 | The Destruction of Jerusalem by Titus Vespasian. The Second Part |  |
1
Act I.
Scen. I.
TITUS alone, sitting melancholly in his Tent.Tit.
No more, no more—whilst I her Doom delay,
My heart each hour I to new pains betray;
The more I think, the less resolv'd I prove,
And I but wider tear the wounds of Love.
These thoughts no more shall in my soul contest,
I'le pull this shaft of Love out of my breast,
And with one 'spatch conclude my lingring pain;
This day two Victories at once I'le gain,
Over my heart, and this rebellious Town,
Conclude at once their sorrows and my own,
Subdue both Love and them, my Fame complete;
Glory begins to rise, now Love must set.
Said I, my sorrows now an end should know,
Vespasian never wretched was till now!
I fight to purchase what I not regard,
2
Gods!—the Queens Sentence I must quickly speak.
Or I shall all my resolutions break.
Who waits?—
[Enter an Officer.
Off.
My Lord!—
Tit.
How forward is the day?
Off.
The Sun does o're the Hills his Beams display.
Tit.
The loitring morn does me a while prevent;
The beautious Queen now slumbers in her Tent:
Some God in dream the fatal tydings bear,
And for her doom her Noble Soul prepare.
Till she awakes I must my Love reprieve,
Mean while I for th'assault will Orders give.
Trumpets sound, and a Centurian enters.
Cent.
Great Sir! Tiberias with the Kings attend
Without your Tent, and for admission send.
Tit.
Conduct 'em in, they opportunely come,
Now stubborn Town I must pronounce thy doom.
Centurian goes out, and immediately enter Tiberias, Malchus, and Antiochus.
Tib.
All health! to glorious Cæsar! duty brings
My self, and your Allyes, these brave young Kings,
Thus early Sir, your great commands to know;
Both they and all your Troops impatient grow,
Your mercy longer should these Rebels save,
And humbly beg they may permission have
To throw this City, without more delay,
Beneath your feet, and end the War to day.
Tit.
These valiant Monarchs my desires prevent,
What they petition is my own intent
These slaves no more my mercy shall out-brave,
Yet I would fain this splendid City save.
Me thinks it does a Noble Town appear;
Gods Might forsake their Heaven t'inhabit here.
With much delight I from my Camp behold
Their shining Temple, flaming all with Gold;
3
I oft mistake it for the rising Sun.
The Mountain which supports the splendid weight,
Under the bright oppression seems to sweat;
Whilst flocking Gods from every Region come,
Despising all their little Fanes at home.
Mal.
To shining walls do you such kindness bear?
For the Dens sake will you the Wild-beasts spare?
Ant.
Three months your gen'rous self you deaf have shewn
To th'importunings of your own renown;
Feeding your hungry Eagles every day,
Only in pity to the trembling prey,
Tiring the Arms of Fame, who to present,
Her load of Crowns has waited at your Tent.
Tib.
Both Men and Gods, astonish'd Sir, appear
To see a Den of famisht Rebels here,
Which might so soon out of your way be hurl'd,
Retard you from the Conquest of the World.
Mal.
But how much longer shall, may soon be known;
Two walls your Rams beneath your feet have thrown,
That now the Town has in its sad distress
But one poor wall to hide her nakedness.
Ant.
Yes, mighty Cæsar has one Robe bestow'd,
A work that might become some pow'rful God;
A wall wherewith he has their Tow'rs confin'd.
As if to make new wonders for Mankind:
Built by your Legions in the little space,
The Sun but thrice drove round his daily race;
That the fourth morning the astonish'd Sun
Stood still to gaze on what your Troops had done;
And now these Crowds cannot your anger fly,
They have no way to 'scape you, but to die.
Tit.
You saw, constrain'd by famine, how they fought,
Grass, Hay or Dung, at what dear rates they bought;
Around the Meadows they would fiercely range,
And freely Blood for Juice of Grass exchange:
Nay with the plenty grew luxurious too,
Were fat with Grass, and drunk with morning Dew,
That I was forc'd this remedy to take,
Both for my Men, and for my Horses sake;
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Compel to tast my clemency, and live.
Tib.
Yes, Sir; but e're they will a Roman serve,
The foolish slaves in malice chuse to starve:
Shut in with Famine, he such shoales does eat,
The savage Monster will our Swords defeat;
Each Ditch and Vault his foul provisions fill;
There scarce are living left enow to kill.
Tit.
A strange distraction on these wretches seize.
Mal.
The Nobler Jews are sick of that disease,
Religious madness does their minds oppress,
And with strange dreams their raving thoughts possess:
Past cure of Hunger, Darkness, Iron Rods,
They talk of nought but Heav'n; Religion, Gods,
Of conq'ring you, nay of enslaving Rome,
Of Empire here, and Paradise to come.
Ant.
Nay, every moment they expect a King
Of their own Nation, who shall succour bring,
Strange wonders do, both teach and rule the Earth,
And think the Clouds big with this mighty Birth:
It never thunders but they think he calls;
Each storm they watch to catch him as he falls.
Tib.
Some fondly dream, the Parthian King is he;
Think him the eldest Son of Prophesie.
Find him Inroll'd in their Divine Record,
And see strange wonders budding on his Sword.
A mighty Empire is in him begun,
He drives along the Chariot of their Sun.
Behind the Hills already it appears,
His valour lashes on the loytring years.
Tit.
Poor Prince! to vault up to such heights as those,
Improper ground he for his rise has chose.
My injur'd patience shall no longer wait;
This night I have decreed the Cities fate;
And the last morning now is drawing on
The Sun shall rise o're this rebellious Town.
To all my Squadrons strictest Orders bear,
They for a general Assault prepare.
And if the Rebels still my mercy slight,
Bury the City out of humane sight,
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Of their great Power, I would oblige that God;
To aid Rebellion, nobly he disdains;
Besides the Pile my admiration gains:
What else of greatness may deserve the name,
Preserve for monuments of Roman fame.
Tib.
How will Heav'ns Vaults with acclamations ring,
When these commands we to the Army bring?
Mal.
For this my Arabs have impatient been.
Ant.
No less have all my Slaves of Comagene.
Tit.
But that this stubborn City yet may find
How much to clemency I am inclin'd,
Through all my Army Proclamation make,
That all who to my mercy will betake,
I'le gladly as my best of friends regard,
And not alone will pardon, but reward;
But no compassion shall prevail for them,
Who this my proffer'd mercy dare contemn.
Tib.
Severity to some would thousands save;
And Sir, your Legions Troops of Captives have;
If Cæsar please, e're we the fight begin,
We will for terrour to the Slaves within,
The Rebel Captives, ta'ne in heat of fight,
Fix on high Crosses in their Brethrens sight:
The horrid Spectacle will batter down
Their Souls, as fast as Engines do the Town.
Tit.
Streight let the Orders through my Camp be spread.
Tib. whispers a Cent. who goes out.
Mal.
I mighty Cæsars pleasure at the head
Of all my Troops will wait.—
Exit.
Ant.
And I at mine;
My Squadrons soon shall be prepar'd to joyn.
Exit.
A Shout.
Tib.
Hark! from the Camp glad shouts invade the Air,
The news are spread, and all with joy prepare.
6
And loudly neigh to feel the slackned Reins.
Ratling of Chains, and a loud cry as of many Prisoners within, calling for mercy.
Tib.
The condemn'd Captives now are lead to die,
And vainly to your Guards for mercy cry.
Tit.
These wretches sorrows move me; none before
From me did mercy undeni'd implore.
Tib.
Now e're our Legions towards the City move,
[Aside
I must assault awhile my Generals Love,
To rowze his Soul must be my speedy care;
To a bright Heaven he shortly will repair,
Where his fair Queen will no admission find.
Already I have stir'd his noble mind;
But I'm afraid again he's faln asleep,
And the sweet dream his Soul does pris'ner keep;
I must no longer the Alarm delay,
For the whole Empire for his waking stay.
Tit.
Now to my friend Tiberias I'le impart
[Aside.
The strange decree of my revolting heart:
The victory, it o're that Fire does gain,
He, and all Rome so long oppos'd in vain.
Tib.
Now Sir, one word!—
Tit.
Ah! Friend! thy thoughts I guess,
Against my love thou something would'st express.
Tib.
The time is drawing near!—
Tit.
Oh! how I grieve!
Must I the joys of love for Empire leave?
Tib.
My boldness, Cæsar, punish or forgive,
Your beloved passion must no longer live.
You know Rome waits but till this Siege be done,
To place you partner in your Fathers Throne.
The Empire will not for his setting stay,
She'l have no twilight, but perpetual day:
But certain Laws each step to Glory guard,
As e're in th'upper world for the reward
Of your great deeds a Godhead you receive,
You first by Natures Law this world must leave;
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To Pow'r and Empire, you must dye to Love.
I mean this Love, which you descend to place
On a Crown'd Head, and one of forreign Race.
For to be plain, Rome never will admit
A Queen on her Imperial Throne should sit;
'Less that her Laws you should with one out-brave,
Who wears her Chains, and is her Royal Slave.
On Cæsars noble Nature I presume;
But I must venture whatsoe're's my doom.
None vainly will deceive a dying friend;
You to new Worlds of Glory now ascend.
And Sir, it's my duty to declare
You are for Heaven, and bid you streight prepare.
Tit.
Thy Counsels all from perfect friendship flow:
Too well the Roman Laws and pride I know.
Oh! Gods! what charming love must I forsake?
Tib.
Of that, Great Sir, there's none dispute will make.
Tit.
Ah! Friend! more charming then thou canst believe,
Or raise imagination to conceive.
Like frozen Climates thou my Son may'st see,
But what I feel is mystery to thee.
She ne'r unvails her beauty to my sight,
But my Souls' lost in mazes of delight!
My thirsty Eyes drink in a secret fire,
I feel a joy no repetitions tire.
Her charms each day with fresh delight I view,
And still discover in 'em something new.
Tib.
What must be done Sir, will you then proceed?
Tit.
Ah! who can soon from such a love be freed?
Yet Friend, to shew my Glory I'le compleat,
That nothing for my Courage is too great.
Against this Love which is to me so dear,
From my own mouth this wondrous sentence hear:
Know then, the hour I all my hopes can crown,
Now Heav'n rains on me all wish'd Blessings down;
Now smiling Fate makes Garlands for my Soul,
And spreads a mighty Bed for Love to rowl;
To the fair Queen I go, strange news to bear!
I go—Oh! Heavens!—I go—now to declare.
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What Sir?
Tit.
What thou would'st ne'r believe before,
That we must never see each other more.
Tib.
Amazing news!
Tit.
Tiberias, 'tis decreed!
My heart does for the Queens misfortunes bleed;
I fear of fatal consequence 'twill prove!
But nothing can my resolutions move.
Seven days my lab'uring Soul in pain has been,
To break the fatal tidings to the Queen.
Sometimes in sighs I would my thoughts express,
And fain would have her my intentions guess.
But she who nobly on my faith relys,
Little suspects whence the false sighs arise.
Sure of my heart, and lavish of her own,
Mistakes th'intention of my secret moan.
Pities my sorrows, and more charming grows,
And all my courage wholly overthrows.
But now, I've all my constancy alarm'd,
My Soul is fix'd, and I am wholly arm'd.
Tib.
Oh! wondrous Conquest! now your glorious name,
And mighty deeds, shall fill the mouth of Fame.
You barb'rous Nations did subdue before,
But now your self those Nations Conquerour;
Though some rude fears into our minds would press,
Yet, Sir, from you we did expect no less.
Tit.
Oh! we with specious names our selves deceive,
And solid Joys for empty Titles leave.
Oh! Gods! what pleasures now do I forsake!
I'le think no more, my constancy will shake.
You flatt'ring dreams of Love begone from hence,
I'le do't, and ne'r regard the consequence.
Trumpets, and enter an Officer.
Off.
Great Sir, the Queen is lighted at the Tent.
Tit.
Ah! Friend!
Tib.
How Sir? so soon your courage spent?
Desert the field e're you the fight begin?
Now is the time—
Tit.
No more,—Conduct her in.
9
Ber.
My Lord in health! now I am eas'd of pain,
And my minds quiet is return'd again.
A foolish dream tormented me to night;
What, matters not, now I have you in sight.
But ha! I in your looks a sadness spy;
You only to my words with sighs reply.
Must all your thoughts to Fame devoted be?
Can you afford no room in 'em for me?
If present thus you banish me your mind,
My Image sure does cold acceptance find
In your retiring heart, when I am gone,
And left it quite to your dispose alone.
Tit.
Ah! Madam! all the Gods can witness bear,
Queen Berenice is always present there.
No time, nor absence ever shall deface
That Image Love once in my heart did place.
Ber.
Why Sir, do you invoke the Gods for this?
Does Titus need a friend to Berenice?
All they can witness will superfluous be;
Titus is Heav'n, and all the Gods to me.
Tit.
Ye Gods! How dearly must I Empire buy?
[Aside.
You keep the rates of Glory up too high.
And too severe a task of me require,
Who no delight but Berinice desire.
Tit.
Cæsar is lost! what charms does she display?
[Aside.
Stifled in sweets his courage faints away.
Ber.
Ah! Sir! your Eyes do from me withdraw,
As if some Ill unpleasing thing you saw.
Alas! permit me to relate my fears,
Me thinks of late a change in you appears;
These seven days I have not gain'd a word,
Your alter'd looks did not one smile afford:
Alas! to doubt your love I do not dare,
And yet I cannot from some fear forbear;
These Omens must forebode some ill I'm sure.
My fate has been too happy to endure.
10
Tell me, and I will die to set you free;
For all is done, that I was born to do,
If I can add no more delight to you:
For you are all—
Tit.
Madam, no more, more—
On me too liberally you Favours pour;
For on a most ungrateful man they fall.
Ber.
Ah! Sir! do you your self ungrateful call?
Perhaps you weary of my kindness grow,
That never was a trouble thought till now.
I have liv'd long enough, if that be true;
For all the joy I take in life, is you.
Tit.
My sorrow, Madam, since I must reveal,—
My heart did never greater passion feel.—
But—
Ber.
Finish Sir!—
Tit.
Alas!—
Ber.
Speak, speak my doom.—
Tit.
Some God assist me now—the Empire Rome—
Sound to th'assault, I'le to my Squadrons straight,
My Soul's oppprest, I can no more relate.
Exit.
Goes on the sudden with Tib.
Ber.
Dear Heav'n! what should this Mystery contain?
Sem.
Nothing but Heav'n the riddle can explain.
You have done nothing might his anger move?
Ber.
Except he takes offence at too much Love.
Sem.
I wish ill news from Rome has not possest,
With some unpleasing thoughts, his troubled breast
You know the hate she bears your rank and you,
And now if he—
Ber.
Alas! if that were true!—
But oh! he never can so civil prove!
A thousand times he has assur'd his Love
Should to no haughty Laws of Rome submit,
And e're his Love he would the Empire quit.
And now, that I esteem my danger past,
He will not sure undo me at the last.
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And mine as brave must think of him no ill.
What e're it is, I'm unconcern'd to know,
Whilst I have him, let Thrones and Empires go.
Their loss I would not with one tear redeem,
I have the Empire of the world in him.
Exeunt.
| The Destruction of Jerusalem by Titus Vespasian. The Second Part | |