University of Virginia Library

Scena Tertia.

Polyeuctes, Paulina, Guards.
Polyeuctes.
Madam, what's the design that brings you hither?
Is it to fight me, or to second me?
And the fair proffer of this perfect love
Comes it to aid me, or to overthrow me?
Bring you here with you hate, or amity
As enemy, or as my dearest moyety?

Paul.
You have no enemy here, Sir, but your self
Every one loves you, none but Polyeuctes
Hateth your vertue, it is he alone
That executes my dream, do not destroy
Your self, and you are safe; how great soe'r
Your crime be, you are innocent, if you grant
A pardon to your self; deign to consider
The blood from whence y'are sprung, your noble actions,
Your rare endowments; think, Sir, that you are
Belov'd by all the people, favoured of
The Prince, and Son-in-law unto the Governour
Of the whole Province, the name of my Husband
I reckon t'ee as nothing, that's a happiness
Onely for me, which is not great for you;
But after your exploits, after your birth,
After your power, look upon our hope,
And give not up unto the hangmans hand
What to our just desires so fair a fortune
Doth promise.

Pol.
I consider more, and know
My advantages, and the hope which on them
Great courages do frame, they aspire not
But unto transitory good, which cares
Disturb, which dangers follow, and which death
Takes from us, fortune makes her sport with them,
To day ith' throne, to morrow in the dirt.
Their greatest glory never is without
Some discontent, few of our Cæsars have
Injoy'd it long, this greatness perisheth;
I have ambition too, but mine's more fair
And noble, for I seek immortall glory,
A happiness assur'd that hath no end
Nor measure, far above the reach of envy,
Or destiny; and is a sorry life
Too dear a purchase for it, which immediatly
May be tane from me, which makes me injoy
But even the flying instant, and's not able
T'assure me that which follows?

Paul.
See the dotage,
And the ridiculous dreams of you fond Christians;
Behold how their lies have seduced you!
You think that all your blood is not enough
For a felicity so sweet; but, Sir,
This blood is not yours to dispose of it;
You have not life as an inheritance,
The day that gives it you at the same time
Engageth it, you owe it to the Prince,
Unto the Publick, to the State.

Pol.
I would
Lose it for them in honourable fight,
I know what is the happiness thereof,
And what's the glory, you do boast the memory
Of Decius Ancestors, and this name yet precious
Unto you Romans, put into his hands
At the end of six hundred years the Empire.
I owe my life unto the peoples good,
To the Prince and his crown, but I do owe it
Much more unto the God that gave it me:
If to dye for ones Prince be held to be
A glorious fate, when one dies for his God
How shall his death be crown'd?

Paul.
What God?

Pol.
Peace, Paulina,
He hears your words, for he is not a God
Like your false gods, insensible and deaf,
Weak, made of wood, of marble, or of gold,
Even as you please: he is the God o'th' Christians,
He is mine, he is yours, the heaven and earth
Acknowledge him, who made both them and us.

Paul.
Adore him then in mind, and outwardly
Express it not.

Pol.
Oh no! I should be then
Idolater, and Christian both together.

Paul.
Dissemble for a moment till Severus
Be gone, and let my Fathers goodness work.

Pol.
The goodness of my God is to be cherish'd
Much more, he doth remove me from the dangers
I would have run into, and without suffering
Me to look back, his Favour crowneth me
Entring in the career, with the first wind
He brings me to the Port, and comming forth
From baptism, he doth send me unto death.
If you could comprehend the little worth
Of this frail life, and the eternal sweets
That follow after death—But to what end
Is it to speak of those concealed treasures
To souls whom God hath not inspired yet:

Paul.
Cruel! for it is time my grief break forth,
And that a just reproach oppress a soul
Ingratefull; Is this that fair fire thou boasts of?
Are these thy oaths? expressest thou for me
The smallest sentiments? I speak not to thee
Of that deplorable estate, wherein
Thy death will leave thy poor disconsolate Wife,
I think that love should speak enough of that:
But that love so firm and so well deserv'd
Which thou didst promise me, and I bare thee,
When thou wilt leave me, when thou mak'st me dye,
Can it not draw one sigh, one tear from thee?
Ingratefull, thou dost quit me, yea, with joy,
Thou hid'st it not, but wilt that I should see it,
And thy hard heart insensible to my sad
Attractions, figureth unto it self,
A happiness that I shall never see;
Is it then the disgust that Marriage brings?
Am I grown odious after having given
My self unto you?

Pol.
Alas!

Paul.
How that alas came hardly forth!
Yet if it happily shew'd any sign
Of a repentance, Oh how charming were it
Although inforc'd! but courage, he is mov'd,
I see he sheds tears.

Pol.
True, I weep, Paulina,
And would to God that therewith this heard heart
Might happily be pierc'd, the sad estate
Wherein I leave you doth deserve the plaints
My love doth give me, and if one can carry
Griefs unto Heaven, I carry them to see
The excess of your misfortunes; but if in
This luminous abode of highest glory,
This God all just and good, allow my Prayer,
If He vouchsafe to lend an ear unto
Conjugall love, He will display his light
Upon your blindness; Lord, I do beseech thee
Let me obtain this of thy goodness, she
Hath too much vertue not to be a Christian,
It pleased thee to give her too much merit,
Not to know Thee, and to adhere unto Thee,
To live still an unfortunate Slave of hell,
And to die as she's born under that yoak.

Paul.
What say'st thou, miserable, what dar'st thou wish?

Pol.
That which with all my blood I fain would purchase.

Paul.
That rather.—

Pol.
Tis in vain to make resistance,
This God toucheth the heart when least we think on't;
That happy moment is not yet arriv'd,
It will come, but the time's not known unto me.

Paul.
Leave this Chymera, come and love me still.

Pol.
I love you much more then my self, but, pardon me,
Less then my God.

Paul.
In the name of that love,
Forsake me not.

Pol.
In the name of that love,
Follow my steps.

Paul.
Dost thou not care to quit me, wilt thou then
Seduce me?

Pol.
Car'st thou not to go to Heaven?
I will conduct you there.

Paul.
Imaginations!

Pol.
Cœlestiall truths.

Paul.
Strange blindness.

Pol.
Rather everlasting lights.

Paul.
Thou prefer'st death before Paulina's love.

Pol.
You the base world before the divine goodness.

Paul.
Go, cruell, go and die, thou never lov'dst me.

Pol.
Live happy in the World, and suffer me
To die in peace.

Paul.
Yes, I will leave thee, trouble not thy self,
I go—