University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

SCENE I.

Theopilus discover'd at a Table, Books about him.
Theo.
Methinks this Night has an unusual Silence.
The Ravenous Wolf forgets his Midnight howl,
The Winds are husht, and Neptune's furious Surge
Is calm and silent as the Shades of Death.
No Time so fit for Envy and Revenge
To brood and hatch its Mischief.
[Rises.
As when a curious Painter, by his Art,
Has finish'd well some admirable Piece,
At distance views it with a careful Eye,
Examines every Part, finds no Defects,
And hugs himself, pleas'd with his rare Performance—
So here, my bloody Landskips I survey,
[Sits.
And bless my self with the delightful Prospect.
This Scrowl, this List of Christians destroy'd,
Were they alive and arm'd, not Rome it self
Could move upon its Hinges. Let me see,
In Britain fourteen hundred Wives with Brats
Sucking their milky Breasts, by me pluck'd off
With burning Pincers; and when that was done
I minc'd the Flesh to feed the crying Infants.
Why, what a Thought was that! Again in Gallia,
Two thousand Men and Women, fed on purpose,
Were thrown to Dogs and Wolves to be devour'd.
Eight thousand died by several ways, in Asia.
When dead, had all their several Bodies burnt,
And Ashes scatter'd wide into the Air.
In Greece, two thousand had their Eyes pull'd out,
And sent to starve upon the Mountain Wastes.
In Italy, two hundred set in the Earth up to the Arm-pits,
Had Food before 'em, and yet died for Hunger,
Because they could not reach it. Ha, ha, ha, ha!
What can the World report of me for this?
That I've been Just, and bravely done my Duty,
Zealously serv'd the Gods, and Dioclesian.
[Soft Musick.
Who dares disturb my Thoughts with Sounds like these?
Why, what art thou, tell me, and say from whence.

[Dorothea descends in the form of an Angel a Cross in her Hand.
Dor.
I come, Theopilus, as you desir'd,
To give you Notice of a Life beyond
The Surface of the Grave; and that there is
A place of Happiness reserv'd for Christians;
Which by sincere Repentance you may gain:
Since Mercy is the Attribute of Heav'n,
Attone for your mistaken Zeal, and live.

Theo.
I am confounded.

Dor.
Henceforth forbear your Cruelty,
Believe and Repent—amend,
And in this Sign overcome.

[Lays the Cross on the Table.
Theo.
Can there be Mercy for a Soul so black?

Dor.
Surely there can, and is.

Theo.
I am happy then.
O may I further know, what of my Daughters, and—

Dor.
Cease all Enquiries into Heav'ns Decrees,
They're not for Flesh and Blood to comprehend;
But this I dare inform thee,
Thy Daughters are alive, and thou may'st see 'em:
The Man, whom you commanded to destroy 'em
Was Just, and did compassionate their Case.
In his own House, with Care he has reserv'd 'em.
I must no longer here; be you not shaken,
Tho' Cæsar's Malice should oppose thy Faith.
Farewell, be timely wise, and ask no more.

[Ascends. Soft Musick again.
Theo.
My Resolution's fixt.

[Lightning, then the Ghost of Sapritius rises.
Sap.
Ha, ha, ha, ha! thou Fool,
Banish those childish Thoughts.

Theo.
Not to secure my Life,
Tho' Cæsar should command it.

Sap.
Thou shalt, or I'll destroy thee.

Theo.
Thou art no Twin to her who last was here.
You Pow'rs, whom my repenting Soul adore,
Guard me from Death and Hell!
What art thou, Fiend?—

Sap.
Thy Master.

Theo.
Mine?

Sap.
Who Hand in Hand has led thee to thy Hell;
Throw that gay foolish thing thou hast away,
And fall again before the Roman Gods;
Else in the frigid Zone, in a consorted Chain of Ice,
I'll hang thy tortur'd Soul, I am Sapritius.

Theo.
I fear thee not, 'tis not in thy Pow'r to hurt me,
I serve a better Master: By thee led on,
I would have murder'd my two virtuous Daughters,
But thou wert disappointed.

Sap.
I know it, Curses light on their Preservers.

Theo.
By thy Perswasion did I hunt the Life
Of Dorothea, the blest Virgin Martyr;
But she's not Angry with me for it now:
Witness this Present she has left me here.
Nor will I rest from Toyl, 'till I again
Shall see the happy Angel, and implore
Her Pardon and Forgiveness for the Deed.

Sap.
I'll bind thee from it.

Theo.
It is not in thy Pow'r, this single

The Cross.

Weapon
Is Arms enough t'encounter thy whole Force.

Sap.
Keep from me, or I'll blast thee.

Theo.
Art posting to thy Center? cursed Fiend
Depart, and never let me see thee more.
[Goes with the Cross towards him, as he descends.
Now I'm at ease; this Sign has overcome,
And much confirm'd my Faith.
Who waits?

Enter Captain of the Guards.
Cap.
My Lord.

Theo.
Come nearer, Sir; you are the joyful Minister
Of Peace and Comfort to my wretched Soul:
Say where thou hast dispos'd my happy Daughters,
Those Darlings of my Love, which Rage and Passion
Condemn'd to a most shameful and untimely Death.
Thou hast dispos'd them safe, then tell me where.

Cap.
What means my Lord?

Theo.
Nay, no Evasion, for indeed I know it.
A happy Angel from the Worlds above
Reveal'd the Tydings to me; fear thou not.

Cap.
Sure, if from Heav'n the Secret is reveal'd,
It cannot be for Ill. My Lord, I own it,
And thought when you, possest with too much Passion,
Resolv'd their Deaths, and bad me execute:
You would, when Reason and calm Thoughts return'd,
Repent, and curse me for the Execution.
So in my House, unknown to any,
Have I preserv'd 'em with my utmost Care.

Theo.
Go then, and instantly conduct 'em
To my Apartment in the Palace here;
Where I in private may again behold 'em,
And glad my longing Eyes.

Cap.
I shall, my honour'd Lord.
[Exit Capt.

Theo.
Who's that, Eumillius.

Enter Eumillius.
Eum.
I, my good Lord.

Theo.
I have a small Request, deny me not;
But swear by the Chaste Soul of Antony;
If not for his Religion, yet for his Friendship,
Without demanding what's the Cause that moves me.
Receive this Signet, by the Pow'r of which
Go to my Prisons, and release from thence
All Christians there confin'd by my Command.

Eum.
What shall follow, Sir?

Theo.
Haste to the Port,
Where you shall find two Ships already rigg'd,
In which embark the poor unhappy Souls,
And let them land upon some safer Shore.
Hasten, my Friend, and see it be perform'd,
And that Just Pow'r they serve will sure protect thee.

Eum.
I will not rest 'till I've obey'd your Order.
It seems an Act worthy my Undertaking.

Theo.
When 'tis perform'd, do you attend me here.
The Emperor is return'd, to Consummate
His Daughter's Nuptials with the King, his Friend,
On whom I'll wait, and wish for your return.

[Ex. severally.
Trumpets within.
Enter Dioclesian and Aurelius, Artimia and Attendants meeting 'em.
Art.
Glory and Conquest still attend on Cæsar.

Dio.
Let thy Wish, fair Daughter,
Be equally divided; and hereafter
Let me desire thy Love and Friendly Wishes
For this my Valiant Friend.

Art.
He does deserve, and has 'em.

Aur.
The Bonds consider'd in which we stand tied,
It would perhaps be thought a Flattery,
Tho' really it is not, if I repeat
The Sum of your Perfections:
Yet Love obliges me to say, I never saw
So bright a Form endow'd with so much Virtue.

Art.
My Lord, you show your self
A Soldier and a Courtier; but take heed.
My proffer'd Love, tho' slighted in a Servant,
Whose Breast was fill'd with Passion for another,
May be accepted in a Heart that's free,
And wound where it may be unwelcome to me.
Julius himself, whom War could never Tame,
He who beheld the fam'd Pharsalian Plains
Cover'd with mangled Bodies of Rome's Senators,
Without a Sigh, or Tear; when the World knew
No other Lord but him, struck deep in Years too,
Meeting in Egypt the fair Cleopatra,
She in the height of all his Glory took him
A Captive to her Charms.

Aur.
Madam, I must assure you, I should be
More proud to call my self your Captive,
Than to be Lord of all the conquer'd World.

Dio.
This meets my Wishes, welcome it Artimia,
And study to forget your former Love.
The Fates reserv'd thee for this better Choice.

Art.
I shall in all obey Great Dioclesian.

Aur.
As I shall you, and from this happy Hour
Date the Æra of my Joyful Life.

Enter Theopilus.
Dio.
Theopilus, thou art welcome to us.
Our Careful, Zealous Provost, thou hast toil'd
To satisfie our Will, though in Extreams.
We love thee for it: thou art a firm Rock,
Unshaken and secure against all Storms
That Chance may throw upon thee.
Prithee deliver, and for our sake do it
Without Derision and excess of Bitterness,
How did this Christian Virgin suffer Death?

Theo.
As did become her well; with such a Patience,
That were each Head in this large Room
Circled about with an Imperial Crown,
Yet would her Story merit their Attention.

Dio.
How was it? say—

Theo.
O mark it, Cæsar!
And with that Attention,
As you would hear an Embassy from Heaven!
By a wing'd Legate thence. Mark me, I say.
She suffer'd all the bitterest Pangs of Death,
With that prodigious Constancy of Mind,
As never yet was matcht, nor ever will be.
How Pious to the last, how meek, how mild!
How virtuously resign'd to suffer all,
Without the least complaining! how unconcern'd,
She heard the base Revilings and Reproaches
Of those who most unjustly sought her Death!
'Tis such a Wonder, Words cannot express it.
Your Ancient Matrons, your Cornelia,
Gracchus, Paulma, and the rest of those,
Whose Names you Romans reverence,
Shall henceforth lie obscure in dark Oblivion,
To be forgotten ever, while her Story
Shall be with Wonder and Amazement told.

Aur.
He's Mad.

Dio.
Why they did dye, and bravely;
This did not more,

Theo.
They died, or in Despair,
Or for Vain-glory of an After-name.
This had not Mutinous Sons, as the rash Gracchi were.
Nor was this Saint
A doating Mother, as Cornelia was.
This lost no Husband, in whose Overthrow
Her Wealth and Honour sunk;
No fear of Want did make her Being tedious.
She only aim'd at an Immortal Crown,
The just Reward of those that dye like her.

Art.
Yet then you said,
It was her Witchcraft, devilish Illusion.

Theo.
Ay, then I said,
What now I am asham'd to hear repeated,
Such Blasphemy I swore, O Heaven forgive me!
For now I will adore no one but thee,
That awful Power whom the just Martyr serv'd

Dio.
Darest thou provoke our Rage?

Theo.
Yes; were my Voice
As loud as is the Thunder, to be heard
Through all the World, all Potentates on Earth
Ready to burst with Rage, when they should hear it;
Yet I would speak, and speak again, and boldly,
I am a Christian, and the Powers you worship
But dreams of Fools and Madmen.

Aur.
Lay Hands on him, some one.

Dio.
Thou twice a Child, for doating Age so makes thee,
Thou could'st not else, thy Pilgrimage of Life
Being so near its End, in thy last Moments
Cancel whate'er thou hast done Good or Great.
Thy Manhood promis'd much; and grown Mature,
Thou mad'st it good; and with encrease of Years
Thy Actions still were better: like the Sun,
Thou didst rise Glorious, kept a constant Course
In that bright Sphere of Honour thou wert plac'd in;
And wilt thou now, now, in the very Evening of thy Days,
When thou should'st pass with Glory to thy Rest,
Like a false Meteor fall and be despised?

Aur.
Yet confess thy Folly and thy Madness,
And that thy Tongue and Heart had no Agreement.

Art.
No other way is left to save thy Life, Theopilus.

Dio.
If he persists,
Destruction shall attend on every Word;
So heavy shall my Vengeance fall upon him,
That he shall curse his Being, and despair.

Theo.
Hear me a Word, if for my Service past—

Dio.
What wilt thou say, thou Dotard?

Theo.
As ever I deserv'd your Favour, hear me,
And grant one Grace: 'Tis not for Life I ask; no,
It is not fit, that I, who ne'er knew Mercy
To any Christian, being one my self,
Should look for any now I am one my self.
I rather beg the utmost of your Cruelty,
Since for so many thousand Christian Souls
I stand accountable. Oh! were it possible
That I cou'd die a Day for every one,
And live again to be again tormented,
Even that wou'd be an easie Penance to me;
But it can never be, and is deny'd me,
Because beyond the Power of feeble Nature.
In my own House there are a thousand Engines
Of studied Cruelty, by me prepared
To torture Innocent Christians! O send thither,
And let me undergo the worst of 'em,
As the Sicilian did his Brazen Bull;
Then will I say in Death, that you are Just.

Dio.
Fear not, thou hast prevail'd in this.
Prepare a Rack, and if within an Hour
You do not bring us Notice of his Change
From this mad Christian Frenzy, let him die.
Tear from his Bones his Flesh with burning Pincers,
And on the Rack let him Groan out his last.
The Slave that makes him give the loudest Groan,
Shall have a hundred Ducats for Reward.
You Captain of our Guard see it perform'd,
Or your Head pays the Forfeit: Come, my Lord,
And let this Caitif perish by himself.
Prophaneness to the Gods we'll never spare;
But make their Honour our peculiar Care,
Their Shrines, and Temples, shall our Pow'r defend;
And he that serves the Gods is Cæsar's Friend.

[Ex. Dio. Aur. Art.
Cap.
In this extream of Woe what shall I do?

Theo.
Thy Office, Man:
Only this one Request before I die,
That I may see, and take my last farewell
Of my unhappy, and yet happy Daughters.

Cap.
You, Sirs, prepare the Rack and Instruments.
[Ex. Tormenters.
And on my Knees I beg of you Forgiveness,
That I should be the Instrument of Death
To one, whose Clemency—

Theo.
I charge you say no more;
I do forgive thee: rise.

Cap.
My Lord, your Daughters.

Enter Calista and Christeta.
Theo.
My Children? Oh, my Heart;
But I will guard me in this tender'st Part,
Where Nature shocks me most.
You have heard, e'er now, that I must suffer Death;
And this, this fatal Now, is the last Moment
Time has allotted us to know each other:
For e'er I can discern the mid day Sun,
I shall, this Immaterial Soul of mine
Shall pass the Verge of vast Eternity.
Be launch'd into that Immense boundless Ocean,
Which none cou'd ever yet describe or know.
My Moments here are short, are very short;
And yet that Particle of Time contains
The Business of an Age. Oh, I have to die!
A Work which Nature lays upon us all.
Weep not, for you will make me Womanish,
And perhaps wish to live, which must not be:
For I deserve a thousand times as much
As Tyranny can inflict. First let us kneel,
Come nearer, kneel together, and here Vow
In Heav'n's Presence with a solemn Promise,
To me, your dying Father, that you both
Will never change the Heav'nly Christian Faith
For any Worship else.

Both.
O never! never! never!

Theo.
By my Example you will boldly suffer
Whate'er the cruel Hand of Pow'r inflicts,
With an intrepid Constancy of Mind.

Christ.
In Words to promise, would be weak and vain.
I'll court the Means that shall discharge me hence
From this base World, to those Celestial Orbs
Where Virtue is rewarded, where again
We shall enjoy each other's blest Society.

Cal.
There we shall live
Beyond the Reach of insolent Oppression,
Hunger, and Cold, and Poverty, and Shame,
And all those Troubles Human Life is Heir to.
I vow to persevere in this, and scorn all other Thoughts.

Christ.
And so do I.

Theo.
May Heav'n assist you both.
And now remains you take a Father's Blessing,
And last Farewell at once.
[They kneel, he lays his Hands on them, and pauses.
Rise now, and let us take this one Embrace,
Again Embrace, and let these Arms infold
What once I thought the Glory of my Life,
And Joy of all my Joys; but now, I die!
And all must be forgotten; for in the Grave
Those happy peaceful Mansions of the Dead,
No Knowledge, nor Device, shall e'er disturb me.
Why will you weep, when I enjoin you not?

Cal.
You will command what Nature must deny.
My Father, O my Father! from whose Loins
This Body had its Origin and Being,
Must I stand calmly by and see him perish,
Without a flood of Tears to embalm his Coarse,
His clay cold Coarse mangled and torn to pieces?
I must deny you, and comply with Nature.

Enter Executioners.
Cap.
My Lord, the utmost time is
Drawing nigh, and we must suffer
For the least delay.

Theo.
You shall not suffer the least harm for me.
None, none will I involve with me in Ruin;
But finish here, and think of Life no more
But as a Dream that's past when one awakes.
Again, you Darlings of my Soul, farewell.
Something I had to say—I had much to say;
But the approach of Death removes the Thought
From my disturb'd Remembrance. I must depart,
Or I shall sink with Passion, and betray
A Weakness I shall be asham'd to own.
And! Oh! to both of you at once, farewell,
A long, a last farewell.

[Ex. Omnes sed Calis. and Christ.
Cal.
Since we must part, farewell,
Farewell, my Father.

Christ.
O wou'd I might accompany him;
But cruel Pow'r denies it:
Yet I will follow, and see, as is my Duty,
His reverend Corps with Funeral Rights Interr'd.

[Exeunt.
SCENE Draws, discovers Theopilus on a Rack.
Theo.
For Heav'ns sake more, my Arms are yet untorn,
The Irons cool; behold my Legs, my Thighs.
I charge you spare 'em not; oh! oh! oh!
I feel a sudden Transport that o'ercomes me.

1 Tor.
He endures beyond the Sufferance of a Man.

2 Tor.
No Sigh or Groan to witness he has feeling.

1 Tor.
Death seizes him apace.

2 Tor.
He was a barbarous, wicked, bloody Man,
And died as he deserved.

Cap.
Forbear your Censure, for we all are Sinners.
In Death he cannot speak in his Defence,
Then let him rest in Peace for Charity,
And may the Gods forgive his Crimes and mine.

[Exeunt.
Soft Musick. Then descend Dorothea and Anthony, who place a Crown of Glory over his Head, and ascend.
Theo.
Most glorious Vision! O Extasie!
Did ever Bed so hard, yield Man a Dream
So heavenly as this?
I am confirm'd, you ever glorious Spirits,
And make what haste this load of Flesh permits,
To meet your blest Embraces, in those Mansions
Where an Eternal Round of Glory shines.
And witness for me all these Wounds and Scars,
I die a Soldier in the Christian Wars.

[Dies.
Enter Eumillius, Calista, and Christeta.
Eum.
Oh! Horror! Horror!
This Object strikes such Terror in my Breast,
As yet it never felt: Ye Immortal Pow'rs
It shocks my very Nature, loads my Soul
With an Excess of Passion, that my Nature
Wants Strength even to support it.

Christ.
O, would my Senses here might fail for ever,
That I might rest incapable of Thought;
For the Remembrance of a Sight like this
Will surely plunge me in the last Despair.

Cal.
Here let us kneel, and act the Christians Part;
Weep 'till the Fountains of our Eyes be dry,
To wash the Crimson Gore from off his Wounds.
O that the Sable Horror of this Day,
Shou'd wound no deeper this sad Heart of mine;
But that I yet must live, and only mourn.

Christ.
He died a Christian, and let that support us.

Eum.
Come you unhappy Twins of Misery,
I will assist you in this last sad Office
Of Filial Duty to your Father's Corps.
Let's bear him from this Place, prepare his Obsequies,
And cover with sad baleful Yew his Coarse,
To be Interr'd within his Houshold Tomb,
There the hard Hand of Pow'r shall never afflict him.
His Orders I have punctually obey'd,
Tho' he's Insensible I bring the News;
And for the Deed, perhaps my Death will follow;
But be it as it may, I am satisfied,
And cannot fear to die in Vertue's Cause.
From whence to Joys Immortal I shall rise,
Immense, beyond the reach of Human Eyes.
For tho' some Impious Men will raise Debate,
And void of Reason doubt a future State:
At Death they all confess themselves deceiv'd,
And trembling own those Truths they disbeliev'd.