University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

The Scene continues.
Enter Hermogenes and Macro.
Mac.
I met him at the Gate, by Proclus led,
Led by Almira; tis a dismal Sight.

Her.
Oh never, never will it fly my Mind.
Spectres nor Fiends could terrify so much.

Mac.
Was there no other Way? best to have dy'd.

Her.
I cou'd not win the Emperor's Consent,
Cruel his Mercies are. He bound himself,
He said by Vows, by Oaths; trifling Pretence!

Mac.
Shou'd Cæsar see, his Anger must abate.

Her.
Macro, 'tis true; consult our Safety we.
Suspend these Thoughts a while; leave to lament,
And let yet greater Crimes this Crime defend.
Repentance and Compassion will arise
In Cesar's wavering Breast, unless he views
Some fresh Conspiracy design'd. Beside,
Valeria may be justly fear'd; her Love
Again surmounts her Wrath. The Rabble too
This Morn enroll'd him with the Gods: At Noon
with Taunts and Hisses they pursu'd his Steps;
And e'er 'tis Night, in their tumultuous Rage
With equal Justice they will sacrifice
His Foes, and him will deify again.

Mac.
What e'er we do, we soon must execute.

Her.
Nor are we safe, shou'd Vitiges survive;
Already he repents, and wildly talks
Of wounded Conscience, and of injur'd Fame.
He must be soon dispatch'd.

Mac.
What's to be done?
The Rabble are enrag'd, and bellow loud;
Their Nests disturb'd, the Hornets swarm abroad,
And buz and rage t'infix their deadly Stings.

Her.
Mix with our Friends among the sordid Crowd;
There loudly Belisarius praise, extol
His Fame, and dwell pathetic on his Wrongs.
Let Justice be their Cry, they love the Sound.
Then head our mercinary Troop; and Death
Secure thou may'st inflict on those we dread,
When Friends and Foes confus'dly intermix.
Pretending Aid to Cæsar, Cæsar's Friends
Destroy.—Be gone, for see Valeria comes.

[Exit. Macro.
Enter Valeria.
Val.
Where is this Traytor? This inhuman Wretch?
And art thou found? And dar'st thou stand my Rage?

Her.
Have I offended? Witness gracious Heaven!—

Val.
Do'st thou appeal to Heav'n? Impiety!
'Tis Blasphemy in thy apostate Mouth
But to pronounce that sacred Name. Invoke
Thy Hell, thy black Original, from whence
Such Cruelty, such Malice cou'd proceed.

Her.
What have I done?

Val.
The insolent Demand!
On Belisarius think, think on his Wrongs;
Then ask thy self, then dare to think of Heav'n.
Thy Malice has involv'd me in thy Guilt,
Made me participate thy horrid Crimes.
Could'st thou believe? Oh Providence how just!
The Wicked of their Prudence to divest,
And Folly give for Guide, when impiously
They deviate from thy Laws.
Could'st thou suppose
If I had Interest, if I had Pow'r
To work the Emperor, by a Sister's Pray'rs,
To counterfeit Displeasure, and displace
The justest, bravest, worthiest of Mankind;
Could'st thou, the basest, falsest, be so vain
To hope Escape? Or say I slept, or were
Too weak to punish, is not Heav'n awake?

Her.
Their faithful Servants Princes thus reward;
The Tax we pay for delegated Pow'r.
If with sinister Look Fortune regards
Our Toil, the Shame and the Disgrace is ours,
Tho' Wisdom did direct. If they succeed
Thro' us, the Profit and the Honour theirs.

Val.
No, Monster, no. Such Ministers as thou
Never give Council but to selfish Ends.
Ambition, Avarice, Envy, and Revenge
Engross your Thoughts; and never are pursu'd
Your Prince's Honour, or your Country's Good.
By low Submission, and by servile Arts
Ye mount the Battlements of Pow'r; and strait
The Scaffold undermine by which ye rose.
By base Degrees ascend; the topmost Round
Obtain'd, the Prince with Envy ye behold,
Trace out unpopular, offensive Rules,
Then meanly quit, his sinking Cause desert,
And to the next Invader pay your Vows.

Her.
Such Music ever dwells upon your Tongue,
Th'Attention charm'd, I cou'd with Pleasure hear
Th'harmonious Sound, shou'd you pronounce my Death.

Val.
Low Flatterer! ill-judging Sycophant!
Is this a Time to sooth by fulsom Praise?

Her.
Am I to blame? 'Twas Cæsar gave Command.
When Discontents prevail, the Minister
Is safely tax'd, but Pow'r supreme is meant.
'Twas Cæsar's Will, the Empire's Safety urg'd.—

Val.
Cæsar shall know—and opportune he comes,
To hear thee shuffle off thy Sins on him.
Enter Justinian.
Approach, misguided Prince! behold the Slave
Who first seduc'd me, credulous and fond
To wrong the best of Men, a Moment's Wrong!
Whose impious Council hath procur'd a Deed
Cruel and rash, pernicious to thy Fame,
And ever to thy Justice a Reproach.
And now he dares plead Innocence, and now
Thy Rashness, my Credulity is blam'd.

Just.
I know the Cause, and I approve of Grief
So just; 'twas too severe; wou'd it cou'd be
Recall'd. I feel with him, I mourn with thee.

Val.
Ease then thy Mind, expiate in part thy Guilt.
Let his devoted Head attone for Crimes,
Which his inveterate Malice cou'd invent.

Just.
And yet I was unwillingly induced,
Sigh'd for his Guilt, and mourn'd his dark Designs.

Val.
His Guilt, and his Designs!

Just.
Too evident.
Unworthy were my Hands to hold the Scales
Of dread impartial Justice, were the Weights
Unequal, or his Merits not allow'd
Their full Extent. My Peace, that I forgive,
The Empire's Safety claim'd this Sacrifice.

Her.
Necessity compell'd.

Val.
Traytor be dumb.
Your Peace, the Safety of the Empire urg'd!
Of Belisarius do you speak?

Just.
Of him.
And wou'd to Heav'n I cou'd retrieve his Guilt
And Punishment, with half my Loss of Empire!
So much he was esteem'd, so well belov'd.
Flagrant the Proofs, else I were most accurs'd.
He had conspir'd against my Dignity,
Seduc'd the Army to espouse his Cause;
And, aided by the Goths, he would reject
My Pow'r, and a new Empire raise in Rome.
Macro, repenting Macro, has confess'd.

Val.
Is that a Proof? Oh Imposition gross,
Absur'd! forgive me Sir! you bad me love
And must allow my Rage. Are you to learn,
Dull Macro is his wicked Instrument,
[Pointing to Hermogenes.
The Tool, the Eccho, of this Hypocrite?

Just.
When you have heard, then Censure will be mute.
To Belisarius Sword much Praise is due,
But Wisdom is more prevalent than Arms.
Had not this faithful Servant interven'd
With wise Advice, Conquests were vain to me.
Two Witnesses our Law demands; and two
Appear'd, in ev'ry Circumstance agreed.
Macro confess'd, and Vitiges confirm'd.

Val.
Credit his Foe! 'tis Malice, 'tis Revenge.

Just.
Behold he comes, now be your self the Judge.
Enter Vitiges, leaning on his Sword.
How's this? Wounded he seems, and weakly moves.

Her.
Confusion! yet alive! Macro has fail'd,
He kills by halves, but I shall perish whole.

Vit.
Flow not so fast my Blood! breathe yet ye Lungs!
Lend Strength good Heaven! support my feeble Limbs!
Prolong my Life! till I reveal my Shame.

Just.
I grieve to see your Wounds; from whence this Chance?

Vit.
No Chance; from Macro's Hands these Wounds proceed,
To stifle Truth; least Honour not extinct
Shou'd prompt me to disclose our Treachery,
Our Falshood by Hermogenes contriv'd.

Just.
Your Accusation false!

Vit.
False, groundless, base.

Just.
Oh ye just Pow'rs! what has my Rashness done?

Vit.
What has Ambition done? Flatter'd, betray'd?

Val.
Oh Belisarius! well I knew thy Worth.

Vit.
Oh name him not, his Innocence, like Heav'n,
Glares on my Sins, and, with distracted Sight,
I view the Hell I merit e'er I die—
I view it there—'tis painted in that Face—
It is it's Monarch—let us speed him there—
Thus Devil to thy own Dominion haste.—
[Vitiges offers to run at Hermogenes, and falls.
Let him not escape.—Witness I repent—
And Belisarius—Daughter—oh forgive.

[Dies.
Just.
And art thou yet alive? Detested Slave!
Infernal Dog! can'st thou support the Light?

Her.
Your Anger is more terrible than Death.
Zeal to engross your Love inspir'd those Crimes,
And if Contrition for those Crimes might hope—

Just.
Presumptuous Villain! what! and darest thou hope?
Despair and die. If Mercy thou would'st seek,
Let Belisarius start before thy Eyes
And cut off Utterance.—I heard the Wretch
Artfully turn his Virtues into Crimes,
Yet I was to those Virtues deaf. The Bull
Thou did'st invoke, the Vulture and the Wheel;
Oh I cou'd curse my self, not to suspect
Unnecessary Vows of Innocence;
Be they thy endless Lot!—Monster, be gone,
Precipitate to Hell, Region of Woe!
Guards! seize the Slave.—Take, drag him hence to Death.

[Hermogenes is carry'd off.
Val.
That the foul Rust of Scandal is remov'd,
That Innocence appears in bright Array
Is some Alloy to Grief. Let us rejoice
That Belisarius yet survives, tho' blind.
Employ your Thoughts to recompence his Wrongs,
And sweeten Life with Joys he yet can taste.
I yield not to Despair, since yet he lives.

Enter Proclus.
Just.
Grant him to live, good Heav'n! prolong his Days!
That he may find how truly I repent.
Proclus! most welcome! to my Wish arriv'd,
To witness how I mourn thy injur'd Friend.

Pro.
Injur'd indeed! dead Macro hath confess'd
The black Conspiracy.

Just.
Is he then dead?

Pro.
This Sword extorted Truth before he dy'd.
That curs'd Hermogenes contriv'd the Plot
By which my Friend is lost. And on pretence
That Belisarius' Wrongs might be redress'd,
Macro intic'd the Populace to rise.
All were amaz'd, confus'd. He lead a Band
Of Ruffians, proper Instruments of Death,
With popular and feign'd Acclame, he cry'd,
Let Cæsar live! down with his Foes—and then—
Oh Grief to tell!

Just.
This Vitiges declar'd.
See where he lies, cut off by Macro's Sword.

Pro.
Happy! he is exempt from farther Cares.
The chaste Almira's Wounds not move thee now.

Just.
Her Wounds!

Pro.
Eager and covetous of Death,
Among the heedless Swords she ran, she flew,
Distracted at the Sight, oh horrid Sight!

Just.
More Woe!

Pro.
Macro pretending to suppress
The Rage his Arts contriv'd, while on my Arm
Great Belisarius lean'd—the Traytor's Sword—
Oh that I live to tell—my Friend! my Friend!
Thy Bosom pierc'd.

Val.
Oh that I live to hear!
Oh that thy Fate, Almira! had been mine!
Wou'd I had dy'd like thee, oh envy'd Maid!
Envy'd in Life, and envy'd more in Death!

Just.
Sorrow and Shame and Guilt tie up my Tongue.

Val.
Love wounds more deep, Love more distracts than these.
Neglected Love enrag'd my haughty Soul.
Presumptuous, I defy'd a greater Curse.
Who knows the worst? Oh who can tell how deep
The Wrath of Heav'n can pierce, how far afflict?
Thee, Hero, thee! whose Suff'rings who can tell?
Thee I wou'd now resign, and think me bless'd
On any Terms to rescue thee from Death.

Pro.
Revenge, Confusion, Horror, and Despair
Seiz'd ev'ry Heart, appear'd in ev'ry Face.
He only unconcern'd. Proclus! he cry'd,
'Tis done, my Sorrows cease, here end my Cares.
While Life remains, see me with Speed convey'd
To Cæsar, to attest my Innocence,
My Honour this demands. He could no more;
For now he learn'd Almira's Fate. Then, then
His Courage fail'd, Proof to all other Ills.
Oh dismal Deed! Oh Spectacle of Woe!
The noble virtu'ous Pair, welt'ring in Blood!
Oh dismal Accents! Oh ye gen'rous Breasts!
Each mourn'd the other's lamentable Fate,
Each in their own rejoyc'd. Forgive my Tears!
I cannot, need not speak.—Behold them brought!

Val.
Horror to Sight! oh Torture to my Mind!
Worse, worse than Death! I live and see
Thee die—and folded in another's Arms.
Now Jealousy returns, jealous in Death.
What num'rous Griefs distract my crowded Brain!
Fly the sad Sight!—Oh can I fly my Thoughts!
The racking Thought, that I began thy Woes.—
But fly the Sight—Go waste thy tedious Life
In gloomy Grottos and in dreary Cells.
Incessant there, thy Guilt his Fate deplore,
Nor Man, nor Sun, shall ever view thee more.
[Exit Valeria.

Belisarius and Almira are led in supported, and leaning on each other, then placed in Chairs.
Alm.
My Strength declines apace. I sink, I faint.

Bel.
Oh stay! Almira! leave me not behind.

Just.
Oh Belisarius! cou'd I tell my Grief,
Cou'd I display the Anguish of my Soul,
Thy Mercy wou'd look gently on my Faults,
And Pity wou'd inspire thee to forgive.

Bel.
Then I die pleas'd, no more remains to ask,
My Loyalty, my Honour, justify'd.

Just.
Nor Day, nor Hour shall pass, wherein thy Praise
Shall not be lowdly sung, my Rashness mourn'd.

Bel.
May you live happy! I shall soon find Peace.
But where's my Love?—Almira! yet alive!
Oh guide my wand'ring feeble Arms to Heav'n!
Yet art thou warm my Fair? yet beats thy Heart?

Alm.
To thee it beats and flutters at thy Touch.
On thee depends its Strength, by thee I breathe.
Insensible of Pain, thoughtless of Death,
When I can clasp, when I can press thee here,
When I can hang my drooping Head on thee.
But now I faint, for thou alas! grow'st cold.

Bel.
Life on the Wing, thy Voice delays her Flight.
For her immortal Voyage prun'd, thou call'st
My Soul to Earth. Nor is my Heav'n delay'd,
When with Almira joyn'd; I have it here,
And in thy Arms anticipate my Joys.

Pro.
I have no Friendship, I am form'd of Steel,
Or Grief and Pity wou'd dissolve this Heart.

Alm.
Or do my Eyes deceive me? grow they dim?
Or am I wild and fanciful in Death?
Instruct me some; view I my Father there?

Pro.
Too true, by the same Villany destroy'd.

Alm.
The little that remain'd of Life, that Sight
Exhausts.—I dy'd to slow—Father!—I come.
Death has less Terror now—'tis sweet—'tis kind.—
Oh Belisarius haste—Oh gracious Heav'n—

[Dies.
Bel.
Peace to thy Soul!—Observant of thy Call—
I follow thee—to Heav'n—Oh may I find—

[Dies.
Pro.
He's gone, he's gone; Virtue is fled the World.

Just.

[Exeunt Omnes.