 | Titus and Berenice |  |
ACT III.
SCENE I.
Enter Berenice in disorder.Ber.
I of my wrong too well am satisfied;
To see the perjur'd Titus, twice I try'd.
Twice for admittance to him begg'd in vain:
Nor is Phænicia yet return'd again.
Phænicia has no answer to bring back.
Inrgateful Titus will not hear her speak:
But hides himself and from my fury flyes:
Nor will have sense, though Berenice dies.
[Enter Phænice.
Phænice, Well, my Titus hast thou seen?
What will he come and make me live again?
Phæ.
Madam, the Emperor I alone did find;
And saw in his the trouble of your mind;
I saw the tears he would have hid run down.
Ber.
But was he not asham'd they should be shown?
Look't he not as he thought his Love disgrace?
And was not all the Emperor in his face?
Phæ.
Doubt it not, Madam, he will soon be here,
But wherefore will you this disorder wear?
Your rifl'd dress let me in order place,
And these dishevel'd locks that hide your face.
Ber.
Forbear, Phænice, let it all alone:
No, he shall see the triumph he has won;
How vain those foolish ornaments must prove:
28
Enter Antiochus, Arsaces.
Oh, my unruly sorrows! Oh, my fears!
Who's here?
Antio.
Arsaces, Berenice in tears;
Ber.
Antiochus! Phænice, let's away,
To let him see my torments I'le not stay.
[Ex.
Antio.
Now whither's all my resolutions gone?
Arsaces, who could see't and be his own?
I said I'd never see her face again:
But come and find my boastings all were vain;
Seeing her sufferings, all her scorn forget,
And lose at once my vengeance and my hate.
VVretched Antiochus! with how much care
And labours, my own mischiefs I prepare!
How poorly all my injuries have born!
Hopeless, undone and to my self a scorn,
Leave me alone unhappy as I am:
I would not have a witness of my shame.
Enter Titus Attended.
Tit.
'Twas cruel not to see her, Oh my heart!
And now I go to see her, but to part.
Rutilius, fly and sooth the Queens despair,
And for our meeting Berenice prepare.
Antio.
What have you done, Sir? Berenice will dye
I saw her hence with hair dishevel'd fly.
'Tis only you her fury can surcease.
When e're you 're nam'd she's instantly at peace.
Her eyes still bent to your apartment were,
And every moment seem'd to wish you near.
Tit.
Antiochus, assist me what to do.
I'm not prepar'd, for the sad Interview.
I have not yet consulted well my heart,
And doubt it is not strong enough to part,
Since first I took possession of the Throne,
What is it for my honour I have done?
My love and folly only I've disclos'd,
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The golden days where are they to be found,
So much expected, when this head was Crown'd?
Whose tears have I dry'd up? or in what face
Can I the fruits of any good act trace?
Know I what years Heaven has for me decreed?
And of these few, how few are to succeed?
And yet how many have I spent in wast!
But now to honor I'le make greater hast.
Alas! 'tis but one blow and all is past.
Enter Berenice, pressing from Rut. and Paul.
Ber.
Let me alone, your counsels all are weak.
See him I must, he's here, and I will speak.
Has Titus then forsook me? is it true?
Must we too part, does he command it too?
Tit.
Oh! stop the deluge, which so fiercely flows;
This is no time t' allay each others woes.
Enough I feel my own afflictions smart,
And need not those dear tears to damp my heart.
But if we neither can our griefs command,
Yet with such honour let 'em be sustain'd.
As the whole World to hear it told shall smart;
For dearest Berenice we must part.
And now I would not a dispute maintain,
Whether I lov'd, but whether I must Reign.
Ber.
Reign (Cruel) then and satisfie your pride,
And for your Cruelties be deifi'd.
I'le ne'r dispute it farther, I but stay'd
Till Titus who so many vows had made,
Of such a Love as nothing could impair.
Should come himself and tell how false they were,
Now I believ't, enough I've heard you tell,
And I am gone—eternally farewell,
Eternally—Ah, Sir, consider now,
How harsh that word is and how dreadful too.
Consider, Oh the Miseries they bear,
That are for ever rob'd of all that's dear.
From this sad Moment never more to meet,
30
In which I must not find my hopes still young,
Nor yet once see my Titus all day long?
Heav'ns how I wildly rave—to lose my pains
On him ungrateful that my tears disdains!
Of all those days of absence I shall count,
With him, the number will to nothing mount.
Tit.
Doubt it not, Madam, there will be no need
To count the days that shall your loss suceed.
I hope e're long that you will hear from fame,
How very wretched and how just I am.
My heart bleeds now, I feel the drops run down;
Nor can it be long dying when you 're gone.
Ber.
Ah why, Sir, must we part if this be true?
My claims to Marriage I'le no more renew.
Will Rome accept of nothing but my death?
Or why d' ye envy me the air you breath?
Tit.
Madam, you are too powerful every way,
Shall I withstand it? no, for ever stay.
Then I from bliss must always be debarr'd,
And on my heart for ever keep a guard.
With fears through all my course of Glory move,
Lest e're aware I lose my self and Love.
Ev'n now my heart is from my bosom stray'd,
And all its swellings on a sudden laid.
Bent thus to you by all Loves softest pow'rs,
And only this remembers that 'tis yours.
Ber.
O Titus, whilst this charming tale you tell,
D'ye see the Romans ready to rebel?
Tit.
How they will look on the affront who knows,
If once they murmur and then fall to blows:
Must I in Battel justifie my Cause;
Or if they should submit and set their Laws;
How must I be expos'd another day;
And for their Patience too, how largely pay!
With Grievances and wild Demands still curst,
Shall I dare plead the Laws that break 'em first?
Ber.
How much you are an Emperor now I find,
'Tis plain in your unsteady anxious mind.
You weigh your Peoples Rights to your own fears,
31
Tit.
Not value 'em! Why are you so unjust?
Now by the honour of my Father's dust,
By Heav'n and all the gods that govern there,
If to me any thing be half so dear;
May I be as a Slave, depos'd and serve,
Or else forlorn in some wild Desart starve,
Till I'm as wretched as my ills deserve.
Ber.
Laws you may change, why will you for their sake,
Into your brest eternal sorrows take?
Rome has her Priviledges, have not you
Your Int'rests, your Rights as sacred too?
Say, speak.
Tit.
Alas! how do you rend my brest!
I know indeed I never can have rest;
And yet the Laws of Rome I cannot change,
Do, break my heart and take your full Revenge.
Ber.
How weak a Guard does now your Honor keep!
You are an Emperor, and yet you weep!
Tit.
I grant it, I am sensible I do,
I weep, alas! I sigh and tremble too.
For when to Empire first I did attain,
Rome made me swear I would her Rights maintain.
I did, and must perform what I then vow'd,
Others before me to the Yoke have bow'd:
And 'tis their Honor: yet in leaving you;
All their Austerest Laws I shall out-do.
And an Example leave so brave and great,
As none shall ever after imitate.
Ber.
To your Barbarity there's nothing hard,
Go on, and Infamy be your reward.
Long since my fears your falshood had display'd;
Now would I at your Sute have longer stay'd.
Would I the base Indignities had born,
Of a rude People, publick Hate and Scorn?
No, to this breach I would have spurr'd you on,
And I am pleas'd it is already done.
32
Alas! you must not think to hear me rail;
Or Heav'n invoke, its vengeance to prepare;
No, for if Heav'n vouchsafe to hear my Pray'r,
I beg no memory may there remain,
Of either your Injustice, or my Pain.
[Kneels.
But the sad Berenice before she dies,
Is sure to have Revenge if you have eyes.
Nor, Titus, need I go to find it far,
No further than that heart, I have it there:
[Points to his brest.
Within your self shall rise your dreadfull'st foe;
My past Integrities, my Torments now;
VVhich you, ungrateful perjur'd Man, have bred,
My blood which in your Palace I shall shed.
Sufficient terrors to your Soul shall give,
And 'tis to them that my Revenge I'll leave.
[Exit furiously
Paul.
Thus, Sir, at least the Conquest you have won,
The Queen you see's contented to be gone.
Tit.
Curse on thy Roman Rudeness, that canst see
Such tears, unmov'd, and mock such Misery!
Oh! I am lost, and 'tis in vain to strive,
If Berenice dies, I cannot live.
Fly and prevent that Fate to which she's gone.
Bid her but live, tell her the World's her own.
[Exit Rut.
Paul.
Sir, if I might advise, you should not send,
Rather command her women to attend;
They better can her Melancholy chear;
The worst is past, and now 'tis mean to fear.
I saw your melting Pity when she wept,
And my rough heart but very hardly scap'd.
Yet look a little farther and you'l find
That spite of all your fortune yet is kind.
What triumphs the whole VVorld prepares, you'll see,
And then hereafter think how great you'll be.
Tit.
VVho for Barbarity would be ador'd!
I hate my self, Nero so much abhor'd,
That bloody Tyrant, whom I blush to name;
VVas never half so cruel as I am.
43
VVill pardon me when at her feet I kneel:
Let's go, and let proud Rome say what it will.
Paul.
How Sir?
Tit.
By Heav'n I know not what I say:
Excess of Sorrow drives my mind astray.
Paul.
O follow where your full Renown does lead,
Your last adieus Report abroad has spread.
Rome that did mourn, does now new triumphs frame,
The Temples fume with Offerings to your name:
The people wild in the applause y'have won
With Laurel Wreaths to crown, your Statues run.
Tit.
By that their Salvage natures they betray,
For so wild beasts roar o'r their murder'd prey.
VVho would have sense the sweets of power to prize!
Since most in danger when we highest rise:
For who by Greatness e'r did happy grow?
None but the heavy Slave is truly so.
VVho travels all his life in one dull road,
And drudging on in quiet, loves his load.
Seeking no farther than the needs of Life,
Knows what's his own, and so exempt from strife,
And cherishes his homely careful wife.
Lives by the Clod, and thinks of nothing higher;
Has all, because he cannot much desire.
Had I been born so low, I had been blest
Of what I love, without controul possest.
Never had Honour or Ambition known,
Nor ever to be Great, had been undone.
[Shout within.
Paul.
The Tribunes, Sir, and Senate with their state,
I'th' name of all the Empire for you wait,
They'r follow'd too by an impatient throng,
VVho seem to murmur, you delay so long.
44
Toyle me no more, disperse that clamorous Rout:
Tell 'em they shall no more have cause to doubt;
The Queens departure they'll to morrow see,
And me as wretched as they'd have me be.
Take this Paulinus: bear it to the Queen,
[Writes on a Tablet.
For should we meet, I must relapse again;
I h've bid her here eternally adieu,
Stay while she reads it, and her troubles view,
And bring me faithful word, as thou art true.
Hold! oh my Heart! yet go, it it must be done,
For what's necessity, we cannot shun.
Would I had never known what 'tis to live,
Or a new Being to my self could give.
Some monstrous and unheard of Shape now find,
As Salvage, and as Barbarous as my mind.
Antiochus!
Enter Antiochus, Attendants, Arsaces.
Ant.
My last Adieu to pay,
I come, and dare in Rome no longer stay.
My griefs, and my afflictions, grow so high;
If not by absence slacken'd, I must dye.
Tit.
What reason have the happy to repine?
Now Berenice for ever will be thine.
VVith all her charms receive her to thy brest,
And be of all I ever lov'd, possest.
Ant.
It is beneath you, Sir, to mock my pain:
I ever kneel to Berenice again!
No, should I stay to see you when you part,
Tho I am sure the sight would break my heart,
Yet she, as still my prayers have been deny'd,
Tho I but beg'd one blessing ere I dy'd,
Even then with scorn would throw me from her side.
Tit.
Oh Heaven! she's entring, from her Charms lets fly,
I know my weakness; if I stay, I dye.
45
[Ex. Titus.
Enter Berenice, &c.
Ber.
How he hasts away!
Ingrateful! Dearest Perjur'd Titus, stay.
[kneels.
Afflictions catch him, great as those I bear.
My Lord, at last I have receiv'd my Doom:
'Tis seal'd; but ere I part from you and Rome,
I ask, and I your pardon would receive:
Can you the wrongs which I have done, forgive?
Ant.
I never any Injuries did find;
No, Berenice has always been too kind.
With one soft word, how suddenly I'm lost,
And have no sense of my disgraces past!
But must I then for ever lose you so?
I am no Roman, nor was ere your foe.
No, rather here continue, and be Great,
Whilst I live ever hopeless at your feet.
Ber.
Should I stay here and my wrongs tamely bear
From him that shuns, and flies me every where?
I have a nobler mind, and you shall see
I can disdain and scorn as much as he:
For tho 'tis true, I never can be yours;
Both Rome and him my heart this hour abjures.
Ant.
To banish him your heart, whilst you prepare,
VVhat will you do with all the Love that's there?
There's no one Mortal can deserve it all,
And sure a little to my share might fall.
Ber.
Oh of that killing Subject, talk no more,
I would have lov'd you, if I could, before.
Love for another struck me with his Dart,
And 'tis not in my power to force my heart.
Ant.
When first my Passion was disdain'd for him,
You kept me yet alive with your esteem.
But now at last his breach of Faith you see,
And bear it nobly too: how can it be
T' your self so Just, and yet so hard to me?
46
What cruel storms, and fierce assaults you make,
To batter down a heart you cannot take!
Till you have broke it. Will you not give o'r?
No, rather let me go, and hear no more.
Antio.
O stay, since of the Victory you are secure,
Pitty the pains and anguish I endure;
[Kneels
In wounds which you and none but you can cure.
Look back, whilst at your feet my self I cast,
And think the sigh that's coming is my last.
My heart it's sad eternal farewell takes:
Be but so kind to see me when it breaks.
Ber.
Rise, rise my Lord. The Emperor's return'd.
Conduct me hence, let me not more be scorn'd.
Enter Titus.
Tit.
How am I lost! resolve on what I will,
Spite of my self I wander this way still.
Why would you Berenice my presence shun?
Ber.
No! I'le hear nothing, I've resolv'd on flight,
And will be gone. Why come you in my sight?
Why come you thus t'exasperate my despair?
Are you yet not content? I know you are.
Tit.
If ever yet my heart was dear to yours;
By all our plighted vows, those softest hours
In which for ever to be true I swore,
I beg that you'd afford me yet one more.
Ber.
I till to morrow had your leave to stay;
But my resolves are to be gone to day.
And I depart.
Tit.
No journey must you take.
Would you poor Titus in his griefs forsake?
No! Stay—
Ber.
I stay! Ungrateful as you are.
For what? a Peoples rude affronts to bear.
That with the sound of my misfortune rend
The Clouds, and shouts to Heaven in Vollys send?
Does not their cruel joy yet reach your ears,
Whilst I alone Torment my self in tears?
By what offence or crime are they thus mov'd?
Alas! what have I done, but too much Lov'd?
47
D'you mind the voice of an outragious throng?
I ever thought your constancy more strong.
Never believ'd your heart so weak could be,
Whose powerful charms had captivated me.
Ber.
All that I see distraction does create,
These rich Apartments and this Pompous State.
These Places where I spent my happiest hours,
And plighted all my Vows, false Man, to yours.
All, as most vile Impostors I detest,
How strangely, Titus, might we have been blest!
Tit.
This art to torture souls where did you learn?
Or was it in your nature with you born?
Oh Berenice! how you destroy me!
Attendants, bring your Chair nearer.
Ber.
No,
Return and to your famous Senate go;
That for your cruelties applaud you so.
Have you not honour to your full delight?
Have you not promis'd to forget me quite?
What more in expiation can you do?
Have you not ever sworn to hate me too?
Tit.
Can you do any thing to make me hate?
Or can I ever Berenice forget?
This hard suspition was unjustly urg'd,
'Gainst a poor heart too much before surcharg'd.
Oh Madam! know me better, and recall
The wrong, since first I at your feet did fall.
Count all the single days and minutes past,
Where in my vows and my desires I prest.
And at this time your greatest Conquest know,
For you were never so belov'd as now.
Nor ever—
Ber.
Still your Love you'd have me own,
Yet you your self command me to be gone.
Is my despair so charming to your view?
D' you think the tears I shed are all too few?
Of such a heart, a vain return you make,
No never call those dear Idea's back.
But suffer me inthis belief to rest;
That secretly, long since exil'd your breast,
48
And one that never lays the loss to heart.
If you had Lov'd me, this had nere been sent,
Here you have commanded me to banishment.
[Opens the Tablets
What wondrous Love you bear me this doth show.
Read, read, ungrateful, read and let me go.
[Gives him the Tablets
Tit.
You shall not go, I have not given consent,
Nor will I ever to your banishment.
Your cruel resolution I descry,
To be reveng'd of me you seek to dye.
And then of all I love, except the pain,
Nought but the sad remembrance will remain.
Antiochus! be thou a witness here
Ber. sinks down in a Chair.
Of all my misery and my despair.
Antio.
Despair's a Theam I only understand;
You, if you will, your wishes may command.
Such Beauty ready for possession see,
And leave that ugly hag Despair, to me.
Antio.
Behold those eyes how dull and dark they grow!
Madam, when at your feet I fall thus low,
[Kneels.
Vouchsafe my sad afflictions to believe,
Alas! 'tis all the ease I'm like to have.
When first the dreadful minute I beheld;
That by my duty and the Laws compel'd,
I found it forc'd that you must hence depart.
Though nothing e're can banish you my heart.
'Twas then my soul had first a sense of fears,
Foreseeing your reproaches and your tears.
I then expected, Madam, all the weight
Of woes that can on worst misfortunes light.
But whatsoever fears opprest my heart,
I find I but foresaw the lesser part.
I thought my vertue not so apt to bow;
And am asham'd 'tis thus intangled now.
Ber.
Let me alone and vex my soul no more,
You of your vertue talk't enough before.
Urge it not still to aggravate my shame.
VVhen Crown'd with conquest from the wars you came,
I know you brought me but to fill your state;
For else the triumph had not been complete.
49
Since you have then resolv'd: It shall be so.
And judg by this if y'are belov'd or no.
No longer Torments on my soul shall prey,
Since I to freedom see so brave a way;
A way by more than one great Roman shown,
Who, when their Misery's had prest 'em down,
Propt from within, shook off with life, the weight,
Offers to stab himself
And thus fell nobly grapling with their fate.
Ber.
Oh stay! to wrong me more what way dy'e take?
Would Titus die for Berenices sake?
I see the blow you cruelly prepare
To wound that breast where I, you say, have share.
To hurt what's mine would be unjustly done,
No, rather strike this heart, that's all your own.
Tit.
Best of thy sex! and dearest, now I see.
How poor is Empire when compar'd to thee.
Hence ye, perplexing Cares, that clog a brain,
Whilst struck with extasie, I here fall down.
[Kneels
Thus at your feet a happy prostrate laid,
I'm much more blest than if the world I swaid.
Ber.
Now the blest Berenice enough has seen:
[Kneels
I thought your Love had quite extinguisht been:
But 'twas my error, for you still are true.
Your heart is troubled, and your tears I view.
Ev'n my worst sufferings much o'repaid I see,
Nor shall th' unhappy world be curst for me,
Nothing since first 'twas yours, my love would shake,
So absolute a Conquest did you make.
But now I'le bring it to the utmost test,
And with one fucal Act crown all the rest.
Tit.
Hah! tell me Berenice what will you do?
Ber.
Far from your sight and Rome for ever go:
I have resolv'd on't, and it shall be so.
Tit.
Antiochus! I 'm born to be undone;
When I the greatest conquest thought t'have won:
Ev'n in my noblest race I am out-run.
But thou wer't always gen'rous, always kind;
Your inlarg'd Kingdom shall to hers be joyn'd.
And now how much you are my faithful friend;
50
Falling on his neck.
Never forsake her in sad distress.
Where e're she goes, for ever with her be.
And sometimes in my absence sigh for me.
Antio.
Arsaces! on thy bosome let me lye,
VVhilst I but take one last dear look, and die.
Ber.
No live: and by a generous strife out-do
Us both, and of your self be conqu'rour too.
Farewel.
Let us all three a rare example prove:
Of a most tender though unhappy love.
Thus, Sir, your Peace and Empire I restore.
Farewell and reign, I'le never see you more.
[Ex. Ber.
Antio.
Oh Heaven!
Tit.
She's gone and all I valu'd lost:
Now Friend, let Rome, of her great Emp'ror boast.
Since they themselves first taught me cruelty,
I'le try how much a Tyrant I can be.
Henceforth all thoughts of pitty I'le disown,
And with my arms the Universe ore-run.
Rob'd of my Love, through ruins purchase fame,
And make the world's as wretched as I am.
[Exeunt Omnes.
| Titus and Berenice | |