University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

Under the Pallace Garden Wall.
Enter Martian in his own Habit.
Mar.
Enter Cleander from the Garden.

Cle.
She was, Sir, intercepted in her Flight;
Perennius guards her till the Morning,
And then she is to wed the Emperor;
Not one is suffer'd to come near th'Appartment.
The Empress too's divorc'd, and driven with Shame
From Court, ev'n now; the Cause I cou'd not learn

Mar.
The Cause! the Cause is wondrous plain,
Cleander—
But by the Gods he shall not have his Will,
While I have Life. No, were he guarded round
With Hydra's, flaming Chymera's, blasting Furies,
And all the Terrors of his Native Hell,
Yet I wou'd through 'em force my horrid way,
And with this Sword revenge my Love, and Rome.

[Is going.]
Clean.
Stay, Sir, and think— [stopping of him]
to certain Death you go.

Mar.
Death! What is Death? Is Death to be avoided?
Why shou'd I shun that Sabbath to my Labours?
That Boundary of Fortune's stormy Pow'r?
Death is the honest Friend that I wou'd find,
That flatters none, but with an equal Foot
Enters the Cottage, and the gilded Pallace.

Clean.
I fear not Death—shou'd joy to dye with You—
Yet when Chance offers fair for your Relief,
'Twou'd be meer Frenzy to thro' Life from us.

Mar.
What dost thou mean? What Hopes, or what Relief
Hast thou in View? for I, alas! see none.

Clean.
The Lodgings of Perennius face the Garden,
And from his Windows Portia may escape
With ease, there are no Guards on that Side:
The Garden Doors are open too; through which
I will with speed convey a Ladder to you.

Mar.
Fly then, fly quickly, with a Lovers Haste,
Beneath those Windows thou wilt find thy Master,
Impatient of thy least Delay—Be gone.

[Exeunt severally; the Scene opens into a Garden; the Pallace at a distance; Martian goes in at the Garden Door.
Enter Portia alone.
Por.
I wou'd not stay for my Deliverer,
Cou'd I tell how to get from out this place:
For tho' with gen'rous Care he let me down,
Yet sure so near a Favourite of a Tyrant,
That's only sway'd, by Cruelty and Lust,
Must move, by more ignoble Springs than Pity!
His Words too bore a dark and doubtful Meaning;
His Eyes, at mention of Trust in him,
Sparkled with Fire, while his mantling Blood
Flush'd o're his Face; he grasp'd me too with Ardor,
As on the Window he set me in the Chair.
Good Gods, direct me in this dangerous Course,
Betwixt this Scylla, and that wild Charibdys!
On both Sides worse than Death, and in the midst
All is uncertain; horrid Darkness all!
Hark! a Noise! and this way it approaches!
[A Noise.
I tremble at each Tree and Bush, for fear
It shou'd be some Court Villain. Yet must on;
Perhaps from hence some Outlet I may find,
By wandring round. O! grant ye Pow'rs I do,
For here is nought but Death, or foul Dishonour!

[Ex
Enter from the other side the Emperor, Attendance, Lights, Music.
Emp.
That is the Window, place your selves beneath it,
And charm my Goddess with your humble Lays.
The Force of Music, and the Pow'r of Numbers,
May break the Icy spell that chills her Heart
Against the pressing Beams of warmer Love.

Music and Song.

Enter Servants, forcing in Portia.
Por.
O Gentlemen, if your Minds know pitty;
If you had Mothers that had any Virtue,
Force me not to the hated Tyrants Presence!

1.
Nay, Madam, you shall to the Emperor.

2.
Finding this Lady flying, her speed we thought betray'd some guilt,
And therefore we have brought her to your Majesty.

Emp.
You have done well. O where is the base Slave,
That durst betray this high, importunate Trust?
For I will plunge him in abhor'd Disgrace.

Por.
Unlucky Maid, still to undo thy Friend!

Emp.
What froward Maxims, Madam, make you fly
From Empire, Glory, and pursuing Love?

Por.
Ah! Strange Excess of thy inhumane Rage;
That when thou'st left me nothing but my Woe.
Wilt not permit me to enjoy ev'n that,
But dash the wretched Pleasure with thy Love.

Emp.
Why so averse to Joy? so fond of Sorrow!
Life is a curious Web, by Nature wrought,
Fine to the Eye, but torn by e'ry Chance;
You burst its tender Threads with Pond'rous Grief,
And shun the downy Pleasures it will bear.

Por.
Pleasure from thee!

Emp.
From me? Yes, by the Gods;
Soft flowing Pleasures of brisk Wit and Love;
Ingrateful Fair, I wou'd disperse those Clouds,
That gather round thy Morning Sun of Life,
And thou with a false Pride, dost spurn me from thee.

Por.
Wer't thou Victorious, Brave, as the first Cæsar,
I cou'd not love; but as thou art, I loath thee
More than the vilest Slave in thy poor Empire.

Emp.
When Pow'r submits to beg it shou'd be so,
But Love impos'd false Med'cines for my Cure;
Thy Insolence now frees me from the Cheat.
I've not forgot I am thy Emperor;
That thou art made the Subject of my Pleasure,
Yes, I will rush into thy struggling Arms,
In all the Rage of my Tempestuous Love,
And sieze the Joys by Force, I ask'd in vain.

[Embraces her.
Por.
[Aside ...]
O Gods, defend me from the Tyrant's Lust;
I must against the Dictates of my Heart,
Sooth him with Hope, to gain some Time for Help. [... Aside]

The surest Means to gain a Womans Heart,
Is to convince her that you truly love her,
Which I must doubt, if you attempt my Honour.
Force is th'Effect of Fondness, of your Ease,
That shuns the Pain of surer Arts to please;
Beauty is bought by tender Vows and Sighs;
You rob, if you deny to pay its Price.

Emp.
Have I not sigh'd & breath'd a thousand Vows,
Yet nought have gain'd by all my Fruitless Pain,
But haughty Slights, Disdain, and vile Affronts.

Por.
Consider, Sir, my Soul's too full of Grief,
Suffers too much by an unhappy Love,
To taste another Passion yet, give Time;
For in a little Time I may be free,
To view your Love with a more equal Eye.

Emp.
My Love's too fierce to brook the least Delay;
I will consume thy anxious Love in Mine,
Whose Beamy Sunshine ne're can be obscur'd,
With rising Clouds of Sadness or Misfortune.
Here thou wilt find no Tears, no Sighs, but such
As fan the Air, and gently heave the Breasts
With struggling Pleasure, and Excess of Joy;
Whispering Murmurs, and Eternal Billing.
Our Coo's shall be more piercing than the Turtles;
I'll clasp thee to me, and I'll twine about thee
Closer then Ivy, or the curling Vine,
We'll mix like Waters, till we lose Distinction.

Por.
If all my Suff'rings cannot move your Heart,
Think upon Hell, the Wheel and Rowling Stone,
Unheard of Woe, that Fancy cannot paint;
A Tyrant's Hell too is the dismal Centre,
Where all the Lines of Circling Tortures meet.

Emp.
Mistaken Fair, here is the Hell you threat;
No Tantalus dreads the loose impending Rock;
No Tytius lies extended o'er the Plain;
The Eternal Food of Birds in Hell. But here
Vain Biggots Fears the Cares of busie Men,
And Lovers Pangs create the uneasie Torments;
But I will burst the Chain that holds me down,
And with resistless Fury scale my Heaven.

[Embraces, and offers to kiss and ruffle her.
Enter Martian.
Mar.
The gloomy Night has put new Darkness on;
And led by some strange Fate, I wander round,
And cannot find the well known Lodgings out.

Por.
Stand off, unhand me, thou first-born of Hell;
Thou Blot of Nature, thou Crime of Providence,
Thou Sum and Extract of all, that is most loathsome!

Mar.
Ha! my Portia, in the Hands of Ravishers!
[Martian draws, and runs at the Emperor, is intercepted by the Guards.]
Villain, forbear my Love.

Emp.
What! is it thou? thou art a daring Rebel;
But I'll deal with thee as thy Crimes deserve.
Go drag him hence to the Turpeian Rock;
Dash him to pieces; shall I ne're have Rest
For Traytors?

Mar.
O Portia! O farewel, for ever!

Por.
O dismal Sound! for ever?

Mar.
For ever!

Por.
Sure, there are Joys above for suff'ring Virtue:
There we shall meet again; my Soul will know thee:
It is so full of thee, I'll not stay long;
Indeed I won't, but reach thee in thy Flight.
O Heaven! O Earth! and thou, O Neptune, hear me,
And fix eternal Racks upon my Soul,
If I out live my Martian many Minutes.

Emp.
Must I speak in vain? drag him away.

Mar.
Oh! my Love, farewel.

Por.
Ah! this is worse than Death

[They force him out; she Faints]
[While they're employ'd about Portia, Perennius enters at the upper end of the Walk.]
Peren.
Now curse on Business, that must thus intrude,
When I shou'd feast my self with Portia's Beauties,
Yet this is of a Nature, that new arms me
Against the other Fears that check'd my Love.
Th'Army mutining, and just entring Rome,
Led on by Aurelian,
Must be the Emperor's Downfall, and mine with him.
Since that is sure, I'll make my Joys as sure;
Grasp first the Treasure of this charming Maid,
Then fly with Speed from the black gathering Storm.

Emp.
So, she revives;—
Go bear her gently to Valeria's Lodgings,
And bid her Maids prepare her for my Love,
I'll not defer my Marriage or Enjoyment.

[They bear her off.]
Per.
Ha! What's this?—do my Eyes and Ears deceive me?
Is Portia snatch'd again from my Embrace?
Fate presses so from every side upon me,
I have no Time for Thought— [pauses]
I must excuse
Her Flight, nor yet inform him of his Danger,
Least his Despair shou'd but augment his Rage,
Beyond my Power to calm, My Lord.

Emp.
Perennius!
Ingrateful Slave, how durst thou tempt my Fury,
Ev'n in the guilty Moment?

Per.
'Tis true, my Sov'raign;
If by appearance we shou'd judge of things,
There is too just a Cause for your Dread Anger;
But my dear Master—

Emp.
No more of thy false Wiles to blind my Eyes,
The Veil is off that hid the cunning Villain,
That cou'd betray me, and let my Portia go:
Seize him, if he resists you, kill him.

[To the Guards
Per.
Come on, I'll not fall tamely by the Tyrant
[Perennius draws, runs at the Emperor; is stabb'd by the Guards.
O that in'enervate Arm shou'd miss thy Life!
Yes, cursed Prince, I own the brave Design;
I was thy Rival, and bright Portia's Lover,
And let her go, to rifle all her Sweets,
Surfeit on Joy, for one immortal Moment.
But Fortune mock'd me with a hop'd Success.
O that she wou'd thee too! nay, well I know it.
Aurelian comes soon, to revenge me on thee;
The more to blast thy fancy'd Pleasures know;
Valeria was imposed on by my Arts;
And knew not Lætus, more than Portia did;
By that Device I thought to bear her off;
Then slew fond Lætus, to secure my Love;
For some more lucky Hour, but in vain—
My Life is on the Wing,—so Curses on thee;—
Thou wilt not be behind me long.—Oh!

[Dies.
Emp.
D'ye thou Prophetic Dog!— [Spurns him]

What can the dying Villain mean? Revenge,
Aurelian;—'tis no matter what—
Fate must fly swiftly, to prevent my Joy;
And that once gain'd, she can but half destroy.

[Exit.
Enter Empress alone.
Empress.
Ah! wretched me, I've drain'd my Eyes of Tears,
But not my Heart of Woe! that's still fixt here:
No Plaints can move it, and no Sighs redress!
Tho' banish'd hence from my dear cruel Lord,
My Treacherous Feet will still pursue his Steps;
I've sought the Garden round, and cannot find him,
What can I do, or whither can I turn?
Horror, Despair on e'ry Side besiege me!
Death—'tis Death that only can relieve me;
[Pauses.
Yes, I will die;—my Fondness does deserve it— [Pauses

To love beyond such Slights.—but shall I die
Thus tamely?—Yes—What! thus? thus unreveng'd?
[Pauses
Ah! yes, that Death best suits my tender Love.
Ha! there he goes; my Heart bounds at the sight,
And strikes a Transient Joy all o're my Soul!
I'll follow him, and die within his Arms;
He'll pity sure his bleeding Victims Groans;
Perhaps may kiss my pale and breathless Lips;
May wish he'd been more kind, and I more happy.

[Exit.
Scene changes to Portia's Appartment.
Enter Portia, and her Maid Crispina.
Cris.
Why are you, Madam, obstinate in Woe,
And shun the Indulgence of a Smiling Fortune,
For a vain Love, and Fruitless Constancy?
Rome courts you for her Empress, and your Prince
Dies at your Feet, with most unfeigned Desires.

Por.
No more,—I will not hear my Love blasphem'd.—
Is this a time to urge the impious Cause!
For oh the Tyrants Ministers of Murder,
Perhaps this Minute butcher my poor Love.
[Pauses, and fixes her Looks on one place.]
Ha! dreadful Image of my certain Woe:
What horrid Scene is this, thou dost present me?
See—where he lies, stretch'd out upon the Floor:
His noble Limbs hack'd by that Cut-throat Villain!
See if that Coward does not pierce his Bosom,
Where his brave Heart dwells, that abhorr'd a Coward
See from the gaping Wounds, the Purple Flood
Rowls like a Torrent down his mangle Body,
And in it his great Soul.—Ha! Paleness! Death!
Oh! Horror! Horror! Horror! Poisons! Daggers!
Dispatch me quickly, e're the Tyrant comes
To dragg to's polluted Nuptial Rites.
Ah! my dear Martian! stay for thy dying Portia;
Beat the Wing awhile, and I'll be with you.

Cris.
How strange Imagination works upon her!

Por.
Oh! oh!— [groans]
Lo! now I come

[faints away.
Cris.
Help here quickly, help; the Empress faints.
[Enter several Women, and run to her; endeavour to receive her.]
So she recovers,—stand off, and give her Air.

Por.
Be gone,—and let me die,—I will not live;—
Why did you rouse me from this Golden Vision!
Of Martian, triumphing Martian, and endless Love?

Cris.
Let not the anxious Dreams of Fancy rack you;
What boot your Pangs, your Fury, or Laments?
They can't revoke his Suff'rings, nor your Doom;
The Emperor loves too much, to quit you ever.
You had better, Madam, seem to like the Fate;
You can't avoid.

Por.
I will not answer thee—
But loose my self in kind distracting Thought.
Portia, thy Name shou'd now inspire thy Love,
And make it struggle to some Godlike Act.
[pauses.
Brutus thy Portia set the great Example
To Roman Wives, which I a Bride will follow.
[pauses.
Ha!—sure some Heav'nly Beam informs my Mind;
Bears it above the common pitch of Glory,
To a brave Deed, that's singularly great!
Oh! bright Ambition of aspiring Virtue!
To what amazing Heights thou dost transport me!
For distant Ages to behold with Wonder!
No, my dear Lord,
Your Portia shan't surviue you;
Nor will she tamely fall like helpless Woman,
But as resolv'd, and bold, as Cato's Daughter;
My Countrys Genius, with my Love conspires,
To form the Vengeance for lost Rome, and Martian:
It shall be so—the Noble Thought revives me.
And shoots a pleasing Horror thro' my Soul.

Cris.
Strange Agonies are lab'ring in her Mind,
Betwixt Ambition and defeated Love;
I hope my wholsome Counsels will prevail,
And turn the Scale for the surviving Lover;
I'm sure I gain my Ends by that; to rise,
And shine, at Court among the foremost Beauties.
For mod'rate Charms will make a Figure there,
As well as mod'rate Honesty or Virtue.

Por.
[Aside ...]
I must dissemble with this Servile Maid,
Whose Eyes are dazled with approaching Grandeur,
To get the Means of my ador'd Revenge. [... Aside]

[To her]
Crispina, you have said you lov'd me,
And seem to draw your Counsels from that Love;
Tell me then, and tell me truly too;
Is it not better die with him I love,
Than live with him, that loves but for a Day,
If he does love me.

Cris.
Doubt not your Charms, Madam;
For those will fix his wand'ring Heart for ever.
To dye! oh! 'tis a dreadful thing to die!
The old themselves, ev'n in that tastless Age,
That crawl upon the barren part of Life;
All, on the horrid Precipice of Death,
Catch hold of ev'ry rootless seeming Stay,
That may defer awhile their certain Fall.
And shou'd Youth then, amidst its blooming Joys,
And all its lively force of Appetite,
Fly Life's full Feast, for hungry starving Death?
It is unnatural to the last degree.
Besides the learn'd themselves, I find, can't tell
What we are after Death, or that we are.
If we are not then, how can Martian love you?
If his Love's ceas'd, why then shou'd yours survive?
In doubtful things, the Wise, the surer choose:
Th'Emperor lives in Glory, and in Love,
And he will make you great, as you are fair.

Por.
Greatness indeed I own has many Charms,
When built on solid, not unfaithful Ground;
But 'tis a fleeting Greatness he presents:
Valeria lost it in one Rapid Month.

Cris.
[Aside ...]
I'm glad she will dispute it; for when Woman
Once parleys with her Constancy, 'tis gon. [... Aside]

Aloud.]
Valeria, Madam, is no Rule to you;
Th'Event has shew'd yours are the stronger Charms.

Por.
Till the next taking Face shall come in view.
No, no, Crispina, I'm not yet so vain—
To think I can secure my Greatness so.
Yet I do know a way.—But oh! my Heart!
How I am sliding from the heights of Virtue
Into the Abyss of the foul Tyrants Love.

Cris.
Grant him a Tyrant, and a vile Oppressor;
O 'tis a noble Task then for your Virtue,
To offer up your self, to mold this Tyrant
Into the generous Principles of Honour,
For your Countrys Good.

Por.
That will prevail,
I fear, against the Force of all my Vows.

Cris.
It must, it shall, it does.

Por.
Well, may I trust thee?

Cris.
My Life, my Fortune, and my Heart, are yours.

Por.
My Mother on her Death-bed did bequeath me:
A noble Juice, the lasting Seal of Love.
With that, she fix'd my Father in his Faith,
Ev'n to his dying Hour. Here take this Key;
In th'inmost Drawer of my own Cabinet,
Thou'lt find it seal'd up in a gilded Viol:
Haste, and fetch it, that with the Magic Words,
Which I must use, I may drink it to him;
(For that's required to its sure Operation)
Ev'n in the sacred time of our Nuptials.

Cris.
I will be back before the Rites begin.

Por.
Be so, and now my lab'ring Soul's at ease;
And like a willing Victim I will go
To the bright Altar of Divine Revenge:
Heav'n for th'unhappy kindly took this Care
To place th'Asyle of Friendly Death, still near
To that Retreat, with eager Haste I'll fly;
I'm not entirely wretched, who dare die.