 | Tyrannick Love, or the Royal Martyr |  |
47
ACT V.
SCENE I.
Valeria, Placidius.Val.
If, as you say, you silently have been
So long my Lover, let my pow'r be seen:
One hours discourse before Porphyrius dye,
Is all I ask, and you too may be by.
Placid.
I must not break
The order, which the Emperour did sign.
Val.
Has then his hand more pow'r with you than mine?
Placid.
This hand if given, would far more pow'rful be
Than all the Monarchs of the World to me:
But 'tis a bait which would my heart betray;
And, when I'm fast, will soon be snatcht away.
Val.
O say not so; for I shall ever be
Oblig'd to him who once obliges me.
Placid.
Madam, I'le wink, and favour your deceit:
But know, fair Coz'ner, that I know the cheat:
Though to these eyes I nothing can refuse,
I'le not the merit of my ruine lose:
It is enough I see the hook, and bite:
But first I'le pay my death with my delight.
[Kisses her hand, and Exit.]
Val.
What can I hope from this sad interview!
And yet my brave design I will pursue.
By many signs I have my Rival found:
But Fortune him, as deep as me does wound.
For, if he loves the Empress, his sad Fate
More moves my pity, than his scorn my hate.
To her Placidius with Porphyrius.
Placid.
I am, perhaps, the first
Who forc'd by Fate, and in his own despight,
Brought a lov'd Rival to his Mistress sight.
Val.
But, in revenge, let this your comfort be,
That you have brought a man who loves not me.
However, lay your causeless envy by;
48
Por.
And yet I could with less concernment bear
That death of which you speak, than see you here.
So much of guilt in my refusal lyes,
That Debtor-like, I dare not meet your eyes.
Val.
I do not blame you, if you love elsewhere:
And, would to Heav'n, I could your suff'rings bear;
Or once again could some new way invent
To take upon my self your punishment:
I sent for you, to let you know that still
(Though now I want the pow'r) I have the will.
Placid.
Can all this Ocean of your kindness be
Pour'd upon him, and not one drop on me?
Val.
'Tis pour'd; but falls from this ungrateful man,
Like drops of water from a rising Swan.
Upon his breast no sign of wet remains;
He bears his Love more proudly than his Chains.
Por.
This thankless man his death will soon remove,
And quickly end so undeserv'd a Love.
Val.
Unthankful as you are, I know not why,
But still I love too well to see you dye.
Placidius, can you love, and see my grief,
And for my sake not offer some relief?
Placid.
Not all the Gods his ruine shall prevent;
Your kindness does but urge his punishment.
Besides—
What is it I can for his safety do?
He has declar'd himself your Father's Foe.
Val.
Give out he is escap'd, and set him free:
And, if you please, lay all the fault on me.
Por.
O do not on those terms my freedom name:
Freed by your danger I should dye with shame.
Placid.
I must not farther by your prayers be won.
To her.
All I could do I have already done.
Val.
To bring Porphyrius only to my sight,
Was not to show your pity, but your spight:
Would you but half oblige her you adore?
You should not have done this, or should do more.
49
Alas, what hope can there be left for me,
When I must sink into the Mine I see?
My heart will fall before you, if I stay;
Each word you speak saps part of it away.—
—Yet all my Fortune on his death is set:
And he may love her, though he loves not yet.
He must—and yet she says he must not dye:
O, if I could but wink, I could deny.
To them Albinus.
Alb.
The Emperour expects your Pris'ner strait:
And, with impatience, for his death does wait.
Placid.
Nay, then it is too late my Love to weigh.
Exit Alb.
Your pardon, Madam, if I must obey.
Por.
I am prepar'd, he shall not long attend.
Val.
Then hear my pray'rs, and my submissions end.
Placidius know, that hour in which he dyes,
My death (so well I love) shall wait on his.
Placid.
O, Madam, do not fright me with your death!
Val.
My life depends alone upon his breath.
But, if I live in him, you do not know
How far my gratitude to you may go.
I do not promise—but it so may prove,
That gratitude, in time, may turn to Love.
Try me—
Placid.
—Now I consider it, I will:
Musing a little.
'Tis in your pow'r to save him or to kill.
I'le run the hazard to preserve his life,
If, after that, you vow to be my Wife.
Val.
Nay, good Placidius, now you are too hard:
Would you do nothing but for meer reward?
Like Usurers to men in want you prove,
When you would take Extortion for my Love.
Placid.
You have concluded then that he must dye.
[Going with Porphy.]
Val.
O stay, if no price else his life can buy,
My Love a ransom for his life I give:
[Holding her Handkerchief before her face.]
Let my Porphyrius for another live.
Por.
You too much value the small merchandise:
My life's o're-rated, when your Love's the price.
50
Alb.
I long have list'ned to your generous strife,
As much concern'd for brave Porphyrius life:
For mine I to his favour ow'd this day;
Which with my future Service I will pay.
Placid.
Lest any your intended flight prevent,
I'le lead you first the back-way to my Tent:
Thence, in disguise, you may the City gain,
While some excuse for your escape I feign.
Val.
Farewel, I must not see you when you part:
[Turning her face away.]
For that last look would break my tender heart.
Yet—let it break—I must have one look more:
[Looking on him.]
Nay, now I'm less contented than before.
For that last look draws on another too;
Which sure I need not to remember you.
For ever—yet I must one glance repeat:
But quick and short as starving people eat.
So much humanity dwells in your brest,
Sometimes to think on her who loves you best.
[Going, he takes, her hand and kisses it]
Por.
My wandring steps where ever Fortune bear,
Your memory I in my breast will wear.
Which, as a precious Amulet, I still
Will carry, my defence and guard from ill.
Though to my former vows I must be true,
I'le ever keep one Love entire for you.
That Love which Brothers with chaste Sisters make:
And by this Holy kiss, which now I take
From your fair hand—
This common Sun which absent both shall see,
Shall ne're behold a breach of Faith in me.
Val.
Go, go, my death will your short vows restore:
You've said enough, and I can hear no more.
Exit Valeria one way, and Porphy. and Alb. another.
Placid.
Love and good Nature, how do you betray!
Misleading those who see and know their way!
I, whom deep Arts of State could ne're beguile,
Have sold my self to ruine for a smile.
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That smile, as Alms, giv'n for my Rivals sake.
He, like a secret Worm, has eat his way;
And, lodg'd within, does on the kernel prey:
I creep without; and hopeless to remove
Him thence, wait only for the husk of Love.
Enter Maximin talking with Valerius.
Max.
And why was I not told of this before?
Val.
Sir, she this evening landed on the shore.
For with her Daughter being Pris'ner made,
She in another Vessel was convey'd.
Max.
Bring hither the Ægyptian Princess strait.
To Placid.
And you, Valerius, on her Mother wait.
Exit Valerius.
Placid.
The Mother of th'Ægyptian Princess here!
Max.
Porphyrius death I will a while defer.
And this new opportunity improve
To make my last effort upon her Love.—
Exit Placidius.
Those who have youth may long endure to court;
But he must swiftly catch whose Race is short.
I in my Autumn do my Siege begin;
And must make haste e're Winter comes, to win.
This hour—no longer shall my pains endure:
Her Love shall ease me, or her death shall cure.
Enter at one door Felicia and Valerius, at the other S. Catharine and Placidius.
S. Cath.
O, my dear Mother!
Fel.
—With what joy I see
My dearest Daughter from the Tempest free.
S. Cath.
Dearer than all the joys vain Empire yields,
Or then to youthful Monarchs conquer'd fields.
Before you came—my Soul
All fill'd with Heav'n did earthly joys disdain.
But you pull back some part of me again.
Placid.
You see, Sir, she can owne a joy below.
Max.
It much imports me that this truth I know.
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How dreadful death does on the waves appear!
Where Seas we only see, and Tempest hear.
Such frightful Images did then pursue
My trembling Soul, that scarce I thought of you.
Placid.
All Circumstances to your wish combine:
Her fear of death advances your design.
Fel.
But to that only pow'r we serve I pray'd,
Till he, who bid it rise, the Tempest laid.
Max.
You are a Christian then!
To Felicia.
For death this very hour you must prepare:
I have decreed no Christians life to spare.
Fel.
For death! I hope you but my courage try:
Whatever I believe, I dare not dye.
Heav'n does not, sure, that Seal of Faith require;
Or, if it did, would firmer thoughts inspire.
A Womans witness can no credit give
To Truths Divine, and therefore I would live.
Max.
I cannot give the life which you demand:
But that and mine are in your Daughter's hand:
Ask her, if she will yet her Love deny;
And bid a Monarch, and her Mother dye.
Fel.
Now, mighty Prince, you cancel all my fear:
My life is safe, when it depends on her.
How can you let me languish thus in pain!
To S. Cath.
Make haste to cure those doubts which yet remain.
Speak quickly, speak and ease me of my fear.
S. Cath.
Alas, I doubt it is not you I hear.
Some wicked Fiend assumes your voice and face,
To make frail Nature triumph over Grace.
It cannot be—
That she who taught my Childhood Piety,
Should bid my riper age my Faith deny:
That she who bid my hopes this Crown pursue,
Should snatch it from me when 'tis just in view.
Fel.
Peace, peace, too much my age's shame you show:
How easie 'tis to teach! how hard to do!
My lab'ring thoughts are with themselves at strife:
I dare not dye, nor bid you save my life.
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You must do one, and that without delay;
Too long already for your death I stay:
I cannot with your small concerns dispence;
For deaths of more importance call me hence.
Prepare to execute your office strait.
To his Guards.
Fel.
O stay, and let 'em but one minute wait.
Such quick Commands for death you would not give,
(Ah) if you knew how sweet it were to live.
Max.
Then bid her love.
Fel.
—Is duty grown so weak,
To S. Cath.
That Love's a harder word than Death to speak?
S. Cath.
Oh!—
Fel.
Mistake me not, I never can approve
[privately to S. Cath.]
A thing so wicked as the Tyrants Love.
I ask you would but some false promise give,
Only to gain me so much time to live.
S. Cath.
That promise is a step to greater sin:
The hold once lost, we seldom take agen.
Each bound to Heav'n we fainter Essays make:
Still losing somewhat till we quite go back.
Max.
Away, I grant no longer a reprieve.
Fel.
O do but beg my life, and I may live.
To S. Cath.
Have you not so much pity in your brest?
He stays to have you make it your request.
S. Cath.
To beg your life—
Is not to ask a grace of Maximin:
It is a silent bargain for a sin.
Could we live always, life were worth our cost;
But now we keep with care what must be lost.
Here we stand shiv'ring on the Bank, and cry,
When we should plunge into Eternity.
One moment ends our pain;
And yet the shock of death we dare not stand,
By thought scarce measur'd, and too swift for sand:
'Tis but because the Living death ne're knew,
They fear to prove it as a thing that's new.
Let me th'Experiment before you try,
I'le show you first how easie 'tis to dye.
54
Draw then that Curtain, and let death appear,
And let both see how easie 'twill be there.
The Scene opens, and shews the Wheel.
Fel.
Alas, what torments I already feel!
Max.
Go, bind her hand and foot beneath that Wheel:
Four of you turn the dreadful Engine round;
Four others hold her fast'ned to the ground:
That by degrees her tender breasts may feel,
First the rough razings of the pointed steel:
Her Paps then let the bearded Tenters stake,
And on each hook a gory Gobbet take.
Till th'upper flesh by piece-meal torn away,
Her beating heart shall to the Sun display.
Fel.
My dearest Daughter at your feet I fall;
Kneeling.
Hear, Oh yet hear your wretched Mothers call.
Think, at your Birth, ah think what pains I bore,
And can your eyes behold me suffer more?
You were the Child which from your infancy
I still lov'd best, and then you best lov'd me.
About my neck your little arms you spred,
Nor could you sleep without me in the bed.
But sought my bosom when you went to rest,
And all night long would lye across my brest.
Nor without cause did you that fondness show:
You may remember when our Nile did flow;
While on the Bank you innocently stood,
And with a Wand made Circles in the flood,
That rose, and just was hurrying you to death,
When I, from far, all pale and out of breath
Ran and rusht in—
And from the waves my floating pledge did bear,
So much my Love was stronger than my fear.
But you—
Max.
Woman, for these long tales your life's too short;
Go, bind her quickly, and begin the sport.
Fel.
No, in her arms my Sanctuary's plac'd:
[Running to her Daughter.]
Thus I will cling for ever to her waste.
Max.
What must my will by women be controll'd?
55
S. Cath.
Thus my last duty to you let me pay:
[Kissing her Mother.]
Yet, Tyrant, I to thee will never pray.
Though hers to save I my own life would give,
Yet by my sin, my Mother shall not live.
To thy foul lust I never can consent;
Why dost thou then defer my punishment?
I scorn those Gods thou vainly dost adore:
Contemn thy Empire, but thy Bed abhor.
If thou would'st yet a bloodier Tyrant be,
I will instruct thy rage, begin with me.
Max.
I thank thee that thou dost my anger move:
It is a Tempest that will wreck my Love.
I'le pull thee hence, close hidden as thou art,
[Claps his hand to his breast.]
And stand with my drawn Sword before my heart.
Yes, you shall be obey'd, though I am loth,
Go, and while I can bid you, bind 'em both.
Go, bind 'em e're my fit of Love return:
Fire shall quench fire, and anger Love shall burn.
Thus I prevent those follies I should do;
And 'tis the nobler Fever of the two.
Fel.
Torn piece by piece, alas what horrid pains!
S. Cath.
Heav'n is all mercy, who that death ordains.
And that which Heav'n thinks best is surely so:
But bare and naked, shame to undergo,
'Tis somewhat more than death!
Expos'd to lawless eyes I dare not be,
My modesty is sacred, Heav'n to thee.
Let not my body be the Tyrant's spoil;
Nor hands nor eyes thy purity defile.
Amariel descends swiftly with a flaming Sword, and strikes at the Wheel, which breaks in pieces, then he ascends again.
Max.
Is this th'effect of all your boasted skill?
These brittle toys to execute my will?
A Puppet-show of death I only find,
Where I a strong and sinewy pain design'd.
By what weak infant was this Engine wrought?
Val.
From Bilbil's the temper'd steel was brought:
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Nor, from the Forge, did hissing waters heat.
Placid.
I saw a Youth descend all Heav'nly fair,
Who in his hand a flaming Sword did bear,
And, Whirlwind-like, around him drove the Air.
At his rais'd arm the rigid Iron shook;
And, bending backwards, fled before the stroke.
Max.
What! Miracles, the tricks of Heav'n to me?
I'le try if she be wholly Iron free.
If not by Sword, then she shall dye by fire;
And one by one her Miracles I'le tire.
If proof against all kind of death she be,
My Love's immortal, and she's fit for me.
S. Cath.
No, Heav'n has shown its pow'r, and now thinks fit
Thee to thy former fury to remit.
Had Providence my longer life decreed,
Thou from thy passion hadst not yet been freed.
But Heav'n, which suffer'd that, my Faith to prove,
Now to its self does vindicate my Love.
A pow'r controls thee which thou dost not see;
And that's a Miracle it works in thee.
Max.
The truth of this new Miracle we'll try;
To prove it, you must take the pains to dye.
Bring me their heads—
Fel.
That mercy, Tyrant, thou deny'st to me,
At thy last breath may Heav'n refuse to thee.
My fears are going, and I death can view:
I see, I see him there thy steps pursue.
And with a lifted arm and silent pace,
Stalk after thee, just aiming in his chace.
S. Cath.
No more, dear Mother, ill in death it shows
Your peace of mind by rage to discompose:
No streak of blood (the reliques of the Earth)
Shall stain my Soul in her immortal birth;
But she shall mount all pure, a white, and Virgin mind;
And full of all that peace, which there she goes to find.
Exeunt S. Catharine and Felicia, with Valerius and Guards. The Scene shuts.
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She's gone, and pull'd my heart-strings as she went.
Were penitence no shame, I could repent.
Yet 'tis of bad example she should live;
For I might get th'ill habit to forgive.
Thou soft Seducer of my heart, away—
Who ling'ring would'st about its confines stay
To watch when some Rebellion would begin;
And ready at each sigh to enter in.
In vain; for thou
Dost on the outside of the body play,
And when drawn nearest, shalt be whirl'd away.
What ails me, that I cannot lose thy thought!
Command the Empress hither to be brought;
To Placid.
I in her death shall some diversion find,
And rid my thoughts at once of woman-kind.
Placid.
'Tis well he thinks not of Porphyrius yet.
Aside. Exit.
Max.
How hard it is this Beauty to forget!
My stormy rage has only shook my will:
She crept down lower, but she sticks there still.
Fool that I am to struggle thus with Love!
Why should I that which pleases me remove?
True, she should dye were she concern'd alone;
But I love, not for her sake, but my own.
Our Gods are Gods 'cause they have pow'r and will;
Who can do all things, can do nothing ill.
Ill is Rebellion 'gainst some higher pow'r:
The World may sin, but not its Emperour.
My Empress then shall dye, my Princess live;
If this be ill, I do my self forgive.
To him Valerius.
Val.
Your will's obey'd; for mighty Emperour,
The princess and her Mother are no more.
Max.
She is not dead!
Val.
—Great Sir, your will was so.
Max.
That was my will of half an hour ago.
But now 'tis alter'd; I have chang'd her Fate,
She shall not dye.
Val.
—Your pity comes too late.
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Her cheeks with cheerful blushes were o'respred,
When, smiling, to the Ax she bow'd her head.
Just at the stroke—
Ætherial musick did her death prepare;
Like joyful sounds of Spousals in the Air.
A radiant light did her crown'd Temples guild,
And all the place with fragrant scents was fill'd.
The Balmy mist came thick'ning to the ground,
And sacred silence cover'd all around.
But when (its work perform'd) the Cloud withdrew,
And day restor'd us to each others view,
I sought her head to bring it on my Spear;
In vain I sought it, for it was not there.
No part remain'd; but from afar our sight
Discover'd in the Air long tracks of light;
Of charming Notes we heard the last rebounds,
And Musick dying in remoter sounds.
Max.
And dost thou think
This lame account fit for a Love-sick King?
Go—from the other World a better bring.
[Kills him, then sets his foot on him, and speaks on.]
When in my breast two mighty passions strove,
Thou had'st err'd better in obeying Love.
'Tis true, that way thy death had follow'd too.
But I had then been less displeas'd than now.
Now I must live unquiet for thy sake;
And this poor recompence is all I take.
Spurns the body.
Here the Scene opens and discovers Berenice on a scaffold, the Guards by her, and amongst them Porphyrius and Albinus, like Moors, as all the Guards are. Placidius enters, and whispers the Emperour whilst Porphyrius speaks.
Por.
From Berenice I cannot go away;
But, like a Ghost, must near my Treasure stay.
Alb.
Night and this shape secure us from their eyes.
Por.
Have courage then for our bold enterprise.
Duty and Faith no tye on me can have,
Since I renounc'd those Honours which he gave.
59
The time is come we did so long attend,
To Berenice.
Which must these discords of our Marriage end.
Yet Berenice remember you have been
An Empress, and the Wife of Maximin.
Ber.
I will remember I have been your Wife;
And therefore, dying, beg from Heav'n your life:
Be all the discords of our Bed forgot,
Which, Vertue witness, I did never spot.
What errors I have made, though while I live,
You cannot pardon, to the dead forgive.
Max.
How much she is to piety inclin'd!
Behead her while she's in so good a mind.
Por.
Stand firm, Albinus, now the time is come
To free the Empress.
Alb.
—And deliver Rome.
Por.
Within I feel my hot blood swell my heart,
And generous tremblings in each outward part.
'Tis done—Tyrant, this is thy latest hour.
Porphyrius and Albinus draw, and are making at the Emperour.
Ber.
Look to your self, my Lord the Emperour:
Treason, help, help, my Lord!
Maximin turns and defends himself, the Guards set on Porphyrius and Albinus.
Max.
Disarm 'em, but their lives I charge you spare.
After they are disarm'd.
Unmask 'em, and discover who they are.
Good Gods, is it Porphyrius whom I see!
Placid.
I wonder how he gain'd his liberty.
Max.
Traytor!
Por.
—Know, Tyrant, I can hear that name
Rather than Son, and bear it with less shame.
Traytor's a name which were my arm yet free,
The Roman Senate would bestow on thee.
To Ber.
Ah, Madam, you have ruin'd my design,
And lost your life; for I regard not mine.
Too ill a Mistress, and too good a Wife.
Ber.
It was my duty to preserve his life.
60
Now I perceive
To Porphyrius.
In what close walks your mind so long did move:
You scorn'd my Throne, aspiring to her Love.
Ber.
In death I'le owne a Love to him so pure;
As will the test of Heav'n it self endure.
A Love so chast, as Conscience could not chide;
But cherisht it, and kept it by its side.
A Love which never knew a hot desire,
But flam'd as harmless as a lambent fire.
A Love which, pure from Soul to Soul might pass,
As light transmitted through a Crystal glass.
Which gave Porphyrius all without a sin;
Yet kept entire the Right of Maximin.
Max.
The best return that I to both can make,
Shall be to suffer for each others sake.
Por.
Barbarian, do not dare her blood to shed,
Who from my vengeance sav'd thy cursed head.
A flight no Honour ever reach'd before;
And which succeeding Ages will adore.
Ber.
Porphyrius I must dye!
That common debt to Nature paid must be;
But I have left a debt unpaid to thee.
To Maximin—
I have perform'd the duty of a Wife;
But, saving his, I cast away thy life.
Ah, what ill Stars upon our Loves did shine,
That I am more thy Murd'rer than he mine.
Max.
Make haste.
Por.
So hasty none in execution are,
But they allow the dying time for pray'r.
Farewel, sweet Saint, my pray'r shall be to you:
My Love has been unhappy, but 'twas true.
Remember me! Alas what have I sed?
You must dye too!
But yet remember me when you are dead.
Ber.
If I dye first I will—
Stop short of Heav'n, and wait you in a Cloud;
For fear we lose each other in the crowd.
61
Love is the only Coyn in Heav'n will go:
Then take all with you, and leave none below.
Ber.
'Tis want of knowledge, not of Love, I fear.
Lest we mistake when bodies are not there,
O as a mark that I could wear a Scroul,
With this Inscription, Berenice's Soul.
Por.
That needs not, sure, for none will be so bright,
So pure, or with so small allays of light.
Max.
From my full eyes fond tears begin to start;
Dispatch, they practice treason on my heart.
Porphyrius kisses his hand, and blows it to Berenice saying,
Por.
Adieu: this farewel sigh I as my last bequeath,
Catch it, 'tis Love expiring in a breath.
Berenice kissing hers in the same manner.
Ber.
This sigh of mine shall meet it half the way,
As pledges giv'n that each for other stay.
Enter Valeria and Cydon her Woman.
Val.
What dismal Scene of Death is here prepar'd!
Max.
Now strike.
Val.
They shall not strike till I am heard.
Max.
From whence does this new impudence proceed,
That you dare alter that which I decreed?
Val.
Ah, Sir, to what strange courses do you fly,
To make your self abhorr'd for cruelty!
The Empire groans under your bloody Reign,
And its vast body bleeds in every vein.
Gasping and pale, and fearing more, it lyes;
And now you stab it in the very eyes:
Your Cæsar and the Partner of your Bed;
Ah who can wish to live when they are dead?
If ever gentle pity touch'd your brest—
—I cannot speak,—my tears shall speak the rest.
Weeping and sobbing.
Por.
She adds new grief to what I felt before,
And Fate has now no room to put in more.
Max.
Away, thou shame and slander of my blood.
To Val.
Who taught thee to be pitiful or good?
Val.
What hope have I
62
Who thinks ev'n it, for which I plead, a crime?
Yet Nature, sure, some Argument may be;
If them you cannot pity, pity me.
Max.
I will, and all the World shall judge it so:
I will th'excess of pity to you show.
You ask to save
A dangerous Rebel, and disloyal Wife,
And I in mercy—will not take your life.
Val.
You more than kill me by this cruelty,
And in their persons bid your Daughter dye.
I honour Berenice's Vertue much;
But for Porphyrius my Love is such,
I cannot, will not live when he is gone.
Max.
I'le do that Cure for you which on my self is done.
You must, like me, your Lovers life remove;
Cut off your hope, and you destroy your Love.
If it were hard I would not bid you try
The Med'cine: but 'tis but to let him dye.
Yet since you are so soft, (which you call good)
And are not yet confirm'd enough in blood
To see his death;
Your frailty shall be favour'd with this grace,
That they shall suffer in another place.
If after they are dead, their memory
By any chance into your mind be brought,
Laugh, and divert it with some other thought.
Away with 'em.
Exeunt Berenice, Porphyrius, Albinus carried off by Guards.
Val.
Since pray'rs nor tears can bend his cruel mind,
[Looking after Porphy.]
Farewel, the best and bravest of Mankind;
How I have lov'd Heav'n knows; but there's a Fate,
Which hinders me from being fortunate.
My Father's Crimes hang heavy on my head,
And like a gloomy Cloud about me spread;
I would in vain be pious, that's a grace
Which Heav'n permits not to a Tyrant's race.
63
Hence to her Tent the foolish Girl convey.
Val.
Let me be just before I go away:
Placidius, I have vow'd to be your Wife;
Take then my hand, 'tis yours while I have life.
One moment here, I must anothers be:
But this Porphyrius gives me back to thee.
Stabs her self twice, and then Placidius wrests the Dagger from her.
Placid.
Help, help the Princess, help!
Max.
What rage has urg'd this act which thou hast done?
Val.
Thou, Tyrant, and thy Crimes have pull'd it on.
Thou who canst death with such a pleasure see,
Now take thy fill, and glut thy sight in me.
But—I'le th'occasion of my death forget;
Save him I love, and be my Father yet:
I can no more—Porphyrius, my dear—
Cyd.
Alas, she raves, and thinks Porphyrius here.
Val.
Have I not yet deserv'd thee now I dye?
Is Berenice still more fair than I?
Porphyrius, do not swim before my sight;
Stand still, and let me, let me aim aright.
Stand still but while thy poor Valeria dyes,
And sighs her Soul into her Lovers eyes.
Dyes.
Placid.
She's gone from Earth, and with her went away
All of the Tyrant that deserv'd to stay:
I've lost in her all joys that life can give;
And only to revenge her death would live—
Aside.
Cyd.
The Gods have claim'd her, and we must resign.
Max.
What had the Gods to do with me or mine?
Did I molest your Heav'n?—
Why should you then make Maximin your Foe,
Who paid you Tribute, which he need not do?
Your Altars I with smoke of Gums did crown:
For which you lean'd your hungry nostrils down.
All daily gaping for my Incense there,
More than your Sun could draw you in a year.
And you for this these Plagues on me have sent;
But by the Gods, (by Maximin I meant)
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Hostility with you and yours declare,
Look to it, Gods; for you th'Aggressors are.
Keep you your Rain and Sun-shine in your Skies,
And I'le keep back my flame and Sacrifice.
Your Trade of Heav'n shall soon be at a stand,
And all your Goods lie dead upon your hand.
Placid.
Thus, Tyrant, since the Gods th'Aggressors are,
[Stabbing him.]
Thus by this stroke they have begun the War.
Maximin struggles with him, and gets the Dagger from him.
Max.
Thus I return the strokes which they have giv'n;
[Stabbing Placid.]
Thus, Traytor, thus, and thus I would to Heav'n.
Stabbing upward with his Dagger. Placidius falls, and the Emperour staggers after him, and sits down upon him, the Guards come in to help the Emperour.
Max.
Stand off, and let me, e're my strength be gone,
Take my last pleasure of revenge alone.
Enter a Centurion.
Cen.
Arm, arm, the Camp is in a mutiny:
For Rome and Liberty the Souldiers cry.
Porphyrius mov'd their pity as he went,
To rescue Berenice from punishment,
And now he heads their new-attempted crime.
Max.
Now I am down, the Gods have watch'd their time.
You think—
To save your credit, feeble Deities;
But I will give my self the strength to rise.
He strives to get up, and being up, staggers.
It wonnot be—
My body has not strength my mind to bear.
I must return again—and conquer here.
Sits down upon the Body.
My coward Body does my will controul;
Farewel thou base Deserter of my Soul.
I'le shake this Carcass off, and be obey'd;
Reign an Imperial Ghost without its aid.
65
And vanquish Rebels in your Soveraign's right:
Before I die—
Bring me Porphyrius and my Empress dead,
I would brave Heav'n, in my each hand a head.
Placid.
Do not regard a dying Tyrants breath.
[To the Souldiers.]
He can but look revenge on you in death.
Max.
Vanquish'd, and dar'st thou yet a Rebel be?
Thus—I can more than look revenge on thee.
[Stabs him again.
Placid.
Oh, I am gone!
Dyes.
Max.
—And after thee I go,
Revenging still, and following ev'n to th'other world my blow.
Stabs him again.
And shoving back this Earth on which I sit,
I'le mount—and scatter all the Gods I hit.
Dyes.
Enter Porphyrius, Berenice, Albinus, Souldiers. Porphyrius looks on the Bodies entring, and speaks.
Por.
'Tis done before, (this mighty work of Fate!)
And I am glad our Swords are come too late.
He was my Prince, and though a bloody one,
I should have conquer'd and have mercy shown.
Sheath all your Swords, and cease your enmity;
They are not Foes, but Romans whom you see.
Ber.
He was my Tyrant, but my Husband too;
And therefore duty will some tears allow.
Por.
Placidius here!
And fair Valeria new depriv'd of breath?
Who can unriddle this dumb-show of death?
Cyd.
When, Sir, her Father did your life deny,
She kill'd her self, that she with you might dye.
Placidius made the Emp'rours death his crime;
Who, dying, did revenge his death on him.
Porphyrius kneels and takes Valeria's hand.
Por.
For thy dear sake I vow each week I live
One day to fasting and just grief I'le give:
And what hard Fate did to thy life deny,
My gratitude shall pay thy memory.
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Mean time to you belongs th'Imperial pow'r:
We with one voice salute you Emperour.
Souldiers.
Long live Porphyrius Emperour of the Romans.
Por.
Too much, my Country men, your Love you show,
That you have thought me worthy to be so.
But, to requite that Love, I must take care
Not to ingage you in a Civil War.
Two Emperours at Rome the Senate chose,
And whom they chuse no Roman should oppose.
In Peace or War, let Monarchs hope or fear;
All my ambition shall be bounded here.
Kissing Berenice's hand.
Ber.
I have too lately been a Prince's Wife,
And fear th'unlucky Omen of the life.
Like a rich Vessel beat by storms to shore,
'Twere madness should I venture out once more.
Of glorious troubles I will take no part,
And in no Empire reign, but of your heart.
Por.
Let to the winds your golden Eagles flye,
[To the Souldiers.]
Your Trumpets sound a bloodless Victory:
Our Arms no more let Aquileia fear,
But to her Gates—
Our peaceful Ensigns crown'd with Olives bear:
While I mix Cypress with my Myrtle Wreath:
Joy for your life, and mourn Valeria's Death.
Exeunt omnes.
| Tyrannick Love, or the Royal Martyr | |