University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

The Palace.
Justinian, Theodora, Narbal.
Just.
Above each earthly tye we owe our duty
To thee, O most adored! By thee supported,
I dare with firmness raise the rod of iron
O'er thy contemners! Pious Eutyches
With holy fervour hath enlarged my heart.
His arguments and thine, my Theodora,
Were pregnant with conviction. Justice triumphs.
Yet would I not to death pursue its dictates;
Degraded from their honours, and exiled,
They pay the debt of treason. Mild their punishment,
Shewing our sense of past deserts. And mercy,
No less than justice, is the attribute
Of awful Deity.—Shall man then sin?
And shall not man relent?

Theo.
Dost thou again relapse into thy weakness?
Is this the firm resolve to do heaven service?
But oh! remember, tho in private station
Thy soul might yield unblamed to melting pity,
Not to himself alone the sovereign lives;
Millions on thee depend, to thee look up
For preservation. Wouldst thou then to save
The proved offenders, view our fertile provinces
Laid waste by civil broils? Our cities sack'd?
Subjects gainst subjects warring? Shall the cross
Which now triumphant stands, beneath the feet
Of heathens press the dust?

Just.
Yet is it strange
So many battles fought, and victories won,
Nations subdued, armies at his disposal,
He should not till arrived at the utmost verge
Of trembling life, against our power rebel,
And strive for mastery.

Theo.
Who can explain
The contradictions of the human mind?
Yet oft, tho youthful years will turn abhorrent
From deeds of treachery; when age steals on,
Each early scyon in the spring put forth,
And e'en by manhood cherish'd, will be blasted.

Nar.
Such must be Belisarius. Lost in wonder,
Scarce can I now give credence to the proofs,
Forceful and clear, of his ingratitude.
But Brutus slew his father and his friend.
Wives have imbrued their hands in husbands blood,
Brothers have slain their unsuspecting brother,
Urged by the fiend ambition.—O Justinian!
Would that my death could purchase lasting firmness
To all thy plans, in deepest wisdom form'd
To bless thy subjects, and secure forever
The faith by thee protected! Would to heaven
The life of Belisarius could be spared!
Nor Phorbas perish!

Just.
Will no danger spring
From out their ashes?—Justice hath decreed,
The safety of the state demands their deaths.
The slave the letters found, the answers penn'd,
The words of Claudius urge the stern decree.
But ne'er could they alone this deed contrive
Of black detested villainy.—Will treason,
And restive mutiny be slain with them?
Rather I see uprising multitudes
Quickened to action, and conspiracy
On every side, with mortal violence,
And open front, advance against our throne.

Theo.
Let it advance! Must I again Justinian
Tell thee, a kingdom is a glorious tomb?
Thy arguments should rather string the nerves
Of speedy execution. Winged minutes
Haste on to safety; while the tardy step
Of dull suspicion stumbles at the threshold,
And wakes the fury danger in her cave.

Nar.
Say we protract the fate of Belisarius,
And sound the populace? If his confinement
They bear with ineffectual murmurs only,
We lose not our caution. Death may follow.—
Or say the sword on Phorbas first descend;
Without his active aid, tho Belisarius
Should even be enlarged, the treasonous head
Wanting the hand, will give no birth to terror.

Just.
The guardian care of Providence protect me!
And your true aid, and counsel! Let the sword
Descend on Phorbas.—Hold—receive our signet.
Act as ourselves—their fate is in thy hands.

Nar.
With pity and reluctance, to Eumenes
I bear thy orders.

[Exit.
Just.
Theodora! oh!
How keen my feelings! never did I sentence
Without a pang, the meanest of my subjects;
But now what torture racks my inmost soul,
And tears each finer nerve of bleeding friendship!
Yes, witness heaven, how dearly I esteem'd them!
Should they be guiltless!—But their crimes are obvious.
How would the tongues of men exclaim against me!
How branded to the world should I appear,
How base in history's impartial page!
Their guilt is manifest—these pangs are nature's.
Religion, public love approve the deed.
Oh! calm my soul! Yet tho excelling all
Thy sex in wisdom, fruitless were the task.
Time only can perform that office; time
Which softly checks the reins of headstrong grief,
And by degrees wears out the trace of memory.