University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

Indian Cave.
Placidius, Nigrinus. Nigrinus with two drawn Swords, held upward in his hands.
Placid.
All other means have fail'd to move her heart;
Our last recourse is, therefore, to your Art.

Nig.
Of Wars, and Bloodshed, and of dire Events,
Of Fates, and a fighting Kings, their Instruments,
I could with greater certainty foretell;
Love only does in doubts and darkness dwell.
For, like a wind, it in no quarter stays;
But points and veers each hour a thousand ways.
On Women Love depends, and they on Will;
Chance turns their Orb while Destiny sits still.

Placid.
Leave nothing unattempted in your pow'r:
Remember you oblige an Emperour.

Nig.
An earthy Fiend by compact me obeys;
But him to light intents I must not raise.
Some Astral forms I must invoke by prayer,
Fram'd all of purest Atoms of the Air;
Not in their Natures simply good or ill;
But most subservient to bad Spirits will.
Nakar of these does lead the mighty Band,
For eighty Legions move at his Command:
Gentle to all, but, far above the rest,
Mild Nakar loves his soft Damilcar best.
In Aery Chariots they together ride;
And sip the dew as through the Clouds they glide:
These are the Spirits which in Love have pow'r.

Placid.
Haste, and invoke 'em in a happy hour.

Nig.
And so it proves: for, counting sev'n from Noon,
'Tis Venus hour, and in the wexing Moon.
With Chalk I first describe a Circle here,
Where these Ætherial Spirits must appear.
Come in, come in; for here they will be strait:
Around, around, the place I fumigate:
My fumigation is to Venus, just:
The Souls of Roses, and red Corals dust:
A lump of Sperma Ceti; and to these
The stalks and chips of Lignum Alöes.
And, last, to make my fumigation good,
'Tis mixt with Sparrows brains, and Pigeons blood.
Nigrinus takes up the Swords.
They come, they come, they come! I hear 'em now.

Placid.
A death-like damp sits cold upon my brow:
And misty vapours swim before my sight.

Nig.
They come not in a shape to cause your fright.

Nakar and Damilcar descend in Clouds, and sing.
Nakar.
Hark, my Damilcar, we are call'd below!

Dam.
Let us go, let us go!
Go to relieve the care
Of longing Lovers in despair!

Nakar.
Merry, merry, merry, we sail from the East
Half tippled at a Rain-bow Feast.

Dam.
In the bright Moon-shine while winds whistle loud,
Tivy, tivy, tivy, we mount and we fly,
All racking along in a downy white Cloud:
And lest our leap from the Skie should prove too far,
We slide on the back of a new-falling Star.

Nakar.
And drop from above,
In a Gelly of Love!

Dam.
But now the Sun's down, and the Element's red,
The Spirits of Fire against us make head!

Nakar.
They muster, they muster, like Gnats in the Air:
Alas! I must leave thee, my Fair;
And to my light Horse-men repair.

Dam.
O stay, for you need not to fear 'em to night;
The wind is for us, and blows full in their sight:
And o're the wide Ocean we fight!
Like leaves in the Autumn our Foes will fall down;
And hiss in the Water—

Both.
And hiss in the Water and drown!

Nakar.
But their men lye securely intrench'd in a Cloud:
And a Trumpeter-Hornet to battel sounds loud.

Dam.
Now Mortals that spie
How we tilt in the Skie
With wonder will gaze;
And fear such events as will ne're come to pass!

Nakar.
Stay you to perform what the man will have done.

Dam.
Then call me again when the Battel is won.

Both.
So ready and quick is a Spirit of Air
To pity the Lover, and succour the fair,
That, silent and swift, the little soft God
Is here with a wish, and is gone with a nod.

The Clouds part, Nakar flies up, and Damilcar down.
Nig.
I charge thee, Spirit, stay; and by the pow'r
[To Damilcar.]
Of Nakar's Love, and of this holy Wand
On the North quarter of my Circle stand:
(Sev'n foot around for my defence I take!)
To all my questions faithful answers make,
So may'st thou live thy thousand years in peace;
And see thy Aery progeny increase:
So may'st thou still continue young and fair,
Fed by the blast of pure Ætherial Air.
And, thy full term expir'd, without all pain
Dissolve into thy Astral source again.

Dam.
Name not my hated Rival Gemory,
And I'le speak true whate're thy questions be.

Nig.
Thy Rivals hated name I will refrain:
Speak, shall the Emperour his love obtain?

Dam.
Few hours shall pass before your Emperour shall be
Possess'd of that he loves, or from that love be free.

Placid.
Shall I enjoy that Beauty I adore?

Dam.
She Suppliant-like, e're long, thy succour shall implore:
And thou with her thou lov'st in happiness may'st live:
If she not dies before, who all thy joys can give.

Nig.
Say, what does the Ægyptian Princess now?

Dam.
A gentle slumber sits upon her brow.

Nig.
Go, stand before her in a golden dream:
Set all the pleasures of the world to show,
And in vain joys let her loose spirit flow.

Dam.
Twice fifty Tents remove her from your sight,
But I'll cut through e'm all with rays of light:
And covering other objects to your eyes,
Show where intranc'd in silent sleep she lies.

Damilcar stamps, and the Bed arises with S. Catherine in it.
Dam.
singing.
You pleasing dreams of Love and sweet delight,
Appear before this slumbring Virgins sight:
Soft visions set her free
From mournful piety.
Let her sad thoughts from Heav'n retire;
And let the Melancholy Love
Of those remoter joys above
Give place to your more sprightly fire.
Let purling streams be in her fancy seen;
And flowry Meads, and Vales of chearful green:
And in the midst of deathless Groves
Soft sighing wishes ly,
And smiling hopes fast by,
And just beyond e'm ever laughing Loves.

A Scene of a Paradise is discovered.
Placid.
Some pleasing objects do her mind employ;
For on her face I read a wandring Joy.

SONG.
Dam.

At the end of the Song a Dance of Spirits. After which Amariel, the Guardian-Angel of S. Catharine, descends to soft Musick, with a flaming Sword. The Spirits crawl off the Stage amazedly, and Damilcar runs to a corner of it.
Amar.
From the bright Empire of Eternal day,
Where waiting minds for Heav'ns Commission stay,
Amariel flies: (a darted Mandate came
From that great will which moves this mighty Frame,
Bid me to thee, my Royal charge, repair,
To guard thee from the Dæmons of the Air;
My flaming Sword above 'em to display,
(All keen and ground upon the edge of day;)
To flat to sweep the Visions from thy mind,
The edge to cut 'em through that stay behind.)
Vain Spirits, you that shunning Heav'ns high noon,
Swarm here beneath the concave of the Moon,
What folly, or what rage your duty blinds,
To violate the sleep of holy minds?
Hence, to the task assign'd you here below:
Upon the Ocean make loud Tempests blow:
Into the wombs of hollow Clouds repair,
And crush out Thunder from the bladder'd Air.
From pointed Sun-beams take the Mists they drew,
And scatter 'em again in pearly dew:
And of the bigger drops they drain below,
Some mould in Hail, and others stamp in Snow.

Dam.
Mercy, bright Spirit, I already feel
The piercing edge of thy immortal steel:
Thou, Prince of day, from Elements Art free;
And I all body when compar'd to thee.
Thou tread'st th'Abyss of light!
And where it streams with open eyes canst go:
We wander in the Fields of Air below:
Changlings and Fooles of Heav'n: and thence shut out,
Wildly we roam in discontent about:
Gross-heavy-fed, next man in ignorance and sin,
And spotted all without; and dusky all within.
Without thy Sword I perish by thy sight,
I reel, and stagger, and am drunk with light.

Ama.
If e're against thou on this place art found,
Full fifty years I'le chain thee under ground;
The damps of Earth shall be thy daily food;
All swoln and bloated like a dungeon toad:
And when thou shalt be freed, yet thou shalt ly
Gasping upon the ground, too faint to fly;
And lag below thy fellows in the sky.

Dam.
O pardon, pardon this accursed deed,
And I no more on Magick fumes will feed;
Which drew me hither by their pow'rful steams.

Ama.
to S. Cath.
Go expiate thy guilt in holy dreams.
[Ex. Dam.
But thou, sweet Saint, henceforth disturb'd no more
With dreams not thine, thy thoughts to Heav'n restore.

The Angel ascends, and the Scene shuts.
Nig.
Some holy Being does invade this place,
And from their duty does my Spirits chase.
I dare no longer near it make abode:
No Charms prevail against the Christians God.

Exit.
Placid.
How doubtfully these Specters Fate foretell!
In double sense, and twi-light truth they dwell:
Like fawning Courtiers for success they wait,
And then come smiling and declare for Fate.
Enter Maximin and Porphyrius, attended by Valerius and Guards.
But see, the Tyrant and my Rival come:
I, like the Fiends, will flatter in his doom:
None but a Fool distastful truth will tell,
So it be new and please, 'tis full as well.

Placid. whispers with the Emperour who seems pleas'd.
Max.
You charm me with your news, which I'le reward:
By hopes we are for coming joys prepar'd:
Possess her Love, or from that Love be free—
Heav'n speaks me fair: if she as kind can prove,
I shall possess, but never quit my Love.
Go, tell me when she wakes—
Exit Placidius.
Porphyrius seems to beg something of him.
—Porphyrius, no;
She has refus'd, and I will keep my vow.

Por.
For your own sake your cruel vow defer;
The time's unsafe, your Enemies are near.
And to displease your men when they should fight—

Max.
My looks alone my Enemies will fright;
And o're my men I'le set my careful Spies,
To watch Rebellion in their very eyes.
No more, I cannot bear the least reply.

Por.
Yet, Tyrant, thou shalt perish e're she dye.
Aside.
Enter Valeria.
Valeria here! how Fortune treats me still
With various harms, magnificently ill!

Max.
Valeria, I was sending to your Tent,
To Valeria.
But my Commands your presence does prevent.
This is the hour, wherein the Priest shall joyn
Your holy Loves, and make Porphyrius mine.

Val.
aside.
Now hold, my Heart, and Venus I implore,
Be Judge if she he loves deserves him more.

Por.
aside.
Past hope! and all in vain I would preserve
My life, not for my self, but her I serve.

Val.
I come, great Sir, your justice to demand.

To the Emp.
Max.
You cannot doubt it from a Fathers hand.

Por.
Sir, I confess before her Suit be known;
And, by my self condemn'd, my crime I own.
I have refus'd—

Val.
—Peace, peace, while I confess
I have refus'd thee for unworthiness.

Por.
I am amaz'd.

Max.
—What Riddles do you use?
Dare either of you my Commands refuse?

Val.
Yes, I dare owne how e're 'twas wisely done
T'adopt so mean a person for your Son:
So low you should not for your Daughter chuse:
And therefore, Sir, this Marriage I refuse.

Max.
You lik'd the choice when first I thought it fit.

Val.
I had not then enough consider'd it.

Max.
And you have now consider'd it too much:
Secrets of Empire are not safe to touch.

Por.
Let not your mighty anger rise too high;
'Tis not Valeria merits it, but I.
My own unworthiness so well I knew,
That from her Love I consciously withdrew.

Val.
Thus rather than endure the little shame
To be refus'd, you blast a Virgins name.
You to refuse, and I to be deny'd!
Learn more discretion, or be taught less pride.

Por.
O Heav'n, in what a Labyrinth am I led!
I could get out, but she detains the thred!
Now I must wander on till I can see,
Whether her pity or revenge it be!

Aside.
Max.
With what childs anger do you think you play?
I'le punish both, if either disobey.

Val.
Since all the fault was mine, I am content
Porphyrius should not share the punishment.

Por.
Blind that I was till now, that could not see,
'Twas all th'effect of generosity.
She loves me, ev'n to suffer for my sake;
And on her self would my refusal take.

Aside.
Max.
Children to serve their Parents int'rest, live.
To Val.
Take heed what doom against your self you give.

Por.
Since she must suffer, if I do not speak,
'Tis time the Laws of Decency to break.
She told me, Sir, that she your choice approv'd:
And (though I blush to owne it) said she lov'd.
Lov'd me desertless, who, with shame, confest,
Another flame had seiz'd upon my brest.
Which when, too late, the generous Princess knew:
And fear'd your justice would my crime pursue,
Upon her self she makes the Tempest fall,
And my refusal her contempt would call.

Val.
He raves, Sir, and to cover my disdain,
Unhandsomly would his denial feign.
And all means would his denial feign.
And all means failing him, at last would try
T'usurp the credit of a scorn, and dye.
But—let him live:—his punishment shall be
The grief his pride will bring for losing me.

Max.
You both obnoxious to my justice are;
And, Daughter, you have not deserv'd my care.
'Tis my Command you strictly guarded be,
Till your fantastick quarrel you agree.

Por.
Sir—

Max.
I'le not hear you speak, her crime is plain,
She owns her pride which you perhaps my feign.
She shall be Prisoner till she bend her mind
To that which is for both of you design'd.

Val.
You'l find it hard my free-born will to bound.

Max.
I'le find that pow'r o're wills which Heav'n ne're found.
Free will's a cheat in any one but me:
In all but Kings 'tis willing slavery.
An unseen Fate which forces the desire:
The will of Puppets danc'd upon a wyre.
A Monarch is
The Spirit of the World in every mind;
He may match Wolves to Lambs, and make it kind.
Mine is the business of your little Fates:
And though you war, like petty wrangling States,
You're in my hand; and when I bid you cease,
You shall be crush'd together into peace.

Val.
aside.
Thus by the world my courage will be priz'd;
Seeming to scorn, who am, alas, despis'd:
Dying for Love's, fulfilling Honour's Laws;
A secret Martyr while I owne no cause.

Exeunt Porphyrius and Valeria severally.
To Maximin enter S. Catharine.
S. Cath.
I come not now, as Captive to your pow'r,
To beg; but as high Heav'ns Embassadour,
The Laws of my Religion to fulfill:
Heav'n sends me to return you good for ill.
Your Empress to your Love I would restore;
And to your mind the peace it had before.

Max.
While in anothers name you Peace declare,
Princess, you in your own proclaim a War.
Your too great pow'r does your design oppose;
You make those breaches which you strive to close.

S. Cath.
That little beauty which too much you prize
Seeks not to move your heart, or draw your eyes:
Your Love to Berenice is due alone:
Love, like the pow'r which I adore, is one.
When fixt to one, it safe at Anchor rides,
And dares the fury of the winds and tides:
But losing once that hold, to the wide Ocean born,
It drives away at will, to every wave a scorn.

Max.
If to new persons I my Love apply,
The Stars and Nature are in fault, not I:
My Loves are like my old Prætorian Bands,
Whose Arbitrary pow'r their Prince commands:
I can no more make passion come or go,
Than you can bid your Nilus ebb or flow.
'Tis lawless, and will love, and where it list:
And that's no sin which no man can resist:
Those who impute it to me as a crime,
Would make a God of me before my time.

S. Cath.
A God, indeed, after the Roman style,
An Eagle mounting from a kindled Pile:
But you may make your self a God below:
For Kings who rule their own desires are so.
You roam about, and never are at rest;
By new desires, that is, new torments, still possest.
Qualmish and loathing all you had before:
Yet with a sickly appetite to more.
As in a fev'rish dream you still drink on;
And wonder why your thirst is never gone.
Love, like a ghostly Vision haunts your mind;
'Tis still before you what you left behind.

Max.
How can I help those faults which Nature made?
My appetite is sickly and decay'd,
And you forbid me change (the sick mans ease)
Who cannot cure, must humour his disease.

S. Cath.
Your mind should first the remedy begin;
You seek without, the Cure that is within.
The vain experiments you make each day,
To find content, still finding it decay,
Without attempting more, should let you see
That you have sought it where it ne're could be.
But when you place your joys on things above,
You fix the wand'ring Planet of your Love:
Thence you may see
Poor humane kind all daz'd in open day,
Erre after bliss, and blindly miss their way:
The greatest happiness a Prince can know,
Is to love Heav'n above, do good below.

To them Berenice and Attendants.
Ber.
That happiness may Berenice find,
Leaving these empty joys of Earth behind:
And this frail Being, where so short a while
Th'unfortunate lament, and prosp'rous smile.
Yet a few days, and those which now appear
In youth and beauty like the blooming year,
In life's swift Scene shall change; and cares shall come,
And heavy age, and death's relentless doom.

S. Cath.
Yet man, by pleasures seeks that Fate which he would shun;
And, suck'd in by the stream, does to the Whirl-pool run.

Max.
How, Madam, are you to new ways inclin'd?
To Ber.
I fear the Christian Sect perverts your mind.

Ber.
Yes, Tyrant, know that I their Faith embrace,
And owne it in the midst of my disgrace.
That Faith, which abject as it seems to thee,
Is nobler than thy Purple Pageantry:
A Faith, which still with Nature is at strife;
And looks beyond it to a future life.
A Faith which vitious Souls abhor and fear,
Because it shows Eternity to near.
And therefore every one—
With seeming scorn of it the rest deceives:
All joyning not to owne what each believes.

S. Cath.
O happy Queen! whom pow'r leads not astray,
Nor youth's more pow'rful blandishments betray.

Ber.
Your Arguments my reason first inclin'd,
And then your bright example fix'd my mind.

Max.
With what a holy Empress am I blest,
What scorn of Earth dwells in her heav'nly brest!
My Crown's too mean; but he whom you adore,
Has one more bright of Martyrdom in store.
She dyes, and I am from the envy freed:
Aside.
She has, I thank her, her own death decreed.
No Souldier now will in her rescue stir;
Her death is but in complaisance to her.
I'le haste to gratifie her holy will;
Heav'n grant her zeal may but continue still.
To Val.
Tribune, a Guard to seize the Empress strait,
Secure her Person Pris'ner to the State.
Exit Maximin.

Val.
going to her.
Madam, believe 'tis with regret I come
To execute my angry Prince's doom.

Enter Porphyrius.
Por.
What is it I behold! Tribune, from whence
Proceeds this more than barbarous insolence?

Val.
Sir, I perform the Emperour's Commands.

Por.
Villain, hold off thy sacrilegious hands,
Or by the Gods—retire without reply:
And, if he asks who bid thee, say 'twas I.

Valerius retires to a distance.
Ber.
Too generously your safety you expose
To save one moment her whom you must lose.

Por.
'Twixt you and death ten thousand lives there stand;
Have courage, Madam, the Prætorian Band
Will all oppose your Tyrants cruelty.

S. Cath.
And I have Heav'n implor'd she may not dye.
As some to witness truth Heav'ns call obey;
So some on Earth must, to confirm it, stay.

Por.
What Faith, what Witness is it that you name?

Ber.
Knowing what she believes, my Faith's the same.

Por.
How am I cross'd what way so e're I go!
To the unlucky every thing is so.
Now, Fortune, thou hast shown thy utmost spight:
The Souldiers will not for a Christian fight.
And, Madam, all that I can promise now,
Is but to dye before death reaches you.

Ber.
Now death draws near, a strange perplexity
Creeps coldly on me, like a fear to dye:
Courage, uncertain dangers may abate;
But who can bear th'approach of certain Fate?

S. Cath.
The wisest and the best some fear may show;
And wish to stay, though they resolve to go.

Ber.
As some faint Pilgrim standing on the shore,
First views the Torrent he would venture o're;
And then his Inn upon the farther ground,
Loth to wade through, and lother to go round:
Then dipping in his staff do's tryal make,
How deep it is; and, sighing, pulls it back:
Sometimes resolv'd to fetch his leap; and then
Runs to the Bank, but there stops short agen;
So I at once—
Both heav'nly Faith, and humane fear obey;
And feel before me in an unknown way.
For this blest Voyage I with joy prepare;
Yet am asham'd to be a stranger there.

S. Cath.
You are not yet enough prepar'd to dye:
Earth hangs too heavy for your Soul to flye.

Por.
One way (and Heav'n I hope inspires my mind)
I for your safety in this straight can find:
But this fair Queen must farther my intent.

S. Cath.
Name any way your reason can invent.

Por.
to Ber.
Though your Religion (which I cannot blame,
Because my secret Soul avows the same)
Has made your life a forfeit to the Laws,
The Tyrants new-born passion is the cause.
Were this bright Princess once remov'd away,
Wanting the food, the flame would soon decay.
And I'le prepare a faithful Guard this night
T'attend her person, and secure her flight.

Ber.
to S. Cath.
By this way I shall both from death be freed,
And you unforc'd to any wicked deed.

S. Cath.
Madam, my thoughts are with themselves at strife;
And Heav'n can witness how I prize your life:
But 'tis a doubtful conflict I must try
Betwixt my pity and my piety.
Staying, your precious life I must expose:
Going, my Crown of Martyrdom I lose.

Por.
Your equal choice when Heav'n does thus divide,
You should, like Heav'n, still lean on mercy's side.

S. Cath.
The will of Heav'n, judg'd by a private brest,
Is often what's our private interest.
And therefore those, who would that will obey,
Without their int'rest must their duty weigh.
As for my self, I do not life despise;
But as the greatest gift of Nature prize.
My Sex is weak, my fears of death are strong;
And whate're is, it's Being would prolong.
Were there no sting in death, for me to dye,
Would not be conquest, but stupidity.
But if vain Honour can confirm the Soul,
And sense of shame the fear of death controul,
How much more then should Faith uphold the mind,
Which, showing death, shows future life behind?

Ber.
Of death's contempt Heroick proofs you give;
But, Madam, let my weaker Vertue live.
Your Faith may bid you, your own life resign;
But not when yours must be involv'd with mine.
Since, then, you do not think me fit to dye,
Ah, how can you that life I beg, deny!

S. Cath.
Heav'n does in this my greatest tryal make,
When I for it, the care of you forsake.
But I am plac'd, as on a Theater,
Where all my Acts to all Mankind appear,
To imitate my constancy or fear.
Then, Madam, judge what course I should pursue,
When I must either Heav'n forsake, or you.

Por.
Were saving Berenice's life a sin,
Heav'n had shut up your flight from Maximin.

S. Cath.
Thus, with short Plummets Heav'ns deep will we sound,
That vast Abyss where humane Wit is drown'd!
In our small Skiff we must not launce too far;
We here but Coasters, not Discov'rers are.
Faith's necessary Rules are plain and few;
We, many, and those needless Rules pursue:
Faith from our hearts into our heads we drive;
And make Religion all Contemplative.
You, on Heav'ns will may witty glosses feign;
But that which I must practise here, is plain:
If the All-great decree her life to spare,
He will, the means, without my crime prepare.
Exit S. Cath.

Por.
Yet there is one way left! it is decreed
To save your life that Maximin shall bleed.
'Midst all his Guards I will his death pursue,
Or fall a Sacrifice to Love and you.

Ber.
So great a fear of death I have not shown,
That I would shed his blood to save my own.
My fear is but from humane frailty brought;
And never mingled with a wicked thought.

Por.
'Tis not a Crime, since one of you must dye;
Or is excus'd by the necessity.

Ber.
I cannot to a Husband's death consent;
But, by revealing, will your crime prevent:
The horrour of this deed—
Against the fear of death has arm'd my mind;
And now less guilt in him than you I find:
If I a Tyrant did detest before,
I hate a Rebel and a Traitor more:
Ungrateful man—
Remember whose Successor thou art made,
And then thy Benefactors life invade.
Guards to your charge I give your Pris'ner back:
And will from none but Heav'n my safety take.

Exit with Valerius and Guards.
Por.
solus.
'Tis true, what she has often urg'd before;
He's both my Father and my Emperour!
O Honour, how can'st thou invent a way
To save my Queen, and not my trust betray!
Unhappy I that e're he trusted me!
As well his Guardian-Angel may his Murd'rer be.
And yet—let Honour, Faith, and Vertue flye,
But let not Love in Berenice dye.
She lives!—
That's put beyond dispute, as firm as Fate:
Honour and Faith let Argument debate.

Enter Maximin and Valerius talking, and Guards.
Max.
'Tis said; but I am loth to think it true,
To Porphy.
That my late Orders were contemn'd by you:
That Berenice from her Guards you freed.

Por.
I did it, and I glory in the deed.

Max.
How, glory my Commands to disobey!

Por.
When those Commands would your Renown betray.

Max.
Who should be Judge of that Renown you name
But I?

Por.
—Yes I, and all who love your fame.

Max.
Porphyrius, your replies are insolent.

Por.
Sir, they are just, and for your service meant.
If, for Religion you our lives will take;
You do not the offenders find, but make.
All Faiths are to their own believers just;
For none believe, because they will, but must.
Faith is a force from which there's no defence;
Because the Reason it does first convince.
And Reason Conscience into fetters brings;
And Conscience is without the pow'r of Kings.

Max.
Then Conscience is a greater Prince than I:
At whose each erring call a King may dye.
Who Conscience leaves to its own free command,
Puts the worst Weapon in a Rebels hand.

Por.
It's Empire, therefore Sir, should bounded be;
And but in acts of it's Religion, free:
Those who ask Civil pow'r and Conscience too,
Their Monarch to his own destruction woo.
With needful Arms let him secure his peace;
Then, that wild beast he safely may release.

Max.
I can forgive these liberties you take,
While but my Counsellor your self you make:
But you first act your sense, and then advise:
That is, at my expence you will be wise.
My Wife, I for Religion do not kill;
But she shall dye—because it is my will.

Por.
Sir, I acknowledge I too much have done;
And therefore merit not to be your Son:
I render back the Honours which you gave;
My liberty's the only gift I crave.

Max.
You take too much:—but, e're you lay it down,
Consider what you part with in a Crown:
Monarchs of cares in Policy complain,
Because they would be pity'd while they raign;
For still the greater troubles they confess,
They know their pleasures will be envy'd less.

Por.
Those joys I neither envy nor admire;
But beg I from the troubles may retire.

Max.
What Soul is this which Empire cannot stir!
Supine and tame as a Philosopher!
Know then, thou wert adopted to a Throne,
Not for thy sake so much as for my own.
My thoughts were once about thy death at strife;
And thy succession's thy reprieve for life.

Por.
My life and death are still within your pow'r:
But your succession I renounce this hour.
Upon a bloody Throne I will not sit;
Nor share the guilt of Crimes which you commit.

Max.
If you are not my Cæsar, you must dye.

Por.
I take it as the nobler Destiny.

Max.
I pity thee, and would thy faults forgive:
But thus presuming on, thou canst not live.

Por.
Sir, with your Throne your pity I restore;
I am your Foe; nor will I use it more.
Now all my debts of gratitude are paid,
I cannot trusted be, nor you betray'd.

Is going.
Max.
Stay, stay! in threat'ning me to be my Foe,
You give me warning to conclude you so.
Thou to succeed a Monarch in his Seat!
Enter Placidius.
No, Fool, thou art too honest to be great!
Placidius, on your life this Pris'ner keep:
Our enmity shall end before I sleep.

Placid.
I still am ready, Sir, when e're you please,
To Porphy.
To do you such small services as these.

Max.
The sight with which my eyes shall first be fed,
Must be my Empress and this Traitors head.

Por.
Where e're thou standst I'le level at that place
My gushing blood, and spout it at thy face.
Thus, not by Marriage, we our blood will joyn:
Nay more, my arms shall throw my head at thine.

Exit guarded.
Max.
There, go adoption:—I have now decreed
That Maximin shall Maximin succeed:
Old as I am, in pleasures I will try
To waste an Empire yet before I dye:
Since life is fugitive, and will not stay,
I'le make it flye more pleasantly away.

Exit.