University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

The Scene continues.
Enter Justinian and Hermogenes.
Just.
Impious Design!

Her.
Detestable and base!

Just.
False Belisarius, to thy Fame and me.

Her.
When false to you, he justly forfeits Fame.

Just.
Can Man be capable of such Deceit.

Her.
It much amazes me. All Men abhor
To be deceiv'd, yet daily they deceive.
My Fault is to be open, too sincere,
My Love and Hatred known: If I can hate,
If I have Enmity, it is to Vice.

Just.
I know thee honest, him too I believ'd.

Her.
If I am held in Doubt, prepare the Rack,
Extend each Nerve, and burst each swelling Vein.
Produce the Bull, the Vulture, and the Wheel,
And try my Faith, my Constancy in Truth.

Just.
I doubt thee not. Yet Belisarius false,
Raises Suspicion of the Race of Man—
So trusted! so belov'd! with him I shar'd
The Sweets of Empire, all the Cares my own:
To him resign'd the Reins of Government;
Gave him the Pow'r to punish or reward.
And is he false? And can his Looks betray?
And can his Breast conceive Ingratitude?

Her.
Incredible indeed! I should dispise
Less Proofs; but Vitigies, the noble Goth,
Charm'd by your Goodness, by your Virtue aw'd,
Removes the Veil, and shews the Plot too bare.
'Tis obvious to the Sense, beyond all doubt.

Just.
The feign'd Displeasure shewn to gratify
Valeria, with the Day shou'd have expir'd.
The Cloud remov'd, he shou'd have risen next Day
Fresh as the Morn, and as the Sun resplendant.

Her.
And it were fit he shou'd. Or cou'd the Goth
Invent this Tale, impossible to think,
Why? To what End? Yet if we cou'd suspect,
Macro, I grieve to say, confirms the whole.

Just.
Valeria shou'd have been appeas'd; his Truth,
His Constancy in Love, I secret, prais'd,
Tho' un-allied I mark'd him for my Heir.

Her.
Ambition has no Bounds, a vulgar Truth.
'Tis tedious to attend; he aims more near,
Scorns a dependant and incertain State.

Just.
What Pity 'tis, how I lament his Crime!

Her.
Tho' Macro, by Confession, merits Grace,
He only did not join in the Design.
The Root strikes deep, the Branches are spread wide.
My Brother caught! when he has dar'd so far,
Who then has Virtue to escape his Snares?
The dire Contagion has infected all.

Just.
Mercy would rise, thy Justice bears it down.
And much I owe thy Diligence and Love.
Instruct what's to be done with this Ingrate.

Her.
A smiling Traytor, how I hate such Men,
So black a Crime, no Penalty too great.

Just.
I well remember, when but young in Arms,
He vanquish'd Perozas, a Persian Chief;
Pleas'd with the News, I swore, rashly it seems,
He shou'd not die thro' me, what e'er his Fault.
My Oath observ'd, what other Punishment
Thy loyal Vengeance can invent, inflict.

Her.
Mercy by halves! unsound such Politics;
A thankless Boon; or punish or forgive.
Weigh well his fam'd Ability in War,
His graceful Figure, and majestick Mien;
His great Alliances, and noble Birth;
Profuse in Gifts, compassionate to all,
Firm to his Friend, beneficent to Foes,
Serene his Mind, magnificent in Life;
The Populace, the Soldier, all adore,
In him the World will grieve. And shall he live?
Disgrac'd and live? His Soul disdains such Life:
Or if preserv'd, 'tis to hatch new Designs,
To call his Friends, those Virtues to his Aid,
Subvert the State, and give the World a Lord.

Just.
Thou shew'st his Virtues in so strong a Light,
It staggers and rebates the Edge of Justice.
He must not die: Is there no other way?

Her.
Happy the People under such a Prince!
Happy am I, to serve whom Mercy sways!
A heav'nly Virtue!—safest in their Hands,
'Tis Wisdom there, but Folly oft in Man—
You cannot err—There is but one way left—
My tender Nature startles at the Deed.

Just.
Name it.

Her.
An enterprising Soul, nor can
He wander long with Eyes to see his Road.

Just.
Hah!

Her.
Severe, yet practis'd in the wiser East.
Nor Prisons, Dungeons, Fetters are secure,
The Ladder oft to reach a higher Rank.

Just.
See where he comes. Can Treason be so lodg'd?
The Mansion is too noble for the Guest.

Her.
Serpents and Toads lurk under sweetest Herbs.
To give him Audience is not safe. You know
He has a smooth, insinuating Tongue.

Enter Belisarius and Proclus.
Bel.
I come not to complain of my hard Fate,
Nor grate your Ears with Services perform'd.
Such Conduct might be term'd an Insolence,
And steel your Breast against my last Request.

Just.
And what Request do'st thou presume to make?

Bel.
Nor Pow'r nor Wealth I supplicate. My Mind
Is satiated, and I renounce such Toys.
A Villa stands on Tyber's fertile Banks,
This Morning mine. When Cæsar's Wars allow'd
The Sword unactive, then my lov'd Retreat;
There let me indolent consume my Days,
And with Almira bid the World adieu.

Her.
Observe the Place to which he wou'd retire,
And with Almira too, ador'd in Rome.
How ev'ry Circumstance confirms his Guilt!

[To Just. aside.
Just.
There needs no farther Proofs.—Soft Hypocrite!
With Meekness thou dost hide ambitious Thoughts,
And veil thy Stratagems with Shew of Love.

Bel.
Were I ambitious, or base Hypocrite,
I had escap'd the Terror of your Wrath.

Just.
Traytor no more. Thy Plots stand all reveal'd;
I view thy Rebel Heart with Treason stor'd,
And Vengeance hovers o'er thy guilty Head.
Wait my Command, while I decree thy Crimes
Due Punishment.—Hermogenes attend.

[Ex. Just. and Her.
Bel.
What Punishment can equal such harsh Terms!
But late, all Tongues employ'd to sound my Fame,
All Eyes with Wonder gaz'd, Kings in my Train,
By Beauty courted, Empire in my Choice—
And now a Traytor, Hypocrite, Ingrate.
Opprobrious Words! most infamous to hear!
Horror invades me at the Sound, my Heart
With Indignation swells, and with Disdain
Leaps to my Throat and cuts off idle Speech.

Pro.
From thee, Hermogenes, these Mischiefs spring;
Thou art the Soil in which all poys'nous Plants
Luxuriant grow, and nourish'd by thy Art
Bear such pernicious, pestilential Fruit.

Bel.
Proclus! my Friend! for yet a Friend is left,
Partner in War, my Counsellor in Peace,
My Confident in Love, ever my Friend!
To thee my inmost Thoughts were all disclos'd:
Have I deserv'd Indignity like this?
Am I that Thing which Scorn forbids repeat?

Pro.
It tears, it racks, distracts my Soul to hear.

Bel.
Nor loss of Pow'r, nor pinching Want, nor Death
The smaller Ill, from it's firm Basis moves
My stable Mind. I can acquit me to myself,
And therefore give myself that Peace, the World
Ingratefully denies. I can look back
On what I was, I see what now I am,
And view with equal Eyes my diverse State.
Yet when Experience shews, yet when I know
What Calumny attends a great Man's Fall,
How loud she bellows, and how wide she gapes
To blacken and traduce. What idle Tales,
What incoherent Lies, Time may transmit
As Truths, to mangle and deface my Fame:
Then Fortitude forsakes me, then my Griefs
Want thy Support, and call on thee for Aid.

Pro.
Justinian cannot sure persist in Wrong—

Bel.
Suddain and violent are his Resolves.
I give myself as lost—Haste then my Friend,
Fly to Almira, bear her my Request,
Perhaps my last Request; entreat the Fair
To ease my Sorrows with one parting Look;
Let me but gaze on her, I shall die pleas'd.—
But haste or I shall never see her more.
[Exit Proclus.
Never to see Almira more! hard Fate!
But rav'nous Death, that snatches me from Love,
Removes the Pains, the Mem'ry of such Loss.
Then welcome Death.—I shall not wait thee long;
He comes, he flies, his Messenger appears.
Enter Hermogenes with Guards.
I need not ask, I read my Fate in thee,
And thy glad Eyes declare I am to die.

Her.
Most sure such Crimes, such Treason merit Death.

Bel.
Treasons and Crimes! who dare impeach my Truth?

Her.
Go reason that with Cæsar, He best knows.
The Proofs are plain, demonstrative. Howe'er
His Mercy o'er his Justice has prevail'd,
And thou art suffer'd still to crawl on Earth.

Bel.
Thy abject Soul illiterate in Good,
And ignorant of Joy, but when the brave,
The virtuous and the honest Man is griev'd;
Thy gloomy Mind could not appear thus gay,
Were there less Punishment decreed than Death.

Her.
The Love of Life prevails on any Terms;
If these are harsh, 'tis in thy Pow'r to die,
And by one generous Blow dismiss all Cares.
A noble Deed! but I give no Advice.

Bel.
None but what Hell suggests to thy dark Soul.
Had I a Wish for Life, it were to see
Remorse and Anguish gnaw thy flinty Heart;
Earnest of Hell.

Her.
That thou shalt never see.

Bel.
What obstinate, determinate in Ill!

Her.
Resolv'd to rob thee of that pleasing Sight.
Guards! seize your Prisoner, lead him hence—away
And execute the Emperor's Commands.

Bel.
Tho' in the Jaws of Death, tho' in thy Pow'r,
The bitt'rest Curse! my Mind sedate and calm,
Impervious by Ill, thy Wonder shall excite,
And be the Object of thy Envy still,
And give thee fiercer Pains than I endure.
Fortune and thou in vain assault that Breast,
Where Courage and where Innocence reside.

[Belisarius is led off.
Enter Vitiges.
Vit.
I come to claim thy Promise; my Reward
I seek; make Payment quick, my vast Reward
For Treachery, for Perjury, for Hell.

Her.
To Empire turn thy Thought; Success is sure.

Vit.
Mark me for damn'd Ingratitude. Each Sin
Suffices to impel the reddest Bolt
From the just Wrath of Heav'n.

Her.
Why let it fall.
Be resolute; we shall escape the Blow.

Vit.
Statesman, thou art inur'd to Infamy:
Practice hath petrify'd thy wicked Heart;
Bred to Conspiracies, to fawn, betray,
To lie: Yet thou can'st smile! yet thou can'st sleep!
Never shall Joy more sparkle in my Eyes,
No chearful Smile adorn my gloomy Face,
No Darkness veil the Images by Day
Impress'd, ghastly and fierce. No Drug, no Herb,
Intice sweet Sleep to silence yelling Care.

Her.
You are too nice, too delicate of Mind;
Wou'd you be Great, and scruple you the Means?

Vit.
I tell thee, Politician, that the Wounds
Of Conscience, by Repentance must be heal'd.
Seduc'd by thy Inchantments, I have done
A Deed, beneath the Dignity of Kings,
Beneath the Dignity of Man. Base Man!
The only Species capable to lie.
Almira weeps for Innocence traduc'd,
And mourns that Belisarius is displac'd;
Happy! she knows not of her Father's Crime.
Almira's Tears have wash'd away thy Charm,
And I behold myself with Shame and Scorn.

Her.
Was it not Belisarius who subdu'd
The Goths? Their Name extinguish'd by his Sword?
The poor Remains sold Slaves? Is Vitiges
A Captive, and in scornful Triumph led
To feed his Pride and please the hissing Crow'd?
And are you grown so abject, not to seek
Revenge, the strongest Passion of the Mind?

Vit.
Not by unworthy Means, by thy vile Arts.

Her.
You urge my Temper, Sir, too far. Desist,
Or Cæsar shall be told, nay we will prove,
If Belisarius is unjustly tax'd,
You were the Plotter, you contriv'd the Scheme.

Vit.
Impute thy Crimes to me! can it be thought—

Her.
Already perjur'd, you must needs find Faith.

Vit.
What Insolence!

Her.
Macro shall justify
What I affirm. You have impos'd on me,
And drew my easy Nature to believe.

Vit.
Unheard of Villany! What to my Face!

Her.
Come we have gone too far, now to recede.
Be calm; I only shew what might be done,
Far from my honest Thoughts. Be rul'd by me,
And on to Morrow be saluted King.
But now retire—You must not be seen here.

Vit.
Resistless Bait! tho' infamous the Means,
We blindly follow or are weakly led,
So strong the Appetites to rule. When will
To Morrow come!—Cou'd I forget this Day!—
Oh joyful Day! tho' I no more a King.
[Exit Vitiges.

Her.
What Terrors has he rais'd! the Precipice
Lay full to sight, tott'ring I stood, nigh fall'n.
He must not live—I stand on unsure Ground,
Obvious the yawning pitchy Gulph—my Brain
Yet dizzy.—Let me fairer Prospects view—
Turn thy pleas'd Eyes, on other's Ruin feast,
And sate thy Soul with dire Revenge.—'Tis done!
How soon perform'd th'irreparable Deed!
Hah! Ghastly Sight!—It shocks, it terrifies.—
Proceed thy Joys from thence? Is that thy Feast?
He gropes his Way—distain'd, besmear'd with Blood.
I cannot bear th'Approach—'tis Death—'tis Hell,
'Tis all I dread—'tis less than I deserve—
I shun the Sight—Oh cou'd I shun my self!
[Exit Hermogenes.

Enter Belisarius blind.
Bel.

Enter Almira.
Alm.
When Belisarius calls, Almira hastes,
With Ardor flies to the inchanting Voice.—
Stretched on the Ground! Kind Heav'n avert my Fears!
Are you alive? Oh! Whence this shew of Grief?
Hear Belisarius when Almira calls!

[Going to Him.
Bel.
Too sure I live, not yet my Sorrows end.

Alm.
Alive! and speak! yet turn thy Eyes away!

Bel.
Alas! I never can behold thee more.

Alm.
Not see me more! 'Tis thy Almira speaks.

Bel.
Thy Voice will ever charm, thy Sight no more.

Alm.
Has then the Weight of Malice sunk thee down?
And is thy noble Heart a Prey to Care?
No, 'tis Valeria who has wrought this Change,
Her Charms forbid to view this slighted Face,
And wild Ambition has engross'd thy Heart.

Bel.
Wrong not my Honour, nor traduce my Love.

Alm.
Yes, I am made the Sacrifice of Peace,
My useless Love, my feeble Charms contemn'd.
My Father's Kingdom conquer'd by thy Arms,
He and his Daughter in proud Triumph led,
These Wrongs o'ercome, I fondly gave my Heart
To thee disgrac'd, abandon'd by thy Friends;
Doubly thy Captive, now I am despis'd.
But thy feign'd Grief, thy conscious Shame in vain
Palliate the Wrong.—Resentment drives me hence,
Nor will I stay the Witness of thy Guilt.

[She goes to some Distance.
Bel.
Oh stay! and view the Cause of my Despair!
But first prepare, arm well thy tender Mind,
Nor let the dismal Spectacle amaze.

Alm.
Ah!

[Turning to her, she faints.
Bel.
Well I foresaw, the Horror of the Sight
Wou'd startle thee. 'Twas therefore I deferr'd.
Now, my Almira! now behold my Woe!
Have I not Cause? In vain the visual Nerves
Are stretched to bring thy Image to my Brain;
Lost to my Eyes, fix'd in my Heart.—Not speak—
Not answer me—Has Horror driv'n thee hence?—
And art thou fled?—Forsaken too by thee!
Merciless Death! Do'st thou avoid me too?
Proclus! Almira! Death! Heav'n!—All, all deaf!

Enter Proclus.
Pro.
Sure 'twas his Voice! Almira on the Earth!
[As he advances towards her, he sees Belisarius.
What Belisarius too! What can this mean?
Both claim my Aid—Friendship be first obey'd.
My noble Friend!

Bel.
Go seek Almira out.
Useless thy Care of me.—Go search my Love;
Bring, bring her here.

Pro.
Behold! Turn there thy Eyes.

Bel.
Mock not my Griefs—Proclus! View thou thy Friend.

Pro.
Oh Horror! Horror!

Bel.
Hush thy vain Complaints!

Pro.
Oh damn'd, detested Deed!

Bel.
Where is my Love?

Pro.
Oh miserable Sight! Villains! Hell! Hell!
Torn out thy Eyes!

Bel.
Away, Almira seek—

Pro.
Transported by her Grief, she fainting lies—

Bel.
Quick, quick, my Friend, lead guide me to the Fair—
[Rising.
Be thou my Sight—Let me have one Embrace,
And prostrate at her Feet, forget my Wrongs.
'Tis my Almira! 'Tis my tender Love!
I need not Eyes to know, my Heart directs.

Pro.
She breaths, she stirs.

Bel.
Gently the Angel raise.
Oh give her to my Arms! Recline on me
Thou Heav'nly Recompence of mortal Cares!

Pro.
Rage shakes this Frame, and Grief dissolves my Heart.
Hurry'd by Rage, due Vengeance I wou'd claim.
Nor Kings shou'd bar, nor Altars shou'd protect.
Enervated by Grief, I bend to Earth,
Nor can remove me from the woeful Sight.
Oh Sight! infusing Horror and Despair!
Oh Niobe! Thy eligible Doom!
Better a Stone than reasoning wretched Man.

Bel.
Awake my Love? Oh, bless me with thy Voice!

Alm.
Oh leave me in this soft forgetful State!

Bel.
Bless'd be the Sound! Live, my Almira live!
And on less frightful Objects turn thy Eyes.

Alm.
Where shall I turn my streaming Eyes? The World
Affords no other Object worthy Sight.—
Oh woeful Sight! that blasts my vernal Hopes,
Freezes my Blood, and withers all my Joys.

Bel.
Approach ye Envious, ye Detractors come!
Ye who malign'd my Pow'r, my Fame in Arms,
These mournful Accents hear! Almira view!
And see me Triumph in her piteous Tears!
Now swell with Rage, behold a richer Prize,
A nobler Conquest than my Sword e're won!

Alm.
Thy Loss, thy Pains inflame my grateful Breast,
And I grow more enamour'd by thy Wrongs.
I am the wretched Cause of this curs'd Deed;
Shall I refrain from gazing then on thee?
On thee, the Object still of my Desires.—
No, be their Malice scorn'd, their Pow'r defy'd,
Nor shall their Pow'r deter, nor Modesty
Dissuade my flying to thy Arms for Peace, for Joy.

Bel.
My Life! my Soul! all that is dear on Earth!
So wholly are my Thoughts on thee employ'd,
Feeling so quickn'd by the Loss of Sight,
So strong thy lov'd Idea on my Mind
Impress'd, methinks I gaze upon thee still:
Still view the Lillies on thy Face and Breasts,
The blushing Roses on thy Lips and Checks,
And I but close my Sight, as when beheld
The dazling Rays shot from thy heav'nly Eyes,
And still my Soul with former Joys is fill'd.

Alm.
Yet it is sad; is it not gracious Heav'n?
Oh ease his Pains!—And is there no Redress?—
Oh I wou'd lend one Light! oh both bestow!

Bel.
I can forget my Pains, neglect my Eyes—
What's Pain or Loss of Eyes to this Embrace?

Pro.
Send from thy three Divisions, send, thou Globe,
Innumerable Hosts to mourn his Wrongs!
Yawn wide thou Earth! ye Fiends come dancing forth,
And see your selves outdone by mortal Spite!
A while forget your Torments, and rejoice
That Virtue suffers, and that Vice prevails.

Alm.
Oh! you indulgent Pow'rs! whence Mercy flows,
Oh grant us Patience to support these Woes!

Pro.
Is it a Virtue to be patient now,
When Virtue is thus impiously oppress'd?
Patience and Caution are the false Pretence
Of Slaves and Cowards to submit to Wrongs.
Revenge, Revenge alone is worth my Care.
Dire Goddess come! and with thy hundred Whips
Aid my Pursuit, and lash the Slave to Hell,
The base detested Author of these Wrongs.

Bel.

[Exeunt.