University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE I.

An Anti-Chamber in the Empresses Appartment in the Pallace.
Enter Perennius and Lætus.
Lætus.
Have but a little Patience.—

Peren.
Patience!
Now Curses on thy Counsels, they have ruin'd me;
And then thou thrusts me out to slavish Patience.
Patience! the lazy Refuge of mean Souls,
That rather bear, than struggle with their Fortune.
Gods! how I despise it; if I fall, it shall
Be in a manly grapple with my Fate;
While my large Ruins crush ye all to Atoms.
No more of thy dull Counsels.

Læt.
You lik'd 'em once.
And by 'em have remov'd your pow'rful Rival.

Peren.
But rais'd a greater—set Portia farther off,
Beyond the bounds of my extensive hopes.
M' Ambition too's defeated; for her Brother
Wears all the Plumes of his degraded Friend,
And fond as a Child of's new gaudy Cloaths;
Already's gone to take possession of 'em.
Had I but gain'd that point, my love had thriv'd,
Spight of the changeful Emperors Will, or Pow'r.

Læt.
I know not what you think, that look through Mists,
Through Clouds of Passion; but to me I swear
By the great Gods, that all seems wondrous Well.
Why are we here else? at this dead of Night?
And by the Empresses Order? but with freedom
To consult your mutual satisfaction.
Is she not raging with neglected Love?
Resents she not with more than equal Ardor,
Th'estrang'd Affections of the Emperor?
But you will lose this means of Happiness,
Rather than have Patience! slavish Patience!

Per.
Pardon me Friend, my Soul is on the Rack,
I cannot think of losing heav'nly Portia!
But wild distraction seizes on my Brain!
And like a Whirl-wind rends my very Heart up.
But I am calm again, now Hope appears,
Temperate as Age to hear thy Story out.

Læt.
When I say I told her of it—

Per.
Ay then! What said she?

Læt.
At first she silent stood, as struck with Lightning,
Fixt were her Eyes, and motionless each part,
The charming Red forsook her beauteous Face,
And left it bleak, and wan; then in a moment,
A fiery Blush o'er-spread it; and from her Eyes
A show'r of Tears burst with impetuous force,
As if they meant to quench the angry Flame
That burnt her Cheeks. And then you might have seen
Pride, Love, Desire, Despair, Fear, and Disdain,
Rowl, clash, and break like furious meeting Tydes;
Till in this mighty Hurrican of Passion,
The wretched Princess sunk into her Chair.

Per.
Proceed, this Story moves me.

Læt.
It would be
Tedious to repeat her various Agonies,
And all that past till her tempestuous Rage
Had work'd it self into a calm of Thought,
How to redress, if not prevent her Wrongs.
But having inform'd her of the share you took
In her Suff'rings, she appointed this Place,
And Time, for our Consultation; and I
Have got, I think, the means of both your ease.

Per.
As how my best Friend?

Læt.
You see the Empress comes.
You shall partake it with her.

Enter Empress.
Empr.
Divorc'd! thrown from him like a loath'd Embrace!
Am I grown old and ugly in one Month?
Gods! I shall be the out-cast of the Court!
The Laughter, or the Pity of the Vulgar!
Of ev'ry fawning Rascal! Oh! my Heart!
May all the Plagues he has invok'd light on him!
For his base Perjuries! Oh! but I love him,
Ev'n to Distraction Love, th'ingrateful false one:
That blunts my Rage, and quite disarms Revenge,
Converts my Curses on my Tongue to Blessings.
I have no Refuge left, but sad Complaints;
And those, but fan the fury of my Love;
Set all his Charms in my despairing Eyes,
Shew me the dear, blissful, heav'nly good I lose.
Oh! Death! Confusion, 'tis not to be born!

Læt.
I cannot see such Beauty in such Grief!
I will break off the anxious Scene, Madam!

Empr.
Ha, Lætus, are yeu here, Perennius, too?
'Tis much to find two Friends, and in Disgrace.

Per.
Madam, such Beauty wrong'd can ne'er want Friends.

Empr.
Flatter me not, for I'm grown old and wither'd.

Læt.
Fresh by the Gods, and Beauteous as the Morning.

Empr.
Oh! were I so, how cou'd m' Emperor slight me?

Per.
His Appetite's too weak to taste so fierce a Joy.

Empr.
Is Portia fair? for yet I never mark'd her.

Per.
Bright as Pondora, made by all the Gods,
T'allure the stubborn Heart of the first Man.

Empr.
Ah! me!

Per.
But, Madam, to the means of your Relief.

Empr.
Ay my good Friends, proceed.

Læt.
The Emperor's Passion is yet but young,
And by removing Portia, wou'd soon dye;

Per.
And then his Love for you in course revives.

Empr.
But how! how shall I compass this Design?

Læt.
Madam, I have a Friend among the Vestals,
Who will convey her safely to their Temple.

Per.
Their Habit gives them passage where they please;
Nor will she scruple to venture with a Priestess.

Læt.
Thence may she make her wish'd escape to Martian.

Empr.
If she does love but half so well as I,
She will be swift to catch this blest occasion.

Læt.
But she must haste to use this dead of Night.
The Priestess shall be here within an Hour.

Empr.
Well, I'll away to free her and my self;
For while she's here, no hopes for me remain,
But a black Scene of dreadful Woe, and Pain.

Per.
Well, but how wilt thou perform this lucky Thought?

Læt.
Why, I will be this holy Vestal Virgin,
And bear your Portia for you, to your Arms.

Per.
Let me embrace thee, thou Soul of brave design,
But finish this, and all my Fortune's thine.

(Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Portia's Appartment.
Scene opens, and discovers Portia lying in a Melancholly posture on a Couch. Enter the Emperor.
Emp.
Such was Europa, such bright Danae was,
And such was Læda, thus transporting fair,
When with dilusive Arts great Jove compress'd 'em!
Oh! that I cou'd, like him, but change my Form,
T'assume that likeness, that wou'd please you most.
Gods might unenvy'd, keep their Joys above,
I'd wish no other Heav'n but my Love.

(She starts from her Couch, on discovering the Emperor.
Por.
Ha! is he here? and at this dead of Night!
Oh! guard my Virtue Heav'n from the Tyrant!

(Turns aside.
Emp.
Why d' ye start? why turn those Eyes away?
That like Achilles Spear shou'd heal the Wounds they gave.

Por.
O Sir, for Virtues sake with speed retire!
I must not hear, nor see you at this time.

Emp.
Oh! name not Virtue with that charming Face,
Beauty and Virtue are at Mortal odds,
And as irregular as Frosty Summers.
What has that melting form to do with Virtue?
That artful Dawb of the Deform'd and Old,
To force from Men a faint regardless look,
Who else wou'd never mind 'em.
Beauty and Youth abound with Love Charms,
And from their own bright source of Heav'nly Fires,
Difuse around soft Flames, and warm Desires.

Por.
Oh! name not Love, that is a noble Passion,
Disdains the barren Soil of guilty Minds,
And only sprouts in the warm Sun of Virtue.
Can'st thou, that tamely bares insulting Nations,
Seest Tyrants burgeon on each side, each day,
Without one Check, can that low groveling Soul
Pretend to reach the lofty hights of Love?

Emp.
Mistaken Notions lead your sense astray;
Love dwells not in the noisie busie Breast,
But in the sweet Retreat of Peace and Joy,
Now, by the Gods, the Trojan Shepherd chose
With Judgment, when for Beaty he refus'd,
The rugged Cares of Courage, and of Kingdoms.
Let th'Ambitious take the busie World,
Thou shalt to me be Victory and Crowns.
Ambition will but give the half his Heart;
I'll not with-hold ev'n the minutest part.

Por.
Oh! how my Soul disdains thee!
Thou, that hast held the Chariot of Romes Glory,
With such a feeble Rein, that it is faln,
With vast Rapidity, from its full Noon,
Down to the doubtful twylight of its Set.
How canst thou think to move a Roman Mind,
Full of the injur'd Genius of her Country,
That groans beneath thy mean Tyrannick sway?

Emp.
Well! I will draw the inspiration, hence;
And from thy Lips suck that old Roman Virtue,
That for thy sake shall make pale War look lovely.

[Goes to her, Embraces her; She struggles from him.
Por.
Stand off! imperial Villain! touch me not!
Thy sooty Soul pollutes me from thy Mouth;
Cou'd I tell how, I'd stop thy guilty Breath.

Emp.
How lovely is thy Rage!
Enter Empress.
What brings her hither to disturb my Bliss?
My Soul was flutt'ring with the very Kiss.

(aside.
Por.
Thanks to the Gods for this deliverance.

Empress.
Where is this Trayteress? Where those baneful Charms
That hold my Emperor from my longing Arms?
Ha! he is here! here at this Midnight hour,
[Sees him.
All raging Love, and she within his Pow'r!
Her Virtue must too weak a Guard have been,
Against the force of such alluring Sin.

Emp.
Wrong not, by your fond Jealousie betrayd,
Th'immortal Virtue of this heav'nly Maid;
In Contradiction by the Gods, design'd,
To our false Maxims against Woman kind;
For in a Court, in spight of Force, or Pray'r,
She's Constant, Chast, a Woman, Young and Fair.

Empress.
Why will you then pursue a fruitless pain?
Fly what you have, for what you can't obtain?
Return my Wanderer; O! return again!
I Sigh, I Pant, I perish by delay;
(My sleeping Cares, my Pangs, and Fears all Day)
Come to my Breast, thou'st been too long away.
Embraces him.
When scarce awake, about my Arms I cast,
With eager hopes, to press my Emperor fast;
But he not there, I draw 'em back gain;
Then reach all round, but all alass! in vain;
For he's fled from me, who should ease my Pain.
My Fears awake me, and I gaze around,
But there no Print of my false Love is found;
Frighted I rise, to seek where he is fled;
Then throw my self upon my Widow'd Bed.

Por.
O! Emperor! can't such a tender Love
Your stubborn Heart with gentle Pity move?

Emp.
Her nauseous fondness but provokes my scorn.

Por.
O barbarous Wretch, sure of no Woman born!
No soft Compassion harbours in thy Mind,
But all thy Deeds confess thy Savage kind.
Foolish as false, slight the best Joys of Life,
In the Embraces of a constant Wife.

Emp.
A Wifes Embraces are all pall'd and dull—
Besides, your Image fills m' extended Soul.
From your fierce Love no Refuge I can find;
Like Guilt, inexpiable, it hants my Mind;
Converts me all into its self like Fire,
In which, like Fuel spent, I must at last expire.

Empress.
O! try by Absence, to dissolve these Charms!
Fly from her Witchcraft to my Circling Arms.

Emp.
Too weak that Circle to secure my Heart;
Sh' has spread the Poyson through each vital part.
Absence alas! attempts my Cure in vain,
Absence it self augments the charming Pain,
The more I'm from her, still I love the more,
Possession only can my Peace restore.
But there Fate stands, and with an awful Brow,
Checks each fond Wish, and every eager Vow:
Drives me all naked from Hopes warmer Air,
To the severest Winter of Despair.

Por.
Behold more kind, and nobler Beautys there.

[Pointing to the Empress.
Emp.
You turn my Eyes from you, to her in vain,
'Spight of Despair, and all its gastly train;
I'll love you still, and fond the raging Pain.
Nor to pale Night will I resign my Breath,
But shun the enticing blandishments of Death;
Death to your Pow'r a speedy end wou'd give,
But in the Tortures you ordain I'll live.

Empress.
Believe him not, for he is all Deceit,
Taught by my Ills, avoid the treacherous Bait.
For, ah! by fond Credulity betray'd,
I thought all true the lov'd Dissembler said:
Beliv'd his Words, addrest with all the Art.
Of strong Perswasion, to subdue my Heart.
Believ'd his Oaths, believ'd each tender Vow:
Believ'd his melting Tears, which artfully did flow!
The fatal shelf of Faith in him, oh! shun,
I but believ'd him, and I was undone!

Portia.
Fear not fair Empress any wrong from me,
How little he can move my Heart, you see.
His Words, like empty sounds, pass by my heedless Ears,
His Love gives me no Pleasure, and his Threats no Fears.

Empress.
See, she rejects you! whether wou'd you fly?
It is not Portia doats on you, but I.
Oh let me reap the Fruit of her kind Scorn!

Emperor.
Away, this fondness is not to be born.
Nor do you much insult ingrateful Fair,
On thee I will revenge these Pangs of my Despair.
I will not long, thus burn with hopeless Fires,
Nor groan beneath the weight of impotent Desires.

Por.
Thy threats don't touch me; more than thy vain Love.

Empress.
Hear me, O hear ye conscious Pow'rs above,
How oft he swore the Tyler's Streams shou'd go,
Back sooner to the Source from whence they flow:
That Sun and Moon shou'd sooner loose their Light,
And bury Mankind in Eternal Night.
Than he be false. Then Tyber quickly turn,
And with inverted Volumes hast t'your Native Urn:
Rise Darkness, rise, and hide us all, for he's forsworn:
The dear Protester now is falser grown,
Than Wind, or Ocean, or the changeful Moon.

[Pressing him in her Arms.
Emperor.
I cannot, will not love, nay, see you more.

Empress.
O! ye just Gods, who heard him when he swore!
By Juno, Venus, Vesta, and by Jove;
To me, and me alone Eternal Love.
Why ye tame Gods, why don't ye strike him dead,
Why don't your Bolts pierce his devoted Head?
[Pauses.
—Ah no! good Gods spare, spare his precious Life,
[Kneeling.
Transfix the Heart of his abandon'd Wife.

Emperor.
I'll hear no more—
For such Contagion her soft Words impart,
I feel a Forraign Pity storm my Heart.

[aside.
Empress.
O! you must hear me; for Pity's sake, but hear,
To my Complaints you may afford your Ear,
Though your dear Heart be gone—

Emp.
I must away,
I shall betray my weakness if I stay.

[He struggles to get from her.
Empress.
Oh! stay and tell me, tell me, prithee do,
Why thou deserts thy wretched Empress so?
What Crimes your Anger, and Aversion move,
But a too mighty tenderness, and Love?

Emperor.
Stand off—,—and loose me, or—

[Clapping his Hand on his Dagger.
Empress.
Draw not thy Dagger, thy poor Wife to kill,
Thy Cruelty will do't—indeed it will.

[Weeps.
Emperor.
There's a Confusion fixes me in Ill,
Methinks it is unworthy me to yield.
No, I will fly, since I can't keep the Field.

[Breaks from her and Exit.
Empress.
Oh! he is gon, the cruel false one's gon!

Por.
Persue him, Madam, and the day's your own.
Your Goodness bore his stubborn Vices down,
And for just Pity made a noble way,
You suffer them to rally, if you stay.

Emp.
O! I am weary of this fruitless Pain!
Gods! must I wast my Charms, and Youth in vain,
No I will arm me with severe Disdain.
A generous Pride my surest Guard will prove,
Against the Fury of my hopeless Love.
[Pauses.
Ah! no—It will not be—my Heart rebels,
And all the Efforts of Pride my raging Love repels.
Well, I will after him—pursue him still,
And if he will not love me, sure he'll kill!
Oh! that he wou'd ev'n so but give me Rest,
I'd clasp the dear Destroyer to my dying Breast.

[Exit.
Por.
Unhappy Princess, may'st thou find Success,
For mine is twisted in thy Happiness;
If thy strong Virtue but Triumphant proves,
We both shall reap the Harvest of our Loves.

[Exit.

SCENE III.

Changes to the Street.
Enter Martian and Cleander.
Mart.
Cleander , prithee leave me with the rest.
Surpriz'd, turn'd out to the inclement World,
Naked of Help, I have no means to keep thee.
Banish'd, proscrib'd, a Price set on my Head,
My only Bosome Friend, that shou'd have lent
His Shoulder to support this sinking Atlas,
Flyes from me with the common nasty Herd
Of Knaves, Sycophants, Buffoons, and Flaterers.
And with my Laurels decks his Faithless Brow.
All shun me like Infection; therefore leave me.

Clean.
Oh! Sir, dismiss this Avarice of Woe,
And let your Servant share your wretched Fortune!
As he has done your Good! I'm no Summer Fly.
To love your Shine, and fly your stormy Weather.
My Industry has got some little Treasure
Under you, that may help you in your Exile.

Mar.
Why shoud'st thou love me so, who by me
Alone hast lost thy Freedom.

Clean.
Dear Sir,
I lost my Freedom in my Country's Cause,
And in amends Fate gave the best of Masters;
And may I on a Dunghill, like a Dog,
Rot, rot piece meal, if ever I forsake you.
Is it so hard, to let your poor Slave starve with you.

Mar.
Yes, for 'twou'd be unjust, and shock my Nature.
O false Aurelian! O degenerate Rome!
Learn Faith, and Virtue from this noble Slave!
Honest Cleander, I have no business for thee,
I'm at the end of Life's uneasie Journey,
And can reach Death's near Inn without thy help.

Cle.
O Sir! far be that Thought! your Country calls
Implores your Help, to free it from Oppression.
Fly to the Army, they will own your Cause,
And save lost Rome from black devou'ring Knaves.

Mar.
'Twill be in vain, for Knaves will still be uppermost;
They float aloft, like Chaff upon the Water,
Which though by moving you a while disperse,
Soon as the ruffl'd Element is settl'd,
They gather all a top again.

Clean
Think of your Portia then,
When you are gone, where will be her Rescue?

Mar.
Ay, there Cleander thou hast touch'd the Note,
That breaks the drowsie Charm of lazy Death,
And makes my Soul exert its Native Fire.
What leave her, to the Tyrant's Will and Pow'r?
For him to brood o're all her chaster Sweets!
Gods! good Gods! how that wild Thought distracts me!
No, I will live, for her thus curs'd will live!
And rouse the sleeping Soldier in my Bosome.
To win the Army to revenge her Wrongs,
Crush the black Tyrant, and deliver Rome.
Force may be swifter than their distant Rescue.
Therefore I will secure my Portia first.
And she in safety, I can't perish all.
It shall be so—Cleander, I'll employ thee.

Clean.
Blessings on you Sir, let me embrace your Knees,
[Kneeles and embraces 'em.
For this kind Word; you shall see your Slave,
Fly through impervious Dangers, ev'n to death;
Swift as Revenge or Jealousie to serve you.

Mar.
You say the Guard takes you for Portia's Slave?

Clean.
I have been with her often since the Evening,
Went with her in the crowd too from the Temple.
Trusting my Faith, she sent me oft to find you,
And beg you hasten to deliver her.

Mar.
She shall be obey'd, for I'le now to her.

Clean.
Sir.

Mar.
With her consult of means for her escape,

Clean.
The Army, Sir, is the only means she hopes.

Mar.
Th'Army's uncertain, for they are Romans too.
Romans, and once my Friends, therefore must be false.

Clo.
This way you perish, known to all the Court.

Mar.
No, I will take thy Habit, and so pass.

Cle.
Consider Sir,

Mar.
No more I am resolv'd, thou'lt find me in the Porch of Vesta.

Clean.
I must obey, may all the Gods protect you

Thunders.
Mar.
A sudden clap of Thunder without Clouds,
A waving Sword i'th'Air,—'tis wondrous strange.
[pauses.
Avaunt be gone ye dreadful boding Omens!
For I will on, since Love will have it so.
If I have err'd ye ruling Powers above,
'Tis by the force of a resistless Love;
Spare her, for I alone am Criminal,
And on my head let all your vengeance fall.
Give me relentless Gods this one relief;
With this Encrease enrich my Barren Grief;
Then shall I have the Cordial Joy to see,
My Portia happy by my Misery,
In that vast pleasure loose my wretched state,
And smile at the vain Impotence of Fate.

[Exit.