is of a strange race, he is the son, and Grandson of Tyrrans. The Proud Tarquin. you know, mounted not the Throne, but by pulling a Virtuous Prince from it, whose Daughter he married. The Sceptre which he holds, cost the life of him who formerly carried it: And to secure himself in his dominions, he has committed more crimes, than he hath subjects. Behold Collatinus, who is the Father of my ravisher. If I be not deceived his mother does not make him more considerable: For in fine, I cannot be live, that the son of the infamous Tullia who dared to drive her Chariot over her Father's body, that she might arrive at the Throne she aspired to; Had not so many enemies at Rome, as there are Virtuous men in it. And more over, the Virtue of Sextus Tarqvinius, did not deface the crimes of his predecessors: The best action that he did, was the betraying a great many People, who trusted in him. Behold Collatinus, what an enemy you this, go then, go and assault him courageously. You shall no sooner speak of the abuse he hath done to me, but you shall have all the Romans on your side. It shall be both a General and Particular quarrel to them: They will be feared for their Wives; Their Daughters; And their Sisters: They shall all look upon the treacherous Tarquin as their enemy: And if their yet remain any who will follow him, they will certainly be cowardly & esteminate, whom it will be no hard matter to overcome. The Senate waits but a pretext to declare themselves: The People are weary of carrieing chains: They will seek a hand to unbind them: And the equity of the gods shall favour your party, You shall see that the Tirrans very Relations, shall tear the Crown from off his head. Yes I see Brutus listening to me, with intention to revenge my abuse: Doubtless he will follow you, in such a generous design: And if the confidence whsch I have of Heaven deceive me not, I already see the Proud Tarquin chased out of Rome; His infamous Son die by some unknown hand; And all bloody fall in the dust. (For I doubt if the gods will suffer him to die by so Illustrious a hand as yours.) Yes Collatinus, the Victory is yours, I already see all his Soldier's revolt, and all the Citizen's mutiny. Hatred to the Tirran, and desire of liberty, shall equally press them: And would to the gods, that I may be the Victim, to obtain from their goodness, my countries' liberty. Yes Collatine all the Soldiers who are in his camp, who fight to day under his colours, shall become worse enemies to him, than they of Ardea whom he now besidges. Go then and make my misfortune known over all: And believe Collatine, that you shall not publish my crime, but only that of Tarquin. And moreover, I am very certain, not to hear, what the People will say: For having been my own accuser, my witness, my party, and my defender; I must be also my judge and Executioner. Yes Collatinus I must die: Do not tell tell me then, that because my inclinations are innocent, I ought to live, that I might have the pleasure of seeing how you revenge my injuries It is enough that you promise me: And therefore I can sweetly die; But I can have no pleasure in life. There is a Lucretia within me whom I cannot endure: I must separate from her, she is insupportable to me; I cannot see her; I cannot suffer, her; I own herblood to the others justification, and to the revenge which you will take, When the Roman people shall see Lucretia killed by her own hand, because she would not survive her misfortune; They will the more easily believe, that a Woman who loved glory, better than life, was not capable, willingly to loss it. That last action shall justify all mine: The blood which I shall shed, will beget Soldiers to you, to help your punishing the Tirran: And in this manner, I myself shall assist to my revenge. My tears shall doubtless have some effect: And moreover, though I am unhappy, I dare believe that my death will trouble you. Yes Collatinus, Yes my Father, you shall be sensible of my death: And finding yourselves obliged both together to revenge the honour, and life of your Wife, and Daughter; You shall be the more irritated against the Tirran. Say not to me that my death is use-less, or that it will be evillie explicated. No, they who judge sincerely of affairs, will not take it for the effect of my crime: Remorse doth ordinarily shed more tears, than blood: And if I be not mistaken death is the remedy of the generous or desperate. Repentance is always a sign of weakness: And whosoever is capable of having it, may live after they have f●●lled. I have the Authority of all ages for me; Which lets it appear, that almost every day, they who have employed their hands against their own life, do it only to dissapoint Fortune's cruelty. To shun a shamofull death; Or to hinder themselves from being slaves and not for their punishment. When we have erred, we are always judges to ourselves: And there are few people who condemn themselves to death. Let none tell me then, that the blood which I shall shed, will rather blemish my life, then deface what the Tirran hath done to it. No, Collatine, my intention is too pure, and the gods are too just, to suffer all men to be unjust to me. I die not through remorse, or despair, I die with reason. I have told you what causes I have, do not then oppose my design, for you cannot hinder it. Think of vengeance and not of my preservation: Because the one may be glorious to you, and the other will be unprofitable. Further, Lucretia's example shall persuade the Roman Ladies never to survive their glory: I must vindicate the esteem, that they always had of my virtue. I own the loss of my life to my own glory; To that of my country; To that of Spurius Lucretius; And to that of Collatine. But as I shall do what I ought at this time, do you the like after my death. Forget nothing to revenge me; employ Sword, Fire, and Poison: All violences are lawful against Usurpers: Policy must be joined to force, when valoris not sufficient to destroy. Consider the justness of your cause; Remember Lucretia's chastity; The love that you ever had for her; And that which she had for you. Never forget the passion which she always had for glory: And her continual hatred to vice. Believe her to be more unhappy than guilty: And from all those things Generous Collatine, frame in your heart an irreconciliable hatred to the Tirran. But not to delay any longer such a Noble revenge; Go, Collatine go; I end this doleful discourse, with ending my life: And behold the dagger which I hold, whereby to punish myself, whereby to revenge you, and wherewithal to show you, how the Tirrans heart must be perirced. THE EFFECT OF THIS HARANGUE. THe Effect of this Harangue, was the flight of Tarquin, the banishment of his Father, the loss of his Kingdom, and the beginning of the Roman Reipublick. It cost Lucretia's ravisher both life & crown: And never was crime better punished: Never was an outrage better revenged. The death of that chaste unfortunate, put arms in the hands of a great many People: Her blood produced such effects as she expected: And the name of Tarquin was so odious to all the World, that being unable to endure it in the Person of one of them who had been assisting to banish the Tyrrans he was obliged to change it. VOLUMNIA TO VIRGILIA. THE twelfth HARANGUE. ARGUMENT. AFter that Coriolanus by his Mother's entreaty, had made peace with Rome, he caused the army of the Volsques return to their country; And would have that People experiment the Generosity of his action. But Tullus who loved him not, because he had been formerly overcome by him, while they were of acontrare party, Suscitated some seditious People, whowhen he was desirous to vindicate himself in the public Assembly, did hinder him to speak and at last killed him amidst the tumult. This news being brought to Rome, all the Ladies of the City suddenly repaired to the Mother and Wife of that generous enemy: And the first taking in hand the diseourse, did immediately speak to them in this manner, if the conjectures of History deceive 〈◊〉 a not. VOLUMNIVA TO VIRGILIA. LOok upon me no more Virgilia, as the Mother of Corilanus your husband, I am unworthy of that name; You should in Reason ●ate me as much as formerly that unfortunate Herod's Loved me. Remember that famous day wherein I employed my tears to disarm him: I weeped, I cried, I commanded; And I forgot nothing that could make a Generous Son flexible. I begged favour for the ungrate; I took part with Coriolanus his enemies: and though the Victory was so certain to him, that he was ready to be revenged of his banishers; And held in chains almost all them who did abuse him; That great heart which nothing could have moved, was at last by his mother: I did overcome in him the conqueror of Rome: And to my misfortune I obtained all that I asked of him. You know it Virgilia, as well as I; Nor do I remember; all those things, but for redoubling my grief. Alace! Me thinks I still hear the voice of Coriolanus! When he had thrown down his arms, to come and embrace me, he cried out with sight, O Mother what have you done to me! You have gained a Victory very Glorious for yourself, and very happy for your country; But most misfortunate for your Son. Woe is me Virgilia this discourse was but too true! For these same arms which he threw down to come to me, were employed against him. Then did the Volsques take the Daggers in their hands, which they plunged in his heart: It was I made them undertake that design: I was of that conspiracy against him: For after I had surmounted my Son, I delivered him all unarmed as he was, into the hands of his enemies. Ah insensible that I was, could I think that it would be other ways! Was I mother of all the Volsques, to believe that for love to me they would yield the Victory which they were ready to obtain? What right had I to ask from them the liberty of their enemy Rome. Should not I have thought, that they would revenge upon my Son, that loss which I caused to them? Ah yes! Virgilia, I ought to have considered all those things: And if Coriolanus could not return to Rome, I ought at least to have been companion with him in his dishonour: And as he did overcome his resentments in consideration of me, I should have quit my country for love of him. However we did not use him so: I did let Coriolanus departed environed with them who caused him loss his life: And I returned to Rome as in Triumph, to enjoy the fruits of that fatal Victory. When at our return the Senate asked of us what recompense we would have for our action, we ought, Virgilia to have desired the return of Coriolanus; And not as we did, permission to build a Temple to Feminine Fortune: It well appears, that that Divinity hath not approved of our zeal; Because it is so much against us. The gods would have certainly been the more agreeable, that we had been thankful to Coriolanus: The Temple which is builded for us, is the effect of our vanity, and not of our gratitude: We sought our own glory, and not that of our liberator: Though to speak truly he merited it better than we: It was to the virtues of my Son, and not to our own that we should have erected Altars: And he who could surpass his resentments; Deliever his country; And yield the Victory to his Mother's tears, without doubt merited better than we, the honour which is done to us. Me thinks his piety should have had a more Favourable treatment from Heaven: For though there be some Romans so unjust, as to say that Coriolanus should not have quitted his arms, but only for his countries' sake, and not for mine: And consequently bewrayed more feebleness than generosity, in that action; I am not of their opinion; And I hope posterity will be of mine. That strong passion which birth inspires in them, who have a complete Soul, is not caused by the Situation of the places where they were born: The same Sun gives light to all the Universe: We enjoy the Elements every where: And if they have no stronger reason than that, certainly it will be very weak. But that which makes us love our country, is because the Citizens, are all our Relations or Allies. The interest of blood, or that of civil Society, links us to them: The Religion, Laws, Customs which we have common, makes our interests be common: But the first sentiment that nature gives to them who love their country; Is to love it chiefly, because their Fathers, their Mothers, their Brothers, their Sisters, and their Relations are in it. Yes, I am very certain, that the most zealous of all the Romans, returning to Rom, after along journey will not so soon look to the Capitol, as to that place of the Town where his Mother or Wife dwelleth: Wherefore then, let ne●e wonder any more, that Coriolanus would yield to none but to my tears: For to whom among the Romans, should he have been rendered? All who were sent to him did abuse him; He did not see in any of them the mark of a true Roman: They were all ungrate to him: He could not in them acknowledge his country: He only saw the walls of Rome, but did not see his friends which he formerly had there. Fear made all them speak who were sent to him: And it was only by me, that he did know he had yet in Rome, something that ought to be venerated by him. We is me! Is it possible, That such extraordinar Piety hath been so evillie rewarded, that so courageous a man, hath so lamentable ended his days? That he should be assassinated by them who had chosen him for their Captain, and that the Place of his refuge, should be that of his execution? Alace, I say, that from my intentions which were so pure and innocent, there should result so fatal an accident: However Virgilia, the Gods have permitted all these things; And yet I see no other reason, if not that Coriolanus and I, have too much obliged the Romans, who have rendered themselves unworthy. But in fine, Coriolanus is dead; And only dead for love of volumnia. Yet his death hath this advantage that it hath made them shed tears who caused it: For the Volsques after the overthrow of their Captain, did hono●ble take him up; They no sooner did see his blood, but they saw their crime, and elevated a Trophy to his glory, of these same arms, which they employed against his life. They gave him a conquerors funeral; His memory is dear to them: They hung above his Tomb numbers of Ensigns; And all the glorious spoills, which do usuallis signalise the valour of these Illustrious dead, over whom they put them: And Rome which owes her liberty to Coriolanus, knows of his death without making public mourning! She remembers no more that she had been lost, and in slavery but for him: All the Romans were ungrate to him while he lived, they continue so after his death. They look upon him rather as their enemy then their liberator: They remember more the chains which he prepared for them, than these he took away from them: And that fear which formerly possessed them, of seeing him enter Rome in a Triumphing Chariot, makes them very glad to know, that he is to day in his coffin. For me I avouch, that though none should ever repent of ●aving dove well, I have no great trouble to hinder me from wishing, that Rome were in Captivity, and that Goriolanus were alive. The virtue of Brutus, who without grief saw his Children die, is not of my knowledge: That hard heartedness hath more ferocity than Grandeur of courage in it: There are some tears just; And compassion is not contrare to generosity: When I told Coriolanus, that I would love better to die, then to see him Conqueror of Rome, I said nothing against truth: And when I also say, that I wish to be dead, and that my Son were alive: I say nothing against natural equity nor against Rome; I give to reason and nature, what I cannot refuse them; And I take nothing from the Reipublick. I have sacrificed my Son for it, and it may also suffer me to weep a little over the Victim which I have immolated for its preservation: And that after I have done all that a true Roman could do, I may likewaies do all that sorrow can exact from the tenderness of a Mother. All they who loss their Children have constantly just subject of weeping: yet they have for their comfort, the liberty of making imprecations against them who take away their lives: But for me, I not only weep for the death of my Son, but I also weep, for being the cause of his death: And to increase my sorrow, there is ane austere virtue, that will not let me repent for what I have done. O my Son! O my dear Coriolanus; Can I pursue such a ●arbarous resolution? No it is too contrare to nature and reason: I must grieve; I must weep till death for the death that I was the cause of. It is not Rome's enemy I regrate; It is he who was so manytimes prodigal of his blood, in pursuit of glory whohath served in the wars seventeen years, with incomparable zeal: And had no reward but the wounds which covered his body. Further, Illustrious Roman Ladies, this man's birth doth not render him unworthy of your tears: he came of one of your Kings, and Ancus Martius his Predecessor, having carried a Crown, it might seem that he should have had more right to the honours of the Reipublick than any other; Because he was incapable of useing it ill. But perhaps it was for that reason (some may say to me) that the Romans refused him the Consulship, through fear that he would use it as a step, to remount the Throne of his Fathers. No, this reason cannot be good; And there needs no more but the remembrance of Coriolanus his whole life, to make his intentions know. In that Battle which was given against the proud Tarquin, he made it very well appear, that his ambition aimed no further, then to merit the Crown of Bays, which the Dictator did put upon his head, without thinking of that of his Predecessors; For having seen one of out Citizens fall to the ground, he set himself before him to serve him for a Buckler: And covering his body with his own, he secured him from danger: And so well congregated his forces and valour, that he gave death to him, who would have caused his. If the Romans, had dealt rationally with Coriolanus, ● at singlee action would have sufficed to hinder them, from being desirous to have him pass for a Tirran: Because it is not credible that he would have so much exposed himself, to save so small a part of so great a body, if he could have been capable of framing designs to destroy it entirely on day. But it is not in that encounter alone, that he hath made his zeal for the Reipuslick appear. Is it not to be seen in all occasions that offered? Is it not signalised ill all the battles that have been given? Hath he ever returned to Rome, without bringing with him some of his enemy's spoilles, or without being all covered with theirs or his own blood? Behold Virgilia, what a husband yours was: See Illustrious Romans what my dear Coriolanus was, who in all his warlike actions, was never conquered but only by me. The Volsques themselves, whom he afterward commanded, judged him not worthy of that employment, but because by his hand, was that Victory plucked from them, which they were ready to bear away, in spite of Lartius his resistance: Who going to assault the Town of Corioles, was so courageously beat back by the besidged, that they put all our trophues to the flight, and all our army into confusion. That was the time, wherein the passion that he ever had for the glory of the Roman Empire, made him surpass his own strength, and by his example, forced some of ours to turn head to the enemy. This Generous design did so happily succeed with him, that he repulsed them to the walls of the Town: and not contented with so brave an action; he would have persuaded them who followed him, that the gates of Corioles, were not so open for these who fled, as for them to enter. But seeing their fear more prevalent than his discourse, and that they thought more of retreating then fight, this unfortunate whom I lament, did not forbear to pursue his design. There did he see himself almost alone, fight against the whole inhabitants of a Town who fought through despair. There his hardiness wrought terror upon his enemies; His example reinforced the spirits of our Legions, and by the strength of his arm he made them enter that fortified Town; And in fine made them over come those who came to conquer them. It was only then by his courage, that Lartius had leisure to rally his trophues, to go and reap the fruits of that Victory, by finishing what he had so happily begun. And not being ignorant, that the Consul Cominius, who commanded the half of the Roman army, might be in hands with them who were coming to relieve the Town whieh he had taken: He did cheerfully re-take these same soldiers, who having no desire to share in the hazard with him, were amusing themselves with dividing the booty which he had acquired to them. But in vain did he set shame and glory before them: So that seeing their cowardliness, he abandoned them, and only followed by them who would willingly accompany him, (which were but a very small number) went diligently in search of a new subject to his Valour. He arrived just at the Camp, in the instant wherein Cominius was going to give Battle to the enemy: And being all covered with blood and dust, his arrival did some what amaise the Consul. But he had no sooner given account of the action he had done, than the news of his first Victory did presage a second. All the Soldiers reanimated their desires of fight, hope and joy adorned their foreheads; And only by the sight of him, did they banish that fear which had seized their hearts. As for my Son, as if he had been very sorry, that any other should have served the Reipublick better that day than he, having asked the Consul what trophues of the enemy were the best; An being informed that these of Antiates were the most courageous, Because the Volsques had put them in the front of the Battle; he desired in recompense of his taking Corioles, permission to fight them. You know Illustrious Romans, that he obtained at that time what he had demanded: That his arm couducted by the Gods, had the first honour of breaking the enemy's Squadrons: that he alone did attaque an army, thereby to show the Romans how they must despise their life, to make themselves Masters of that of an other: And that his prodigious valour, had a success which was likewaies so But when victory had declared itself for us, the Consul entreated my Son to consider the condition he was in: And to remember that by the wounds he had received, his blood dropped with that of his enemies. But he answered him that Victores aught not to retire: In Testimony whereof, joining effects to his words, he pursued them who fled even till night: And as he had been the first in the Battle, he was the last in the Retreat. It may be some will say to me, that desire of reward inspired my Son with that valour, but none can be ignorant that he refused every thing that was presented to him: On the contrare so great was his moderation, that after he had taken a town by force, gained a Battle, saved the Honour of the army and of the Reipublick, he asked no recompense for his toillings, but the liberty of one man, who had formerly been his Host and friend; And who was then prisoner of Was among the Romans. I remember very well, that the name Coriolanus which he did bear, (O Gods! Can I speak in such terms?) I say I well remember that that name was given him at that encounter, to eternise his action. But I also remember that the very same People who named him Coriolanus, called him afterwards the disturber of the public repose, the enemy of Rome, and the Senate's Tirran. Since that, what hath he not also done in an other occasion? Certainly you remember of that fatal year, wherein it was thought that famine would have intirly desolated Rome: When all the People Geminated, wherein hunger made triumph of the poor People's deaths, and wherein the richest themselves were exposed to the like danger. You know, I say, that Coriolanus by his valour and courage, brought back abundance into Rome, revived the People; And all this with the price of his blood; And without desiring other recompense, but that of having saved the lives of the Citizens. Nevertheless, for the reward of so many services; Of so many brave actions; Of so many wounds that he received And of so much blood that he shed: When he demanded the Consulship, which was granted to many others, who did not merit it so well as he; They treated him as infamous, and as a criminal; they put him in the hands of the Aedilles, as the worst of men, and banished him his country. O Heavens! Can I ask favour for them who treated my Son sounworthilie, and how could that unfortunate Son consent to me? Further after so many abuses that Coriolanus received, what did he to revenge himself? Hath it been discovered that he desired to suborn any of our Consuls? Hath he secretly taken up money to make the army of the Volsques subsist? Hath he furnished them with Soldiers? No, Coriolanus hath done none of all those things: He was content for his revenge of Rome, to put only the faithfullest of the Citizens in the hands of his enemies. But if that despare which forced him to it, had succeeded happily; that he had found more Humanity in the heart of Tullus, whose Triumphing enemy he several times was, then in the hearts of all the People, for the glory of whom he vanquished the same Tullus, would any, I say, that by an extreme ungratitude, that he should have abandoned him in a just War, and which he had undertaken in consideration of him? Would any, I say, that to merit the base treatment, he received from them whom he had served, had him betray them whom he protected: And who by a very extraordinary confidence had chosen him to be General of their army? It may be some will say to me that Coriolanus did more hurt to the Romans, in accepting of that employment, then if he had suborned the Consuls of Rome; Then if he had taken up their riches: Then if he had made the People rebel, led an army against his adversaries: Because it was seen that his person alone, joining with the Volsques party made an entire change in their affairs: And that they who had so many times desired peace with Rome, were in condition to make her dearly buy it. But let none imagine that that was a simple effect of his conduct and valour. No, our Gods who are protectors of innocence, doubtless guided his arm, to subdue the pride of them who thought themselves invincible not fearing to abuse their Alleys. But in his happy succeedings, he did not forget that he was born a Roman, and though the Nobility abandoned it to the fury of the People, he did not forbear to preserve their country houses, against all the disorders of War. He also had respect for them who were become his enemies; And though his particular Fortune was in a deplorable condition, he never asked any thing for himself in the Articles that he proposed, and desired no unjust thing for the Volsques whom he protected. Behold once more, O illustrious Romans, what Coriolans was: I recommend my Son by the picture I have made to you of him, preserve his image in your heart: Remember that without his Generosity, the famine would have destroyed your Fathers, your Brothers, your Husbands, your Children and yourselves: Or what would yet be word, that you have been formerly, partakers of their chains and bondage. Let us not imitate Generous Romans, the ungratitude of our Citizens: Let us eternise the Glory of our Sex to their prejudice: And for our gratitude let us Crown them with confusion: This Temple which was granted to us, when my Son consented to the favour we asked of him, shall not be so glorious to us, as the affection that you will testify, in desiring to preserve the memory of Coriolanus. You own your tears to him who formerly dried them up, and who hath broken your chains. You also should (if I dare say so) sweeten the bitterness of my sorrow, by that which you will testify for hls' death: I have immolated my Son for love to you, you can do no less then afflict yourselves for love to him. And as you should have all carried mourning, if it had not been for my Son's Generosity: It is but just you should all wear it, in honour of his memory. Let us go then Virgilia. Let us go Generous Romans, to ask this permission from the Senate. But O Gods! Can it be possibly, necessare to ask leave, to wear mourning for our Liberator? Yes the corruption of the age will have it so. Let us go then once more and ask with tears, the last thing that we can seek for my Son, because he is dead. But for his Glory, I am very much assured that Rome shall be destroyed, when the Name of Coriolanus shall be spoken of afterwards. THE EFFECT OF THIS HARANGUE. SHe obtained what she desired of them: All the Roman Ladies did put on mourning, and did wear it ten months, which was the accustomed time of wearing it for their Fathers and Husbands. Therefore this Illustrious exile was happier after hu death, then while he was alive; And the fairest Sex at that time, was the most grateful. ATHENAIS TO THEODOSIUS THE THREETEEN HARANGUE. ARGUMENT. AThenais Danghter to Leontine the Philosophor, being preferred to the Empire, by her beauty, and the rare qualities of her Soul, did not long enjoy her good Fortune: The Emperor Theodosius her husband being some what jealous of her, and of one of the principal men of his Court, named Paulinus, put him to death, and deprived her of his favour, In that abandonment, the unfortunate Athenais was skilfully made sensible, that she ought to retire from Court; So that of herself being sufficiently troubled in mind: She asked what she did obtain and what they would have had her demand, I would say, permission to go and live at Jerusalem. It was then at the instane of her parting, and in her last fairwells, that she did speak in these terms, to the Emperor Theodosius. ATHENAIS TO THEODOSIUS MY LORD. BEing ready to quit the Court; And to go confine myself in Palestina; I dare supplicat your Majesty, by the most venerable name of the Emperor Trajan, of whom you are come; By that of the great Theodosius your grandfather: By that of the equitable Arcades your Father; And by that of the great Constantine, of whom you hold the Sceptre, and whose piety you imitat, to permit me this day, to tell you all that I think, both of my past and present Fortune: That I may at least, have the satisfaction, at my departing from you, to be thought not to have wholly abandoned my innocence. Woe is me! If any would have said formerly to the poor Athenais, when her Father Leontine the Philosopher, taught her Virtue that hers should be one day suspected, she could not have thought it. The simplicity of her education, the little ambition that she had, and the walls of the cottage that she inhabited, seemed to secure her against Calumny. Innocence reigned in her Soul, She was contented with her Fortune; She sought after nothing but the acquisition of Sciences and Virtue: And the sole desire of learning, and practiseing good, was both her delight and occupation. But is it not this Athenais whom they accuse: It is the unhappy Eudosia; It is the Wise of a great Emperor; It is a person exposed to the eyes of a great Court; It is a person to whom nature hath given some advantages, to whom Fortune hath given the first Crown of the World; And the love of the most venerable Prince of the earth. All these things, invincible Emperor makes my disgrace the more seeminglie true: Great misfortunes are not seen but in the houses of great Princes: Thunder falls oftener upon the statlie Palaces of Kings, then upon Shepherd's Cottages: And the Sea makes more Ship wracks then the Rivers. It is no wonder then, if Eudosia be more unhappy than Athenais, though she be as innocent: And though she be as Virtuous, under the Glorious Tittle that she bears of Empress of the East, as she was under that Name which her parents gave her. If Fortune, my Lord, had but rob me of these things over which its domination extends; Had it pulled the Sceptre from me which I carry, after I had received it from your hands; Had it taken the Crown from off my head: Had your Subjects mutined against me, and tumbled me from the Throne as unworthy to have place upon it; I would endure that disgrace without murmuring: Yes my Lord, that blind thing, so much accustomed to favour vice, at the expense of Virtue, that makes no presents but to take them away; That establishes no Kingdoms, but to destroy them; And which overturns all that it does establish; In one word Fortune, shall not put a stand to my patience. I shall without regrate quit the Sceptre, the Crown, the Throne, the Court, and the Empire, and all that splendid some which accompanies Royalltie, if I could return into my solitude, with your esteem and affection. These two things, my Lord, if I be not mistaken, should not be under Fortune's Jurisdiction: It may both take day and Empire from you, it may also make you a slave, but it cannot make your unjust. You alone are the arbitrator of your will, your hatred, your esteem and your affection. The noble privilege, that God hath given to man, of being free among chains, and of being absolute Master of his inclinations, makes ●ou be obliged, to answer exactly for yours. Nevertheless. my Lord, the respect I have to you, makes that I dare not accuse you of these you have to me; Though certainly, my innocence renders them unjust: And for that respect I will rather call myself unhappy then say you are culpable. I accuse Fortune unjustly of one thing which you alone can answer; It is not from its hand, to speak more truly than I have done that I hold the Sceptre which I carry; It is not she hath put the Crown up on my head; Her wheel hath not thrown me upon the Throne; Her caprice made me not your Wife; All these things my Lord, are either effects of your goodness, of my merit, or of your blindness. If it be the first, I have learned of my Father, that crime alone justifies repentance: That it is a sentment which virtue knows not, and which should not be used but after a wicked action. If it be the second, and if you have esteemed me, by knowing how little I am worth, take not from me my Lord, what belongs to me: Because being the very same that I was, you should be the same that you have been. But if you say to me, that I am the error of your judgement and that you have not found in my person, such merit as you did believe to meet with; I dispute not against you, take from me all that you have given me, but take not away my innocence, which I have only received from Heaven. When Athenais came to your Court, her reputation was spotless: Few People that did speak, said all good of her. To day all People speak according to their fancy, yet without letting me know what they say: For to speak sincerely, it is only with you that I would be justified. They who do good, because it is good, and not because it should be divulged, care not what unjustice fame will do to their Virtue: They find their satisfaction on themselves, without seeking after it in any other: So that the wise are sometimes most innocent, and most happy, when the Vulgar who only judge appaaentlie, believes them guilty and unfortunate. But my Lord, since the affection that you have had for me, and thrt which I have for you, hath made you (if I dare say so) a second self to me; I ought to vindicate my actions before your eyes. Remember, my Daughter, said my Father to me one day; That you study not so much to acquire the esteem of other, as not to endeavour more, to obtain your own. Be you both your own judge, and party; Think of satisfying yourself; Examine your inclinations; Search the bottom of your heart, to knew if Vertrue be Mistress of it: But do not flatter yourself, incline rather to rigour, then to indulgence. And after having made an exact scrutiny of your intentions, when you come to the point of being satisfied with your mind slight the glory of the World; laugh at calumny; And be better contented in having your own esteem then if you had that of the greatest Princes of the Earth. But my Lord, for this reason, I cannot be tranquil, so long as my better half doth not believe me innocent; Suffer me then my Lord, to repass exactly, all the circumstances of my disgrace, and that dear part of my innocence that I may thereby with some tranquillity go to my searched for solitude. When I came to Constantinople, ask justice against my Brothers, who refused me that right which I had to the paternal Succession, the prudent Pulcheria, rejected not my requests: She heard me: And making me loss my cause very advantageouslie gave me For tunes, which she ought to have preserved for me. At that time my Lord, there was only a poor cottage in agitation, and three foot of Earth to cover me from extreme necessity: But to day when not only the honour of Anthenais is in question, but that of Eudosia your Wise, you are obliged to hear her, and to do her justice. I think my Lord, that the cause of your anger and my grief is, because I have given a trifle which you gave me: And that afterwards, to excuse an action, which I saw by your eyes, would not have pleased you if you had known it; I excused that innocent error by a lie. Behold, my Lord, all the crime that I have committed: And the fear only of dispeasing you, hath made me displease you. When your Majesty gave me that fatal fruit, which hath caused my disgrace, I received it with joy; Both for its extraordinar pleasantness, and more because it came from your hands. The pleasure I had in seeing of it, persuading me that it was more proper to divert the sight, then to satisfy the teast; And being irresolute to destroy it, I examined what I could do with such an agreeable present: The unfortunate Paulinus was then sick: So that being minded to send & visit him; I thought the amiable gift that you gave me, could not be better bestowed, then by giving it to a person whom you testified that you loved better than yourself. But my Lord, Paulinus made not a mystery of this liberality: For because I did not tell him that I had received it from your Majesty, the same apprehension that had obliged me to send him that fatal apple, was doubtless the cause, why to testify to me the esteem he had of the present I made him, he would put it in more worthy hands than his own. But if you say to me, that since you gave me the gift, I ought never to have regiven it, because every thing that comes from the person beloved, should be held as dear as the life: I shall agree with you, because by that I pretend to justify myself. However there is an important distinction to be made in this encounter: For as there is great diversity in men's loves, the things which that passion produces, should also be all differing. The love of husband, and Wife, is no more that of Lover and Mistress: And though they be the same persons, and though love be as ardent in their hearts, as it was before their marriage; Yet their opinons are different in many occasions. They have more solidity, and less affection; And none of all these follies which criminal loves do produce, are to be found in their Souls. So, my Lord, if Paulinus had had a passion for me, he would have keeped the present which I made him, with care and with jealousy: Since it is most certain, that in this kind of illegitimate affections, (which I never heard spoken of since I have been at Court) the least things that comes from the person beloved, are inestimable Treasures, which are never parted from, but with the life. However Paulinus no sooner received my present, but he sent it to you: And in that occasion it may be said, that he designed more to please you, then to content me. For me, my Lord, I never thought, you could take it ill, that I should have given a trivial thing, which you gave me: And that liberality was a virtue, which I ought not to practise. For, my Lord, if I ought to give nothing but what I have not received from you, I must give myself: Having brought nothing into your Palace, but that simplicity and innocence. which some would ravish me of to day. Why, my Lord, do your not remember, that by the innumerable riches that you have given me, I have divers times enriched several whole Towns? Why, my Lord Theodosius hath permitted me to give Gold, Pearls and Diamonds, to a hundred people, who were unknown to him; And could I have foreseen that he would have been dissatisfied with my giving a simple fruit to the man in the World who had most profitable served him, and for whom he had most affection? No, my Lord, that was not possible: And the wise Pulcheria, howsoever clear sighted she is, and is believed to be, and who foresees things from a far, had been deceived in it. But, my Lord if I ought to take care of any nixt to your Majesty, it should be of Paulinus: And if I dare say it, I own more to him then to my Father, and more than to your Majesty; For my Father gave me nothing but life, and having received nothing from you but the Throne, I can say, Paulinus having inspired me with the lights of faith, I am more obliged to him, then to all the rest of the Earth. Yes, my Lord, I own the safety of my Soul to him, and my eternal beatitude, if the innocence of the life that I shall lead, do make me obtain it. You know, my Lord, that it was he who converted me, that all your Doctors could not convince me; that only he unseilled my eyes? And letting me see the absurdites of my religion gained me to embrace yours. Believe then my Lord, that the birth of our Friendship had too holy a beginning, to be criminal in its progress? And that he who had opened the gates of Heaven to me, would never conduct me to the ways of hell. And moreover, my Lord, know that when Eudosia shall again be Athenais; When she shall I say, be again of that Religion, wherein all crimes are authorised by the example of the Gods whom she adores: She shall not be less innocent. Chastity is a Virtue which hath been known of all Nations, and through all ages; It is so essential to my Soul, that nothing can banish it thence. Judge then, my Lord, if being of a Religion, where modesty is rewarded, I could do any thing against my duty to you, and against my duty to myself. I thing if I be not deceived, that I have made you know, that I might have given with out crime what you gave to me: And at last that I have made you see, with a similtude sufficiently true, that Paulinus his liberality to you; Justifies mine towards him. Now as to what concerns the lie that I made, in telling you that I had eat the fruit, it is certain that I cannot deny, I would have done better to have told you the truth: But, my Lord, all follies are not crimes. When you spoke to me at that time, I saw such alteration in your Countenance, and so much choler in your eyes: That fear of angering you having seized my spirit, I lost my use of reason, Consider, my Lord, that if there had been any too particular affection, between Paulinus and me; Assoon as you had spoken tome, I might have well judged, that you did know something: And therefore, by an apparent ingenuity, though artificial; I should have told you that I sent it to Paulinus. But having nothing in my mind, that objected any error! I told an innocent lie not fearing it was evillie explained. I failed, through fear of being accused of a fault: And a too fearful affection, hath made me loss yours. Further, my Lord, being unprepared for that accusation, and being ignorant of the crime that I am accused for; I than answered you only with tears. My silence and respect, were the only colours, that I employed for my justification: A too scrupulous & too austere Virtue, made me believe, that I would slain myself by vindicating me of such a thing; And I also think that I should never have spoken to you, if I had not designed to separate from you. But venerable Emperor I reprehend myself for all I have said; you are not the Subject of my disgrace, I accuse you no more; I receive it as the chastisement of my past errors. I have too much defended the cause of Idols, to gain n●y own to day: And it is very just having so eager maintained a lie, that I be not believed, when I speak a truth that is of importance to me. I have sacrificed too much to Jupiter, and have offered too many criminal Victimes, not to expiate that fault, by some innocent sacrifice. I myself must be my Victim at this time: And by patiented suffering, merit the pardon of my past errors. My Lord, do not think that I bear any grudge in my Soul: I well see, that I whereas the journey I am going to make, was undertaken by my own will; I well see, I say, that the permission which is given me, was consented to in such manner, that I may rather call it, a place of banishment, then of pilgrimage. However that shall not hinder me from praying to GOD, that the blood of Paulinus be not an obstacle to the felicity of your days. I shall also make vows for the prudent Pulcheria's Reign; Whose piety doubtless doth approve of the place I have chosen for my retirement. I shall be more profitable to her at Jerusalem then at Constantinople; And perhaps more agreeable. But in acknowledgement of the last obligations I had from her, I shall beg of Heaven, to give her such repose, as I go to enjoy in my solitude; Though perhaps this is not the favour that she asks from it in her prayers. Further my Lord, I go not so far off, that fame may not speak of me to you: And if I be not mistaken it shall tell you so many things of my life's innocence, that you will believe it was never soilled: And that holy land wherein I go to dwell, shall obtain for me from Heaven, the pleasure and honour of seeing you again. This, my Lord, is the hope, which a person who lived contented in a poor cottage bears in her mind; A person who without pride received the first Crown of the World; Who without regrate quits the highest Throne that is upon the Earth; And who never loved any thing but the Emperor Theodosius and virtue. THE EFFECT OF THIS HARANGUE. THis discourse was not unprofitable, though its effects were slow: It left impressions of hot in the heart of Theodosius, which in fine rekindled his first flames. It is true, Athenais departed: But she returned with Glory: She saw begging pardon at her feet, him who saw the half of the Earth at his: And her innocence and reputation remounted the Throne with her: After that time, and reason reestablished tranquillity in the Emperor's mind. PULCHERIA TO THE PATRIARCH OF CONSTANTINOPLE. THE FOURTEEN HARANGUE. ARGUMENT. AThenais being received again in favour with the Emperor Theodosius her Husband, by the intercession of Crisaphius; Was no sooner returned from Palestina to Constantinople, but useing her new power, she changed all order of affairs in it, and knowing that Pulcheria did not oppose her departure, she would not let her return be so agreeable to her, as her departing had been. She than caused the Emperor, who was charmed with his seeing of her again, resolve to take the Adminiflration of State from the Princess his Sister: And command the Patriarch of Constantinople to go take her, and put her among the consecrated Virgins. This order seemed so hard to Flavian, that he could not resolve to execute it to the rigour: He caused secretly advertise Pulcheria of it: That if she did not absent herself, he would be constrained to do her that displeasure. The Princess was quickly resolved to it: And at her going to part from the Court, and retire to the Country she did thus speak to him. PULCHERIA TO THE PATRIARCH OF CONSTANTINOPLE. THe advertisement you gave me, doth nather astonish nor trouble me: I very well foresaw wise Flavian, that Eudesias return would cause Puleberias' departure: And being acquairted with the revolutions of Mundain affairs; I see without regrate a change which perhaps will not be disadvantageous but to them who cause it. This so sudden mutation is the effect of Crisaphius his malice, of Theodd●●● his goodness, and of the Empresses ambition. Flaviah, if any had said formerly, that this poor Athenais, who had not a cottage to cover her, when she did cast herself at my feet, should carry the first Crown of the World upon her head, could it have been seeminglie true? But what is yet more strange; Who could have thought that this person whom with my own hands I have Crowned, would violently take from me the Reins of the Empire, which I have always happily enough held, under the Authority of Theodosius since I was fifteen years old? No, Venerable Flavian, I desire not that posterity should accuse the Emperor or Empress for banishing a Princess to whom partly they own the Crown which they carry: For if I did put it upon the head of Athenais, I securlie set it upon that of Theodosius. That famous Victory which he gained of Roilas, who having past the Danube, was coming with all the forces of Scythia and Russia, to ranverse the Imperial Throne of Constantinople, doubtless was not the effect of Theodosius his care: And if I dare say it, I forced thunder from the hands of GOD to knock that Barbarian in the head; For you know, hat he died with a Thunder Bolt. Yes, Flavian, Theotdosius owes that Victory to me, and also that which he gained of Baravanes King of the Persians, who being in league with Alamondar King of the Saracens, had form so strong an army, that doubtless there was more hen humane force needful to oppose that innumertable multitude of men, composed of divers Nations. Nevertheless, a Pannik fear having possessed their Troops, they were destroyed by themselves: And that which should have made them victorious, rendered them uncapable of conquering. Yes, most prudent, and most holy Flavian; I have made winds: storms, and tempests, serve for the glory of Theodosius: I have made Heaven interested with his protection: And not the bloody Victories which he gained, were the reward of that Virtue which I taught him. You know that being two years older than he was when he came to the Empire, I took care of his education: I had the honour of being his Sister, but he was my Son by Adoption: And you are not ignorant of what I have done, since Theodosius did me the favour to divide his power with me, and make me his associate in the Empire. Can there be a more prosperous Reign seen than his? Was there a Prince in allthe World, who did not either love, or fear Theodosius? Did any complain of my Government? Were not my Counsels just, or have they not been fortunate? No, wi●e Flavian, to speak rationally of every thing, I have done favours formerly to Athenais, but I never did unjustice to any body. However, think not by what I say, that I would make you understand, the Empress is unworthy of the Throne: No, I will not destroy what I have established: And I was not deceived, when I thought I saw in her a most extraordinare Virtue. Without doubt, Athenais is a miraele of nature: She is born with advantages, which I never saw but in her person: And if her Birth were as great as her Spirit, and if in stead of being bred in solitude, she had been brought up at Court; she had been incomparable in every thing: But to her misfortune, she hath begun, with what I am going to finish. Doubtless it is more easy to them who have a well accomplished Soul, to live gloriously in solitude, after they have lived in the World; Then to go from solitude to domination. They who have known how to conduct manic People can certainly lead their flocks without going astray: But all they who can industriously use a sheephook, cannot carry a Sceptre with honour. In fine, Kings may be Shepherds, but all Shepherds cannot be Kings. The Philosophers also, who establish themselves Sovereign Judges of all the actions of men; Who beast of knowing the weight of Crowns; Who make imaginary Republics? Who give laws to all the Earth? And who form Modeles, by which the greatest Princes of the World should Regulate their Lives and Governments: I say these men, who make Kings so perfect by their writings are not fit to Reign. Athenais gives me a domestic example of this? She knows Philosophy: She is Daughter to a man who taught it her: She is born with all noble inclinations; She knows all that any of her Sex can know; She was without ambition when she came to the Court; She has as much Spirit as any body can have: But because she knows not the World but by looks, and because her experience hath taught her nothing; Her simplicity hath made her listen to Crisaphius his divices: And doubtless hath possessed her with the opinion that she has of me to day. All these things, Flavian, were not of my knowledge, when kindled in the Emperor's heart, that flame which destroys me to day: But now I well know, that an active Philosophy is requisite to know how to reign: That experience is the surest study of Kings; And I have also known by my own, that none can be perfectly wise, but at its expenses, and truly I should not think it strange, that the Empress do every thing, to preserve that quality which I have given her: It is so advantageous to her; That I also wonder she doth not make it more, But as I have already said to you, the change that happens to day, doth neither astonish nor trouble me: And I do yet preserve so much affection for Theodosius, and so much esteem for Athenais, that to hinder them from committing a public fault, I will denude myself of what power I had; Abandon Theodosius to the affection that he has for the Empress: And abandon her to her little experience, and to the divices of Crisaphsus. I know not reverend Flavian, if my conjectures will be as false this day, as they were when I Crowned Athenais: But if I be not mistaken, the reign of these Illustrious Persons, shall neither be long nor happy. The complacency of Theodosius, and the little experience of the Empress, makes me compassionate them: Methinks I already see her, going to consult her books, upon the least unexpected accident: But my Father, her books were not made for our Age: And if she have not her judgement very clear, that which was glorious to Alexander, shall be disgraceful to Theodosius; That which made him love, shall make this hate: And that which made him redoubtable, shall make this despised. The Throne whereon she is to day is so high, that I fear her sight is not strong enough, to see the cottage again wherein she did formerly dwell. I fear, I say, she will be transported, and abandoning the reins of State which I have forsaken to her, fall into some important error. For me, I was never dazzled by Grandeure: I am born among purples: The plays of my infancy passed upon the Throne: And the first thing I learned was to reign over others, and over myself. The wise Anthemius teaching me policy, which I have happily enough practised since, told me one day, that to be never surprised at fortune's unconstancy; We must always be prepared to endure, what others do undergo: And never to mount a Triumphing Chariot, without being prepared to be tied to it, if Fortune desire it. Wherefore, Flavian, I should not be surprised, if having partly banished the Empress into Palestina; She should to day send me into solitude. The sweet pleasure that she found there, without doubt makes her wish it to me: And it is only in gratitude, that she desires to be employed in that place which I did hold. When she came to cast herself at my feet, and when by reasons which would be too long to relate, I resolved to make her Empress: I thought that that person, who esteemed herself happy, in having a roof of straw for riches would behave infinitely, when she should see herself reign over the heart of Theodosius, and set upon a throne, to which she dared not to list her eyes. However matters go not so; And she who only desired a simple cottage for her contentmemt, cannot find herself in a great and stately Palace, if she be not there alone, and if she banish not her who opened the gates to her, and put her in possession. It may truly be said for her excuse, that she does not believe, it was from my hands she received the crown which she carries: The assurance her Father gave her a dying, that she should be richer than her brothers, persuades her that this Crown did fall from the highest heavens upon her head. She believes that the influence of the stars caused her good Fortune. And that I did nothing at that time, but what I could not hinder me from doing. She thinks I was constrained, by that constellation under which she is born, to make her Empress of the East: And in this manner, believing that she holds her good Fortune of the stars, she thinks herself thankful enough, when without looking upon me, she hath only lifted up her eyes to Heaven. But wise Flavian, I who never believed all the miracles that have been told me of judicial Astrology, who knows the uncertainty of that Science: How misty and doubious are the predictions which it makes; And how unprofitable they are: I say, I know very well, that I was not constrained to Crown Athenais. I designed it not without reason, I examined the thing exactly. And because it was of importance to me, I did not tumultuously resolve it: And it might have come to 〈◊〉, that Athenais should have gained her cause, and lost the Empire that day, in spite of the Planets and Stars. In fine, my Father, I well know, that this Science, whose predictions are not understood, until the things come to pass, is not a gift of Heaven: GOD did make nothing unprofitable in the World: And yet judicial Astrology is of such a nature, that it oblidges me the more to believe its falsity. Who is he that hath profited by the Prophecies have been made of him? Or to say better who hath understood them? Chance, that caused the Sponge be so fortunately thrown at the famous Painter, which accomplished without thinking of it, that which all his Art could not do, doubtless makes these occurencies, upon which the reputation of this Science is established, sometimes mervailious: But ordinarily, they who adjust accidents to Prophesy, must have more spirit than the greatest masters of his Art. When Lantive a dying said to Athenais, that she should be richer than her Brothers: The goodman said it rather in praise of her beauty and virtue, then in assurance of the Empire. And if he had certainly foreseen, that the Crown which she carries to day, was to be upon her head; He had but little judgement, to a muse himself with dividing three or four foot of earth among his Sons: Because it was very credible, that if she did become Empress, she would not let her brothers live in the poverty of their birth, and consequently the paternal Succession would be of no use to them. Yes, wise Flavian, only I have made Athenais Empress of the East: However, I forgive her want of gratitude: And I wish with all my heart, that in fine she may know the talon which Heaven hath given her. She is certainly proper for great virtues: And if she attempt but to Reign over herself; She shall be the mervaill of her age. She shall reap more Palms in Palestina, than she can acquire Glory by the Government of affairs. And if I be not deceived, she shall there be happier. For me my Father, who am otherways born, I should willingly put myself, as you have been ordained, among these Virgins, who have no other care, but to make an● oblation of their hearts to God; If I did not think that Theodosius and the Empress may perhaps need my assistance: But knowing them as I do, it shall suffice, that retiring to my solitude, I leave them liberty of acting according to their fancies: And I wish to GOD, that same inform me of nothing to their disadvantage. I shall be very glad that their conduct let it be seen, that what I had of Theodosius had no evil success: And that I have not made a bad choice of Athenais. However, Flavian, if it be possible, let the Emperor know, that without murmuring I quit that share of domination which he gave me: That not having taken it but only for his ease and glory, I willingly demit, how soon I know that he thinks it no more agreeable to him. But let him remember, that at my parting from him, I leave all his Empire in peace; That all his subjects love him; That all his Neighbours fear him; That there is abundance in all his towns: That Virtue is seen in every particular Family; That vice appears no more among them; That his Court (except Crisaphius) hath no flatterers; That the Rabble are without insolence; That the great are without pride; And that piety reigns in all the Temples of his Empire. Let him remember, Venerable Flavian, that that great virtue (if I dare say it) hath passed from my heart into his; And from his, into that of all his Subjects, that thereby the memory of me be not troublesome to him: And also to the end, that if it come to pass by chance, that he one day do recall me, as he hath recalled Athenais; He may see, if the Government will be then in the condition I leave it in this day: As for the Empress, I shall be glad she know, that though I have not made a particular study of Philosophy, that though I be of a birth to exile others, and not to be banished; That though I have some portion in the Throne which she wholly this day possesses, I forbear not I say, to quit that Throne, and endure my exile, with more moderation than she testifies by receiving the crown which I gave her: I wish from Heaven, that I may know better how to use my disgrace, than she hath done her good Fortune: And to conclude this discourse, remember my Father, you who have Governed my Conscience, so long as I governed the Empire; That I never in my life proposed any other thing to myself, than always to do what I ought, and what I believed to be most glorious, and most just. Veritable Wisdom consists in the good usage of what accidents befall us: There is no need of a scrupulous attachment to one Virtue: They must be all practised according to several occasions. There is a time wherein humility is not laudable; And wherein Grandeur of courage is more necessary: And others also wherein dissimulation is Wisdom: And Freedom criminal. We must know how to change seasonably, yet without ever changing the resolution of doing what we ought. If a Prince with whom I have made a just War, should by chance of Arms make me his salve; I should then look upon him no more as my enemy, but as my Master; I would be faithful to him in that condition; And renew the chains which he would make me carry, if of Themselves they did break; Because I could not break them without crime. It is by the same reason, wise Flavian, and by that same virtue, that without making factions in the Empire; Without causing the People rebel in my favours; And without making the ecclesiastics remember, that I have several times destroyed Heresy, and sustained their Altars; Without I say doing any of these things, I do resolve after having known how to reign Soveraignlie enough; To obey with as much submission of Spirit, as I have had Grandeur of courage, in commanding the half of the World, from the age of fifteen years until this day. THE EFFECT OF THIS HARANGUE. THis Discourse which was told to Theodosius was effectual in its time, as well as that of the Empress had been; And because affairs did not prosper well under the administration of Athenais, Pulcheria after four years was recalled to the Government; Which with much Glory she possessed till her death: After having caused flrick of the head of Crisaphius; And the fair and knowing Athenais molested with he changes of Court; retired of her own accord to Palestina, where she lived and died in a mervellous Sanctity CALPHURNIA TO LEPIDUS THE FIFTEENTH HARANGUE. ARGUMENT. ALl Ages all Nations, and almost all men, have made Caesar's Elegy; But I know none, that hath made his Apology. They thought it was easier to praise his Valour, then to justify his Intentions, and that his wars were mere Glorious then was their cause. Every one believes he was a great Captain, but all do not believe that be was a good Citizen. They who called him the Father of Soldiers, have also called him the Tirran of Rome, and almost all have thought that he aspired at Soveraigh power. Yet whosoever considers the business will find, that he appeared rather innocent then criminal, and I do assure myself, if you will hearken to his reasons in the mouth of Calphurnia, you will not condemn him. Because our Nation was conquered by him, me thinks it is important to our Glory, that our Conqueror be without tashe, and I think to defend the honour of France, by defending the I li●strious Cesar. He hath spoken so worthily of the Gauls in his commentaries, that it is just the Gauls should speak of him, and I cannot endure it to be said that we have followed a Tirrans Chariot. Hear then what his Wife is going to say, who knew his intentions, and is going to make them known to you. CALPHURNIA TO LEPIDUS. CESAR is revenged Lepidus; The last of his murderers hath lost his life; And all the Romans have a Master: They themselves give to Augustus the Sovereign power, which they would have refused to the great Cesar if he had been capable of ask it: And for the punishment of their crime, they with their own hands forge the chains, which they not only aught to carry; But which by right of Succession shall pass to their Postertie. Yes, Lepidus, because the Romans did unjustly accust Cesar, of desiring to be their Tirran, they shall if I be not deceived, have trial of all that the cruelest Tyranny can make them endure. We already see that Augustus hath no children, and that Tiberius hath inclinations speedily to begin, what I say. And moreover, the knowledge that I have of the innocency of the first Caesar's, makes me almost certainly see the misfortunes which shall oppress Rome. The Gods are ●oo just, not to chastise with rigout, them who massacred the Father of his country, and the protector of liberty. Yes, Lepidus, the great Cesar truly merited these two Glorious Titles, and did not at all merit the treatment that he received. Truly I wonder that the Romans have so evillie explained his intentions, since his whole life lets them see that he loved liberty: And also that the greatest crimes he is accused of, are the effects of his passionate desires to preserve it. You know Lepidus that in his more tender years, he declared himself enemy to Sy●●, and consequenclie to Tyranny. He was looked upon then as a Citizen too passionate for liberty, and was constrained to hid himself, and also to retire from Rome, that he might escape the Ambuscadoes that were laid against his life. After that, he accused Doll●bel●, and rigorously prosecuted him, for having acted with too much sovereignty, in the Government of his Province: And by that action made it sufficiently known, that he approved not in him, what he condemned in others. In effect, while he was Praetor, there happened no disorder in the Republic: Though that was the time wherein he might have rather made his wicked actions appear: Because that charge was of greater importance, than what he had formerly possessed: However he did not abuse it: He did every thing with prudence, and moderation: And his very enemies could not reproach him of any thing of that time. And to speak ●atronallie, it never did any thing but make the Romans power greater, by making new conquests for it every day, hazarding his life in a thousand different occasions, and generously opposing all the Tirrans, who minded to usurp the domination, He did not regard their being his relations or alleys: And did so much for the public good, that he no more considered his particular interests. Truly Lepidus, every time I remember what Cesar hath done for the Romans, of the numbers of victories he hath gained, or against their enemies, or against their Tirrans; I immediately believe that my memory deceives me: And that it altogether presents to me all the brave actions, that have been done since the beginning of Ages. I cannot, I say, think, that one and the same person had interprised so manic things, had accomplished so manic glorious designs had made so manic Conquests, had given so manic Battles, had so much hazarded his life, had escaped so manic dangers, and had not lived longer than others. Nevertheless, Lepidus you know, that Cesar hath done more than I say although he hath lived but fistic six years: And to recount only one part of his victories, and of the brave actions which he hath done before I undertake to justify him, remember what he did in Spain. He subingated the Callaciens, and the Lusitanians even to the Ocean, where the Romans had never been. The conquest of the Gauls, you know, hath immortalised his glory: For there in less than ten years, he did take either by composition or assault, more than eight hundred Towns, conquered three hundred different Nations; And having seen before him in ranged Battle above three millions of armed men in manic encounters, he killed more than one million, and did take as manic prisoners. (O Cesar, O Illustrious Conqueror! Must the poigniard of an ungrateful Traitor, make thee loss thy life!) But I am not yet come to the last of his Victories: That famous Battle which he gave to Ariovistus upon the banks of the Rhine, where more than eighty thousand men died, makes it suslicientlie seen that Conquerors are never weary. Further Cesar did not always overcome with case: He hath some times seen victory flic above his enemy's camp, and same altogether ready to publish his desate: But his single valour forced them to return to his party. The adventure of the Nervianes makes what I say abundantly seen: All the Romans were desated, and the other were very like to have been Masters of the field of battle, when Cesar did cast himself alone, amidst his enemies with his sword in his hand, and a shield upon his left arm: And by an action worthy of Cesar, deserved to conquer these, who had almost conquered his People. After that, he was the first who passed the Rhine; He was the first who sailed with an army upon the Occidental Ocean; He conquered England, which none believed was in being: And carried his arms and Rome's Glory, in places where the name of Romans had never been. The famous prize of Alexia, is none of Caesar's least actions: He saw in head of him, an Army of three hundred thousand men, to make him raise the siege: But having as much prudence as courage, he divided his army, and acted so skilfully, that they who lived before Alexia, did not know there was a powerful relief coming to the Town. They did not know I say, they were enclosed between two powerful enemies, until Cesar had defated them; And Vercingentorix, who was in that place, was rendered to that famous Conqueror. Ah surely! After that I doubt not but History will one day say, that he surmounted all their Heroes: Yes, Lepidus, whosoever would compare the great qualities of the most Illustrious with him, will find that he hath excelled them. The Fabianes, Seipioes, the Metals, and also they of his own time as Silla, Marius, the two invincible Lucullus, and Pompey, are inferior to him in every thing: He surmounted one by the difficulties of the countries he conquered: The second by the extent of the Nations which he hath put under the Romans dominion: The hird by the multitudes of enemies he hath defated: An other by the feirceness of the People with whom he had to do, and whom he behoved both to overcome and teach: An other in sweetness, in clemency, and in humanity, to them whom he conquered: The last in magnificence and liberality to them who fought under him: And all of them in gaining manic battles, in defateing numbers of enemies, and in practising manic virtues. Behold Lepidus, the Victories which the Romans could not dispute with Cesar. They are reduable to him for all the blood that he shed in the many encounters he met with. It was for them that he fought; It was for them that he over came; It was for them that he conquered so manic countries? And there were none to be found, until the passage of that famous River, which Cesar traversed to come to Rome; or to say better, to come against the Tirran of Rome; I say there was none to be found but who did agree, that the Republic was much obliged and indebted to Cesar. But Lepidus, I intent to show you this day that the other Victories which Cesar gained, are these for which the Romans are more obliged to him. I intent to let you see that Cesar did never more strongly testify the passion that he had for liberty, and the hatred that he had to tyranny; Then when he fought and conquered Pompey. But to resume the matter from its source, to justify Cesar, Pompey must be accused: And it must be seen, that as the one did always testify his being the Protector of liberty, the other, hath still made it appear that he aspired at Tyranny. All the World hath known, that Pompey did so manic things to usurp the domination, that to hinder him from interprising it any more they wereconstrained to declare him alone Consul: And the Romans at that time loved better to satisfy his vanity some way, then to oppose directly him. But they did not use Cesar so, for so far from granting new honours to him, they ●●ragiouslie refused the just things that he sought. Lentulus Pompey's Parlysan, disgracefullie banished Anthony and Curio, who were constrained to disguise themselves like slaves, that they might return with safety to Cesar; And all that Lepidus, because Cesar by them did ask, the continuation of the Government of the Gauls, whom he conquered. The unjust refusal that he got, did not carry him to unjust designs: He did at that time know, that Pompey demanded not his return to Rome, but for his loss; That Pompey looked upon him as his enemy; And as the only obstacle that could hinder him from obtaining the Sovereign power, which he had so long pretended to. Cesar did then consider his particular preservation, and also the public good. He had a mind to disarm his enemy, and the enemy of Rome, and also disarm himself. He then caused tell the Senate, to let the purity of his intentions be seen, that he was ready to quit the Government of the Gauls, who had so often made him expose his life; That he was ready to lay down his arms; That he was ready to come and give account of his actions; That he was ready absolutely to renounce all kind of authority, conditionally that Pompey should lay down his arms, as well as he, and that they should both live as private persons. Me thinks these propositions were not Tirranick: Tirrans never do expose themselves to such things: And Pompey's Procedure makes what I say very well seen. If Cesar had proposed to him to divide the Sovereign power with him, perhaps he would have more favourabllie heard him; But because he desired to put him out of condition of being able to aspire any more at Tyranny, he could not suffer so just a proposition; He made factions to hinder the Senate from being brought to reason; And to weary Caesar's patience entirlie, he caused as I have already told you, and as you know, ignominiously banish them whom he had sent. He was treated as enemy of the public good: And Pompey who sought but to set affairs on sire for Caesar's death, and to profit himself by the misfortunes of others, loved better to ruin his country, then to change his wicked designs. All the Senators found Caesar's propositions just: For he cause demonstrate to them, that if they would have him quit his arms, and Pompey not quit his: It was to give him the means of arriving at Monarchy: But demanding that it should be ordained for them both to quit, was ask a thing equally profitable to all the people, and which should not offend Pompey, if he truly had no wicked intentions. his Father in law Scipio, and his friend Marcellus, liked not to consent to it: And also they were almost the only men who hindered Cesar from obtaining what he demanded: And did so highly speak of Pompey's interest, that because the Senate could resolve upon nothing, public mourning was ordained for that particular dessention. Yet Cesar was not wearied: He writ again to the Senate; He made just propositions to them a second time: And both these times Pompey's faction was the strongest. Further I know not how Cesar can be accused, of having so much as dreamt to usurp the Sovereign power; Because some time before the last injuries were done to him, Pompey having sent to recall some Troops that he had given him; Cesar sent them back without being pressed to it: Sufficiently testifying by that action, that he feared not for the weakening his own forces, nor the augmenting those of his Enemy: And did consequently let them see, that he had no concealled designs: But morover, where are the great preparations of War that Cesar hath made for so great an enterprise? Where are the intelligences that he hath practised in Rome or in any other Towns: Where are his great Armies, or the manic Machine's, for the battles that he must have given, or for the sieges he must have laid? No Lepidus, Cesar had none of all those things: And when Curia and Anthony came to him disguised as slaves, to acquaint him of the unworthy treatment he had received in their persons, and of the wicked designs which Pompey had both against him and against the Republic: He had but five thousand in fantrie; And three hundred horse with him. Do you think Lepidus that these Troops were sufficient if or a design of that importance? If Cesar had had that intention, he would without doubt have Leived a much stronger Army, he would have found pretexts for it; And he was more wise then to have undertaken such a thing, without having a long time before searched outaway to make it succeed. It was not then apremeditated design that made him pass that River, which he hath made so famous by his passage: It was both a resentment of choler, of shame and despite, with an earnest desire to be revenged of his enemy, and to destroy a man who not only desired to destroy him, but also destroy the Republic, He departed then without any premeditation; And the justice of Heaven conducting all his designs; He made himself Master of Italy in sixty days, without shedding the blood of the Citizens. As to Pompey, it well appeared by his conduct, that remorse of conscience made him loss his good sense: He was no more the great Pompey, who when he had none but lawful designs, and when he served the Republiek, testified so much prudence and so much courage. He lost both the one and the other at that time: For though he had more Wariours than Cesar, and though he had the advantage of being in Rome; He no sooner understood, that he had past the Rubicone; But he fled in disorder: without so much as giving leisure for making sacrifices to the Gods, to calm that florme. But the knowledge he had of his wicked designs, doubtless made him believe, they would not be favurable to him: And there may be manic persons found, who in so great a trouble will loss that respect, which they always did beat to them. Some did remember at that time, that he had been heard say, formerly, that striking the foot against the Earth would make Soldiers arise. That way of speaking, which smells, of Tyranny, was he reproached with: And one of the chiefest of Rome, seeing his astonishment. boldly said to him; Now strick the earth, to oncrease your army, that you may oppose Cesar. He was also reproached of ambition and unjustice: And what was said against him at that time, makes it sufficently seen that Pompey, was the tyrran, that Cesar, was the Protector. In effect he was no sooner in Rome, than he courtiouslie treated all the senatores: he with a sweet tenderness prayed them to Pacify every thing; and again proposed to them most just, and most reasonable articles of peace, thereby to make them agree with Pompey. But they knowing that Pompey would be all or nothing; They did not make it, and excused themselves to Cesar. But Lepidus, when this illustrious Heros, was created dictator, gave he any marks of his having desires to aspire at tyranny. Non at all; He recalled the banished; Replaced in honour the children of them who had been con fiscated in the time of Silla, who was a Tyrran, and eleven days after voluntarlie demitted the dictatorship, contenting himself with being Consulate, with Servilius Jsauricus. After that Lepidus, can any say that Cesar was a tyrran, and that Pompey, was the defender of liberty. But let us finish the giving account of his Illustrious Life in few words, that we may have the more leisure to Lament his death, Doubtless you remember all the artifice that Pompey used, to shun fight with Cesar, and draw affairs to delay: and they were so certainly visible, and his ambitione so known, that his very soldiers boldly said, he continued not the war, but for to continue his authority, In effect, he knew that either victorious or conquered, he must quit the sovereign Power, or altogether take of the Mask, that concealed him to the halph of the Romans'. But Cesar, whose confidence was in the equity of his cause, and in that of the gods, searched after his enemies He seared not to assault and sight him; He had nothing in his heart that reproached him of crime; He knew that he revenged Rome, by revenging himself; And by freeing himself of an adversary, He freed Rome of a tyrran. His hope of heaven did not deceive him: He gained the battle and Pompey lost it. That man who had been so much favoured by fortune whille he was innocent, was abandoned by it when he became Criminal. He did not any more know aither to fight or overcome; nor did somuch as know how to be overcome like a man of courage, Howsoon his party had gotten the worst in the battle of Pharsalia, in stead of annimating them by his example he went into his tent, without knowing almost what he said: And knowing that affairs went still worse for him, that his entrenchments were forced And that Cesar, approached, what (said he all frighted) even in our Camp, and after he had spoken in this manner, he again fled, and abandoned all that remained of his Party. Yet me thinks it would have been more glorious for him to have died by Caesar's arms then by the sword of the traitor Septimius, who formerly commanded under him: But this great man, having in his heart, hatred, remorse, repentance; shame of being overcome, and ambition; We neid not wonder if losing hopes of reinging, He, in fine lost his reason, But after we have seen that Cesar was skilful in the art of conquering, I pray you Lepidus let us look if he did also know the use of victory; if he was inhuman or clement; If he was just or rigorous? If he was tyrran or Roman Citisen. How soon the field of battle was left to him, and the eagerness he had to fight was mitigated when he saw such multitudes of dead soldiers round about him, he shed so many tears, as he had caused them shed blood: O gods, (cried he weeping,) Ye know it was their desire and that they Compelled me to be their conqueror! For Cesar after having gained so many Illustrious victories, doubtless would have bein blamed, if he had abandoned his army. Any other Conqueror but Cesar, would shed tears of soy, after having gained the battle: But for him, He could not rejoice in his Victory, because it had cost the lives of some of his citizens. Believe me Lepidus, Tyrrants do not weep for their enemies: And clemency and pity are sentiments which they know not at all. However you know that Cesar, almost pardoned all his: He also had a particular care to cause search for that prefidious man, who afterwards caused him loss his life: And when the traitor Brutus, rendered himself to him, he treated him as if he had bein his son: Woe is me! me thinks I see my dear Cesar, going from rank to rank ask from his people news of Brutus, looking among the dead bodies, if he was not yet there in condition to be suceoured, and doing all things possible to save him, who by a horrid ungratitude, thrusted a poigniard into his breast. O gods! is it possible that Cesar, could make so bad a choice? That among all the Romans he loved his murderer, better than any other, and that the gods who testified their having such particular care of his life, did not advertise him, that he whom he loved best of all men, should of all men be the most cruel against him. But it is not yet time to speak of Brutue, his ungratitude; The clemency and the goodness of Cesar, furnishes me With too good a subject to leave it so soon: And to let his affasinates' crime appear as great as it is, his virtues must appear with all the splendour that they had. Tyrrans have some times put a price upon the heads of their enemies, they have promised abolitione of all sorts of crimes to these who would bring them: And sometimes when they have been satisfied, they have looked upon that fatal present with joy. But Cesar, used not his so; He would not see that of Pompey; He weeped bitterly; He treated him ignominiously who presented it to him, and forced him to the necessity, of making his recourse to flight, thereby to save his life. For me, I find that actione more glorious for Cesar, then if he had overcome Pompey: But though he was alone to weep for his enemy; He was not alone to fight. Further, He well testified that He did not so much regaird Pompey, as to his own Particular, then as to that of the Republic? For he not only pardoned all them of his party who would render themselves? But he took a particular care of all Pompey's friends: And by that made it seen that he hated not his person, but only that He desired to destroy his unjust and pernicious dessignes. Any other but Cesar, after having been victor, would have considered his own security; By banishing some, by putting others to death, and by putting himself in a condition to defy the rest. But for him, He considered nothing but the gathering the ruptures of Pompey's naufrage. It might have been said that it was his army that was defated: And that He stayed in that place, to railly his troops, He testified so much sweetness and goodness to them who came and listed themselves under his colours. He did also wreat to Rome, That the sweetest fruits he receved of the Victory, was that every day, He saved the life of some of their Citizens. O Lepidus. Tirrants have no such words! Further to demon●● rate the equity of his intentions, and to show that his victory was not a change of Fortune, but an effect of the will of the Gods; he continued happy in other things that he enterprised. The War of Egypt, and that of Armenia, from whence he writ to Rome, that he was come, that he had seen, and that he had overcome, makes what I say abundantly seen. After that, in one single day, he made himself Master of three Camps; killed fifty thousand men; And lost but fifty Soldiers. In your opinion Lepidus, was it Caesar's arm that fought so, or rather was it not that of the Gods? That Illustrious victory made him no more inexorable than the rest: For when he was told, that Cato was killed by his own hand? O Cato! (said he) how I envy thy death, because thou hast envied my glory of saving thy life. Perhaps some will say, that if Cato had lived. Cesar would not have done what he said: But it is easy to imagine, that he who pardoned Brutus and Cicero, who carried arms against him, would have also pardoned Cato. But Lepidus I will have none judge of Cesar by the knowledge I have of him; I will have none judge of Cesar by what his friends will say of him; But I will only have them judge of him by the honours that the Romans have done to him, dureing his life, and after his death. And truly, it was not without reason that there was a Temple of Clemency builded in acknowledgement of his; Because there was never a conqueror, who did so perfectly know the practice of that virtue. But pray you tell me Lepidus, how is it possible that these same Romans, who since the ending of the Wars, could not reprocah Cesar of any act of sovereignty; how is it I say possible, that these very men who builded this Temple of clemency, by the knowledge they had of his goodness, could call him Tirran; It might be found in History, that Triumphant Arches have been erected for Tirrans: That by their orders, and by their violence, their statues have been placed upon the Altars: But that by a voluntary gratitude, Temples have been builded to their glory, and Temples of Clemency; Is that which will not be found in all Ages, and which will be found of Cesar: For in fine, he was no Tirran, and doubtless, merited more than was given him. Do you not remember Lepidus, of the day wherein he caused redress Pompey's statues, and wherein Cicero said, that by re-elevating the, he seeured his own: That action was then found as brave, as it was; All the Romans spoke of no other thing, and all did agree, that Cesar was the most Illustrious of all the Heroes, And truly at that time Cesar seemed as just as generous: For whereas these statues were erected for Pompey, in the time that he served the Republic; He would have no mark of honour taken from him. which he did effectually merit. Further Tirrans are never in safety: They fear every thing, and trust themselves to no body: They judge themselves worthy of a violent death: And by the pains they take to shun it, they make it appear that they know they merit it. But for Cesar, because he trusted to his innocence, he also trusted to all People: For he put Brutus and Cass●us in authority by making them Praetors and would take no care of his safety. Ah would to Heaven! That he had followed his friend's counsel at that time: But he was too Generous, to be capable of such prudence, as does so strangely resemble fear, that it does very often produce the same effects. And moreover, he thought that having made known to the Romans, the sincerity of his intentions, he should have no need of any other provision for his safety. He lost not one single occasion of testifying to them that he preferred the quality of a Roman Citizen to all other: As you know, when he returned one day from Alba, when some did salute him, they called him King; But he answered them, that he was named Cesar and not King. Yes, Cesar you had reason to prefer that name to this of King: You have rendered it so famous that you cannot quit it without losing by the change: You must having lived Cesar, die Cesar. Do you also remember Lepidus, that when the Senate decered new honours for him, he said with an extreme moderation, that his honours had rather need of being retrenched than augmented: Nor are you ignorant, that when Anthony by an inconsiderate zeal caused present the Royal Bandeau to him, he twice refused it: And commanded it to be carried to Jupiter's statue: As if he would have said, that the Romans should only be commanded by the Gods. What could he do more at that time to testify to the Romans, that he aspired not at Tyranny, then publicly to refuse the badge of Royalty? Would any have had him cause put Anthony to death for that crime? No that would not have been just: and he who had pardoned his enemies of a hundred crimes, ought also to pardon a rash zeal in on of his friends. I well know that Pompey's partisans have said, that Cesar, contributed to some excessive honours that were done to him, thereby to essay the people's good will: But know, Lepidus, if he had contributed to them, his refuseing of them would have been with design, to justify his intentions, Ah, Lepidus, to speak truly of the matter, the friends, flatterers, and enemies of Cesar, are they who equally oppressed him, with the Crowns of flowers, that they did throw upon him The first by excess of affection: others, by the desire of pleasing and making themselves great, and others, by design of giving pretexts to the people, to murmur against Cesar; And of having some colour for the villainies which they under hand devised against him. But tell me, Lepidus, what other thing could Cesar do, then refuse the honours that were offered to him! Moreover if Cesar, had a desired to be King, it would not have been impossible to him: That same arm that made him conquer so many countries, and gain so many victories, would have secured the Empire to him. He was too well instructed in worldly affairs, to belive that by meekness, and the suffrage of all the Romans, he could arrive at the throne: Doubtless, he knew that crowns are taken by violence, and are never given: And if he had intended to make himself King, He would have used force and not meekness. France would have furnished him with ane army strong enough for that: And if with five thousand foot and three hundred horse he put Pompey to the flight, and made himself master of all Italy; It would not have been more difficult for him after the battle of Pharsalia, to have usurped the sovereign authority. The Gauls, would have followed him with joy, and would have come unto Rome, to retake the booty, which the Roman Legins had for merlie taken from them. In fine Lepidu; He would have acted like a tyrran, and usurper, and not like a citizen. I do avouch that Cesar, desired to reign, but it was in the Romans hearts, and not in Rome: He did them every day new favours; He considered only their felicity and their glory: And in the very time wherein they were meditating his death he employed all his pains to make them live happily. Lepidus, was there ever a more illustrious Hero than Cesar? Repass all his life with himself, you shall not find on single blemish, but you shall their find all virtues in the highest degree the victories which he gained were not of those which fortune gives blindly to them who confide in it absolutely: He gained them both by valour and reason: and when he gave any thing to chance, it was because reason would have it so. The stadefastness of mind, that he always testified, in all the dangers wherein he exposed himself for the republic, is ane incomprehensible thing: He ever beheld good and evil fortune with the same countenance. Love, Choler, Hatred Revenge, and Ambition, did never make him guilty of any imbecility: He was always. Master of his passions, and did never let himself be surmounted but by Clemency. Nevertheless, there are men, there are Romans, who have been so wicked, as to look upon Cesar as a Tirran. But no, Lepidus, the business was not altogether so; The particular ha●red which Cassius did bear to Cesar, because he preferred Brutus to him, in designing to make him Consul to his prejudice, was that which made the conspiracy. It was not for having violated the Roman Laws; it was not for having male-treated the Senators; It was not for causing put citizens to death: It was only for revenging Cassius. But if Cesar was to die, for preferring Brutus to Cassius, it should not have been Brutus, who was to stab Cesar for revenging Cassius, whom Cesar did not abuse but by oblidgeing Brutus. No, Lepidus, if Cesar had been what he was not, I would say the cruelest Tirran that ever was, the sword of Brutus ought not to have been tainted with his blood: And he should have been the last of all the Romans, in abandoning him, after what he had done for him. Ah let none say to me, that the more ungrate he appeared to Cesar the more thankful did he seem to his country: No, Lepidus Generosity is not compatible with ungratitude, Vice and Virtue cannot be together: And none can be ungrate and thankful equally. Whosoever receives an obligation engadges themselves to the person obliging: Therefore they who have a high spirit do never receive benefits but from their friends: and in the choice of the two, they love better to oblige their adversaries, than not to be obliging. If Brutus could not have lived happy, while Cesar was alive, he should have always appeared under his enemy's colours; He should have refused all the honours which Cesar gave him; He should not have rendered himself to him; And rather than to have received that life which Cesar gave him, he should with his own hand have killed himself, as the generous Cato did. But having received his life from Cesar; Having accepted the first offices of the Republic; After that by a kindly resentment, Cesar had preferred him to Cassius; That he should have let himself been persuaded by Cassius, to stab Cesar; Is that which cannot comprehend; Is that which cannot be approved off by any rational person; And is that which could not have been glorious to Brutus although Cesar had been a Tirran. Nevertheless Lepidus, that was the ungrate, this is that Traitor, who was chief of the conspiration, who gave him his death's wound. Why Brutus! Why cruel! Can thou strick him who saved thy life? Why Barbarian, why did not the sword drop from thy hands, when the Illustrious and Great Cesar, seeing you come to him like the rest, did forebear to defend himself, and also said to you with more affection than splen, And thou also my Son! Why Tiger, these words touched not thy heart, and thou could strick Cesar? Ah no Brutus! It thou hadst had any reason thou shouldest have changed such a wicked design; Thou shouldest have fought for Cesar, rendered to him that life which he gave thee, or if thou could not, thou should have deleated thy ungratitude with thy blood, and killed thyself upon the dead body of Cesar. But what do I Lepidus? My grief transports me: That doleful image of Caesar's death, irritates my displeasure and anger, every time that it comes in my mind; And without having any dessign to it, I change both discourse and subject Let us return then to my first intention: And say that if Caesar's innocence, could be questioned, by the actions he did dureing his life, it hall be fully justified by what is come to pass at his death, and after his death. The extraordinare care that the Gods took to advertise him of the misfortune that was to befall him, let's the purity of his Soul be sufficentlie seen: All those signs which appeared in Heaven; Those defective Victimes, those dreams which frighted me; The hands of these Soldiers which appeared in fire; He who Prognosticated to him that the ideses of March would be fatal to him; And all these other things which thought to impede the effects of the conspiration: makes it abundantly known that Cesar was not an ordinary man. If Caesar's death could have been for the good of the Republic, the Gods would not have given so manic presages of it. They foretell misfortunes, thereby to make men eat them; But of the felicity that they send them, they never give so manic signs. Perhaps it may be said to me, that Brutus was sufficiently forewarned of his death? But that horrid Phantasmc which a p●eared twice to him, was rather sent for his chastisement, then to give him means of escaping the misfortune that was prepared for him. Further who did ever see dead Tirrans venerated? When they are alive they are feared, but when they are dead, their bodies are dragged through the public places; they are torn in pieces: The laws which they have made are changed; Their statues are demolished; Their memories are in execration; And they who killed them, live insastie and with honour. But for Cesar, all dead as he was, he hath been respected: The places which were marked with his blood, were worshipped by the Romans, and seemed to be sacred Nis bloody Gown all pierced with the wounds he received, excitted sorrowin the Souls of all the Citizens: His Testament which enriched them all, was given carto as that of the Father of the country: The People made him a pile, more Glorious for his memory, then if they had given him the noblest funeral, that Kings are honoured with: Because this was an effect of his affection; And that because the same fire that did consume my dear Cesar, desired to embrace the houses of his murderers. The Senate changed none of the ordinances which he made; They gave him new honours; All his assasinates took the flight, and by an universal consent, he was ranked among the Gods. Who ever faw a Tirran deified after his death? Alexander himself, who was the greatest Prince of all Antiquity, did not pass for Jupiter's son, but dureing his life: But Cesar hath that advantage above this Illustrious Here's that what Alexander; friends did while he was alive, the witnesses of Caesar's merit have done to him, after he ceased to live. The Gods also, after they had given sinister presages of his death, desired likewaies to testify; That it had infinitely offended them. That terrifying Comet which appeared seven whole days after his death, was already a sign of the vengeance they would take: The Sun also that was a whole year, without giving his accustomed hair and brightness, has made it known to all the earth that by Caesar's death, the Republic had lost its greatest ornament and best lustre: And also to testify his innocence better, the vengeance of Heaven hath pertinaciouslie pursued even to death, all them who only by their Counsels, had contributted any thing to that unjust conspiration. They all died violent deaths, without so much as one escaping; They found to Element, where they could live quietly; The Sea was fatal to them as well as the land, they who escaped the fury of their enemies, killed themselves with their own hand; Cassius pierced his own heart, with that same sword, wherewith he struck Cesar; And in that manner, he is punished with these same arms with which he committed the crime. Brutus you know ended his days that same way: And in fine I know that none of Caesar's murderers, remains any more in the World. Judge from that Lepidus, if he is not fully justified. If his death be not as Glorious to him as his life, because it hath shown to us that all nature was interessed in it! And to speak rationally, if Cesar was not 〈◊〉, the 〈◊〉, and Father of his country, than the Romans Tyrran. THE EFFECT OF THIS HARANGUE. IT belongs not to me to tell you the effect of this Hard range, it belongs to you, to let me know it. For its object, it has had the design of perswadeing you, it belongs to you then to let me understand if you be. It is you she hath spoken to under the name of Lepidus, it belongs to you to tell me if it hath hits its aim. For me, I do assure you, if I have seduced your reason, it is but because my own is seduced: And because I do not endeavour to make you believe, but what I believe, myself. I have so great veneration for Cesar that I can have noevil thought of his intentions: And Me thinks we own that respect to all great men, not to condemn them upon slight conjectures They are deceitful; Great men's designs are fecret; Let us then respect them, and not onterprise to judge them. LIVIA TO MAECENAS THE SIXTEENTH HARANGUE. ARGUMENT. IT is to the glory of good learning, that this Harangue is consecrated. But though this be its principal object, it may be said that it doth not alienate me from the General design of my Book, because Poesy being one of the most agreeable employments of Ladies, and one of their dearest divertisments; It vindicates their pleasure, to make the merit be seen. Beheld them what I have proposed to myself by this discourse, which if I be not deceived is ra●ier more reasonable then interessed: At least I know, if I defend this cause, it is because I think it good, and also because I do not contravert the oath of Orators, which oblidges them not to defend any that they find evil. Judge of it Reader, and hear Livia speak to Maecenas upon his subject, the famous Protector of the Muses. But be not astonished to hear her speak to the depth of this matter, Augustus loved verse too much, & 〈…〉 them too often, not to haveinspired that same inclination, in her who possessed his heart, and she was too industri●● not to be complacent. So than if I have chosen, I had reason, and none shall have any to blame me. LIVIA TO MAECENAS. I Know Illustrious Maecenas, that Augustus oweth the Em pire to your counsels: That the Romans, own to you the felicity they enjoy, under a reign so differing from Tyranny; And also that I own to you that quality I have to day. Yes, Maecenas; it was you who surmounted the powerful reasons of Agrippa, in that day, wherein Augustus, becoming enemy of his own glory, and of the Romans repose, disputed with himself; Wither he should preserve the supreme power, or whither he should remit it into the disposition of the people. That great Emperors would with his own hand have taken off the crown that was upon his head forsaken the reins of the Empires descended from the throne whereon he was seated by so many toilings; And by a retreat more shameful, than Anthony's flight was from the battle of Actium; Altogether lost the fruits of so many victories that he gained: It might be said that at that time, love caused Anthony's flight: But in this encounter can Augustus, be accused of any thing but imbecility. It might have been said, that his hand was not strong enough to carry the sceptre which it held: and that he only abandoned what he could not keep, However, Mecanes you had no feeble enimes to fight with at that time: Augustus, and Agripp●● that is to say, the two first men of the world, were they who opposed you: their opinion seemed to be the juster, as appearing the more generous: And it hath been said, that heshould have had more glory by destroying the Empire, then by establishing of it; And more advantage in obeying then in commanding. Nevertheless, you was conqueror in that famous battle: And yet by a most extraordinar chance, the conquered continued crowned: And you contented yourself, with obeying him for whom you preserved the authority. That obligation which the Emperor, has to you, doubtless is veric great: But in my opinion, he is more redevable to you, for the care you took to reconcile him to the good will of the Muses, then for all the things which you have done for him. It is truellie, by that mean, that you can give him immortality, and also give it to yourself: It is for that, that Augustus, his age can call itself happy: And I mantain it to be more glorious for the Emperor, to be beloved of Virgil, of Horace, of Titus Livius, and of the famous Maecenas, who is protector of these favourites of Apollo; then if he had bein feared of all the earth. Fear by rendering him redoubtable to all nations, doubtless would have made him obeyed while he was alive: But the praises of Virgil, and of Horace, shall render him venerable to all ages to come. Certainly Maecenas if all Kings were truly inspired with desire of glory, they should carefulie consider, how to acquire the affections of them whom the gods have chosen to distribute it. It is by history and policy, that they can obtain the immortalising of their names: And that they may pretend to conquer after their death both time and fortune. But betwixt those two famous ways that conducts to eternity, Poesy seems to have a particular privilege to deify men: It is wholly Celestial and divine; The fire that it animates doth purify and clarify all them whose Eulogies it makes; And without abandoning truth, it excuses faults, and makes good qualities seen with all the advantages they have. History demonstrates to us virtue all naked, and Poesy adorns it with its best ornaments. History is so scrupulous, that it dares not determine any thing: It gives asimple narrative of things. but doth not judge them: But poesi● judges Soveraignlie of all. It praises, it blames, it punishes, it recompenses, it gives Crowns, and chastisements, it Illustrates or stains the lives of them whom it speaks of: And to speak all in few words it hath equally the advantages of History and Eloquence: And disposes absolutely of that immortal Glory, which is the noblest reward of all the Heroes toillings. Further, a Historian looks upon so manic things, that it is impossible, that the Prince whose reign he describes, be not as it were enrolled among the number of his subjects. He owes his pen as well to all the criminals of these times, as to all the Illustrious: He has not the liberty of choosing his subject: He must take it as fortune and time do give it to him: And the prince and his subjected are so strongly mingled together, that almost He can never been seen, But in Armies, in public places, and and in a popular multitude. On the contrare, the Poet, separates the Prince from the people; He choose● object and subject; He follows his Heroes to the Tomb: He speaks of noihing but what pleases him, and yet speaks all when he finds it convient. In fine the historians object is simply verity: And that of the poet is the glory and immortality of his Heros. You see I do not much differ from your thoughts: And that the conversation of Augustus, and Meccnas, have given me knowledge enough, in every thing that concerns Poesy, to speak rationally of it. Wherefore, I think I may say, that Kings should employ all their care, to make themselves beloved of poets: And that Augustus is more obliged to you, for the friendship of of Horace and Virgil, then for your having constrained him not to denudehimself of the Empire that he possesses Doubtless Alexander, had reason, to envy Achilles his destiny, because he had the advantage, of having Homer to proclaim his glory; But Augustus, shall have none to complain of his age, because the gods have given him for friends, Virgile, Horace and Maecenas. However I certainly mantain, that he hath some subject to accuse fate, for having compelled him to banish Ovide. Yet you know to excuse the Emperor, the regrate that he testified; And how much pain he had to refuse you his pardon. I avouch Maecenas, that I fear the banishing of such a brave spirit, will one day be a greater reproach to Augustus, than all the proscriptions of the Triumvirate. These men who can illustrate or denigrate the whole life of a great Prince, should me thinks be much feared or much beloved: And whither by generosity or interest they should be in veneration among all the Kings of the Universe. conquerors thinks well erecting Trophies of building Triumphant Arches, causing put their statues in public places, engraveing magnificent inscriptions upontheir Tombs for imoralising their glory; All those things fall successively into ruin, they destroy themselves, they bury themselves under ground and in oblivion: And their memory perishes with the Marble that is elevated. But when a Poet who is truly worthy of that name, undertakes the protection of a Hero; He is in condition to defy, envy, time, and fortune. Nothing can any more obscurate his reputation; His protector refutes all his enemies; And from age to ages, He renews his life, and acquires for him a new splendour. The writings of Virgil and of Horace, shall not only be glorious for Augustus, by the places which speak of him; but by every thing that will be admired, in these famous Authors. They who read with astonishment, and admiration, Virgil's divine Eneides, shall find the lost of his Prince, worthy to be envied by all the Monarches of the World; In having merited the praise and friendship, of the most excellent man, that all ages have ever produced. The who shall read Horace his works will find them very advantageous to Augustus, in having merited the good will of a man, who could conduct the spirit so agreeably to virtue, by reprehending of vice: Yet to have had a greater share in his Odes then in his Satyrs. Every time that I consider the advantages and charms of Poesy, I become the more passionate of it; And if the decency of my Sex would permit me, I would say that Dido's chastirie pleases me less in History, than her weakness and despire does in the Encides. Judge then Maecenas, if they who can render vice so agreeable; Cannot make virtue appear with all the Ornaments: And if they who can impose Fables, cannot persuade to truth. You know Maecenas, that some are bold enough to affirm, that the Scamander is but a rivulet; And that Troy is of the number of things which never have been. Yet Homer found credit in all Nations: All the Heroes whom he introduces in his Iliads, or into his Odyses, have their friends and partisans: And the truest history doth not so much interess his Readers, as the one and the other of these marvelous works. Let Princes learn then from thence, that they who can so well immortalise their fancies and imaginations, can with much stronger reason make them live eternally, when they render themselves worthy of it, both by their merit and by their Benefices. Doubtless it belongs to them to publish the Victories of their Princes: But it also belongs to their Princes, to make them reap of the fruits of their Victories. They who say that the Muses desire not abundance: And that solitude and poverty are not unprofitable for the production of their works; Perhaps will loss that opinion when they know that the liberalities of Augustus and Maecenas, have not hindered Virgil from making of Master pieces; Horace from acquiring Universal esteem: And Titus-Livius from having merited a glory which shall not die. In effect it is easily comprehended that they who do brave things, when they work but for necessity; Will do miracles if they work only for glory. Such a Noble object will exalt their spirits to the very heavens: Whereas sadness disturbs the hearts, and makes them ramp upon the earth. All the watch they employ, in complaining of fortune; in accusing the unjustice of their age, in blaming the ignorance of the times wherein they live: And in publishing the avarice of their Princes; Doubrless would be employed in more famous subjects. I know very well, that solitude, fountains, rivers, groves, and woods, have been always looked upon, as places proper for the composition of fine works: But if all those things do belong to him who makes them, I do not see that it can be any obstacle to his glory: And if I be not mistaken, he shall better describe the beauty of his own praierie, then that of an other; The shades of his own woods shall defend him better from the scorching heat of the Sun, than these of his Neighbours: The noise of his fountains shall yield him more agreeable fancies, than those of the public can give him; a river to which he hath some right, will seem more proper for his making a fine description, then if he looked upon it with an indifferent eye: And in fine solitude, which is not by constraint, will certainly afford more agreeable Ideas, than these whereto he is forced. It is true that shepherd's cottages renders pesantry most agreeable: But painters when they are skilful, do always place them a far of; So then to do things according to reason, ●oets must never see a roof of straw, but in their journeys, or from the windows of their Palaces. For it is not to be imagined, that a man who passes all his life time incemmodiouslie, in chagrine and solitude; Can speak of abundance which he hath not, of Magnificence which he sees not, of the Court which he never frequents, of Kings whom he knows not but only by their names, of war which he hath not seen but in books, and of a great manic other things which are strange and new to him, if it be true that he is poor and solitary? Believe me Maecenas, Poets in such encounters are like painters, who reprefent nothing perfectly but what they see. Great Princes then must always have them to be witnesses of their actions, if they would have them leave tablets of them to posterity. For it is not to be thought, that they to whom just subject of complaint is given, can elegantly praise them whom they do secretly accuse in their heart? It is not to be thought I say, that they who praise for gain, do praise so arduouslie as they who praise for thanks? No Maecenas, that cannot possibly be so. Further, as dreams are ordinarily form by the thoughts of the day, so these agreeable transportations which Poesy gives to them who meddle with it, when they are happy; Losses all their brightness by the Author's chagrine, when he is not, but always laments his evil fortune. He would do well to strive to be divided from himself, for he is seen by all; He carries his discontent even into the hearts of the Heroes, whose lives he writs; And does not writ one verse which his heart doth not secretly diffavow. In fine, Maecenas, I am persuaded that a rich Poet, lodged in a stately palace will with more ease make apicture of poverty and solitude; Then a poor lodged in a cottage, shall make of the magnificence of the Court, of the virtues of Kings, of policy, and all those other things, which are not perfectly learned, but in the society of men & in abundance. There is this difference between the rich and the poor, that the one are solitary when they please, that they have rocks and caves when they will: And the others cannot have a palace, and that their solitude is forced. And moreover, who can comprehend? That Poesy which is the Noblest effort of imagination, may not some way need beautiful objects, either to excit, to divert, or to recreate it? They who have assigned woods and rocks to the Muses, have doubtless been of his opinion, yet without making their consideration destroy mine. They have spoken of forests and rivers, because these universal beauties are in the power of all the World: But that doth not hinder, that these same Muses who search the woods, may not walk in a cultivated Garden. Art doth not spoill Nature, it perfectionats it: And trees regularly planted, hinder not if I be not deceived, the Poets from working under their Ombrages with pleasure and with glory. It is true, Maecenas, that these nine famous Sisters, from whom our Muses draw their Origine, had no habitation as is said, but woods and mountains, and did not devert themselves but beside fountains: Yet these woods, these mountains, and these fountains, belongs to them: Parnassus is of their dominion: The waters of Parmessa are also theirs; And Apollo nor the Muses, borrow nothing of other divinity. After all Maecenas, it is for the Grandour of Princes, not only to know how to conquer their enemies in war, not only to know how to reign dureing peace; Not only to make themselves to be feared of their Neighbouts; Not only to make themselves be beloved of their subjects; But also to make themselves surpass all other men in liberality. They must give like Masters of the Universe; They must when they make presents, look rather to themselves, then regard others; And proportionat their gifts to their own Grandour only. They who receive go halves with profit, but ordinarily they have no share in glory. It belongs wholly to the giver: And to speak rationally, the most glorious conquests that Kings can make, are these which they make by liberality. In war, success is always dubious: There is no battle so advantageous in its beginning, whose end may not be fatal: But here we are always assured of Victory: A liberal Prince doth equally make to himself, slaves, subjects, and friends of them to whom he gives: And this is the only way whereby he can merit the rank of the Gods. But among all men, Princes should choose for the principal object of their liberality, these famous dispensatores of glory, yet with this difference, that what is pure liberality at other occasions, is gratitude in this? For what is not due to them who give immortality. They have been formerly, stupid, ignorant and covetous Princes, who have let the Muses languish in poverty, without giving a just subject of astonishment. But if Augustus having such insights as he hath, in all brave Sciences; Loving fine works at the rate he doth; Making Poesy his divertisement; Being a lover of glory, as he hath always made appear; And making of things himself, which may place him in the rank of the most illustrious Authors: I say, if Augustus having all these advantages, do give but meanly, to the professors of good learning, he shall be dishonoured by it, and it should be almost less shameful for him, to be both stupid, ignorant, and avaricious, then to be knowing and not to be liberal. But thanks to the Gods, his inclinations and your counsels, have well hindered that blemish from polluting one of the special passages of his life: And to know if Augustus hath known the price of all brave Sciences, we need but consider the rewards he gave to them who practised them. But among all them who are careful of this mervaillous Art, which the Gods have taught to men, it must be avouched that they whose spirits are sublime enough, for being capable to undertake a Heroic Poem, deserve the first rank near Kings: And doubtless it is principally of them, that they should have a particular esteem. For of all the various species of Poesy which we admire, this work is the greatest, the most Illustrious, the most Difficile, the most Glorious, both for him that makes it, and for the Heros whom he chooses. To speak rationalie, and Epique Poem, contains wholly in itself, all others beauties, and something more. They who make Eulogies, do eternise rather their mistrises, their passions, and their languish, than the merit of their Princes: We see but short tablets in Odes, wherein the most part of things are not distinguished: One single action is sometimes too ample a subject for that work: And its limits, in fine, are too much contracted to boast of its having conquered time and fortune. Eglogues can do no more, then make posterity imagine, that the reign was fortunate, dureing which the Muses might employ themselves, to make shepherds speak, and not in complaining of theviolence of their Kings. The Satyrs, these bold painters, wherein all the world find their pictures; Cannot be glorious for Princes, but when their images are not found in them: And to speak more clearly, their silence is the greatest glory that they can give, Epigrams for the most part, are but sparkles of diamonds, whose brightness though splendid, cannot furbish the life of a great prince: They are a simple pastime of the spiritr and of the imagination: which at most, cannot preserve but the glory of him, who hath fortunately acquitted himself of that sort of work; A Tragedy, which is certainly one of the noblest employments of the Muses, although it do brag of teaching by its diverting, and though it pass among the most learned, for the Masterpiece of this art; Yet should not be so considerable to a Prince, as a heroic poem. He who makes Tragedies, works more for himself then for his King: He makes tablets, but his Master can pretend to have no other glory in his work, but that, of having known all the beauty, of preserving these rare paintings with care, and in buying of them magnificentlie. It is not so with ane Epique Poem: It is truly it, that deifies Princes, for whom they are composed; all their virtues appear splendidlie there; Their conquests are there painted forth in their finest lustre: Their faults if they have any are skill sully minced; fortune, victory, and fame are always of their party; They have no enemies in it whom they excel not; They are happy, in war, and in love; Their splendour, contrary to custom, returns from them to the Origine of their race; And whereas children did use to dervie their glory from that of their predecessors; on the contrary, here the predecessors, extract their greatest advantages from the virtues of their Children. The goodness of Augustus, caused Virgil, eterrnise the piety of Aeneas: The conquests which he made, shall make these of his fore fathers live eternally: It is for love to him, that this great Poet hath conducted that Illustrious Trojan, even upon the throne: And to speak true lie, it is he who hath saved him from the conflagrations of Troy, with his father, and his domestic gods: Because without him, doubtless, He should have continued buried under these mighty ruins: At least posterity should no more have heard his valour spoken of, then if he had never been. It belongs then to Princes, to make a diligent scruting thorough all their provinces, after them who are capable of such a noble occupation: To the end that having found them, they may b● their benefits oblige them, to undertake so great a work. They who make Hector Achilles, and Agamemnont speak in a Tragedy, with the same spirit that Homer hath given them, doubtless are capable of acomplishing so long ane enterprise with glory, if they be oblidged to it by allurements. But they not to engage themselves, in so long a course, without being assured to find a prize at the end of the Career. They who run at the Olimpique games, find Crowneat the end of the list: wherefore then would any des fire, a man to bestow his pains, his watch, Hi fastings, and all his life for a poem, without pretending to any other advantage by it, but only the glory of having made it. No, Maecenas, it would not be just, and I say again, that it belongs to a prince to make choice of him, whom he would have to praise his victories; That it belongs to this to make that happy, if he desire that he should render him immortal: And in fine that it belongs to him, to do, what Augustus, and Maecenas, have done for the incomparable Virgil, You see (as I think I have already said to you) that I differr not from your sentiments, and that the conversation that I have had with Augustus, and you, hath made meknowing enough in poesy, to dare speak to you But nevertheless if you are surprised at it, you will easily find the reason of it, if you consider, that the Emperors, glory wasing itatione. It was for it, that I have examined all these things: And it is for it, that I conjuere you, to continue to en● tertain him in so brave ane inclination. Pursue then Maecenas, such a noble design: every all the Muses with Augustus his treasures: In imitation of the gods, give them gold for incense: And know, that if you cause give them Kingdoms, they shall again give you more. Yes Maecenas, you shall reign over the most Illustrious of all ages: And if conjectures deceive me not, your name shall be so venerable to posterity, principally among the learned; That all they who render themselves their protectors, shall esteem it ane honour to bear it. They shall be called the Mycenae's of these times: And from age to age, that glory renewing itself every day, your name shall be in the memory, and in the mouths of all men, so long as the sun shall give light to the World. THE EFFECT OF THIS HARANGUE. I Know not what effect this Harrange will have among the Grandes, of this age: But I very well know, that it shall have a most advantageous, one if their Magnificence do but come near to that of Augustus, and Maecenas, neither the one nor the other of these great men needed to have their liberality excited: Nor have they been spoken of, but thereby to speak to others; And the literal sense is but the pretext of the Allegorik. CLOELIA TO PORSENNA THE SEVENTENTH HARANGUE! ARGUMENT. When the Romans had made peace with Porsenna, they sent their Daughters to him in hostage, for assurance of their treaty. But when they were come to that Prince's Camp, one among them named Cloelia, judging that their chastity Was not secure, among so manic wariours, exhorted her Companions to deliver themselves from so just an apprehension, and that they would rather expose their lives then their honour. She gained them all to be of her opinion and by a prodigious hardiness, they did undertake to cross the Tiber by swimming. Their resolution was as fortunate as great, they all passed without any misfortune, under the conduct of that courageous Maid, and returned to Rome. There Parents did trualie admire such brave temerity, but the Roman severity, that would not endure the public faith to be violated, made them be sent back to the King, that thereby he might punish their perfidy, if he had a mind to it. When they were before him, he asked them who had been the first among them, that proposed so dangerous an enterprise: But they all imagining that he only asked but for to punish her, none of them would answer. Then this Generous Maid, took upon her the discourse, and almost spoke to him these words. CLOELIA TO PORSENNA. THe action that I have done, having too noble a cause not to be Glorious, the silence of mycompanions is injuriousto me, though their intention be innocent. I would have hoped Porsenna, that they should have Acknowledged me for their liberatrix: And that they should have published aloud before you, that it was under my conduct, and by my counsels, that they went out of your Camp,: But since they put me to the necessity of praiseing myself because they fear you will male-treat me; I shall freely tell you, that it was I who did withdraw them from your hands. Do not think that what hindered them to name me, is a remorse of what they have done. No, they do not doubt my enterprise having been just? But they doubt will be generous enough to reverence virtue in your very enemies. For me who am uncapable of fearing any thing, if it be not the loss of my honour, I tell you again, that it was by my counsels, by my care, and under my conduct, that these generous Romans resolved to go out of your power; And abandon themselves to the impetuousness of the water to follow me; And courageously expose their lives, to deliver themselves from the fear of suffering some treatment unworthy of their virtue. Why! Illustrious Romans, (said I to them, to encourage them to cast themselves in the river, as I did propose to them) can you put your lives in the balance with your honour: And in fear of losing the one or the other, can you have any trouble in choosing? No, no (pursued I) your be Romans, and my companions: And consequently too Generous, not to love better to put yourselves in hazard of dying gloriously then of living with infamy. Who did ever hear it said (insisted I) that Virgins were in good repute in a Camp, where shame and modesty are not to be found? We are in ane army, continued I (which I hope your Majestre will pardon me for speaking so) whose General, is Protector, of the Tarquin's: It is for them that King Porsenna, hath undertaken the war: And by what means then do you think to find a place of fastie with a Prince, where Lucretia's, ravisher hath found a refuge and a defender? No, my companions, flatter not yourselves: If the blood of that chaste unfortunate had not power to hinder a Prince from opposing the revenge that the Romans, were taking? Our tears will never prevail with him to revenge us of them who would abuse us. It may be you will say to me, that we were given to him in hostage, and that the public faith is engaged to him by our people: But know my companions, that whatsoever is done for honour, cannot but be glorious. We will not break the peace; we will not cheat Porsenna; we will only shun shame and infamy, or die with the same glory wherein we lived. Let us go then, Illustrious Romans, so long as we have liberty. Heat the noise, that the Soldiers make in their camp, and be a feared of their insolence. They are altogether soldiers, strangers, our enemies and the defenders of the Tarquins Consider in fine my companions, that in the place where you are, you may lose your honour: But in that wherein I will conduct you, you can lose but your life. Behold, Porsenna, a part of the reasons I used to persuade these Generous Virgins to follow me; And I shall say for their glory and for that of my country, that it was easy for me to persuade them to my inclinations. I was not contradicted in my opinion: They looked death in the face with constancy, and quitted the banks of the river with joy, though according to all liklie hood, they almost saw their death assured. But because our intentions were most innocent, the Gods did take care of conducting us; They assisted our feeblness, they sustained us upon the waters, and happily brought us to the other side. Yet we did not find there all the repose that we expected: For that austere virtue, which all the Romans do profess, made our Relations have no joy at our return: They admired our resolution, they have also praised our design: But to satisfy the public faith that they had engaged to you, they would have us brought back to your Camp: And for that effect, they have given us a convoy to conduct us hither, See Porsenna, by this adventure, what the Roman Virgins are, who loved better to hazard their life, and break their word, then expose their honour: And again see, what the Roman men are, who love better to expose the lives and honour of their Daughters, then to break their word. Yes, Porsenna, these two actions are equally praise worthy: And to be just at such a time, we render to our parents the same honours which they gave us. They hay praised our flight, though they have not foreborn to remit us into your hands: And we also admire their virtue, though it deprives us of that liberty which we had acquired to ourselves. The design of preserving our honour, caused our flight: And that of not lofting their reputation hath caused out return. Perhaps you will say to me, that it will be hard to comprehend how one and the same action can be both worthy of praise and of blame; And in fine that our return is an infallible sign, that our flight was criminal. No, Porsenna, the business should not be so considered: It must be better examined, to judge of it equitablie. And I am very certain, that if it be regarded with an uninteressed eye, it will be found that our flight was glorious to us, and that our return is so to our parents, I avouch that in some manner, we seem to have broken the public faith: But before we be convinced of that fault, I must be permitted to defend our cause. Doubtless it cannot be denied that honour should be the rule of all the actions of men: It is for it that life is exposed in war! It is for it that sometimes all the sentiments of Nature are renounced: It is for it that men do voluntarlie devout themselves to the safety of their country: It is for it that the public faith is exactly keeped; And in fine, it is for it that all things ought to be done. Wherefore, let none wonder, if for preserving our honour we have exposed our lives, and broken the public faith. For seeing it is not keeped but only for honour, it was permitted to us to violate it; Because we could not keep it, but by exposing ourselves to infamy. Further, since our Sex is deprived of all public charge, as to our particular we had promised nothing: And we thought, that for the iuterest of Rome, we ought to have gone out of your camp, because if misfortune had happened, to us it might have suffered an outrage in our persons. It's glory then finding itself ●●gadged with ours, we believed that it was just, to ●●●pose our lives for preserving both the one and the ●●●●er: And doubtless we shall do the same thing, if 〈◊〉 same occasion does offer. Lucretia's misfortune 〈◊〉 but too much taught us to prevent such disasters; 〈◊〉 I can assure you, that if we had death in our option, 〈◊〉 should at least die innocent. Further, there is 〈…〉 from which an exception cannot be made: 〈…〉 which is doubtless baseness, is sometimes 〈…〉, and I am assured that no body blames that which 〈◊〉 generous Mutius told, when seeing his hand 〈…〉, with a prodigious constancy, he assured you that 〈◊〉 were three hundred in our camp who designed to 〈◊〉 you, though effectivelie it was only he. That 〈…〉 hardiness that made Horatius Cocles 〈…〉, to stand himself alone unmoveable against all 〈…〉, and obliged him at last to cast himself all 〈…〉 as he was in the Tiber, shall not be put in the number of ridiculous temerities. The firm resolution of Brutus, himself to see his children die, because they were Traitors to their country, shall rather pass for the zeal of a good Citizen, then for the inclination of an unnatural Father. Wherefore, why would any that the interest of honour and of the public, justifying Mun●tius his lie, Cocles his temereity, and the insensibility of Brutus, should not also justify the flight of Cloelia and of her companions; Since they had no other object, but the preservation of their honour, and that of their country? If Mutius did courageously burn his hand; If Cocles be entitlie devoted to the public safety; If Brutus gave the blood of his children, for these two things only; We have also exposed our lives for the same cause, and may consequently pretend to the same glory. Why, Porsenna, Lucretia hath merited an immortal reputation, for having killed herself after her crime, and are we laughed at as in famous, for having exposed our lives, to the end that we might die innocent? No, no, it is impossible that it should be so: Posterity will be more just: And I do verily believe, that if you examine your thoughts exactly, you will find that they do not condemn us. We have never seen that the gods who are so jealous of their authority, have caused Thunder fall upon the victim, which escape from the Altars: And wherefore them Porsenna, would you unworthily treat Virgins, who having seen themselves abandoned of their guards, or to speak better their enemies; Went in quest of safety, at the expense of their lives? Perhaps it will be said to me, that it seems by my reasons, that we had no wrong done to us: But if it be so, it seems likewaies that our parents had no reason to send us back. yet this consequence is not well grounded: And if I be not mistaken, I shall destroy it in few words. I have already told you, that honour caused our flight, and that this same honour hath caused our return: For to speak rationally, it was our Fathers who engaged their words to your; It was they who gave us in pledge, it was they who treated with you; It was they who consented to the articles of peace; And it is also they, who should exactly perform all that they promised to you, thereby to oblige you to do the same thing, The public faith engadges them to it: the public interest desires it; Their countries' honour requires it; Their own in particular oblidges them to it. and in fine nothing can exempt them from it. For they very well know that these same Virgins, who have despised the impetuosity of the Tiber, only through fear of receiving an abuse; Will again contemn their lives, rather than do any thing unworthy of Roman virtue; And in that manner shall they keep their word, without hazarding their honour or that of their country. See, Porsenna, what our Parents opinions are, and also what ours are: It belongs now to you, to consider if you will treat us like fugitives, like enemies or like Romans. Yet I hope that you will take the juster and most advantageous party. But know, that if by violating the laws of men, you should treat us unworthily, and break the peace that you have made, your designs shall advance no further than they have done. That which Mutius and Cocles did undertake against you a thousand Romans shall yet attempt. They are all born for great actions; All of them have an obstinate virtue, that blushes at nothing: Despair does nothing, but corroborate their courage; Fear of death is unknown to them, They, endeavour to live with glory and not to live long; Particular interest can do nothing in their spirits; They do every thing for honour, and do never any thing that can blast it. See Porsenna, what the Romans are: See what sentiments they have given to us: And see in fine, that which hath both caused our flight and our return. it is true that at first flight, I had great repugnancy to return under the power of a Prince, whom till then I had not considered, but as the protector of the Tarquins, and as the enemy of Rome: But coming to ponder the matter with a more tranquil spirit; That last quality did begin to give meam better opinion of you. Yes Porsenna, I found that you must doubtless have a great and bold spirit, in having attempted to make war with Rome: And consequently I believed. that if you had not been worthy of the rank that you keep, the Romans would not have made peace with you, and would not have received you into their Alliance. So that after I had persuaded my companions to go out of your Camp; I have likewares persuaded them to return ●cit. Let us go (said I to them) let us go, and satis fie the public faith, which our parents have engaged: Let us go and confirm the peace that they have made; And let us no more look upon Porsenna, as the protector of the Tarquins, but as their greatest enemy, because he hath abandoned them. Let us believe my companions, that if this Prince had no virtue, the Romans would not have remitted us in his power. And moreover if it should come to pass that he have not so much as he ought, to treat us as he should; We shall always have enough, to have our recourse to death, rather than preserve a life unworthy of what we are. let us go then my companions, let us go and ask from that Prince, the recompense of our flight: He hath been here a long enough time, within the territories of Rome, to have learned, that virtue should be loved and rewarded, in his very enemies: he hath freely pardoned Mutius, who attempted his life; Yet it will be easier for him to forget our flight, and grant us the favour, of sending us back to our parents. It belongs to you now Porsenna, to tell me if I have had reason to persuade these generous Virgins to trust themselves to your goodness; For me, if I were not concerned in the thing, I would counsel you to use it thus. For it is not only glorious to you, to have been enemy of the Romans, and to be at present their Alloy: But it shall also be more to you, if you undertake to dispute virtue with them. That is the thing wherein it will be brave to outdo them: For that sort of war, hath this particular privilege, that the conquered as well as the Victorious, shall always acquire abundance of glory. The sole desire of surmounting at such occasions, is more advantageous, than the gaining of a battle. undertake then Porsenna this famous combat, trust yourself absolutl; to the Romans faith, and send us back to our parents. Methinks they have keeped their word to you in a Generous enough manner, not to permit you to question it: Yet that doth not hinder, But you shall do a brave action, if you restore us to liberty. But to give liberty to Roman Virgins, and to Virgins, who can despise death to shun infamy, is to give them more than Kingdoms, more than Empires, and more than life. That place of History, shall be so advantageous to you, that your reign shall have nothing more brave● You shall gain the hearts of all the Romans; And by this means, you shall have fewer hostages in your Camp, but you shall have more intelligence in Rome. We do not pray to the Gods here, but only for our country: But in Rome we shall daily offer them vows, for your glory. You shall be our protector, and without our having been slaves, we shall not forbear to consider you with the same sentiments, as if you had broken our chains, and as if you had relieved us from servitude. Resnse not Porsenna, the glorious title of our Liberator, because we earnstlie desire to give it you. Perhaps you will say to me, that we abused you by our flight, because we would not have fled, but for having feared you, and because we looked upon you as a Prince cruel, barbarous and Tirranick: But remember Porsenna that the virtue of Women should be scrupulous and timide, They should almost look upon all People, as if they were their enemies: And because by custom arms are forbidden to them, fear must serve in stead of prudence: And it was more worthy for them to flee, or to have died a little too soon, then to have lingered, or to have lived a little too long. Further, we had evil thoughts of you, because we did not know you, but by the name of the Protector of Tyranny, and I declare to you presently, that I do not yet know who you are: Speak then Porsenna, that I may thereby know you: Remember that you are within the fight of Rome, that you have all the Romans for your spectators; that you are to speak to Virgins, who can always live or die with glory; That same attends our arrest to publish it over all the Earth; That the Gods who see you, do already hold Crowns to put upon your head, if you can surpass your resentment; And overcome the virtue of our Fathers and ours, by trusting to them, and by granting us our liberty. THE EFFECT OF THIS HARANGUE. THe Sublime Virtue of that Generous Virgin made him an Illustrious slave, though ●● was Crowned. Porsenna was ravished ●● her; He ordained infinite praises to Cloelia He rendered unto her, her liberty, and that of her companions; And to signalise the Grandeure o● her action, he made a present of a Cataphractarie horse which was the recompense of a Valiant man, who ha● done brave actions in the wars: As if he would have said, that her action equalled that of the most generous In sine, he sent them all back to their parents: And al●● permitted Cloelia, to choose among all the other hostag●● them whom she pleased to deliever. This Illustrious P●● son made choice of all the young children, as being most 〈◊〉 posed: And in that manner returned to Rome, 〈◊〉 the Allegress and Magnisicence of a Triumph. She 〈◊〉 there received with a joy equal to what she had: A●● the Roman austerity yielded at that time to the rese●●ments of Nature and Reason: They erected for her, 〈◊〉 public market place, a statue on horse back, thater●● equaüie, her virtue, her boldness, and the generosity Porsenna. OCTAVIA TO AUGUSTUS THE EIGHTEENTH HARANGUE. ARGUMENT. AFairs being always in agitations betwixt Augustus, and Mark Anthony, and both the one and the other being making preparations to renew a war; The first would have obliged his sister Octavia, to departed from the house of a husband, by whom she had been unworthily used. But this virtuous wife, who could not approve of that counsel, did with all her strength oppose it: And spoke in these terms to that Illustrious and Dear Brother. OCTAVIA TO AUGUSTUS I Pray you my Lord, command me not to quit Anthony's house: And force me not to the necessity of disobeying you. the vertuethat Iprofesse, will not permit me to commit such a fault; And the excess of the friendship that you have for me, doubtless is that which carries you on to give me this counsel, It is true that Anthony, robs me of his heart, and of his affection, to give both the one and the other to Cleopatra: But my Lord, will it be convenient that if the Love of that Queen hath caused Anthony, commit a fault, that Octavia's, jealousy should carry you to do ane other! No it will not be just: Consider then if you please, the public interest, and not mine, and think also, that it will be equally disgraceful to Cesar, and to Anthony, to begin a war, and to destroy the Empire, for the Love of on woman and for the jealousy of ane other. But nevertheless if you cannot be equally blamed for it, I dare say, that you shall be more justly accused than Anthony; Because he is no more in condition either to hear, or understand reason: And yours cannot be disturbed but only in consideration of me. The love of Cleopatra, hath in such manner obscured his judgement, that he is blind to his own interests: He hath not considered that he has done me ane injury, when he refused the presents that I made to him: And that in stead of letting me see him, he is returned into Alexandria. I say he hath not designed to offend Octavia, but to please Cleopatra. He has feared that the sight of me would give him other inclinations; And doubtless he knows that he hath sufficiently loved me already, not to be able to endure my presence without confusion and repentance. In fine my Lord, his imbecility, and his blindness must be p●●●ed, and he not imitated in his fault. The passion ●hat ●am 〈◊〉 ●o follow, is yet more dangerous, then that which possesses Anthony; And if it should 〈◊〉 from my he●●t into yours, doubtless you shall Act with more violence, and with more unjustice than it does: Because it will certainly communicate to you, a part of that fury, that doth always accompany it. The injury that I have receved, requires not the blood of the Romans, to blot it out: That will not be the way, of restoring Anthony's, affection to me, to declare war against him for my sake: On the conrtare, it will be ane authorising his fault and unconstancy; Because it is certain, that I should merit the treatment I receve, if for banishing of me from his heart, I should banish me from his house, and should join with his enemy's party. I know that I am a Roman, and that I have the honour of being your sister, but I also know, that I am Anthony's wife; That his interests ought to be mine; And that though He hath not for me, all the affection that He is obliged to have; My own virtue does not permit me to despense with that which I own to him: And if I use it any other way, it will be the acknowledging of Clopatra, for Anthonies lawful wife, and a voluntary yielding a quality to her, which she cannot take from me. Let me then conceal my grief and tears in the house of my husband: My Lord, let me then abscond my affliction, and my resentment: And if it be true, that my interests are dear to you, as you have always testified to me; Assist me in excuseing Anthony, to the Senate. Tell that this Love is too violent, to last long time: And that as the great Jnlius Cesar, had strength enough to dissipate the charms of that fair Egyptian which had surprised him: Anthony, having the same feeblnesse, will at last have courage enough to break that enchantment as well as he. But in fine, my Lord, see that that Love be not the beginning of war: Remember that glorious day wherein my tears made the arms fall from the hands of the two greatest Emperors that ever was. you was then environed with your Legions; your army was all in a readiness to fight; The three hundred ships which Anthony led, were in sight of your troops: Their was then to be seen in both parties, that fervour, which the sight of enemies gives in such encounters; Desire of victory was in the hearts of all the soldiers: They had already considered the richness of the booty; Eagles were seen against eagle's; Romans agitnst Romans; Citizens against Gitizens; Friends against friends: Relationes against relations: And in fine to say all, the battle of Pharsalta, did make nothing more terrible to the sight, than what my eyes saw at that time. However though Anthony, appeared the agressor, because he came to attaque you? My tears, my reasons, and my prayers surpassed your resentment. You embraced Anthony, in stead of fight of him: You receved him as the husband of your sister, and not as your enemy: And these two puissant armies, which you had raised to destroy yourselves served but to give you reciprocal marks of a perfect intelligence. For you have not forgot, that Anthony, gave you a hundred Galies, and twenty Brigantines': Also that you gave him two Legions: And besides that, you granted also to me for him a thousand of your best soldiers. Think you, my Lord, that that first victory, doth not make me hope for a second. You love me as much to day, as you Loved me at that time? The sight of your enemies does not acerberate your resentment: You have no Legions about you, who press you to give them a new subject to their courage: You are alone, you are unarmed, I am unfortunate and afflicted, and my tears, my reasons, and my prayers, should also be more powerful with you, than they were that day, because there is nothing in agitation but my interest. Further, it is casier to hinder one's self from taking up of arms, then to quit them: And it should have been then more difficult for you, to have made peace with Anthony, than it can be to you now to begin a war: It is Anthony's, passion, and not his person that must be fought against; And for that effect, I ought to endure his unconstancy without complaining, I ought to preserve my heart for him, though he robs me of his; I ought to have compassion of his weakness; I ought to have respect for him, though he despises me; I ought to dwell in his house, ●o long as he does me the favour, to suffer me there; And to say all, I ought to opposeyou, every time that you would oblige me to doethings which might be dishonourable to me. If Anthony, would desire to carry me on to a design of hurting you I should oppose him, as I do oppose you: And with the same arms wherewith I fight you now, would I fight his unjustice and his obstinacy. Yes my Lord I shall always be Caesar's sister, and Anthony's wife: And let fortune do what it will, I shall never do any thing unworthy of these two glorious qualities. pardon me then, if I tell you boldly, that I will not go out of my Husband's house, unless he command me; And if it should also come to pass, that Cleopatra's Love, do even carry him to such ane irregularity, as to ordain me to quit it: I shall abandon it with shedding as few tears as is possible for me, for fear that the compassion that will be had for me, do not augment the hatred that will be had to him. Behold my Lord what Octavia's thoughts are and what they shall always be. And moreover, to speak rationally, Anthony, is not ane ordinary man: The great qualities: which are in him, merits the excuse of his imbecility: And the brave actiones which he hath donein the wars should doubtless obtain from the equity of all men, some indulgence for these which love makes him do. The affection that he always had for the great Julius Cesar, should oblige you not condemn him slightly: Because being his soon by adoption, and his lawful successor, me thinks you should be heir to his inclinationes and to his friends, as well as to his riches. When Anthony, fought for Julius Cesoer, He fought for you, you ought to reward him for all that he did for him: For in sine, of all Cesares debts, the most just and most glorious to pa●, are doubtless the good offices which his friends have rendered to him. Remember what Anthony, did for that Excellent man: it was he who did generously oppose Pompey's faction, when it would have had Cesar lay down his arms, and his enemy not lay down his: He spoke zealously at that time, and feared not the exposing of himself, to receve an outrage; as in effect he was unworth●lie used, in consideration of that: And was constrained to disguise himself like a slave, to go and seek a refuge, in the Camp of him whom he had protected. But what He did at that time, He did also at a hundred others as important; He hath repaid with his blood, and with his person, the friendship that Cesar did bear to him. He was seen several times to rally his troops, bring them back to the battle, and render them victorious, when they were almost ready to be conquered. He was seen at the battle of Pharsalia, command the right wing of Caesar's army fight for glolrie, and expose his life, to secure in his hands, that sovereign Power, which at last hath come to yours. Further, if he fought for Cesar, dureing his life, he hath also caused Cesar conquer after his death: His eloquence did that, which the valour of any other had not power to do: For you are not ignorant, that without that fervent zeal that made him speak, the Roman people dared not to testify, how near the blood of Cesar did touch them. They would have bein contented with shedding of tears, and would not have set fire to the houses of his murderers. You see then my Lord, in what manner he erected the first step, by which you obtained the power that you have? But if after what he hath done for Cesar, it be permitted to put in account, what he hath done for the common cause, both against Cassjus, and against Brutus; You will find that he was always their conqueror: And that in some encounters wherein you was not in condition to fight he was as advantageous to you, as he was to your friends: Because that without his valour, they should have doubtless gained a victory, which perhaps would have put them in condition of not being any more conquered. I well know my Lord, that since that you have not still being equally well together: And that this noble jealousy that inseparably follows them, who are lovers of glory, and who aspire at great things, hath altered your friendship: But if I be not mistaken, this kind of hatred, should not so much as reach the person: Ane enemy must be excelled in grandour of courage and in generosity: He must be opposed, if he attempts to destroy us: But for particular causes the public repose must never be troubled: nor for every flight reason, should a war be begun, whose success is always dubious. Hatred is a pass on for particulars: And if it be permitted to people who have the supreme power to have it, it should be a hatred of vice, of slavery, and of infamy; Other ways if they fight not against that passion, and if they let it bear sway with them, they shall doubtless be capable of all sort of unjustice. For revenging their own injuries, they will make no difficulty to violate the laws of men, to forget natural equity, to infringe the justest Laws, to destroy their country, and to despise the power of the gods. Behold, my Lord the disorders that hatred may cause sometimes in the most steaddie mind; And to hinder you from falling in the like misfortune consider a little what ane excess of love makes the unfortunat Anthony do. Think you my Lord, that hatred can give you juster sentiments? And that jealousy, if I were capable of it, permitts me to act with less violence? No my Lord, these three passiones being put in opposition to one another, as they will be in this encounter, will be capable of destroying the whole earth. Do not engage yourself then, in such a perverse design; but how ever if you will revenge yourself of Anthony, abandon him to his own judgement, and to the charms of Cleopatra. Let him preserve that fair conquest in repose: And do not fear that he will attempt to oppose yours, if you let him enjoy that peaceably. But my Lord consider if you do jrritate him, he may perhaps give you much trouble: Anthony's first valour is not dead, it is but benumed: Perhaps it may at last rouse itself with fury: And without quitting the passion, that reigns in his soul, he may oppose your designs, with all the fervour that man can have, who fights to defend himself, to revenge himself. for his own glory, and to preserve his Mistress. Make not then a redoubtable enemy of ane unfortunat friend: I conjure you never to let me see you undertake a war, wherein it will not be permitted me, to have the power of wishing you to gain the victory. Consider I pray you in what condition my soul will find itself, if I should again see you ready to come to shedding of blood. But with this cruel difference from the first that that was but for love to you, and that this will be for love of me. No, No, revenge not the injury that is done to me, and seek not a remedy worse than the disease. The sole thought of seeing my brother and my husband, ready to give death to each other for my sake, transports me with horror; I almost know no more what I say: And in so greata trouble I am ready to give my blood and my life, to preserve yours and that of Anthony's: But since you would naither accept of my blood nor of my life, see my tears with with compassion; At least hear my prayers and my sighs; And since by your command, I am Anthony's wife: Do not command in●e to quit his house, as that of my enemy. Consider I am mother of Anthony's, children: And that in that quality I should natther forsake them nor make them go out of their father's house. That will be almost to say, that they are not legittimat successors if ●● should cause them departed; And it will be also my giving of arms to destroy myself, to all Anthony's flatterers, and to Cleopatras ●●aves. But I am very well assured not to use it so; my patience shall la●●●onger than Anthony's love: And let the contempt he has of me go to what height it can, my virtue shall yet go further. yes my Lord, though his affection should never return to me; And though he should live and die in Cliopatras' arms? I shall shed tears for his death: His memory shall be dear to me: The children of Fulvia and also of Cleopatra, should become mine; I will take care of their education, and of their fortune: And so long as Octavia shall be alive, she shall never forbear to give new proofs of her constancy. Since I am of a Sex to whom valour is forbidden, at least patience may be permitted me, and that that virtue may serve me for courage. There is sometimes as much generosity, in knowing how to endure misfortunes, as in knowing how to fight enemies: Do not you then oppose the victory, that I will have of myself: And to make it more glorious, let me surmount you as well as myself. Do not expose yourself to be conquered by Anthony's power, and let yourself be overcome by Octavia. But because I do not see in your eyes, that you are yet in condition of yielding yourself, to my prayers and tears; Suffer me my Lord, to go and wait for your resolution in my husband's house, becauseit is the only place wherein I can dwelwith honour, so long as Anthony permitts me. However I do assure you, that whereas I do make no vows 'gainst Anthony, while I In in your palace; I shall make none against Cesar, when I am in the house of Anthony. THE EFFECT OF THIS HARANGUE. THis fair and Virtuous person obtained from the friendship of Augustus, all that she asked: And he permitted her to live in her husband's house, so long as she could conveniently Yet she was not there long: For Anthony, was so unjust to her, and so complacent to Cleopatra, that he sent her a command to go out of it: She did it with the same modesty that she had always testified: And for all the disgraces that buried after this unfortunate, both dureing her life and after his death; she was ever what till then she was I would say afamous and rare example of conjugal friend ship. AGRIPPINA TO THE ROMAN PEOPLE, THE NINTEENTH HARANGUE. ARGUMENT. After the death of Germanicus, Agrippina his wife carried his Ashes back to Rome, to put them in the to mb of Augustus. All the people did go with her even to Brundisium, and testified by their sadness that they complained of the malice of Tiberius. That generous wife, whose imperious and bold spirit, could never disguise its thoughts did nomore conceal them at that time: But on the contrare, letting herself be transported with grief as with her natural humour she thusspake to the Roman people who were hearing her. AGRIPPINA TO THE ROMAN PEOPLE, GERM ANICUS, the grandson of Augustus, and the Nephew of Anthony; Germanicus, the terror of Germany, and the love of the Romans; Germanicus, in whom all virtue shined equally; Germanicus, whose whole Actions have been glorious, Germanicus, husband to the unfortunate Agripin. granddaughter to Augustus; In fine Germanicus, the bravest, the most valiant, the most modest, the most equitable, and the most accomplished that shall ever be; Is now no more but a few ashes and this Urn contains, (O pitiful accident!) him whose valour might have conquered all the Earth, if he had been but suffered to have lived a little longer. Yes Romans, see your Germanicus in a state of needing you, to make him live eternally. See him there equalie uncapable to serve you, and to revenge himself of his and your enemies: See him now in condition not to excit any more envy against his virtue: He hath conquered this Monster by death: For the least circumstances of his life are so glorious, that calumny itself can find nothing in them to repeat. Lament then Romans, our common misfortune: Because if I have lost a husband, you have lost your Protector. Look I pray you, round about this Urn, upon Germanicus his six Children all clouded with tears: Take pity of their youth, and of their misfortune: And fear with me that by their father his abandoning of them, he hath not taken from them all their virtue. If his life had been so long, as rationally it might have been, his example, if they had had perverse inclinations, would have always led them to good: But to day, in the condition that things are, who shall he be who can instruct them? Who shall he be who will correct them? Who is he who will lead them into the War? Who is he who will make them hate Vice, and love Virtue? I doubt not but that Tiberius will have for them, the same sentiments which he had for their father: For his inclinations are not easily changed: But since the Emperor did not hinder him from having enemies, envyers, persecutors, and from dying by poison, it may also be, that the care he will take for their education, will not be profitable: And I wish to heaven that all I apprehend of Caligula do not come to pass: Let us Romans, let us leave what is to come under the providence of the Gods: And let us only speak of the misfortunes which are befallen us. They are great enough to merit all our tears: Divide them not I conjure you: Let them all be shed for my dear Germanicus, and remember that he was of the blood of the Julius Cesarese, of the Anthony's, of the Marcelluses, and of the Augustuses. It belongs to you Romans, to weep of his death, and to Celebrate his memory. And for the stronger testifying the esteem you had for him, hate them who hated him; Detest his enviers, his enemies, and his murderers: Fear not to speak of the wickedness of Piso, nor of the ambition of P●ancina, publish without apprehension, that these dead bodies which were found without their Tombs; That these imprecations which were made against Germanicus; That his name that was engraven upon blades of lead; And all those signs of enchantments which have been known, are manifest proofs of the designs which were had against his life. Publish I say, that poison hath finished what charms could not do: And do not fear that you will be punished for this crime; The death of Germanicus hath so over joyed them who caused it, that for a long time they shall not be in condition to take notice of your sadness nor of your discourse. This Victory that they have gained of the most valiant man that ever was, doubtless gives them vanity enough to slight your resentment; And not to trouble themselves, for what you will think of that accident. I do also believe, that they are so much blinded by their ambition, as to be very glad, that posterity should know, that they have put Germanicus to death. They aspire more to the reputation of great Politicians, then of virtuous men: And conditionally that it be said, that they did know how to loss him who could oppose their unjust authority, it is no matter to them, to pass for ●ruell, for unnatural, for impious, for perverse, and for bloody. yes treacherous Piso. Yes cowardly enemies of Germanicus, it will be said that you did know how to reign, it will be known that you put him to death; It will be known that you have violated by his person, all sorts of Laws: It will be known that you have not respected in him, the Noblest blood among the Romans; It will be known that you have cut the thread, of the most Illustrious life that shall ever be; It will be known that the number of his virtues, hath shortened that of his days; It will be known that you did not extinguish that bright light, but because it made the blackness of your lives the clearer; And in fine it will be known that the excess of your crimes, and that of his Virtues, are the true causes of his death. I shall make no stoup O Generous Romans, to repass exactly to you, what all the enemies of Germanicus were: It is not that fear doth hinder me from naming of them, for Agrippina is incapable of it: But it is because I know that they are all known to you. You know the cause of their hatred nor do I speak to you this day, but of the pitiful effects of that dangerous passion, But ye Gods! How is it possible that Germanicus could be hated? What had he done in all his life; That could have acquired enemies to him? Let us repass it, I conjure you: Let us be rigid Judges to him: And let us see if he could have merited the punishment that he suffered. First as to abmition, never was any man so void of it: And all the earth hath seen, that the more opportunity he had to pretend to the Empire; The greater affection did he testify to Tiberius, and did deviate himself the more, from what would have conducted him to the Throne. Ah! would to the Gods! That he had rather followed my counsels, than his own inclinations! It was he who caused present an oath of fidelity, to the Bdlgiks, a Neighbouring Nation of Germany. It was he who appeased the revolr of the Legions and who rather than listen to the offers which they made to him, of following him every where, would pierce his heart with the blow of a dagger. Behold Romans, what Germanicus did for Tiberius at that time. He would die for him: And perhaps by another way, and by other sentiments, hath he had the same destiny. But though it be so, let us not continue. upon such a doleful discourse. Let us remember that Germanicus commanded me a dying to lose some of that noble serocity that innocence gives me, and the illustrious Blood from which I am descended. Let us ●ay then simply, that without lying it may be affirmed that Germanicus preserved the Empire for Tiberius: because it was he who remitted obedience and military Discipline among the greatest part of the Legions, with out whom the Emperors could not have enjoyed the Sovereign power. The disorder was so great, the complaints which were made against Tiberius so injurious; the demands of the Soldiers so insolent, their proceed accompanied with so much violence; that Germanicus was conitrained to cause me go out of the Camp, searing I might receive an abuse in it: However I did what I could, that I might not be separated from him at that time: For as I have already told you, fear had no place in the heart of Agrippina: and no humane power could oblige her, either to be silent or to speak, until that it pleased her, and that Reason required it. But generous Romans, Germanicus did not only appease the sedition of the Soldiers, but he caused the same Soldiers, who would no more know a Commander; who only followed their own fancies; who would hear nothing but their own fury, who did not arm themselves but to oppose the Emperor's will; return under their Colours, render themselves capable of Reason, hear the commands of Germanicus, and take up their arms, to follow him with fervency, in all the dangers wherein he exposed himself at that time, and from which he retired with glory It was with these same Soldiers that he revenged the defate of Varus, that he did retake the Eagle of the nineteenth Legion; that he passed thorough the Brustores; that he wholly ransacked all that is betwixt the Rivers Amisa and Luppia; and unsatisfied with testifying his valour in the Wars, he did let his piety be seen as well as his courage. For coming to the same place where Varrus had been defated, and where there is yet to be seen an infinite number of blanched bones, scattered upon the plain, or cumulated together in great heaps, according as the Soldiers fled or fought: Where I say there is yet to be seen shivered lances, and quantities of other broken arms, horses heads tied to trees; altars whereon the Barbarians had immolated the Tribunes and the Centurians; where they who had escaped from the defate, shown the places, where the Commanders had received their death's wounds; where the Eagles had been taken, where Varrus had received his first wounds; and where quickly after he died by his own hand. I say Germanicus being come to that horrid place, and there seeing such fatal Relics of a Roman army, expelled bloody sighs, poured out tears, and abandoned his invincible Soul to sorrow and compassion. He exhorted the Soldiers to render the last duties to these unfortunate men, of whom some had been their Relations and their Friends. he inspires their hearts with sadness, thereby to carry them on afterwards with the more zeal to revenge: and with his own hand did lay the first turf to the tomb that was builded for these unfortunate worthies. However Tiberius did not approve of that laudable action. He did not comprehend that a man could be equally valiant and pious; give burial to his Fre●nds, and conquer his Enemies; and in sine he belived that Piety was a Virtue unworthy of a great Spirit. he wished that Germanicus had trodden upon these dead mountains, without remembering that they had been Romans like himself, that they had fought, as he was going to fight: that the same ●nemies waited for him: that to render him victorious over them, who had conquered these, he must make the Gods propitious to him; and infuse desire of vengeance into the souls of his Soldiers, thereby to increase that of fight, and of gaining the victory. But the maxims of Tiberius, and these of Germanicus were very different: they did also lead them to very different ways. Romans, Tiberius reigns, and Germanicus is dead. Render to him at least the same honours, which he gave to Varrus his Soldiers; and because he had courage enough to revenge their death, be you at least so generous as to mourn for his. Nevertheless let us not leave him any longer in the shed of this terrifying field all covered with dead bodies: let us behold him in hisconquests: let us lock how the Valiant Arminius dares not wait for him: and let us see with what skill, what conduct, and with what courage he pursued and excelled so generous an enemy. Germanieus at that time joined prudence with valour: And surprising the Cattaneans, when they least thought of him, he ransacked all their country: took the town of Martium Capitol of the Province. He set it on fire, he had many prisoners in it: And after he had carried terror every where, he retook the way to the Rhine, without the enemies daring to follow him. From thence he relived Segesta, which they of his country hold besidged, in favours of Arminius, who afterward, by a trumpery of war, seemed rather to flee, then to retire. But it was only until Germanicus was arrived at an Ambusca do that was laid for him: and I wish from heaven that he had so happily evited all the ambushes which were laid a 'gainst his life. He paid for his valour at that time: And seeing the Germans who followed his party, going to cast themselves in a Marish most advantageous for the enemies; he caused all the Legions advance in Battalion, which did put terror among all Arminius this troops, and assurance among ●urs. Germanicus his good-fortune, went even to Cecina his Lieutenent: For he surpassed all difficulties which he encountered; Fought with glory, the troops of Inguiomere, and these of Arminius: and in fine the Roman arms were but too fortunate at that time: Because if Germanicus had acquired less glory, he would have been less suspected. I have chiefly known, that I contributed somewhat to his death: His valour was thought to be as contagious, as vice is in this age: And that he had communicate a part of it to me. it has been thought (I say) 〈◊〉 since he had made me courageous, he would make Heroes of all the Soldiers who fought for him. ●ut they who believe that, remember member no more that Agrippina is of the blood of Augustus: And that Germanicus had more trouble to retain her courage, then to excit it. And moreover at that time, I did nothing that could give any shadow: It is true that when the noise did run that the Roman army was beaten, and that the enemy were coming to pillage the Gauls: I hindered that any who was too fearful of that false news, should break the bridge that crossed the Rhine: And by that means, I did in some manner serve the Roman Legions. It is also true, that when they were returning; I keeped myself at the end of the bridge, to thank the Soldiers: To praise some, assist others, comfort the wounded, and in the end ●o do every thing that compassion and Generosity counselled me to do in favours of them, who had fought for the advantage, of their country, for the safety of Tiberius, and for the glory of Germanieus: But if I be not deceived, I ought rather to have been thanked for that action, then to have been looked upon as an enemy. Further the friendship that the Legions had, both for Agrippina and for Germanicus, hath only served for the advantage of his enemies: For though he knew as well as I, that they had but very unjust inclinations for him: He made use of that friendship or the Legions, to engage them ●● his designs: And his designs had no other object but the glory of them who loved him not; It is true he was obstinate for the Germane War: But it was only, because he believed it convenient to do it for the public good: As in effect, the event at last made what I say appear: For after the valiant Arminius and the generous Inguiomere had done their last endeavours to raise an army, capable of conquering that of Germanicus: And that by all stratagems of war; which great Captains do use, they had considered how to takefull advantages, which the situation of the place could give them: Germanicus ceased not to gain so manic Victories, as he made fights, or as he gave battles. Never were enemies seen defend themselves more obstinately: It seemed that they did not sometimes flee, but to return with the greater courage to fight: The defaiting of their troops did on lie augment their courage: And the nearer they seemed to be conquered, the more they to put themselves in condition of being victorious. It might have been said that the valour of the Soldiers who were killed, passed into the hearts of their companions ro revenge their death: And therefore, Germanicus merits not a little glory for having conquered such enemies. Among the things which were found in the booty that was taken from them, after one of the battles which was lost; There were a great manic chains to be seen, which they carried with them, to fetter the Roman Soldiers, whom they should take prisoners; For they doubted not, that they should gain the victory. However, after that Germanicus, by his valour and conduct had revenged the death of Varrus; The loss of his Legions; had again found the lost colours; And carried horror amongst all the Barbarians; What did he for his particular interest? What did he for his own glory? Shall I rel it generous Romans. Yes let us tell it for his honour, and for the ●ame of his enemies; He erected a Magnificent Trophy, with an inscription that simply said: That Tiberius Caesar's army, had consecrated these monuments to Mars, to Jupiter, and to Augustus: For the victory that it had obtained, against these Nations which inhabitated bet wixt the Rhine and Albis. And all that, Romans, without speaking of himself, more than of the me●●st Soldier of the army that he commanded. I shall not tell you exactly all the actions which Germanicus hath done: Fame hath reached you it: And the hatred that hath been had to him, should also persuade you that he merited your friendship. Further, when Tiberius judged, that it was convenient, for the designs which he had, that Germanicus should return to Rome, to receive the honour of the Triumph; That unfortunate Hero did well know, that they desired they should Triumph before the victory. nevertheless, he did not forbear to obey them, he left that imperfect war which he was going to finish so profitably, and so gloriously for you: And without desiring to use all his prudence, he listened only to his generosity. You saw him, invincible Romans in the Triumphing Chariot: But in the very instant wherein you was shedding tears of joy, perhaps there was some of the Magicians of which Rome is plentifully furnished, who then foretold, that you should very soon shed tears of sorrow upon the Ashes of Germanicus. You also know, that he was not recalled to his country, to permit him to live in it: On the contrare, he was sent to a place very far off: And it was found convenient, or to speak better, ; Whither for the public good or for particular reasons; To banish him from Rome, upon some honourable pretext. Let it be what it would, he did what he was desired he was as fortunate in pacifying the interests of the princes allied to the Roman people, as he had been in fight his even mies, and if the treacherous Piso and the ambitious Planeina had not attempted his death? Perhaps they might have had rouble enough to have brought it to pass. Germanicus was so unversallie beloved, that it would have been a hard matter for them who put him to death, to have increased the number of their complices. He knew what was thought of him: And the esseem that he had acquired, could not make him suspected. For every time that he went into the war, he was accustomed, to go alone in the night disguised like a simple Soldier from tent to tent to hear what was said of him. yet it was not that he delighted in hearing the praises, which were given to his valour: On the contrare, he said, he searched to be instructed of his faults, that he might amend them. Behold Romans, what Germanicus was: His Soul was wholly Noble and Generous: And under whatsoever form death did present itself, he looked upon it with a fixed countenance. he hath seen tempest disperse his army, and drive his ship against the rocks, without having any other fear then that of seeing the Roman Legions perish. He has beenseen after shipwreck, repay to all the Soldiers who escaped; what the storm had made them loss: He was seen while he livedserve his greatest enemies: And that which is morestrange, and more mervalous, he is dead, without having said any thing, against the chief of the conspiracy, that was done against his life: And he is contented with having prayed his friends, to cause punish the complices. Me thinks Romans, that it is the least thing, can be granted to the Ashes of Anthony's Nephew, of Augustus his grandson, and of Agrippina's husband. yes Romans, if Tiberius were chief of that conspiration, (which none among you dare say) that it be by his order, that Germanicus is put to death; Being a great Politician as he is, he ought always to put the complices of his crime to death. Piso and Plancina should be sacrificed to Germanicus: though it should be but for to hinder them from speaking, and to dry up your tears, their blood ought to be shed. All they who concern themselves with doing of horrid Villainies have always used to let the executioners of their wicked designs be lost, to the end that they be not suspected. Piso hath already had the audacity, to say to Marsus Vibius, by an insolent raillery, that seems to be like a person whom I name not, because I have more respect than he; that he would come to Rome to justify the death of Germanicus, when the Praetor informed of the poisons had summoned there all the criminals, and all the accusers. Yes Romans, I tell you again, that whatsoever way Germanicus was put to death, Piso should die; And I have so much hope from the prudence of Tiberius, that I doubt not but Piso shall die: And that in some manner the death of Germanicus will be revenged. But to obtain this satisfaction, employ your tears and prayers: Let the name of Germanicus be heard over all: Do not enclose your sorrow in the tomb of Augustus, with those pitiful Relics which we are carieing to it. Fellow me Romans; Let us go to the Senate and demand justice for Germanicus: Let us represent that it will be disgraceful to it, not to revenge the death of a man, for whom Triumphant Arches were erected; Who was seen enter Rome, in a Triumphant Chariot; And who passed among all Nations, and among the Barbarians themselves, for the most accomplished among mortals. Let us not use charms nor enchantments, for destroying our enemies, as they have done to destroy Germanicus, Let us not revenge his death by the same arms which caused it; let us trust to the justice of the Gods, to the prudence of Tiberius. and to the Senate's authority: The justice that we desire cannot be refused to us. You Soldiers, who have followed him, ask the blood of Piso, to revenge the death of your Captain, Recount to the Senate the perils wherein you did accompany him, show the wounds you received in the fights where he was: Tell truly the things which you was witnesses of: And in fine, desire, that the death of the Father of his Legions and your General may be revenged. You generous Citizens who hear me, desire boldly that the death of Germanicus may be revenged: Remember what he was; Remember his virtue, his modesty, his goodness, his courage, his liberality, and his moderation. Say that he was the Model by which you hoped to regulate the lives of your children, & to hinder them from following the perniciousexamples which they see every day. Tell that you have lost your Supporter, and your upholder? And desire at least, that they may revenge on the person of the treacherous Piso, him who is taken from you. in fine, who ever you be that hears my voice, employ yours, in ask this equitable vengeance. Echo over all, the names of Julius Cesar, of Anthony, of Marcellus, and of Augustus, thereby to obtain what you desire. Speak of Tombs, of Urns, and of Ashes, to excit compassion in the most cruel heart. Join also some menaces with prayers, if they be unprositable: And forget nothing of all that can cause Piso his death, comfort Agrippina, and ●●venge Germanicus THE EFFECT OF THIS HARANGUE. THis Harangue failed not of an advantageous Effect, all the Senate, and all the Roma People were sensibly touched with it: The one and the other shed tears, breathed complaints, and abandoned themselves to sorrow: And it was said that all the glory of Rome entered the Tomb, with the Ashes of Germanicus. Every on called Agrippina, the honour of her country, the blood of Augustus, the only and last example of the ancient Roman Virtue: And every one prayed the Gods that they would preserve her Race, and make her live beyond, and after the entire ruin of these wicked men. In fine, the public zeal. was so arduous for Germanicus, and for Agrippina, that Tiberius was constrained to abandon. ●iso to the rigour of justice. But he prevented his judgement by the wound of a sword which he gave himself in the throat, and whereof he instantly died. SAPPHO TO ERINNA THE TWENTIETH HARANGUE. ARGUMENT. You are to hear that Illusticus Woman speak, of whom all ages have said so much: Whom Plato himself admired; whose image was engraven, like that of a great Prince of whom we have yet remaining a species of Poesy, whose verses are called Saphick, because it was she who invented their measure, and whom two great men of Antiquity a Grecian and a Roman, called the tenth Muse. I cause her take occasion to exhort her friend to make verses as she did, thereby to make it appear that Ladies are sapable of it: And that they wrong themselves by neglecting such an agreeal● occupation. It is the Argument of this Harangue, that I give in particular to the glory of this fair Sex; as in general I have given all this Volumn. SAPPHO TO ERINNA I Must Erinnae, I must this day overcome in your mind that disttrust of yourself, and thatfalse shame, that hinders you from employing yourmind with things which it is Capable of. But before I speak to you particularly of your merit, I must let you see that of our Sex in general, that by the knowledge thereof I may the more easily bring you to what I would. They who say that beauty is the portion of women; And thatfine arts, good learning, and all the sublime and eminent sciences, are of the domination of men, without our having power to pretend to any part of them; Are equally differing from justice and virtue. If it were so, all women would be born with beauty and ●ll men with a strong disposition to become learned; Otherways nature would be unjust in the dispensationes of her treasures. Nevertheless we see every day that ugliness is seen in our Sex, and stupidity in the other. But if it were true that beauty was the only advantage which we receive from heaven; All women would not only be fair, but I also belve they would be so till death; That time would respect in them what it destroys every moment; And that not being sent it to the world, but to let their beauty be seen; They would be fair so long as they should be in the world. In effect, this would be a strange destiny to survive ane age, for one only thing that could render us recomendable: And of the many years which do conduct us to the tomb. not to pass but five or six with glory. The things which nature seems to have made for the ornament of the Universe, do almost never lose that beauty which it hath once given them. ●old, Pearls Diamonds presetve their brighstn●●●e●o long as they have being: And the ●●cuix herself, as is said of her, dies with her beauty that it may resuscitate with her. Let us say then after this, that because we see no roses not lilies upon the fairest complexiones; which the rigour of some winters will not blast; that we see no eyes, which after they have been brighter than the sun, do not coyer themselves, with darkness; And which after they have made a hundred famous conquests, do find themselves to be in condition of almost no● seeing any more the conquests of others; I say, let us say, that since we see every instant of our life rob us in spite of ourselves, and in spite of our cares of the finest things which we have; That tine makes our youth impotent; That these threads of Cold, wherewith so many hearts have been caught shall be one day no more than threads of silver; And in fine that this air of beauty, that so agreeably mixes with all the traits of a fair countenance, and where a ray of divinity seems to appear, is not strong enough to conquer diseases, time and old age: Let us conclude I say that wein ust of necessity have other advantages than that. And to speak rationalie of it, beauty is in our Sex, what valour is in that of men; But as that quality doth not hinder their loving the study of good learning, so this advantage does no● hinder us from learning and knowing of it. But if there be any difference betwixt men and women, it should only be in affairs of war: It belongs to the beauty of my Sex to conquer hearts, and to the valour and strength of men to conquer Kingdoms: Nature's intention does appear so clear in this encounter, that it cannot be opposed: I consent then that we let towns be taken, battles given, and armies conducted by them who are born for it: But for things which do only require fancy, vivacity of spirit, memory and judgement, I cannot endure that we should be deprived of them. You know that men for the most part are wholly our slaves or our enemies, if the chains which we cause them wear seem to be too weighty for them, or if they break them, they are the more irritated against us; however let us not dispute, neither the beauty of imagination, the vivacity of spirit, nor the force of memory; But for judgement some have the unjustice to maintain that they have mo●e of it then we. Nevertheless I think that the moderation, and modesty of our Sex, makes it sufficiently seen that we do not want it; And moreover if it be true, that we posiess these first advantages in the highest degree; it is almost impossible for us not to possess the other. But if our imagination demonstrat things to us as they are, if our spirit understand them perfectly; And if our memory serve us as it ought: By consequence our judgement cannot err? The imagination when it is lively, it is a faithful mirror; the spirit when it is enlightened, doth so deeply penetrate things; And the memory when it is fortunate and cultivated, Instructs so strongly by example that it is impossible for the judgement not to form itself. Believe me Erinna, it is impossible to make shipwreck when the Sea is calm; the worst Pilor can enter the harbours And there are no rocks but may be shunned when they are seen, and when the waves are not swelling. For me, I avouch to you, that I do not comprehend, how they who leave imaginarion, spirit and memory for our portion, can boast of having more judgement than we. For it is not to be thought, that their imagination not showing them things as they are That their ●p●●it not knowing them perfectly, and that their memory, not being fair full to them: I say it is not to be thought that upon such false similitudes, their judgement can act equitablie? No Erinna, that is not possible: And that we may be more ration all then any among them; Let us say that among them and among us, there are persons who have both fancy, spirit, memory and judgement. It is not if I would, but I could make appear, by a strong and puissant inducement that our Sex can boast: of being more richly furnished with spiritual treasures, then that of men. For conside Erinna, that almost universal order, which is to be seen among all animals, who live in woods and in caves; you see that they who are born with strength and courage, are very often unskilful and of little understanding, and ordinarily the weak have a stronger instinct, and come nearer to reason, than they to whom nature hath given other advantages. Judge you then that according to this order, since Nature has given more strength and more courage to men, then to women; It should have also given more spirit and more judgement to us: But again Erinna, let us grant to them, that they have as much as we, provided that they also consent to our having as much as they. Perhaps you will say to me, that when by consent of all men. I have obtained that declaration, I shall not for all that be able to persuade, that the knowledge of good learning is decent for a woman, because by an established custom of men, for fear of being excelled by us, study is as much forbidden to us as war. making of verses, is the same thing as to give battles, if we will believe them: And to say all, we have nothing permitted to us, but what should be rather forbidden to us. See Erinna, we have a good fancy, a clear sighted spirit, a fortunate memory, a solid judgement, and must we employ all these things to frisle our hair, and to seek after Ornaments which can add something to our beauty? No Erinna, that would be an unprofitable abuse of the favours which we receive from Heaven. They who are born with eyes to make conqu●… need not join art to graces of nature: And that would be a giving of an unworthy employment to the spirit, to give it no other work all our life, but such occupation. it might likewaies be said, that if things were ordained as they should, the study of learning should be rather permitted to Women then to Men: For because they have the guiding of the universe Some being Kings, others Governors of Provinces, some Sacrificers, others Magistrates, and all in general Masters of their Families: And consequently taken up aither with public affairs, or with their own in particular They doubtless must have bu● little time to bestow, upon this kind of study. They must subtract ●rom their subjects their friends or from themselves: But for us, our leisure and our retirement, gives us all the ease that we could wish. We take nothing from the public not from ourselves in the contrare, we every ourselves without empowering others; We Illustrate our country by ma●n ourselves famous; And without wronging any b●d●●e, we acquir● abundance of glory. It is but very just, me thinks, since we quit the domination to men, that at least they allow us, the liberty of knowing all the things, which our spirit is capable of: The desire of righteousness should not be forbidden us: And consequently it can be no crime to practise it. The Gods have made no unprofitable thing in all nature: Every thing follows the order that has been given to it. The Sun enlightens and warms the Universe: the Earth gives us flowers and fruits every year: The Sea gives us of all its riches; the River's water our meadows; The woods lend us their shades: And in fine, all things are useful forpublick Society. Wherefore then, if it be so, should it bedesired that we should the only rebels & ungrateful creatures to the gods! why I say, should it be desired, that our spirits should either be unworthily employed, or eternally unprofitable? What improvement can there be had, by despising what is honest: And how can it agree with reason, that what is of itself infinitely laudable, doth become wicked and damnable, when it is in our possession? They who have slaves, do caus● instruct them for their own advantage: And they whom Nature or custom has given to us for Masters, would have us extinguish in our souls, all these lights which heaven hath put there: And that we should live in the thickest darkness of ignorance. If this be for obtaining our admiration the more easily, they shall not come to their purpose: Because we do not admire, what we know not: But if it be also to render us more subject to them, that is not a generous sentiment: And if it be true that they have any Empire over us, it is the making of their Government the less glorious to reign over stupid and ignorants. Perhaps you will say to me, that all men are not so rigid to us: And that some do consent to women's employing of their spirits, in the knowledge of good learning: Provided that they meddle not, with desire of making works themselves. But let them who are of that opinion, re member, that if Mercurius and Apollo are of their Sex Minerva & the Muses are of ours. nevertheless I avouch that Having received so much from heaven as we have, we should not slightly engage ourselves, in such things, As for example it is no shame, to make verse, but to make them evil: And if mine had not had the good fortune of pleasing, I should never have shown them twice. However this shame is not particular to ●s, and who ever doth a thing evilie; that he volutarlie undertakes: Doubtless merits to be blamed, of whatsoever Sex he is. A perverse Orator, an evil Philosopher an evil Poet do acquire no more glory, than a woman who with no good grace does acquit herself of all those things: And of whatsorver Sex any is, they merit reproof when they do ill, and great esteem when they do well: But to give something to the custom and depravedness of the age, leave, Erinna, all those thorny Sciences to them who love not to seek for glory, but in difficult paths. I will not lead you unto places where you shall see nothing agreeable: I will not have you spend your life in importunate inquires after secrets which are not to be found: I will not have you unprofitably employ all your spirits to know the place whereto the winds retires after they have made shipwracks: And in fine I will not have you consume the rest of your days, in divyning indisserently upon all things, I love your repose, your glory and your beauty equally: I do not wish to you such studies, as make the complexion yellow, the eyes hollow, the countenance ghastly, which make wrinekles on the forehead; and which make the humour melancholy and unquiet. I will not have you flee society nor light: But I only will have you follow me to the banks of Parnassus. It is there Erinna, that I will conduct you; it is there that you shall surpass me, how soon you arrive at it: It is there, that you shall acquire beauty, which time, years, seasones, old Age, nor Death itself can rob you of: And in fine it is there, that you shall know perfectly, that our Sex it capable of every thing that it would undertake. It may be you will say to me, that by my desiring to engage you to poesy, I do not keep my word to you: Because in the descriptions which are given of them who make verses, it seems that beauty cannot correspond with the grimaces which itcauses them make; But know Erinna, that this is but ane invention of men; who would make us belive that as we see them who give oracles troubled by the presence of the god that makes them speak; The same way, poesy being wholly divyn, troubles them: who practise it. But though that were so, your eyes shall not be less bright: For how soon the Oracle is given, the Priest is restored to his former tranquillity; So shall you also no sooner quit the pen, than you shall resind all your premire urbanities: And moreover, I do not think that you will replenish your spirits with so dooleful images, as may cause any forrowful thing result in your eyes. You shall be absolute Mistress of the subjects you would treat of: And of the manic beauties which are in nature; you may choice what pleases most your inclination, the description of a wood, or of a fountain, the complaints of a lover and of a Mistress; Or the Elegy of some virtue will give you ample enough subject, to make the talents appear which heaven hath endued your person with. You are born with such glorious advantages, as that you will be ungrate to these who have given you them, if you know not the good use of them. Perhaps you will ask of me, if it be not sufficiently glorious for a fine woman, that all the brave spirits of her time; make verses in praise of her, without that she meddle, to make her own Pictur herself: I say you may ask me, if her glory be not better established this way then the other; But I have this answer to give you, that what ever Eulogies can be given to you, it will be more glorious for you, to have made verses for all the Illustrious of your time, if you do them well then it can be to you, when they have all been made for you. Believe me Erinna, it is much better to give immortality to others, then to receive it from any other: And to find ones own glory with themselves, them to hear of it elsewhere the pictures which shall be this way made of you perhaps shall not pass one day with posterity, but as tablets made for pleasure. The Poet's imagination, will be more admired than your beauty; And the Copies in fine shall pass fore the original. But if from your own hand, you do leave some signs of what you are, you shall still live with honour, in the memories of all men; They of your age who have praised you, shall then p●s●● for true; And they who have no● done it for stupid or envious. Nevertheless do ●ot pretend that you should make your own ●●cture; That you should speak of your beauty; O● your virtue; And of all the ●●re qualities that me in you: No I will not impose such a hard thing upon your modesty. Poesy has manic other privileges, you need not speak of yourself, to make posterity know you: You need but speak● legantlie, and you shall be sufficiently known. Yes Erinne, when you make no other use of your pen, but to blame the vices of your age, your praise shall not be forgotten. Consider also again I conjure you, how feeble and undureable is the reputation that is founded upon beauty. Of all the infinite numbers of beautiful women, who doubtless have lived in these ages which preceded ours, we have scarce heard two or three only spoken of: And in these very ages, we see the glory of most men, solidly established by the wreating which they have left behind them; let not Erinna, time, old age and death rob you of any thing but Roses; And not take away all your beauty. Triumph over these enemies in every good thing: Put yourself in condition to sustain the glory of our Sex by your example: make our common enemies avouch that it is as easy for us to conquer, with the force of our spirits, as with the beauty of our eyes: Let your judgement appear, by despiseing the sottisness, that the vulgar will say of your resolution: Let all the earth see such fine tablets of your imagination; such noble efforts of your spirit; Such brave effects of your memory; And such good testimonies of your judgement; that you alone may have the advantage, of having reestablished the glory of all women. Do not contemn then what I say to you: But if for a false shame, you will not resolve to follow me; And will make all your glory consist in your Beauty you shall lament while you are alive the loss of that beauty. You shall be spoken of, as if you had been of ane other age, And you shall then find that I had reason to say to you this day, what I think I have said formerly in some of my verses. Your looks, and all that charming grace, Of rose and lilies in your face; Your heavenly orbs so clear and bright. Tho'emblems of Eternal light, Must all decay; your beauty whither, Death makes you both forgot together: But learning does immortality gain Andvictory o'rdeath and the grave make obtain. THE EFFECT OF THIS HARANGUE. IT cannot be said that this harangue had no Effect; If things be taken literally: For it well appears, that she to whom it was addressed let herself be carried where it was desired, because a Greck epigram hath told us; that by how much Sappho excelled Erinna, in Lirick Poesy, so much Erinna did surpass Sappho in hexami erverse. But if any differ from the literal sense, to come nearer my intentions, I shall be very happy, if I can persuade our Ladies, to what this fair Lesbian persuaded her friend: But yet more if I could persuade all the earth, that this beautiful Sex is worthy of our adorations That thereby Temples and Altars, might be one day consecrated to them, as I do now consecrate, THIS TRIUMPHING ARCH, WHICH I HAY ELEVATED TO THEIR GLORY. FINIS.