University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE. I.

Portia's Apartment in the Pallace.
Enter Portia at one Door, and Martian in Cleanders Habit at the other.
Por.
Well, good Cleander, hast thou seen my Lord?
And will he haste, to rescue his lost Portia?

Mar.
With all the speed of longing eager Love:

[Runs to her and embraces her.
Port.
Unhand me Slave—What means this Insolence?

[She starts from him.
Mar.
What does not then my charming Portia know me?
And can a thin disguise conceal her Martian?
(He pulls off his Beard.
Methinks her Heart should beat at my Approach,;
And by its Sympathetick Throbs reveal me.

(She looks earnestly at him while he speaks; and after the first word runs into his Arms.
Por.
Martian!—ha! My Lord! my Love! my Life!

Mar.
Portia my Soul! my Bliss! my Heav'n!
(They Embrace.
Oh! do I hold thee once more in my Arms!
The full Amends of all my Suff'rings past!

Port.
Where hast been poor Wand'rer? Where hast been?
What hast thou done? How have the Gods dealt with thee
Since thou wert ravish'd from me at the Altar?
Where is the Army? Will they own thy Cause?
Are they come with thee? Am I free from Bonds?
Answer me—tell me all; Oh! tell me quickly!
For I have yet a thousand things to ask;
And horrid strange, prodigious things to tell thee.

Mar.
Speak on—I'll answer thee with Kisses; press thee
Close to my Heart, while on thy panting Bosome
I breath the dear Distractions of my Fondness!
Loose all my Griefs; all thoughts of pressing Fortune
In this Abyss of Joy, of beamy Heav'n!
Eternal Raptures of Almighty Love
Dance round my Heart, and make me grow Immortal.

Por.
Oh! I am faint with Joy; Convulsive Heavings
Extend my Bosome, and my throbing Heart
Flutters about, as if 'twou'd beat its last!

Mar.
Gods! good Gods! give me, Oh! give me Portia!
Give me but her, and cast your Crowns and Glory,
Victory and Fame to the poor busie Slaves,
That wou'd be great, with her I wou'd sit down,
In peaceful and unenvy'd Poverty,
Above the anxious Greatness of Renown.

Por.
O! all ye Heav'nly Powers! that fixt this World,
With the Cement of Universal Love,
Why is such tender Passion not your Care?
Such Virtue, and such Truth by all forsaken?
Can you view Mortal Joys with envyous Eyes?
Or grudge the scanty Riv'lets of our Pleasures,
Amidst such Torrents of surrounding Wo!
Ah! no—'tis I; 'tis my contagious Fate,
'Tis cursed I have ruin'd my poor Martian!
O! that I rather never had been born!
Or scalded o're with frightful Leprosies,
Wrinkl'd with Age, and loath'd Deformities.

Mar.
Accuse not Heav'n, nor curse thy Beauteous Form!
My Crimes alone have made me thus unhappy.

Por.
And can'st thou love me still? after the Sufferings,
That I have cost thee?—

Mar.
Sure thou dost not doubt it.—
Love thee still?—Yes, by my dearest Hopes!
Thy very Name yields Joy; thy Talk darts Raptures,
An oh! thy self—oh! 'tis not to be spoke!
'Tis mighty extasie beyond unfolding.
Heav'n is most just, withholds thee from my Arms,
Because it sees I've not deserv'd thee yet.

Por.
Alas, thy Love restores my tainted Blood,
Or sees not the black Crimes it has admitted!

Mar.
What canst thou mean? thy frightful Words, and Gesture,
Cast a chill shivering Horror o're my Soul.

Por.
Perhaps thou know'st it not—the guilty Shame
Confounds me. I cannot utter it—

Mar.
If it be ought that does concern my Love,
That threatens that, delay not to inform me,
If not, all other Ills are Forraign things,
And give no Pain.

Por.
Must I then tell my Shame?

Mar.
Ha! thy Shame! what wou'd these dreadful Words,
Tainted Blood, black Crimes and guilty Shame!
Nay, thy Shame too, ha!—Gods, I shall grow wild
With gastly doubts, with strange, with shocking Fears!
Art thou infected with thy Sexes Frailties?
False to thy Vows?—thy numerous Vows and Oaths?
Impossible! Answer me,—Can this be?
This is too much, too much, relentless Pow'rs
Makes me fall out with Providence, and think
That We're abus'd with Maxims of your Goodness!
This is not Just—I cannot, will not bear it,—

Por.
O! have but Patience.

Mar.
I've all th'extent of patient Sufferance.
Can bear th'Insults of the tumultuous People,
The Savage Fury of a Tyrant's Will;
Not all the threatning Hurricane of Heav'n,
Nor the right Hand of dreadful thundering Jove,
Nor shou'd the Frame of Nature burst asunder,
And crush us all to Atoms, wou'd it move me.
But this is worse than Poverty, Disgrace,
Exile, Diseases, Rods, Axes, or Distruction.
O end me, end me, quickly Gods, least I
Blaspheme, and doubt your Beings. Ah!
Blast me with Lightning; throw me down,

Por:
But ah! my Brother! your loving Friend Aurelian!

Mar.
What of him?

Por.
Ah! he is false! could'st thou think it.
Urg'd me to falsehood too, indeed he did:
Courted the Tyrant with most Servile Flattery,
To build his Fortune upon Martian's Ruins.
Calm this loud Tempest, thy Mistake has rais'd,
Or see me perish in thy Sight this moment!

Mar.
O! thou hast Pow'r to sooth unruly Frenzy,
Yes, I will hear you, though you Damn me farther.

Por.
Oh! that I love thee Martian, with all the Force
Of Purity and Truth, be Witness Heav'n!
And ev'ry awful Pow'r bend down and hear,
While in the fond Abundance of my Heart,
I swear, I love thee more than Health, or Life,
Than Liberty, or wish'd for Peace of Mind
Next to my Countrys good, and my own Honour!

Mar.
O charming Words! O extasie of Sound!
How it expands my Soul with mighty Joy!
So when the thundring Drum, and Trumpets Clangor,
The Horses Neighing, and the Soldier's Shouts,
Rouse me to Battle with a Godlike Rage,
The noble Fire extends my Heart, and Bounds,
Through all my Veins, and I am Ardor all,
Tumultuous Transport, and Immortal Fury.
[Pauses.
I have offended Portia by my Doubts,
But Oh! my Love, I swear thou art reveng'd,
Ixions's Wheel, and old Prometheus Vulture,
And all the various Tortures of the Damn'd,
Are sure much less than mine was. But my Fair,
Since thou art true, no matter who is false.
What say'st thou now? am not I infected?
Spotted all o're; a part of me has wrong'd thee.

Mar.
No, thou art white, and pure as Innocence!
He is no part of thee; nor of thy Kin,
Born of some Slave, and palm'd upon thy Parents,
The filthy product of some Courtier's Lust,
And in Hypocrisie has outdone his Sire.
I knew his Treachery, and had forgot it
Name him no more, the horrid Thought distracts me,
And quite inverts the Orders of my Soul.
For Oh! he'd wound himself about my Heart,
With all the noble Bonds of sacred Friendship,
That it has cost me strange stupendious Pangs,
To rend him from it—but he's gone, and
May all the Curses he invok'd light on him.

Por.
Ha! I hear a noise! fly my gentle Love,
[A Noise at a distance
Flye far from Rome; Oh! fly this Den of Thieves!
I charge you by your Love, make hast away;
I had thus long in Joy forgot thy Danger:
You are not safe, this is the Seat of Ruffians,
Informers, Sycophants. Here the Brother
Trusts not the Brother, nor the Son the Father.
Or if they do, they're certainly deceiv'd.
All Tyes of Trust and Confidence are ceas'd.

Mar.
I must not leave thee then in such Contagion,
But thou must with me—

Por.
More willingly, than
With a Guardian God: but how is't possible?

Mar.
All's possible
To love like thine, and mine,—I'll force my way
Thro' the thin Guard.

Por.
That will but arm the Court against thy Life.

Mar.
What is the Court? the mean enervate Court?
There's not the Soul of one brave Man among 'em,
They love themselves too well, to seek out Danger;
I am thy Soldier, and this Arm shall make 'em
Keep awful distance, while I bear thee through 'em.

Por.
Thy Love and Courage will not see the Hazard,
But I alas!—yet I will with my Love,
To dye with thee is next to living with thee:
—But oh! my Fears,
I hear the Noise again, Doors op'ning, the steps
Of some in hast, ah! clap on thy Disguise,
Or I shall dye with dreadful Apprehension!

(He claps it on.
Mar.
Fear not my Love, thou must be Heaven's chief care,
And for thy Virtue they will spare thy Martian.

Por.
See 'tis the Empress!

Enter Empress.
Emp.
Who have you here?
For I've important Business with you Portia,
That near concerns your Happiness and mine.

Por.
This, Madam, is an honest faithful Slave,
Whom I am sending to my exil'd Lord.

Emp.
Will you not go your self then?

Por.
Did I know how,
Swift as the Wind, with all the speed of Fear.

Emp.
That I design'd to tell you, when I found
My Emperor with you; but then you know,
My Love, Desire, and Hope, made me pursue him,
But since I cou'd not find him; I'm return'd,
To beg thee, if thou h'st Pity, Love, or Virtue,
As much thou seem'st to have, to fly him strait.
I cannot rest while you are here thus near him.
For ah! his Wit, his soft deluding Tongue
Will melt thee else to an abhor'd Complyance.
Oh! he is perfect in betraying Wiles;
Knows every subtle passage to the Heart,
And all the wondrous force of pointed Looks,
Can thaw the Icy Bosome of a Vestal,
Though for the Sin she's sure to suffer Death.
Oh! what cannot his cunning Arts perform,
Perswade the Miser from his hoarded Gold;
Active Ambition into languid Ease;
And ev'n the Priesthood into humble Honesty.
Fly therefore fly, the dear Destruction fly,
For if you stay, your Virtue surely dyes.

Por.
Not that I doubt my Virtue, I wou'd fly,
But my Soul, still languishes to Martian,
With most impetuous Ardor!—Oh! shew me
But how I shall get to him.

Emp.
'Tis thus:
I have procur'd a pious Vestal Virgin,
Who will convey thee safe to Vesta's Temple,
And thence find Means to get you out of Rome;
She waits us now in a lone Gallery?
To which I will by secret Doors conduct you,
That come not near your Guards—

Por.
You hear, Cleander, where you soon may find me,
Go to my Lord, and let him know the Joy.
'Twill ease his throbbing Heart, and cure his Griefs.
He'll bless the Gods, that when no help was hop'd,
Sent kind Relief to Vertue in Distress.

Mar.
Madam, I will, and may the Pow'rs above,
Crown all the Pious Empresses Desires!

(Exit.
Emp.
Come gentle Portia, use the present Hour,
The next, perhaps, may not be in our Pow'r.

(Exeunt Ambo.

SCENE II.

A Gallery in the Pallace.
Enter Perennius, and Lætus in a Vestal Virgins Habit.
Peren.
This is the place the Empress order'd us
To wait her in: But I must not be seen.
(Is going.
Gods! what sudden Trembling's this, that shakes me?
My Nerves forsake their Office, my Knees knock;
Faintness and Shiv'ring chills my Heart!

Læt.
'Tis the surprize of near approaching Joy,
That, like a Mid-night 'Larum in a Camp,
Starts all your Faculties into Confusion:
They'll soon into their ancient order fall,
And bear you bravely to the noble Onset.

Per.
I hope they will—Hark! a Noise! 'st'tis the Door,
I will before, to give you timely Notice,
If ought approach, bring her through the back Court;
'Tis most remote and safe.

Læt.
Be gon, I will.

[Exit Peren.
The Door opens, the Empress and Portia enter with a Candle, Lætus goes to 'em.
Empress.
O! here's the pious Priestess that conducts you,
To her, and to the Gods I must commend you.
And if the Wishes of a Wretch, like me,
Will ought avail, may they convey you safe,
To him you love, and make your Exile easie!

Por.
Opinion is the God that makes us happy.
And where my Martian is, I must be so;
For he is Country, Friends, and all to Me.

Læt.
Madam, this Light must out, or back with you.

[To the Empress.
Por.
What in the Dark!

Læt.
The Light will discover us.
The Moon's kind Beams will do our business best.

Por.
And will you gentle Virgin bring me safe

Læt.
To Vesta's Temple, and from thence to Martian!
It is our Duty to assist th'unhappy.

Por.
It were Impiety, indeed, to doubt
The highest Holy Ministers of Heav'n.

Læt.
Nothing but Fear, and Noise, and worse delay
Can disappoint your Happiness!

Emp.
Portia farewel, may Heav'n reward thy Virtue!

Por.
And yours the Emperor

(Exit with Lætus.
Emp.
Oh! that he wou'd!
It is not in Heav'ns Pow'r to bless me more.
But I'll go seek him out; and with fresh Tears
Melt his hard Heart, dissolve it into Love;
And in the Flames, that all my Bosome Fires
Consume his wandring Wishes and Desires.

(Exit at the Door, and shuts it after her.
Enter Emperor with Attendants and Lights.
Emp
It was not well to leave her in Despair;
I might have giv'n at least some doubtful Hope.
[Pauses.
I swear her tender Love was strongly moving!
And she is fair, by Heav'n! yes, wondrous fair!
And must be lov'd by all the World but me;
But I am doom'd to odd Fantastic Madness;
To doat on Pride, and vain affected Virtue,
That spurns me from her, and disdains my Love.
While I avoid the willing Charms that Court me.
But I will shake thy Chains off, cruel Portia,
And in my Empress's downy Arms forget thee.
Why dost thou fix thy beauteous Hand upon me?
Tear out my Heart, yet by the Gods I'll leave thee;
Gentle Valeria in her Breast shall shield me
From the imperious fury of thy Eyes.
Oh!
(Groans.
Like a poor Wretch upon his Feavourish Bed,
I toss, and tumble; turn from side to side,
And yet no easie posture can I find,
The raging Calenture still burns within.

(Seems to muse.
Enter Perennius at a distance.
Por.
Now Curses on ill Luck! the Doors are fast,
Through which we shou'd have made our wish'd escape.
They must come this way back.—Ha! the Emperor.
(Seeing him
Hell and Furys all's lost, what must be done?

(Studys.
Emp.
Well, I will to her; dry her falling Tears,
Lock her within my burning Arms, and swear
Never to see her fatal Rival more.

Peren.
It must be so—this Lætus is unlucky;
His Head designs well, but he has no Fortune,
And I still loose by vent'ring on his Bottom.
This Dagger, as he enters, shall secure me,
For yet this Secret is between us two:
And see they come.

Enter Lætus and Portia.
Læt.
Dispond not, Madam, all will yet be well.

Per.
Ay, when this Dagger has transfixt thy Heart.

(Stabs him.
Læt.
As he falls.
Ha! slain by thee! Villain, Dog! but I deserve it.

(Dyes.
Per.
(Aside.)
Dye quickly then, or else 'twill do no good.
Hold Madam, hold, I must secure you,
For the Emperor. Lights there Portia, Treason!
Portia is flying.

(Aloud to Portia, who shrieks at Lætus's fall, and is running back.
Emp.
Ha! what say'st thou,
That Sound has ruin'd all my best Resolves!
(Runs to her.
Whither is she Flying! whither, and with whom?

Per.
That Sir, I can't yet tell, but this will shew me.

(Takes a Light and looks at Lætus.
Emp.
Go instantly and seize the heedless Guards,

Per.
O ye good Gods, Sir, if it ben't Religion
That has conspir'd against your Happiness!

(Seems to look more earnestly at Lætus with the Light, kneeling down to the Body.
Emp.
Throw her vile Body to the hungry Dogs.

Per.
Ha! what is't I see! sure my Eyes must Err!
It is impossible! it cannot be!
What Lætus! my Friend! Death to my Repose!
The honest Lætus slain by this curs'd Hand!
Was this the kind return of all thy Friendship?
This the best Gift Perennius cou'd bestow?

Emp.
How's this! bemoan the Traytor in my hearing?

Per.
Pardon me Emperor, if I pay these Tears,
To one that lov'd me better than himself:
He was my Friend, my faithful honest Friend,
At least, I thought him so; the best good Man,
The plainest open Virtue, I e'er met with.
That, and his zealous Love for you, my Lord,
Won my Heart, for I've heard him swear,
He'd dye a thousand Deaths for your least Pleasure.
But oh! I find (alas! that he shou'd prove it.)
The fairest Tongues oft hide the foulest Hearts,
And noisie Zeal conceals the Traytors ends.
Yet, if he did dissemble—

Emp.
If he did?
Why, is't not plain, art not thou witness of it?

Per.
'Tis true, my Sov'raign, and the Avenger too.
He from my Hand deserv'd to meet his Fate,
That durst impose upon my honest Nature,
And wrong the best of Masters, and his Friend.

Per.
Bless me, Sir, a Man! what is't a Man?

Emp.
A Man, Madam, yes, a young handsom Man!
I find your boasted Virtue's of a piece,
With that of all the rest of your frail Sex;
A cunning Blind, to put off them you like not,
And to secure your sport with those you fancy.
Yet tell me, foolish Fair, how coud'st thou choose
This groveling Vassal, and refuse his Lord?

Per.
O! base Valeria! coud'st thou fall so low,
From all thy shining Virtue, to Revenge
So mean, and so ungenerous as this!

Emp.
Ha, Valeria, didst thou say the Empress?
Didst thou not name Valeria? speak.

Per.
Yes, and though I disdain thy poor Reflections,
Yet since my Honour claims the Truth, I'll speak.
It was the Empress that betray'd me to him,
With the false Hopes of flying to my Love.
I knew no other, than his Habit promis'd.
Through a blind Door she led me to this place,
And with dissembl'd Pity took her leave.

Per.
O! horrid Treachery, that she cou'd do so!

Emp.
Valeria, this low sordid Deed has stifl'd
All kind Designs of growing pity for thee
And Portia's mightier Beauties now resume,
And fix their Empire in my Heart for ever.

Per.
O, Sir, relaps not from such just Designs.
Howe'er the Empress meant to ruin me,
'Twas but the bad effect of too much Love.
You have no cause of anger at her Fault,
Since 'twas for you, only for you, she did it.

Emp.
Excuse her not, she knew you Innocent!
And therefore I must hate detest, and loath her.

Per.
What have I done, now Curses on my Tongue!
'Twas forg'd, and false, on purpose to abuse you!

Emp.
That cannot be, you knew not this by Door.
Come plead not for her, nor against my Passion.
For I'm all Fire, all Wild, and furious Love.
And by a Witchery most strange, and odd,
I love, and burn for, what obstructs my Hopes.
Perennius take my Portia to thy charge;
The Morning's Dawn shall make her Beauties mine.
Mean while, I will divorce me from Valeria,
And drive her out of the Imperial Pallace.

Per.
O hear me Sir, I beg you, on my Knees.

(Kneels.
Emp.
I will not hear one word upon that Subject,
But fly to punish thy ignoble Wrongs.

(Exit.
Per.
Punish 'em on thy self then brutal Tyrant!
I have no Enemies, no Wrongs, but thee,
Thou art the hatred Source of all my Wrongs.
O! ye great Gods, we're taught that you are just,
Why sleeps your Thunder then? why are your Bolts
Spent upon Trees, Mountains, and idle Deserts,
And never reach this Butcher of Mankind?
This old Oppressor of Innocence and Virtue!
Let 'em reach him, or me, I care not which,

Per.
Go fetch a Gaurd.

(To the Servant left with him.
Por.
But Heav'n is deaf as him to all my Prayers.
I will not bear't, O! but for Poysons, Daggers,
Any kind ready way to fly to Death!

Per.
Madam, you spend your balmy Breath in vain,
He hears you not, or if he did can't pity,
That wou'd destroy the Fund of all his Hopes.
I own, I pity you, and if I durst.—

Por.
What wou'dst thou do? for 'tis impossible
A Minister of his shou'd e're do good.

Per.
You're too severe, to censure all for him.
'Tis true, my Fortune tyes me to him fast,
Nay, I in Gratitude must own do love him.
Yet I approve not all his cruel Deeds.
No, by the Gods, my Soul is made so tender,
Each mournful Object melts it ev'n to Tears.
What Pains, Diseases, Racks cou'd ne'er wrest from me,
Behold your Suff'rinngs, Madam, now extort!

(Seems to weep.
Por.
'Tis wondrous strange—how cou'dst thou ever please him.

Per.
Princes like Fortune, often blindly raise
The Objects of their Power without thinking.

Por.
And canst thou pity, and not resolve Redress?

Per.
Were I a God, for this I'd prize my Godhead,
That I cou'd help the Wretched without Danger;
But as I am a Man, the Emperor's Slave,
I forfeit Wealth, and Life, by such a Deed.

Por.
Can generous pity dwell within your Breast,
And yet not dare to do a dangerous Good?
O! if you e're have felt the Pangs of Love,
And all the Longings of oppos'd Desire,
I do conjure you by your Hopes to free me.

Per.
That Conjuration quite disarms my Fears,
And fills my Heart with a most noble Daring.
For I do love, and in that very manner.
Enter Guards.
But see the Guards, I now must say no more.
Here, conduct her to m' Appartment—
(They carry her off.
This was a dexterous turn of my Wit,
That like the friendly Hand of some kind God,
Snatch'd me from off the very brink of Ruin,
And here has thrown the Prize into my Bosom!
Fortune has yet but blest my Hopes by halves;
Held out the glittering Cup of Joys brim full,
Then dash'd it on the Ground, ev'n at my Lips.
But now I'll hold the fickle Goddess fast;
Grasp bright Occasion by the formost lock,
And use the lucky hours she hast lent me.
Portia shall win me to her hop'd escape.
Till I have train'd her to the lonely Grotto,
That will drown all her Crys, and Woman's Skreams.
And when I have reveng'd me on her Beauties,
With my best Jewels, I will fly from Rome.
'Tis but the Scene of Pleasure to remove,
No Exile can be worse than hopeless Love.

(Exit.