University of Virginia Library

Fifth ACT.

Maximian, and Albinus.
Albinus.
You see the strong Necessity.

Maximian.
I do,
And thank thy friendly Care.

Albinus.
That Moment's Rashness—
It was not less, my Lord—with sure Destruction
Had blasted all our Hopes. But now your Fortune
Comes smiling forward. All your Friends engag'd
To catch th'Alarm, and spread its Terrors round.
I have dispatch'd Marcellus to the Legions,
To hold them firm, and promise them such Presents—

Maximian.
Larger than Nero gave; with the rich Plunder
Of this new Town, its Temples, Shrines, and Saints,
And all their Worshippers. But why Marcellus?
A Trust of such Importance!—Why a Christian?
A Traitor to his Country, and its Gods.

Albinus.
You know, my Lord, how numerous these Enthusiasts
Thro' all our Troops; you know his Influence o'er them.
My Life upon his Truth; or were he false,
He could not hurt us now. The Palace ours,
Its sleeping Constantine, and—hark, my Lord,
[It thunders.
Are not the Gods, who roll these awful Sounds,
Are they not ours?

Maximian.
Yes; 'Tis the Voice of Jove,
Speaking his own Omnipotence. Again
That Peal of Glory! These well-omen'd Thunders,
Like Drums and Trumpets in the Day of Battle,
Shall drown the Cries of Death.

Albinus.
Seize the glad Omen.
There lies your Way to Empire, and to Fame.
Go; and return an Emperor.

Maximian.
An Emperor!
Oh! for a Moment, to enjoy th'Idea.
To see the Roman Senate, once the Dread,
The Gods, of Earth; to see the haughty Flatterers,
As insolent, as abject, kneel before me;
Then, with a Look to kill; like Caius Marius,
To nod a Senator to Death, or Exile—
Aurelian, then thy Perfidy—

Albinus.
My Lord—

Maximian.
I thank thee, Friend; it was an idle Rapture,
But yet transporting too. Now, fare thee well.
Tho' my Heart's high in Hope, yet should I fail,
Be this our last Embrace—

Albinus.
My Lord; my Sovereign—

Maximian.
Of Friendship and Esteem. This pealing Thunder
Calls me again. Yes, Constantine, I go
To prove whose Gods are mightier, yours or mine.
Your newly fabled Race, or those, who rais'd
Old Rome to Glory. Ha! Look there Albinus.
Do my Eyes dazzle, and my old Brain turn?
A stream of sulphur'd Fire—See, where it rolls!
And now, 'tis dash'd by a strong Wave of Blood!
Spectres, and hideous Fiends, and shapeless Forms
With ghastly Smiles invite me to go on.
And now they dart their Hissings thro' my Brain.

Albinus.
Your agitated Fancy—'tis no more.
Perhaps, some wandering Phantoms of the Night.

Maximian.
How little do they know Maximian's Soul!
Were all the Crimes of Human-Kind upon it,
Thus would I plunge into the burning Wave,
And breast the fiery Surge, to seize my Vengeance.

[Exit as to Constantine's Apartment.
Albinus.
What could it mean! Such strongly imag'd Terrors?
More than Imagination shook his Brain.
But all is silent yet. Ye rapid Moments,
That carry Doubt and Fear upon your Flight,
How slowly do ye move! What Noise was that!

[Maximian returns.
Maximian.
Is there Light i'th' Chamber?

Albinus.
No, my Lord.
He bad me leave him to his Shame, and Darkness.

[Exit Maximian.
Albinus.
Why this Return? Was it not most ill-omen'd!
Why did I trust his old, unsinewed Arm?
I ought myself—it is not yet too late—
Should he awake—the double Noise may wake him—
By all the Gods Maximian's Voice, and loud—

Maximian
behind the Scenes.
This for Ambition; this for my Revenge;
This for my Daughter's Wrongs.

Albinus.
O glorious Sounds!
Worthy the Voice of Jove!

Enter Maximian, his Sword bloody.
Maximian.
'Tis done. Behold
The Blood, that ere these humbler, Christian Doctrines,
Drew its rich Stream from Jove.

Albinus.
All hail, Maximian,
Master of human Kind!

Maximian.
He struggled strongly!
For thrice he rose, when this old, faithful Arm,
Not yet by Years, nor Idleness enfeebled,
Thrice struck my Victim down; as in the Field,
When younger Spirits filled my glowing Veins,
I smote the Gaul, who with gigantick Strength,
Defied the Tents of Rome.

Albinus.
An Act of Glory,
Rome's Annals make immortal. But that Sword,
Aurelian gave you in Exchange for yours,
Left in the Bed, beyond a thousand Witnesses
Will prove the Deed upon him; then, at Leisure,
Under the legal Forms of Public Justice,
You may command his Death.

Maximian.
I'll leave it there.
I brought it forth, to see what richer Drops
Fed the proud Heart, whose Insolence once aw'd me,
Whose Spirit tow'r'd above me. Oh! Albinus,
I am almost asham'd, even yet, to tell you,
How oft, as if in some superior Presence,
My Soul hath bow'd before him, and my Blood
Run aw-struck to my Heart.

Albinus.
Well has this Night
Repaid his Insolence. But now, my Lord,
Retire to Rest, and when th'Alarm begins,
Be not too suddenly awak'd. Then rouze you
In all your wonted Majesty. Assume
Th'Imperial Purple, as your proper Right,
And join, with pious Zeal, the Public Sorrows.
Order his Funeral with a Pomp of Honours,
And rank him with the Gods.

Maximian.
This vile Dissembling!
When shall my Soul resume its native Greatness?
And yet Tiberius blush'd; even Nero wept,
And mightiest Cæsar, in his Height of Empire,
Trembled, with Art, before the Roman Talker.
Spite of these great Examples, let Maximian
Rise like the Sun, and hold his Course of Glory,
With Majesty unclouded, unobscur'd.
Then shew at Evening, like the setting God,
A larger Orb, tho' with less Heat it shine.

[Exit.
Albinus.
This is the Hour of Rest; but not for me;
Not 'till another Death secure my Safety.
This fond old Man, shall for an idle Tear,
Drop'd from a Woman's Eye, forget my Services.
She must not live—why should the wretched live?
[Looking at her entering.
And such thou art—a very Wretch indeed.
But thou art near the End of thy Afflictions.

[Exit.
Fulvia, Cornelia.
Cornelia.
They were the Groans of Death, its sharpest Pangs,
And, wafted on the hollow Gloom of Night,
Broke thro' th'affrighted Air.

Fulvia.
Then, then, Cornelia,
The Majesty of Nations, and their Praise,
Expiring groan'd in Death; yet Heaven could roll
Its idle Noise, and the pale Lightnings flash'd
Their harmless Fires; perhaps, with impious Light,
Directed to the Deed. He died, Cornelia,
And thought his Fulvia false.

Cornelia.
Ah! yet retire.
As we advance among these pathless Terrors,
Your Eye grows wilder, and in broken Pantings
Your quick Breath heaves. Should you see aught more dreadful,
Will not Imagination catch its Horrors,
Strike the weak Sense, and fright it into Madness?

Fulvia.
No; my Cornelia, no. I'll not run mad.
What tho' my Brain's on Fire; my glowing Eyes
Just starting from their Orbs, and every Sense
Confus'd and wild, yet why should I run mad?
'Tis not to tear this Hair; to shriek with Pain,
To rend these Eye-balls from their bleeding Rings,
And dash them rayless to their native Earth,
That can express my Griefs. Why, then, run mad?

Cornelia.
Ye pitying Powers—

Fulvia.
You talk'd of pathless Terrors.
Is not Despair my Guide, and see, Cornelia,
Faithful it points to yonder open Door.
There Treason enter'd; there the Man of Blood—
And there I'll enter too.
Blood! Blood! Cornelia. See the gory Steps,
Where Murder stalk'd along. Now, now, ye Powers,
In Mercy, Justice, Anger, Pity, strike
This Head devoted; lest in desperate Frenzy,
I should give Way to Horror, and perform
The ever damning Deed of Self-Destruction.

Enter Albinus.
Cornelia
to Albinus.
If you have ever known, where Pity dwells,
That drops the tender Tears o'er others' Woes;
If you've an human Heart, oh! Sir, assist me.

Fulvia
breaking away from Cornelia.
Or as you seem a Dæmon of the Night,
Presiding o'er the Terrors, you have rais'd,
If you know aught of my lov'd Lord, Oh! tell me;
If you are privy to his Death, Oh! tell me.
Give me his mangled Corse, deform'd with Wounds,
Besmear'd with Blood, and Death's own Paleness on it,
I'll o'er it play a Scene of such wild Sorrows—
Such Frenzy, such Distraction, as shall charm you
To shed a human Tear, and think of Pity.

Albinus.
Of that I question. But my present Hours
Have other Cares. This Night your Lord, your Emperor
Began to be immortal. Ere he went
To take his Throne among his kindred Gods,
(We shall to-morrow deify his Virtues)
He left a Present for his much-lov'd Fulvia;
That noble Choice of Death.

Enter a Soldier with a Dagger and a Bowl of Poison.
Fulvia.
Oh! truly welcome,
Thou Freedom of the Soul, at whose great Bidding
Th'immortal Spirit wings its gladsome Way,
Throws off its Earth, and sports without its Weight
In yonder Fields of Light. There mine, perhaps,
May meet my Lord, cloth'd with ethereal Brightness;
How the World shrinks, with all its vast Ambition,
Its little Greatness at a Thought like this.
[Taking the Bowl.
Now, thou immortal Spirit of my Lord,
In whatsoever Orb of Light enthron'd,
Look down upon me, your suspected Fulvia.
This to our second Nuptial Day in Heaven.

[As she is going to drink Constantine enters with Aurelian, Marcellus. &c.
[Guards seize Albinus.
Constantine.
Is it then given me, ye all-gracious Powers,
Once more to gaze upon thy Beauty's Wonders!
While Love—for, oh! the Rage of Jealousy,
Even Madness self was Love—now cover'd o'er
With Blushes, with Confusion, kneels before thee.

[He kneels.
Fulvia.
Restor'd to Life! Can Miracles do this?
[Constantine rises.
'Tis he; 'tis he! My living Lord, my Emperor!
For, oh, my Heart, I feel thy wonted Transports,
Which he alone, the Lord of Love, inspires.

Constantine.
Oh! excellent in Goodness! My Aurelian,
Behold, and wonder at the bright Perfection.
[To Fulvia.
He too forgives, O generous Proof of Friendship,
The Outrage to his Virtue. See Marcellus,
And know my Safety thence. Albinus thought him
Firm to their Cause, and sent him to the Legions,
To gain their Strength. He thence returned at Night;
Came by the secret Way to my Apartment,
And told to my astonish'd Ears such Horrors—
Then begg'd, in Proof of his Fidelity,
To lay a Slave, who was this Morn condemn'd,
In th'Imperial Bed. Maximian's Rage
Declares the rest.

Fulvia.
Maximian's Sir! Maximian's!

Constantine
pointing to Albinus.
Hence with that Slave, and bear him to his Fate.

[Albinus carried out.
Fulvia.
But, Sir, my Father—Speak; Oh! Look upon me.
Oh! Hear these speechless Sorrows; hear and pity me.

Constantine.
With all the fearful Tenderness of Love;
With Eyes, that flow in Pity; with a Tongue,
That faulters to pronounce it—can I speak it?
The Justice of the World demands his Fate.
[As commanding him to go.
Marcellus, tho' I know th'ungrateful Office—

Fulvia
kneeling.
Oh! for his Sake, th'eternal Power of Mercy,
Who when thy great Heart's quell'd by Age or Sickness,
Shall hear thy Weakness, hear thy Cries of Pain,
Give me my Father's Life. This Day has join'd
My Fame to his Misfortunes. Should he perish,
Oh! will it not be said, that I betray'd him?
And, can you, Sir, behold me; can you make me
A Name of horrid Parricide for ever?
To all succeeding Times? Unnumber'd Ages
Shall curse your Fulvia's Memory.
[To Marcellus.
Stay; oh! stay.
I see soft Pity drop the saving Tear—
[To Marcellus.
A little Moment more—and Constantine
Becomes a God of Mercy.

Constantine.
Is there a Strength in Man, that can resist
The Power of Beauty, when it pleads its Tears.
Go, my Aurelian, and relieve his Terrors;
Sooth his Despair, his disappointed Rage:
Assure him of his Life, nor Life alone,
But grac'd with Honors, worthy of our Friendship.
My Fulvia shall be Mistress of his Fate.

[Exit Aurelian.
Fulvia.
Angels of Mercy, hear the sacred Sounds,
That bid my Father live.
And thou, O Love, in all thy golden Records,
For it is thine, preserve this Act of Wonder,
And on thy purple Pinions waft it wide
O'er Earth and Heaven, the Glory of thy Reign.

Enter Maximian and Aurelian at the Top of the Stage.
Maximian
speaking as he comes forward.
Well then; the Gods have otherwise decreed;
And be it so. Maximian shall appear,
(I thank thee, Jove; the Trial's worthy of me)
In his own Strength; superior to his Fortune,
And Cæsar's haughty Clemency.
[To Aurelian.
—Lead on.

Fulvia.
My Father—

Maximian.
How that Name comes o'er my Heart!
She kneels and weeps! Art thou so wondrous good?
Can'st thou forgive me, Fulvia; call me Father,
And give me back thy Love? Did not my Rage
Accuse thy Innocence, and blast thy Fame?

Fulvia.
It was Ambition's Rage; no more remember'd.
But even Ambition shall be satisfied.
Greatness and Power, for Constantine hath spoke it,
Duty and Love, shall wait upon your Age,
'Till Time, with lenient Hand, shall lay it down
In honourable Death; 'till Fame shall crown
Your Life, and that last Hour with equal Glory.

Maximian.
If Life could pass away in the Delight
Of fondly gazing on thee; could th'Idea
Of that full Sway, which aw'd the western World,
Be ever from my Memory; could I forget
I was an Emperor once, dispensing Fame,
Greatness and Honors round me, then, perhaps,
I might forget, I liv'd to be forgiven,
And bow'd me to the Power, that gave me Life.

Constantine.
It shall not need—

Maximian.

Constantine.