University of Virginia Library

SCEN. I.

Enter Heraclius, Eudoxia.
HERAC:
With reason you her dangers apprehend,
Now she appears but a mistaken Friend;
If she flie not, no hope but she must die,
Twill justice seem in him, not crueltie.
Eudoxia, not for her I grieve, but thee,
She justly is betray'd that betray'd me.

EUD.
Can you believe her hate to you was such,
When her Sons life for yours was not too much?

HERACLIUS.
To her imposture I must give that name;
She stayd those actings that might raise my fame,
And by her cunning, and a false report
My Name and Right to Martian doth transport:
Approves that Letter in my Fathers Name,
Entitles him to th'Empire which I claim;
In this there was no love, no policie,
Since he must reign, or else must die for me.

EUD.
Had she decry'd that Letter as a lie,
Your secret then had been reveal'd thereby;
She doubted, Sir, as by the issue now,
Her just suspicion you may well allow:
Arm'd then with something yet to make you reign
More than is known, or that Note could contain;
Had she not turn'd the blow on Martian's head,
You, that mistake her service, had been dead.

HERAC:
No matter which, I Martian too much owe,
If one must die, to suffer him to go:
Though none discover me, my self I must
To my brave friend and honour, be so just.
This only difference, Martian can I see:
Betray'd, I wretch'd die; glorious for thee.

EUD.
Ah! Sir, will you so rash an action do?
Betray your self, and give me my death too?
What hast? the Tyrant yet doth nothing know;
Will you the object of his furie show?

HERACL.
Your love, to what's my dutie, makes you blind;
Who doth not love my honour, is unkind.
He by my Name is sure to suffer death,
And shall I by his Name preserve my breath?
If by the errour he might live and reign,
It might be born, he by my loss might gain:
Twere a low baseness, longer to conceal
Such a mistake as honour bids reveal.

EUD:
Oh Sir! it is not that which I desire,
Your honor's mine, mean thoughts would quench my fire.
Arm, arm your self, Sir, to preserve his life,
Make Phocas die, his death will end all strife:
Rekindle what my Mother quencht before.
And from my love and courage make it more:
Take to the Empire now a Soldiers way,
If you meet Death, tell him I for him stay.

HERAC:
Th'Occasion's lost, Martian now goes for me,
And by his pris'n our friends dispersed be:
Since all do take him for Heraclius,
They'l think it a foul Parricide in us;
Some few that love my person well, may rise,
But spight of them and us still Martian dies.
And when his death gives Phocas victorie,
What force can I expect should join with me?
Then speak no more, your love must not retard,
His life, my honour are of more regard.
Whether I reign, or whether I must die,
I'le trust my vertue for a Victorie.