 | Titus and Berenice |  |
SCENE I.
A Palace.Enter Artiochus and Arsaces.
Antiochus.
Thou my Arsaces art a Stranger here,
This is th' Apartment of the Charming Fair,
That Berenice, whom Titus so adores,
The Universe is his, and he is hers:
Here from the Court himself he of't conceals,
And in her Ears his charming story tells,
Whilst I a Vassal for admittance wait,
And am at best but thought importunate.
Arsac.
You want admittance! who with generous care
Have follow'd all her Fortunes every-where,
Whose Fame throughout the World so loudly rings,
One of the greatest of our Eastern-Kings.
As once you seem'd the Monarch of her Breast,
Too firmly seated to be dispossest,
Nor can the pride she doth in Titus take,
Already so severe a distance make.
Antio.
Yes! still that wretch Antiochus I am.
But Love! oh how I tremble at the name;
And my distracted Soul at that doth start,
Which once was all the pleasure of my heart,
2
And an Eternal silence on me laid.
Arsac.
That you resent her pride, I see with Joy,
'Tis that which does her gratitude destroy;
But Friendship wrong'd should into hatred turn,
And you methinks might learn her Art to scorn.
Anti.
Arsaces, how false Measures dost thou take,
Remove the Poles, and bid the Sun go back:
Invert all Natures Orders, Fates Decrees,
Then bid me hate the Charming Berenice.
Arsac.
Well, love her still, but let her know your pain,
Resolve it you shall see, and speak again;
Urge to her face your rightful Claim aloud,
And court her haughtily, as she is proud.
Antio.
Arsaces, No, she's gentle as a Dove,
Her Eyes are Tyrants, but her Soul's all Love,
And owes so little for the Vowes I've made,
That if she pity me, I'm more than paid.
[Enter Rutilius.
But see the man I sent, at last returns;
Oh how my heart with Expectation burns.
Rutilius, have you Berenice seen?
Rut.
I have.
Antio.
Oh speak! what says the Charming Queen?
Rut.
I prest with difficulty, through the Croud,
A throng of Court-Attendants round her stood.
The time now past of his servere retreat,
Titus laments no more his Fathers fate.
Love takes up all his thoughts, and all his cares,
Whilst he to meet these mighty Joys prepares:
Which may in Berenices arms be found,
For she this day will be Romes Empress crown'd.
Anti.
What do I hear? Confusion on thy tongue!
To tell me this, why was thy speech so long?
Why didst not Ruine with more speed afford?
Thou mightst have spoke and kill'd me in a word.
But may I not one Moment with her speak,
And my poor heart disclose before it break?
Rut.
You shall; for when I told her what you design'd,
She sweetly smil'd, and her fair head inclin'd:
Titus ne'r from her had a look more kind.
3
She's here.
Berenice,
At last from the rude Joy I'm freed,
Of those new Friends whom my new fortunes breed.
The tedious form of their respect I shun,
To find out him whose words and heart are one.
Antiochus, for I'll no flattery use
Since your neglect I justly may accuse,
How great your Cares for Berenice have been,
Ev'n all the East, and Rome it self have seen,
In my worst fate I did your friendship find,
But now I grow more Great, you grow less kind.
Antio.
Now durst I hope, I would forget my smart,
So well she understands to sooth my heart.
But, Madam, its a truth by Rumour spread,
That Titus shall this night possess your bed.
Ber.
Sir, All my Conflicts I'll to you reveal,
Though half the Fears I've had, I cannot tell;
So much did Titus for his Father mourn,
I almost doubted Love would ne'r return;
He had not for me that Assiduous heat
As when whole days fixt on my Eyes, he sate.
Grief in his Eyes, Cares on his Brows did dwell;
Oft came and lookt, said nothing but farewell.
Ant.
But now his kindness he renews again,
Ber.
Oh! he will doubly recompence his pain
For that, if any Faith may be allow'd,
Two thousand Oaths, two thousand times renew'd;
Or any Justice in the Powers Divine,
Antiochus, He'll be for ever mine.
Antio.
How she insults and triumphs in my ill,
Sh'as with long practice learnt to smile and kill.
Oh Berenice, Eternally farewel.
Ber.
Farewel! good Heav'n! what Language do I hear;
Stay! I conjure you Sir—by all's that dear.
Antiochus, What is it I have done?
Why don't you speak?
Antio.
Madam I must be gone.
Ber.
How Cruelly you use me! I implore
The Reason—
Ant.
I must never see you more.
4
For Heav'ns sake tell, you wound me with delay.
Ant.
At least remember I your Laws obey.
Why should I here wretched and hopeless stay?
If the remembrance be'nt Extinguisht quite,
Of that blest place where first you saw the light;
'Twas there, oh there began my Endless smart,
When those dear Eyes prevail'd upon my heart,
Then Berenice too, my Vowes approv'd,
Till happy Titus came and was belov'd.
He did with Triumph and with Terror come,
And in his hands bore the Revenge of Rome.
Judea trembled, but 'twas I alone
First felt his weight, and found my self undone.
Ber.
Hah!
Antio.
You too, then t'encrease the pains I bore,
Commanded me to speak of Love no more.
So on your hand I swore at last t'obey;
And for that taste of Bliss gave all away.
Ber.
Why do you study ways t'afflict my mind,
You believe Sir, I am not unkind.
Alas I'm sensible how well y'have serv'd,
And have been kinder much than I deserv'd.
Antio.
Why in this Empire should I longer stay,
My Passion and its weakness to betray.
Others, though I retire, will bring their Joys,
To Crown that Happiness which mine destroys.
Ber.
You triumph thus, because your pow'r you know,
Or if you did not, you'd not use me so.
Though Crown'd Romes Empress, I the Throne ascend;
What pleasure in my Greatness can I find,
When I shall want my best and truest Friend.
Ant.
I reach your purpose, you would have me there,
That you might see the worst of my despair.
I know it, the Ambition of your Soul;
Tis true, I've been a fond obedient Fool.
Yet came this time but to new freight my heart,
And with more Love possest than ever part.
Ber.
Though it could never enter in my mind,
Since Cæsar's Fortunes must with mine be join'd.
5
T'invade his Right, and talk to me of Love.
I bear th' unpleasing Narrative of yours,
And Friendship, what my Honour shuns, endures.
Nay more; Your parting, I with trouble hear,
For you next him, are to my Soul most dear.
Antio.
In Justice to my Memory and Fame,
I fly form Titus, that unlucky Name.
A name which ev'ry Moment you repeat,
Whilst my poor heart lies bleeding at your feet.
Farewel: Oh be not at my Ravings griev'd,
When of my death the news shall be receiv'd,
Remember why I di'd, and what I liv'd—
[Ex. Antioch.
Phæn.
I grieve for him, a Love so true as this,
Deserv'd, methinks, more fortunate success.
Are you not troubled Madam—
Ber.
Yes, I feel
Something within me difficult to quel.
Phæn.
You should have staid him.
Ber.
Who, I stay him? no,
From my Remembrance rather let him go.
His Fancy does with wild Distraction rove,
Which thy raw ignorance, interprets Love.
Phæn.
Titus his thoughts, yet to unfold, denies.
And Rome beholds you but with jealous eyes.
Its rigorous Laws, create my fears for you;
Romans no Forrain Marriages allow
To Kingly Power still enemies th'ave been,
Nor will, I fear, admit of you a Queen.
Ber.
Phænicia, no, my time of fear is past,
Me Titus loves, and that includes the rest.
The splendor of this night thou hast beheld,
Are not thy Eyes with his bright Grandeur fill'd?
These Eagles fasces, marching all in state:
And crowds of Kings that with their Tributes wait.
Triumphs below, and Blessings from Above,
Seem all at strife to grace this Man of Love.
Away Phænicia, let's go meet him strait,
I can no longer for his coming wait.
6
Nor will be temper'd till my Joy's begun.
[Exeunt.
| Titus and Berenice | |