_Ero._ Madam, the emperor is drawing near;

And comes, they say, to seek Porphyrius here.

_Ber._ Alas!

_Por._ I will not ask what he intends;

My life, or death, alone on you depends.

_Ber._ I must withdraw; but must not let him know

[_Aside._

How hard the precepts of my virtue grow!

But whate'er fortune is for me designed,

Sweet heaven, be still to brave Porphyrius kind!

[_Exit with_ EROTION.

_Por._ She's gone unkindly, and refused to cast

One glance to feed me for so long a fast.

_Enter_ MAXIMIN, PLACIDIUS, _and guards_.

_Max._ Porphyrius, since the Gods have ravished one,

I come in you to seek another son.

Succeed him then in my imperial states;

Succeed in all, but his untimely fate.

If I adopt you with no better grace,

Pardon a father's tears upon my face,

And give them to Charinus' memory:

May they not prove as ominous to thee!

_Por._ With what misfortunes heaven torments me still!

Why must I be obliged to one so ill?

[_Aside._

_Max._ Those offers which I made you, sir, were such,

No private man should need to balance much.

_Por._ Who durst his thoughts to such ambition lift?

[_Kneeling._

The greatness of it made me doubt the gift.

The distance was so vast, that to my view

It made the object seem at first untrue;

And now 'tis near, the sudden excellence

Strikes through, and flashes on my tender sense.

_Max._ Yet heaven and earth, which so remote appear,

[_Raising him._

Are by the air, which flows betwixt them, near;

And 'twixt us two my daughter be the chain,

One end with me, and one with you remain.

_Por._ You press me down with such a glorious fate,

[_Kneeling again._

I cannot rise against the mighty weight.

Permit I may retire some little space,

And gather strength to bear so great a grace.

[_Exit bowing._

_Plac._ How love and fortune lavishly contend,

Which should Porphyrius' wishes most befriend!

The mid-streams his; I, creeping by the side,

Am shouldered off by his impetuous tide.

[_Aside._

_Enter_ VALERIUS _hastily_.

_Val._ I hope my business may my haste excuse;

For, sir, I bring you most surprising news.

The Christian princess in her tent confers

With fifty of our learned philosophers;

Whom with such eloquence she does persuade,

That they are captives to her reasons made.

I left them yielding up their vanquished cause,

And all the soldiers shouting her applause;

Even Apollonius does but faintly speak,

Whose voice the murmurs of the assistants break.

_Max._ Conduct this captive Christian to my tent;

She shall be brought to speedy punishment.

I must in time some remedy provide,

[_Exit_ VAL.

Lest this contagious error spread too wide.

_Plac._ To infected zeal you must no mercy shew;

For, from religion all rebellions grow.

_Max._ The silly crowd, by factious teachers brought

To think that faith untrue, their youth was taught,

Run on in new opinions, blindly bold,

Neglect, contemn, and then assault the old.

The infectious madness seizes every part,

And from the head distils upon the heart.

And first they think their prince's faith not true,

And then proceed to offer him a new;

Which if refused, all duty from them cast,

To their new faith they make new kings at last.

_Plac._ Those ills by mal-contents are often wrought,

That by their prince their duty may be bought.

They head those holy factions which they hate,

To sell their duty at a dearer rate.

But, sir, the tribune is already here,

With your fair captive.

_Max._ Bid them both appear.

_Enter St_ CATHERINE, VALERIUS, APOLLONIUS, _and Guards_.

See where she comes, with that high air and mein,

Which marks, in bonds, the greatness of a queen.

What pity 'tis!--but I no charms must see

In her, who to our gods is enemy.----

Fair foe of heaven, whence comes this haughty pride,

[_To her._

Or, is it frenzy does your mind misguide

To scorn our worship, and new gods to find?

_S. Cath._ Nor pride, nor frenzy, but a settled mind,

Enlightened from above, my way does mark.

_Max._ Though heaven be clear, the way to it is dark.

_S. Cath._ But where our reason with our faith does go,

We're both above enlightened, and below.

But reason with your fond religion fights,

For many gods are many infinites:

This to the first philosophers was known,

Who, under various names, adored but one;

Though your vain poets, after, did mistake,

Who every attribute a god did make;

And so obscene their ceremonies be,

As good men loath, and Cato blushed to see.

_Max._ War is my province!--Priest, why stand you mute?

You gain by heaven, and, therefore, should dispute.

_Apol._ In all religions, as in ours, there are

Some solid truths, and some things popular.

The popular in pleasing fables lie;

The truths, in precepts of morality.

And these to human life are of that use,

That no religion can such rules produce.

_S. Cath._ Then let the whole dispute concluded be

Betwixt these rules, and christianity.

_Apol._ And what more noble can your doctrine preach,

Than virtue, which philosophy does teach?

To keep the passions in severest awe,

To live to reason, nature's greatest law;

To follow virtue, as its own reward;

And good and ill, as things without regard.

_S. Cath._ Yet few could follow those strict rules they gave;

For human life will human frailties have;

And love of virtue is but barren praise,

Airy as fame; nor strong enough to raise

The actions of the soul above the sense.

Virtue grows cold without a recompence.

We virtuous acts as duty do regard;

Yet are permitted to expect reward.

_Apol._ By how much more your faith reward assures,

So much more frank our virtue is than yours.

_S. Cath._ Blind men! you seek e'en those rewards you blame:

But ours are solid; yours an empty name.

Either to open praise your acts you guide,

Or else reward yourselves with secret pride.

_Apol._ Yet still our moral virtues you obey;

Ours are the precepts, though applied your way.

_S. Cath._ 'Tis true, your virtues are the same we teach;

But in our practice they much higher reach.

You but forbid to take another's due,

But we forbid even to desire it too:

Revenge of injuries you virtue call;

But we forgiveness of our wrongs extol:

Immodest deeds you hinder to be wrought,

But we proscribe the least immodest thought.

So much your virtues are in ours refined,

That yours but reach the actions, ours the mind.

_Max._ Answer, in short, to what you heard her speak.

[_To_ APOL.

_Apol._ Where truth prevails, all arguments are weak.

To that convincing power I must give place;

And with that truth that faith I will embrace.

_Max._ O traitor to our gods--but more to me!

Dar'st thou of any faith but of thy prince's be?

But sure thou rav'st; thy foolish error find:

Cast up the poison that infects thy mind,

And shun the torments thou art sure to feel.

_Apol._ Nor fire, nor torture, nor revenging steel

Can on my soul the least impression make:

How gladly, truth, I suffer for thy sake!

Once I was ignorant of what was so;

But never can abandon truth I know.

My martyrdom I to thy crown prefer;

Truth is a cause for a philosopher.

_S. Cath._ Lose not that courage which heaven does inspire;

[_To_ APOL.

But fearless go to be baptised in fire.

Think 'tis a triumph, not a danger near:

Give him your blood; but give him not a tear.

Go, and prepare my seat; and hovering be

Near that bright space, which is reserved for me.

_Max._ Hence with the traitor; bear him to his fate.

_Apol._ Tyrant, I fear thy pity, not thy hate:

A life eternal I by death obtain.

_Max._ Go, carry him, where he that life may gain.

[_Exeunt_ APOL. VAL. _and Guards_.

_Plac._ From this enchantress all these ills are come:

You are not safe till you pronounce her doom.

Each hour she lives a legion sweeps away;

She'll make your army martyrs in a day.

_Max._ 'Tis just: This Christian sorceress shall die.

Would I had never proved her sorcery!

Not that her charming tongue this change has bred;

I fear 'tis something that her eyes have said.

I love; and am ashamed it should be seen.

[_Aside._

_Plac._ Sir, shall she die?

_Max._ Consider, she's a queen.

_Plac._ Those claims in Cleopatra ended were.

_Max._ How many Cleopatra's live in her!

[_Aside._

_Plac._ When you condemned her, sir, she was a queen.

_Max._ No, slave! she only was a captive then.

_S. Cath._ My joyful sentence you defer too long.

_Max._ I never knew that life was such a wrong.

But if you needs will die,--it shall be so.

--Yet think it does from your perverseness flow.

Men say, indeed, that I in blood delight;

But you shall find--haste, take her from my sight!

--For Maximin I have too much confest;

And, for a lover, not enough exprest.

Absent, I may her martyrdom decree;

But one look more will make that martyr me.

[_Exit St_ CATHARINE, _guarded_.

_Plac._ What is it, sir, that shakes your mighty mind?

_Max._ Somewhat I am ashamed that thou shouldst find.

_Plac._ If it be love, which does your soul possess----

_Max._ Are you my rival, that so soon you guess?

_Plac._ Far, mighty prince, be such a crime from me;

[_Kneeling._

Which, with the pride, includes impiety.

Could you forgive it, yet the gods above

Would never pardon me a Christian love.

_Max._ Thou liest:--There's not a God inhabits there,

But for this Christian would all heaven forswear.

Even Jove would try more shapes her love to win, }

And in new birds, and unknown beasts, would sin: }

At least, if Jove could love like Maximin. }

_Plac._ A captive, sir, who would a martyr die?

_Max._ She courts not death, but shuns captivity.

Great gifts, and greater promises I'll make:

And what religion is't, but they can shake?

She shall live high;--Devotion in distress

Is born, but vanishes in happiness.

[_Exit_ MAX.

_Plac._ [_Solus_.] His son forgot, his empress unappeased--

How soon the tyrant with new love is seized!

Love various minds does variously inspire:

He stirs, in gentle natures, gentle fire,

Like that of incense on the altars laid;

But raging flames tempestuous souls invade;

A fire, which every windy passion blows;

With pride it mounts, and with revenge it glows.

But I accursed, who servilely must move,

And sooth his passion, for his daughters love!

Small hope, 'tis true, attends my mighty care;

But of all passions love does last despair.

[_Exit._

ACT III.

SCENE I.--_The Royal Pavilion_.

_Enter_ MAXIMIN, PLACIDIUS, _Guards, and Attendants_.

_Max._ This love, that never could my youth engage,

Peeps out his coward head to dare my age.

Where hast thou been thus long, thou sleeping form,

That wak'st, like drowsy seamen, in a storm?

A sullen hour thou chusest for thy birth:

My love shoots up in tempests, as the earth

Is stirred and loosened in a blust'ring wind,

Whose blasts to waiting flowers her womb unbind.

_Plac._ Forgive me, if I say your passions are

So rough, as if in love you would make war.

But love is soft--

And with soft beauty tenderly complies;

In lips it laughs, and languishes in eyes.

_Max._ There, let it laugh; or, like an infant, weep:

I cannot such a supple passion keep.

Mine, stiff with age, and stubborn as my arms,

Walks upright; stoops not to, but meets her charms.

_Plac._ Yet fierceness suits not with her gentle kind;

They brave assaults, but may be undermined.

_Max._ Till I in those mean arts am better read,

Court thou, and fawn, and flatter in my stead.

_Enter St_ CATHARINE.

She comes; and now, methinks, I could obey;

Her form glides through me, and my heart gives way:

This iron heart, which no impression took

From wars, melts down, and runs, if she but look.

[_Exit_ MAXIMIN.

_Plac._ Madam, I from the emperor am come,

To applaud your virtue, and reverse your doom.

He thinks, whatever your religion be,

This palm is owing to your constancy.

_S. Cath._ My constancy from him seeks no renown;

Heaven, that proposed the course, will give the crown.

_Plac._ But monarchs are the gods' vicegerents here;

Heaven gives rewards; but what it gives they bear:

From heaven to you the Egyptian crown is sent,

Yet 'tis a prince who does the gift present.

_S. Cath._ The deity I serve, had he thought fit,

Could have preserved my crown unconquered yet:

But when his secret Providence designed

To level that, he levelled too my mind;

Which, by contracting its desires, is taught

The humble quiet of possessing nought.

_Plac._ To stoicks leave a happiness so mean:

Your virtue does deserve a nobler scene.

You are not for obscurity designed,

But, like the sun, must cheer all human kind.

_S. Cath._ No happiness can be, where is no rest:

Th' unknown, untalked of man is only blest.

He, as in some safe cliff, his cell does keep,

From whence he views the labours of the deep:

The gold-fraught vessel, which mad tempests beat,

He sees now vainly make to his retreat;

And when, from far, the tenth wave does appear,

Shrinks up in silent joy, that he's not there.

_Plac._ You have a pilot who your ship secures;

The monarch both of earth and seas is yours;

He, who so freely gives a crown away,

Yet asks no tribute but what you may pay.

One smile on him a greater wealth bestows,

Than Egypt yields, when Nilus overflows.

_S. Cath._ I cannot wholly innocent appear,

Since I have lived such words as these to hear.

O heaven, which dost of chastity take care--

_Plac._ Why do you lose an unregarded prayer?

If happiness, as you believe, be rest,

That quiet sure is by the gods possest:--

'Tis greatness to neglect, or not to know,

The little business of the world below.

_S. Cath._ This doctrine well befitted him, who thought

A casual world was from wild atoms wrought:

But such an order in each chance we see,

(Chained to its cause, as that to its decree,)

That none can think a workmanship so rare

Was built, or kept, without a workman's care.

_To them_ MAXIMIN, _Attendants, and Guards_.

_Max._ Madam, you from Placidius may have heard

Some news, which will your happiness regard;

For what a greater happiness can be,

Than to be courted and be loved by me?

The Egyptian crown I to your hands remit;

And, with it, take his heart, who offers it.

[_She turns aside._

Do you my person and my gift contemn?

_S. Cath._ My hopes pursue a brighter diadem.

_Max._ Can any brighter than the Roman be?

I find my proffered love has cheapen'd me:

Since you neglect to answer my desires,

Know, princess, you shall burn in other fires.

----Why should you urge me to so black a deed?

Think all my anger did from love proceed.

_S. Cath._ Nor threats nor promises my mind can move;

Your furious anger, nor your impious love.

_Max._ The love of you can never impious be;

You are so pure----

That in the act 'twould change the impiety.

Heaven would unmake it sin!----

_S. Cath._ I take myself from that detested sight:

To my respect thou hast no longer right:

Such power in bonds true piety can have,

That I command, and thou art but a slave.

[_Exit St_ CATH.

_Max._ To what a height of arrogance she swells!

Pride, or ill-nature, still with virtue dwells.

Her death shall set me free this very hour;

----But is her death within a lover's power?

Wild with my rage, more wild with my desire,

Like meeting tides--but mine are tides of fire.

What petty promise was't that caused this frown?

_Plac._ You heard: No less than the Egyptian crown.

_Max._ Throw Egypt's by, and offer, in the stead,

Offer----the crown on Berenice's head.

I am resolved to double till I win;

About it straight, and send Porphyrius in.

[_Exit_ PLAC.

We look like eagles towering in the sky;

While her high flight still raises mine more high.

_To him_ PORPHYRIUS.

_Por._ I come, sir, to expect your great commands.

_Max._ My happiness lies only in thy hands;

And, since I have adopted thee my son,

I'll keep no secret from thy breast unknown.

Led by the interest of my rising fate,

I did espouse this empress, whom I hate;

And, therefore, with less shame I may declare,

That I the fetters of thy captive wear.

_Por._ Sir, you amaze me with so strange a love.

_Max._ Pity, my son, those flames you disapprove.

The cause of love can never be assigned;

'Tis in no face, but in the lover's mind.

_Por._ Yet there are beauties which attract all hearts,

And all mankind lies open to their darts;

Whose sovereignty, without dispute, we grant;

Such graces, sure, your empress does not want.

_Max._ Beauty has bounds----

And can no more to every heart be so,

Than any coin through every land can go.

Some secret grace, which is but so to me,

Though not so great, may yet more powerful be.

All guard themselves when stronger foes invade; }

Yet, by the weak, surprises may be made: }

But you, my son, are not to judge, but aid. }

_Por._ What is it, sir, you can require of me?

_Max._ I would from Berenice's bonds be free;

This yoke of marriage from us both remove,

Where two are bound to draw, though neither love.

_Por._ Neither the gods nor man will give consent

To put in practice your unjust intent.

_Max._ Both must consent to that which I decree.

_Por._ The soldiers love her brother's memory;

And for her sake some mutiny will stir.

_Max._ Our parting, therefore, shall be sought by her.

Go, bid her sue for a divorce, or die;

I'll cut the knot, if she will not untie:

Haste to prepare her, and thyself return;

Thy Hymen's torch this day with mine shall burn.

[_Exit._

_Por._ Rather my funeral-torch; for, though I know

Valeria's fair, and that she loves me too,

'Gainst her my soul is armed on every part:

Yet there are secret rivets to my heart,

Where Berenice's charms have found the way;

Subtle as lightnings, but more fierce than they.

How shall I this avoid, or gain that love!

So near the rock, I to the port must move.

_To him_ VALERIA _attended_.

_Val._ Porphyrius, now my joy I may express,

Nor longer hide the love I must possess.

Should I have staid till marriage made us one,

You might have thought it was by duty done;

But of my heart I now a present make;

And give it you, ere it be yours to take.

Accept it as when early fruit we send;

And let the rareness the small gift commend.

_Por._ Great monarchs, like your father, often give

What is above a subject to receive.

But faithful officers should countermand

And stop the gift, that passes through their hand;

And to their prince that mass of wealth restore,

Which, lavished thus, would make whole nations poor.

_Val._ But to this gift a double right you have:

My father gives but what before I gave.

_Por._ In vain you such unequal presents make,

Which I still want capacity to take.

Such fatal bounty once the Gauls did show;

They threw their rings, but threw their targets too.

Bounty, so placed, does more like ruin look;

You pour the ocean on a narrow brook.

_Val._ Yet, if your love before prepares a boat,

The stream so poured, drowns not, but makes it float.

_Por._ But when the vessel is on quicksands cast,

The flowing tide does more the sinking haste.

_Val._ And on what quicksands can your heart be thrown?

Can you a love besides Valeria's own?

_Por._ If he who at your feet his heart would lay,

Be met with first, and robbed upon the way,

You may indeed the robber's strength accuse,

But pardon him, who did the present lose.

_Val._ Who is this thief, that does my right possess?

Name her, and then we of her strength may guess.--

From whence does your unwonted silence come?

_Por._ She bound and gagged me, and has left me dumb.

_Val._ But of my wrongs I will aloud complain.

False man, thou wouldst excuse thyself in vain;

For thee I did a maiden's blush forsake;

And owned a love thou hast refused to take.

_Por._ Refused it!--like a miser, midst his store,

Who grasps and grasps, till he can hold no more;

And when his strength is wanting to his mind,

Looks back, and sighs on what he left behind.

_Val._ No, I resume that heart thou didst possess;

My father shall my injuries redress:

With me thou losest his imperial crown,

And speedy death attends upon his frown.

_Por._ You may revenge your wrongs a nobler way;

Command my death, and I will soon obey.

_Val._ No, live! for, on thy life my cure depends:

In debtors' deaths all obligation ends:

'Twill be some ease ungrateful thee to call;

And, bankrupt-like, say, trusting him lost all.

_Por._ Upbraided thus, what generous man would live!

But fortune will revenge what you forgive.

When I refuse, (as in few hours I must)

This offered grace, your father will be just.

_Val._ Be just! say rather he will cruel prove,

To kill that only person I can love.

Yet so it is!----

Your interest in the army is so high,

That he must make you his, or you must die.

It is resolved! whoe'er my rival be,

[_Aside, after a pause._

I'll show that I deserve him more than she;

And if, at last, he does ungrateful prove,

My constancy itself rewards my love.

[_Exit._

_Por._ She's gone, and, gazing round about, I see

Nothing but death, or glorious misery;

Here empire stands, if I could love displace;

There, hopeless love, with more imperial grace;

Thus, as a sinking hero, compassed round.

Beckons his bravest foe for his last wound,

And him into his part of fame does call,

I'll turn my face to love, and there I'll fall.

_To him_ BERENICE, _and_ EROTION.

_Ber._ I come, Porphyrius, to congratulate

This happy change of your exalted fate:

You to the empire are, I hear, designed;

And fair Valeria must the alliance bind.

_Por._ Would heaven had my succession so decreed,

That I in all might Maximin succeed!

He offers me the imperial crown, 'tis true:

I would succeed him, but it is in you.

_Ber._ In me! I never did accept your love:

But you, I see, would handsomely remove;

And I can give you leave, without a frown:

I always thought you merited a crown.

_Por._ I never sought that crown but on your brow;

But you with such indifference would allow

My change, that you have killed me with that breath;

I feel your scorn cold as the hand of death.

_Ber._ You'll come to life in your Valeria's arms.

'Tis true, I cannot boast of equal charms;

Or, if I could, I never did admit

Your love to me, but only suffered it.

I am a wife, and can make no return;

And 'twere but vain in hopeless fires to burn.

_Por._ Unkind! can you, whom only I adore,

Set open to your slave the prison-door?

You use my heart just as you would afford

A fatal freedom to some harmless bird,

Whom, breeding, you ne'er taught to seek its food;

And now let fly to perish in the wood.

_Ber._ Then, if you will love on, and disobey,

And lose an empire for my sake, you may.

Will a kind look from me pay all this score,

For you well know you must expect no more?

_Por._ All I deserve it will, not all I wish:

But I will brave the tyrant's rage for this.

If I refuse, my death must needs ensue;

But you shall see that I dare die for you.

_Ber._ Would you, for me,

A beauty, and an empire too deny?

I love you now so well--that you shall die.

Die mine! 'tis all I can, with honour, give:

Nor should you die, if after, I would live.

But when your marriage and your death I view,

That, makes you false, but this will keep you true.

_Por._ Unbind thy brows, and look abroad to see,

O mighty love, thy mightiest victory!

_Ber._ And yet----is there no other way to try?

'Tis hard to say I love, and let you die.

_Por._ Yes, there remains some help which you might give,

If you, as I would die for love, would live.

_Ber._ If death for love be sweet, sure life is more:

Teach me the means your safety to restore.

_Por._ Your tyrant the Egyptian princess loves;

And to that height his swelling passion moves,

That, fearing in your death the soldiers' force,

He from your bed does study a divorce.

_Ber._ The Egyptian princess I disputing heard,

And as a miracle her mind regard.

But yet I wish that this divorce be true.

[_Gives her hand._

_Por._ 'Tis, madam, but it must be sought by you.

By this he will all mutinies prevent;

And this as well secures your own content.

_Ber._ I hate this tyrant, and his bed I loath;

But, once submitting, I am tied to both:

Tied to that honour, which all women owe,

Though not their husband's person, yet their vow.

Something so sacred in that bond there is,

That none should think there could be aught amiss:

And if there be, we should in silence hide

Those faults, which blame our choice, when they are spied.

_Por._ But, since to all the world his crimes are known.

And by himself the civil war's begun,

Would you the advantage of the fight delay,

If, striking first, you were to win the day?

_Ber._ I would, like Jews upon their sabbath, fall;

And, rather than strike first, not strike at all.

_Por._ Against yourself you sadly prophecy:

You either this divorce must seek, or die.

_Ber._ Then death from all my griefs shall set me free.

_Por._ And would you rather chuse your death, than me?

_Ber._ My earthly part----

Which is my tyrant's right, death will remove;

I'll come all soul and spirit to your love.

With silent steps I'll follow you all day,

Or else before you, in the sun beams, play:

I'll lead you thence to melancholy groves,

And there repeat the scenes of our past loves:

At night, I will within your curtains peep;

With empty arms embrace you while you sleep:

In gentle dreams I often will be by,

And sweep along before your closing eye:

All dangers from your bed I will remove;

But guard it most from any future love:

And when, at last, in pity, you will die,

I'll watch your birth of immortality:

Then, turtle-like, I'll to my mate repair,

And teach you your first flight in open air.

[_Exit_ BERENICE _and_ ERATION.

_Por._ She has but done what honour did require;

Nor can I blame that love, which I admire.

But then her death!

I'll stand betwixt, it first shall pierce my heart:

We will be stuck together on his dart.

But yet the danger not so high does grow:

I'll charge death first, perhaps repulse him too.

But if, o'erpowered, I must be overcome,

Forced back, I'll fight each inch into my tomb.

[_Exit._

ACT IV.

SCENE I.--_An Indian cave_.

_Enter_ PLACIDIUS _and_ NIGRINUS. NIGRINUS, _with two drawn swords, held

upward in his hands_.

_Plac._ All other means have failed to move her heart;

Our last resource is, therefore, to your art.

_Nig._ Of wars, and bloodshed, and of dire events,

Of fates, and 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.

_Plac._ Leave nothing unattempted in your power:

Remember you oblige an emperor.

_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,

Framed 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 airy chariots they together ride,

And sip the dew as through the clouds they glide:

These are the spirits, which in love have power.

_Plac._ Haste, and invoke them in a happy hour.

_Nig._ And so it proves: For, counting seven from noon,

'Tis Venus' hour, and in the waxing moon,

With chalk I first describe a circle here,

Where these etherial 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 coral's dust;

A lump of Sperma Ceti; and to these

The stalks and chips of Lignum Aloes;

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 them now.

_Plac._ 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 called 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 rainbow feast._

Dam. _In the bright moonshine 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 sky should prove too far,

We slide on the back of a new-falling star._

Nakar. _And drop from above

In a jelly 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 them to-night;

The wind is for us, and blows full in their sight:

And o'er 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 lie securely intrenched in a cloud,

And a trumpeter-hornet to battle sounds loud._

Dam. _Now mortals that spy

How we tilt in the sky,

With wonder will gaze;

And fear such events as will ne'er come to pass._

Nakar. _Stay you to perform what the men will have done._

Dam. _Then call me again when the battle 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 power

[_To_ DAMILCAR.

Of Nakar's love, and of this holy wand,

On the north quarter of my circle stand,

(Seven foot around for my defence I take.)

To all my questions faithful answers make!

So mayest thou live thy thousand years in peace,

And see thy airy progeny increase:

So mayest thou still continue young and fair,

Fed by the blast of pure aetherial air,

And, thy full term expired, without all pain,

Dissolve into thy astral source again.

_Dam._ Name not my hated rival Gemory,

And I'll speak true whate'er thy questions be.

_Nig._ Thy rival's hated name I will refrain:

Speak, shall the emperor his love obtain?

_Dam._ Few hours shall pass before your emperor shall be

Possessed of that he loves, or from that love be free.

_Plac._ Shall I enjoy that beauty I adore?

_Dam._ She, suppliant-like, ere long, thy succour shall implore:

And thou with her thou lovest in happiness may'st live,

If she not dies before, who all thy joys can give.

_Nig._ Say, what does the Egyptian 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 shew,

And in vain joys let her loose spirit flow.

_Dam._ Twice fifty tents remove her from your sight,

But I'll cut through them all with rays of light;

And covering other objects to your eyes,

Shew where entranced in silent sleep she lies.

DAMILCAR _stamps, and the bed arises with St_ CATHARINE _in it_.

DAMILCAR singing.

_You pleasing dreams of love and sweet delight,

Appear before this slumbering virgins sight:

Soft visions set her free

From mournful piety.

Let her sad thoughts from heaven 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 flowery meads, and vales of chearful green:

And in the midst of deathless groves

Soft sighing wishes lie,

And smiling hopes fast by,

And just beyond them ever-laughing loves._

_A_ SCENE _of a Paradise is discovered_.

_Plac._ Some pleasing objects do her mind employ;

For on her face I read a wandering joy.

SONG.

Dam. _Ah how sweet it is to love!

Ah how gay is young desire!

And what pleasing pains we prove

When we first approach love's fire!

Pains of love be sweeter far

Than all other pleasures are._

_Sighs, which are from lovers blown,

Do but gently heave the heart:

Even the tears they shed alone,

Cure, like trickling balm, their smart.

Lovers when they lose their breath,

Bleed away in easy death._

_Love and time with reverence use,

Treat them like a parting friend:

Nor the golden gifts refuse,

Which in youth sincere they send:

For each year their price is more,

And they less simple than before._

_Love, like spring-tides full and high,

Swells in every youthful vein;

But each tide does less supply,

Till they quite shrink in again:

If a flow in age appear,

'Tis but rain, and runs not clear._

_At the end of the Song a Dance of Spirits. After which_ AMARIEL, _the

Guardian-Angel of St_ CATHARINE, _descends to soft music, 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 heaven's 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 daemons of the air;

My flaming sword above them to display,

(All keen, and ground upon the edge of day;)

The flat to sweep the visions from thy mind,

The edge to cut them through that stay behind.

Vain spirits, you, that, shunning heaven's 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 assigned you here below!

Upon the ocean make loud tempests blow;

Into the wombs of hollow clouds repair,

And crush out thunder from the bladdered air;

From pointed sun-beams take the mists they drew,

And scatter them 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 compared to thee.

Thou tread'st the abyss of light,

And where it streams with open eyes canst go:

We wander in the fields of air below,

Changelings and fools of heaven; 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.

_Amar._ If e'er again thou on this place art found,

Full fifty years I'll 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 lie

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 magic fumes will feed,

Which drew me hither by their powerful steams.

_Amar._ Go expiate thy guilt in holy dreams.

[_Exit_ DAM.

But thou, sweet saint, henceforth disturb no more

[_To_ S. CATH.

With dreams not thine, thy thoughts to heaven 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._

_Plac._ How doubtfully these spectres fate foretell!

In double sense, and twilight 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 distasteful truth will tell,

So it be new and please, 'tis full as well.

[PLAC. _whispers with the Emperor, who seems pleased._

_Max._ You charm me with your news, which I'll reward;

By hopes we are for coming joys prepared:

Possess her love, or from that love be free;--

Heaven speaks me fair: If she as kind can prove,

I shall possess, but never quit my love.

Go, tell me when she wakes.

[_Exit_ PLAC.

[PORPHYRIUS _seems to beg something of him._

--Porphyrius, no;

She has refused, 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'er my men I'll 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 ere she die.

[_Aside._

_Enter_ VALERIA.

Valeria here! how fortune treats me still

With various harms, magnificently ill!

_Max._ Valeria, I was sending to your tent,

[_To_ VAL.

But my commands your presence does prevent.

This is the hour, wherein the priest shall join

Your holy loves, and make Porphyrius mine.

_Val._ Now hold, my heart! and Venus I implore,

Be judge if she he loves deserves him more.

[_Aside._

_Por._ Past hope! and all in vain I would preserve

My life, not for myself, but her I serve.

[_Aside._

_Val._ I come, great sir, your justice to demand.

[_To the Emperor._

_Max._ You cannot doubt it from a father's hand.

_Por._ Sir, I confess, before her suit be known;

And by myself condemned, my crime I own.

I have refused.

_Val._ Peace, peace, while I confess

I have refused thee for unworthiness.

_Por._ I am amazed.

_Max._ What riddles do you use?

Dare either of you my commands refuse?

_Val._ Yes, I dare own, howe'er 'twas wisely done

To 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 liked the choice when first I thought, it fit.

_Val._ I had not then enough considered it.

_Max._ And you have now considered 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 refused, you blast a virgin's name.

You to refuse, and I to be denied!

Learn more discretion, or be taught less pride.

_Por._ O heaven, in what a labyrinth am I led!

I could get out, but she detains the thread.

Now must I wander on, till I can see,

Whether her pity or revenge it be.

[_Aside._

_Max._ With what child's anger do you think you play?

I'll 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 the effect of generosity!

She loves me, even to suffer for my sake;

And on herself would my refusal take.

[_Aside._

_Max._ Children to serve their parents int'rest live;

Take heed what doom against yourself you give.

[_To_ VAL.

_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 approved,

And (though I blush to own it) said she loved;

Loved me desertless, who, with shame, confest

Another flame had seized upon my breast;

Which when, too late, the generous princess knew,

And feared your justice would my crime pursue,

Upon herself she makes the tempest fall,

And my refusal her contempt would call.

_Val._ He raves, sir, and, to cover my disdain,

Unhandsomely would his denial feign:

And, all means failing him, at last would try

To usurp the credit of a scorn, and die.

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 deserved my care.

'Tis my command you strictly guarded be,

Till your fantastic quarrel you agree.

_Por._ Sir--

_Max._ I'll not hear you speak, her crime is plain;

She owns her pride, which you perhaps may feign.

She shall be prisoner till she bend her mind

To that, which is for both of you designed.

_Val._ You'll find it hard my free-born will to bound.

_Max._ I'll find that power o'er wills, which heaven ne'er 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 danced upon a wire.

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 crushed together into peace.

_Val._ Thus by the world my courage will be prized;

[_Aside._

Seeming to scorn, who am, alas, despised:

Dying for love's, fulfilling honour's laws;

A secret martyr, while I own no cause.

[_Exit_ VAL.

_Max._ Porphyrius, stay; there's some thing I would hear:

You said you loved, and you must tell me where.

_Por._ All heaven is to my sole destruction bent.

[_Aside._

_Max._ You would, it seems, have leisure to invent.

_Por._ Her name in pity, sir, I must forbear,

Lest my offences you revenge on her.

_Max._ My promise for her life I do engage.

_Por._ Will that, sir, be remembered in your rage?

_Max._ Speak, or your silence more my rage will move;

'Twill argue that you rival me in love.

_Por._ Can you believe that my ambitious flame

Should mount so high as Berenice's name?

_Max._ Your guilt dares not approach what it would hide;

But draws me off, and (lapwing-like) flies wide.

'Tis not my wife, but mistress, you adore:

Though that affront, yet this offends me more.

Who courts my wife,

Does to my honour more injurious prove;

But he, who courts my mistress, wrongs my love.

_Por._ The Egyptian princess ne'er could move my heart.

_Max._ You could not perish by a nobler dart.

_Por._ Sir, I presume not beauties to compare;

But in my eyes my princess is as fair.

_Max._ Your princess! then it seems, though you deny

Her name you love, you own her quality.

_Por._ Though not by birth or title so, yet she,

Who rules my heart, a princess is to me.

_Max._ No, no;

'Tis plain that word you unawares did use,

And told a truth which now you would excuse.

Besides my wife and mistress, here are none,

Who can the title of a princess own.

_Por._ There is one more,

Your daughter, sir: Let that your doubt remove.

_Max._ But she is not that princess whom you love.

_Por._ I named not love, though it might doubtful seem:

She's fair, and is that princess I esteem.

_Max._ Go, and to passion your esteem improve,

While I command her to receive your love.

[_Exit_ POR.

_Enter_ ST CATHARINE.

_S. Cath._ I come not now, as captive to your power,

To beg; but as high heaven's ambassador,

The laws of my religion to fulfil:

Heaven 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 another's name you peace declare,

Princess, you in your own proclaim a war.

Your too great power 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 that power which I adore, is one.

When fixed 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 borne.

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 praetorian bands,

Whose arbitrary power 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 stile,

An eagle mounting from a kindled pile:

But you may make yourself 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 feverish 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 decayed,

And you forbid me change, the sick man's 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'er could be.

But when you place your joys on things above,

You fix the wandering planet of your love:

Thence you may see

Poor human kind, all dazed in open day,

Err after bliss, and blindly miss their way:

The greatest happiness a prince can know,

Is to love heaven 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

The unfortunate lament, and prosperous 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, sucked in by the stream, does to the whirlpool run.

_Max._ How, madam, are you to new ways inclined?

I fear the Christian sect perverts your mind.

[_To_ BER.

_Ber._ Yes, tyrant, know, that I their faith embrace,

And own 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 vicious souls abhor and fear,

Because it shows eternity too near:

And therefore every one,

With seeming scorn of it the rest deceives;

All joining not to own what each believes.

_S. Cath._ O happy queen! whom power leads not astray,

Nor youth's more powerful blandishments betray.

_Ber._ Your arguments my reason first inclined,

And then your bright example fixed my mind.

_Max._ With what a holy empress am I blest!

What scorn of earth dwells in her heavenly breast!

My crown's too mean; but He, whom you adore,

Has one more bright, of martyrdom, in store.

She dies, and I am from the envy freed:

[_Aside._

She has, I thank her, her own death decreed.

No soldier now will in her rescue stir;

Her death is but in complaisance to her.

I'll haste to gratify her holy will;--

Heaven grant her zeal may but continue still!

Tribune, a guard to seize the empress strait;

[_To_ VAL.

Secure her person prisoner to the state.

[_Exit_ MAX.

_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 emperor'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.

[VAL. _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 praetorian band

Will all oppose your tyrant's cruelty.

_S. Cath._ And I have heaven implored she may not die:

As some to witness truth heaven's 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 crossed, what way soe'er I go!

To the unlucky every thing is so.

Now, fortune, thou hast shown thy utmost spite;

The soldiers will not for a Christian fight:

And, madam, all that I can promise now,

Is but to die, before death reaches you.

_Ber._ Now death draws near, a strange perplexity

Creeps coldly on me, like a fear to die:

Courage uncertain dangers may abate;

But who can bear the 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'er;

And then his inn upon the farther ground,

Loth to wade through, and lother to go round;

Then dipping in his staff, does trial make

How deep it is, and, sighing, pulls it back;

Sometimes resolved to fetch his leap, and then

Runs to the bank, but there stops short again;

So I at once

Both heavenly faith and human fear obey,

And feel before me in an unknown way.

For this blest voyage I with joy prepare,

Yet am ashamed to be a stranger there.

_S. Cath._ You are not yet enough prepared to die;

Earth hangs too heavy for your soul to fly.

_Por._ One way (and heaven, I hope, inspires my mind)

I for your safety in this strait can find;

But this fair queen must further 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 tyrant's new-born passion is the cause.

Were this bright princess once removed away,

Wanting the food, the flame would soon decay;

And I'll prepare a faithful guard this night

To attend her person, and secure her flight.

_Ber._ to _S. Cath._ By this way I shall both from death be freed,

And you unforced to any wicked deed.

_S. Cath._ Madam, my thoughts are with themselves at strife,

And heaven 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 heaven does thus divide,

You should, like heaven, still lean on mercy's side.

_S. Cath._ The will of heaven, judged by a private breast,

Is often what's our private interest;

And therefore those, who would that will obey,

Without their interest must their duty weigh.

As for myself, 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'er is, its being would prolong.

Were there no sting in death, for me to die,

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 heroic proofs you give;

But, madam, let my weaker virtue live.

Your faith may bid you your own life resign;

But not when yours must be involved with mine.

Since then you do not think me fit to die,

Ah, how can you that life I beg deny!

_S. Cath._ Heaven does in this my greatest trial make,

When I, for it, the care of you forsake;

But I am placed, as on a theatre,

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 heaven forsake, or you.

_Por._ Were saving Berenice's life a sin,

Heaven had shut up your flight from Maximin.

_S. Cath._ Thus with short plummets heaven's deep will we sound,

That vast abyss where human wit is drowned!

In our small skiff we must not launch too far;

We here but coasters, not discoverers, 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 heaven's 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 St_ 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 human frailty brought,

And never mingled with a wicked thought.

_Por._ 'Tis not a crime, since one of you must die,

Or is excused by the necessity.

_Ber._ I cannot to a husband's death consent,

But, by revealing, will your crime prevent.

The horror of this deed

Against the fear of death has armed 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 benefactor's life invade.

Guards, to your charge I give your prisoner back,

And will from none but heaven my safety take.

[_Exit with_ VALERIUS _and Guards_.

_Por._ [_Solus._] 'Tis true, what she has often urged before,

He's both my father, and my emperor!

O honour, how can'st thou invent a way

To save my queen, and not my trust betray!

Unhappy I, that e'er he trusted me!

As well his guardian-angel may his murderer be.

And yet----let honour, faith, and virtue fly,

But let not love in Berenice die.

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_ POR.

That my late orders were contemned 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 power of kings.

_Max._ Then conscience is a greater prince than I,

At whose each erring call a king may die!

Who conscience leaves to its own free command,

Puts the worst weapon in a rebel's hand.

_Por._ Its empire, therefore, sir, should bounded be,

And, but in acts of its religion, free:

Those who ask civil power 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 yourself 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 die--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, ere you lay it down,

Consider what you part with in a crown:

Monarchs of cares in policy complain,

Because they would be pitied, while they reign;

For still the greater troubles they confess,

They know their pleasures will be envied 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 power;

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 Caesar, you must die.

_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 betrayed.

[_Is going._

_Max._ Stay, stay! in threatening 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 prisoner keep:

Our enmity shall end before I sleep.

_Plac._ I still am ready, sir, whene'er you please,

[_To_ POR.

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 traitor's head.

_Por._ Where'er thou stand'st, I'll level at that place

My gushing blood, and spout it at thy face.

Thus, not by marriage, we our blood will join;

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 die:

Since life is fugitive, and will not stay,

I'll make it fly more pleasantly away.

[_Exit._

ACT V. SCENE I.

_Enter_ VALERIA _and_ PLACIDIUS.

_Val._ If, as you say, you silently have been

So long my lover, let my power be seen:

One hour's discourse before Porphyrius die,

Is all I ask, and you too may be by.

_Plac._ I must not break

The order, which the emperor did sign.

_Val._ Has then his hand more power with you than mine?

_Plac._ This hand, if given, would far more powerful 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 snatched away.

_Val._ O say not so; for I shall ever be

Obliged to him, who once obliges me.

_Plac._ Madam, I'll wink, and favour the deceit;

But know, fair cozener, that I know the cheat:

Though to these eyes I nothing can refuse,

I'll not the merit of my ruin lose:

It is enough I see the hook, and bite;

But first I'll 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.

_Plac._ I am, perhaps, the first,

Who, forced by fate, and in his own despite,

Brought a loved 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;

He is a rival, who must quickly die.

_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 lies,

That, debtor-like, I dare not meet your eyes.

_Val._ I do not blame you, if you love elsewhere:

And would to heaven I could your sufferings bear!

Or once again could some new way invent,

To take upon myself your punishment:

I sent for you, to let you know, that still,

Though now I want the power, I have the will.

_Plac._ Can all this ocean of your kindness be

Poured upon him, and not one drop on me?

_Val._ 'Tis poured; 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 undeserved a love.

_Val._ Unthankful as you are, I know not why,

But still I love too well, to see you die.

Placidius, can you love, and see my grief,

And for my sake not offer some relief?

_Plac._ Not all the gods his ruin shall prevent;

Your kindness does but urge his punishment.

Besides, what can I for his safety do?

He has declared himself your father's foe.

_Val._ Give out he has escaped, 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 die with shame.

_Plac._ I must not farther by your prayers be won:

All I could do, I have already done.

[_To her._

_Val._ To bring Porphyrius only to my sight,

Was not to show your pity, but your spite:

Would you but half oblige her you adore?

You should not have done this, or should do more.

_Plac._ 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 die.--

O, if I could but wink, I could deny!

_To them_ ALBINUS.

_Alb._ The emperor expects your prisoner strait;

And with impatience for his death does wait.

_Plac._ Nay, then it is too late my love to weigh;

Your pardon, madam, if I must obey.

[_Exit_ ALBINUS.

_Por._ I am prepared; he shall not long attend.

_Val._ Then here my prayers and my submissions end.

Placidius, know, that hour in which he dies,

My death (so well I love) shall wait on his.

_Plac._ 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--

_Plac._ Now I consider it, I will:

[_Musing a little._

'Tis in your power to save him, or to kill.

I'll 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 mere reward?

Like usurers to men in want you prove,

When you would take extortion for my love.

_Plac._ You have concluded then that he must die?

[_Going with_ PORPHYRIUS.

_Val._ O stay! if no price else his life can buy,

My love a ransom for his life I give:

Let my Porphyrius for another live.

[_Holding her handkerchief before her face._

_Por._ You too much value the small merchandise:

My life's o'er-rated, when your love's the price.

_Enter_ ALBINUS.

_Alb._ I long have listened to your generous strife,

As much concerned for brave Porphyrius' life.

For mine I to his favour owed this day;

Which with my future service I will pay.

_Plac._ Lest any your intended flight prevent,

I'll 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._ Farewell! 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 dwell in your breast,

Sometimes to think on her who loves you best.

[_Going--he takes her hand and kisses it._

_Por._ My wandering steps wherever 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'll 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'er 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.

[_Exeunt_ VAL. _one way, and_ POR. _and_ ALB. _another_.

_Plac._ Love and good nature, how do you betray!

Misleading those who see and know their way!

I, whom deep arts of state could ne'er beguile,

Have sold myself to ruin for a smile.

Nay, I am driven so low, that I must take

That smile, as alms, given for my rival's sake.

_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 prisoner made,

She in another vessel was conveyed.

_Max._ Bring hither the Egyptian princess strait.

[_To_ PLAC.

And you, Valerius, on her mother wait.

[_Exit_ VAL.

_Plac._ The mother of the Egyptian princess here!

_Max._ Porphyrius' death I will a while defer,

And this new opportunity improve,

To make my last effort upon her love--

[_Exit_ PLAC.

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, ere 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 St_ 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 than to youthful monarchs conquered fields!

Before you came--my soul,

All filled with heaven, did earthly joys disdain:

But you pull back some part of me again.

_Plac._ You see, sir, she can own a joy below.

_Max._ It much imports me that this truth I know.

_Fel._ How dreadful death does on the waves appear,

Where seas we only see, and tempests hear!

Such frightful images did then pursue

My trembling soul, that scarce I thought of you.

_Plac._ All circumstances to your wish combine:

Her fear of death advances your design.

[_To_ MAX.

_Fel._ But to that only power we serve I prayed,

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 Christian's life to spare.

_Fel._ For death! I hope you but my courage try:

Whatever I believe, I dare not die.

Heaven does not, sure, that seal of faith require;

Or, if it did, would firmer thoughts inspire.

A woman's 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, die.

_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 St_ 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 easy 'tis to teach! how hard to do!

My labouring thoughts are with themselves at strife:

I dare not die, nor bid you save my life.

_Max._ You must do one, and that without delay;

Too long already for your death I stay.

I cannot with your small concerns dispense;

For deaths of more importance call me hence.

Prepare to execute your office strait.

[_To his Guards._

_Fel._ O stay, and let them but one minute wait!

Such quick commands for death you would not give,

If you but knew how sweet it were to live.

_Max._ Then bid her love.

_Fel._ Is duty grown so weak,

[_To St_ CATHARINE.

That love's a harder word than death to speak?

_S. Cath._ Oh!

_Fel._ Mistake me not; I never can approve

A thing so wicked as the tyrant's love.

I ask you would but some false promise give,

Only to gain me so much time to live.

[_Privately to St_ CATHARINE.

_S. Cath._ That promise is a step to greater sin:

The hold, once lost, we seldom take again.

Each bound to heaven 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 St_ CATH.

Have you not so much pity in your breast?

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 shivering 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 measured, and too swift for sand:

'Tis but because the living death ne'er knew,

They fear to prove it as a thing that's new.

Let me the experiment before you try,

I'll show you first how easy 'tis to die.

_Max._ Draw then that curtain, and let death appear,

And let both see how easy '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 fastened 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 the 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 mother's 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 loved best, and then you best loved me.

About my neck your little arms you spread,

Nor could you sleep without me in the bed;

But sought my bosom when you went to rest,

And all night long would lie across my breast.

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 rushed 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 placed;

Thus I will cling for ever to her waist.

[_Running to her daughter._

_Max._ What, must my will by women be controuled?

Haste, draw your weapons, and cut off her hold!

_S. Cath._ Thus my last duty to you let me pay:

[_Kissing her mother._

Yet, tyrant, I to thee will never pray.

Tho' 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'll 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 obeyed, though I am loth;--

Go, and while I can bid you, bind them both;

Go, bind them ere 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._ Heaven is all mercy, who that death ordains;

And that, which heaven thinks best, is surely so:

But bare, and naked, shame to undergo,

'Tis somewhat more than death!

Exposed to lawless eyes I dare not be;

My modesty is sacred, heaven, to thee!

Let not my body be the tyrant's spoil;

Nor hands nor eyes thy purity defile.

[AMERIEL _descends swiftly with a flaming sword,

and strikes at the Wheel, which breaks in pieces;

then he ascends again._

_Max._ Is this the effect of all your boasted skill?

These brittle toys to execute my will?

A puppet-shew of death I only find,

Where I a strong and sinewy pain designed.

By what weak infant was this engine wrought?

_Val._ From Bilbilis the tempered steel was brought;

Metal more tough the anvil ne'er did beat,

Nor, from the forge, did hissing waters heat.

_Plac._ I saw a youth descend all heavenly fair,

Who in his hand a flaming sword did bear,

And, whirlwind-like, around him drove the air.

At his raised arm the rigid iron shook,

And, bending backwards, fled before the stroke.

_Max._ What! miracles, the tricks of heaven to me?

I'll try if she be wholly iron free.

If not by sword, then she shall die by fire;

And one by one her miracles I'll tire.

If proof against all kind of death she be;

My love's immortal, and she's fit for me.

_S. Cath._ No, heaven has shewn its power, 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 heaven, which suffered that, my faith to prove,

Now to itself does vindicate my love.

A power controuls 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 die.

Bring me their heads.

_Fel._ That mercy, tyrant, thou deny'st to me,

At thy last breath may heaven 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 shews

Your peace of mind by rage to discompose:

No streak of blood (the relics 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 St_ CATHARINE _and_ FELICIA, _with_ VALERIUS,

_and guards. The scene shuts_.

_Max._ She's gone, and pulled 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 the 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_ PLAC.

I in her death shall some diversion find,

And rid my thoughts at once of womankind.

_Plac._ '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 die, were she concerned alone;

But I love, not for her sake, but my own.

Our Gods are Gods, 'cause they have power and will;

Who can do all things, can do nothing ill.

Ill is rebellion 'gainst some higher power:

The world may sin, but not its emperor.

My empress then shall die, my princess live;

If this be sin, I do myself forgive.

_To him_, VALERIUS.

_Val._ Your will's obeyed; for, mighty emperor,

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 altered; I have changed her fate,

She shall not die.

_Val._ Your pity comes too late.

Betwixt her guards she seemed by bride-men led,

Her checks with chearful blushes were o'erspread;

When, smiling, to the axe she bowed her head,

Just, at the stroke,

AEtherial music did her death prepare,

Like joyful sounds of spousals in the air;

A radiant light did her crown'd temples gild,

And all the place with fragrant scents was filled;

The balmy mist came thickening to the ground,

And sacred silence covered all around.

But when (its work performed) the cloud withdrew,

And day restored us to each other's view,

I sought her head, to bring it on my spear;

In vain I sought it, for it was not there;

No part remained; but, from afar, our sight

Discovered in the air long tracts of light;

Of charming notes we heard the last rebounds,

And music 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 erred better in obeying love.

'Tis true, that way thy death had followed too,

But I had then been less displeased 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 Emperor

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 them from their eyes.

_Por._ Have courage then for our bold enterprize.

Duty and faith no tie on me can have,

Since I renounced those honours which he gave.

_Max._ The time is come we did so long attend,

[_To_ BER.

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 heaven your life:

Be all the discords of our bed forgot,

Which, virtue 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 inclined!

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 trembling in each outward part.

'Tis done, tyrant, this is thy latest hour.

[PORPHYRIUS _and_ ALBINUS _draw,

and are making at the Emperor_.

_Ber._ Look to yourself, my lord the emperor!

Treason, help, help, my lord!

[MAXIMIN _turns and defends himself, the Guards

set on_ PORPHYRIUS _and_ ALBINUS.

_Max._ Disarm them, but their lives I charge you spare.

[_After they are disarmed._

Unmask them, and discover who they are.--

Good Gods, is it Porphyrius whom I see!

_Plac._ I wonder how he gained his liberty.

_Max._ Traitor!

_Por._ Know, tyrant, I can hear that name,

Rather than son, and bear it with less shame.

Traitor's a name, which, were my arm yet free,

The Roman senate would bestow on thee.

Ah, madam, you have ruined my design,

[_To_ BER.

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.

_Max._ Now I perceive

[_To_ POR.

In what close walk your mind so long did move:

You scorned my throne, aspiring to her love.

_Ber._ In death I'll own a love to him so pure,

As will the test of heaven itself endure;

A love so chaste, as conscience could not chide;

But cherish it, and keep it by its side.

A love, which never knew a hot desire,

But flamed 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 other's sake.

_Por._ Barbarian, do not dare, her blood to shed,

Who from my vengeance saved thy cursed head;

A flight, no honour ever reached before,

And which succeeding ages will adore.

_Ber._ Porphyrius, I must die!

That common debt to nature paid must be;

But I have left a debt unpaid to thee.

To Maximin

I have performed 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 prayer.

Farewell, sweet saint! my prayer shall be to you:

My love has been unhappy, but 'twas true.

Remember me!--Alas, what have I said?

You must die too!

But yet remember me when you are dead.

_Ber._ If I die first, I will

Stop short of heaven, and wait you in a cloud;

For fear we lose each other in the crowd.

_Por._ Love is the only coin in heaven 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 scroll,

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 practise treason on my heart.

_Por._ Adieu: This farewell sigh I as my last bequeath;

Catch it,--'tis love expiring in a breath.

_Ber._ This sigh of mine shall meet it half the way,

As pledges given that each for other stay.

_Enter_ VALERIA _and_ CYDON.

_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 yourself abhorred for cruelty!

The empire groans under your bloody reign,

And its vast body bleeds in every vein.

Gasping and pale, and fearing more, it lies;

And now you stab it in the very eyes:

Your Caesar and the partner of your bed!

Ah, who can wish to live when they are dead?

If ever gentle pity touch'd your breast----

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_ VALERIA.

Who taught thee to be pitiful or good?

_Val._ What hope have I,

The name of virtue should prevail with him,

Who thinks even 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 the excess of pity to you shew.

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 die.

I honour Berenice's virtue much;

But for Porphyrius my love is such,

I cannot, will not live, when he is gone.

_Max._ I'll do that cure for you, which on myself is done.

You must, like me, your lover's life remove;

Cut off your hope, and you destroy your love.

If it were hard, I would not bid you try

The medicine; but 'tis but to let him die.

Yet since you are so soft, (which you call good,)

And are not yet confirmed enough in blood,

To see his death;

Your frailty shall be favoured 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 them.

[_Exeunt_ BERENICE, PORPHYRIUS, _and_ ALBINUS, _carried off by Guards_.

_Val._ Since prayers nor tears can bend his cruel mind,

[_Looking after_ POR.

Farewell, the best and bravest of mankind!

How I have loved, heaven 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 heaven permits not to a tyrant's race.

_Max._ Hence to her tent the foolish girl convey.

_Val._ Let me be just before I go away.--

Placidius, I have vowed to be your wife;

Take then my hand, 'tis yours while I have life.--

One moment here I must another's be;

But this, Porphyrius, gives me back to thee.

[_Stabs herself twice, and then_ PLACIDIUS _wrests the Dagger from her_.

_Plac._ Help, help the princess, help!

_Max._ What rage has urged this act, which thou hast done?

_Val._ Thou, tyrant, and thy crimes, have pulled it on.

Thou, who canst death with such a pleasure see,

Now take thy fill, and glut thy sight in me.

But--I'll the 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 deserved thee, now I die?

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 dies,

And sighs her soul into her lover's eyes.

[_Dies._

_Plac._ She's gone from earth, and with her went away

All of the tyrant that deserved 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 claimed her, and we must resign.

_Max._ What had the Gods to do with me or mine?

Did I molest your heaven?

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 leaned 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,)

Henceforth I, and my world,

Hostility with you, and yours, declare.

Look to it, Gods; for you the aggressors are.

Keep you your rain and sunshine in your skies,

And I'll keep back my flame and sacrifice.

Your trade of heaven shall soon be at a stand,

And all your goods lie dead upon your hand.

_Plac._ Thus, tyrant, since the Gods the 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 given;

[_Stabbing_ PLACIDIUS.

Thus, traitor, thus, and thus I would to heaven.

[PLACIDIUS _falls, and the Emperor staggers after him,

and sits down upon him; the Guards come to help the Emperor._

_Max._ Stand off, and let me, ere my strength be gone,

Take my last pleasure of revenge, alone.

_Enter a Centurion._

_Cent._ Arm, arm, the camp is in a mutiny:

For Rome and liberty the soldiers cry.

Porphyrius moved 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 myself the strength to rise.

[_He strives to get up, and, being up, staggers._

It wonnot be----

My body has not power my mind to bear.----

I must return again--and conquer here.

[_Sits down upon the body._

My coward body does my will controul;

Farewell, thou base deserter of my soul!

I'll shake this carcase off, and be obeyed;

Reign an imperial ghost without its aid.

Go, soldiers, take my ensigns with you; fight,

And vanquish rebels in your sovereign's right:

Before I die----

Bring me Porphyrius and my empress dead:--

I would brave heaven, in my each hand a head.

_Plac._ Do not regard a dying tyrant's breath,

He can but look revenge on you in death.

[_To the Soldiers._

_Max._ Vanquished, and dar'st thou yet a rebel be?

Thus, I can more than look revenge on thee.

[_Stabs him again._

_Plac._ Oh, I am gone!

[_Dies._

_Max._ And after thee I go,

Revenging still, and following ev'n to the other world my blow;

[_Stabs him again._

And shoving back this earth on which I sit,

I'll mount, and scatter all the Gods I hit.

[_Dies._

_Enter_ PORPHYRIUS, BERENICE, ALBINUS, _Soldiers_. PORPHYRIUS _looks on

the Bodies entering, and speaks_.

_Por._ Tis done before, (this mighty work of fate!)

And I am glad your swords are come too late.

He was my prince, and though a bloody one,

I should have conquered, and have mercy shewn.

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 deprived of breath!

Who can unriddle this dumb-show of death?

_Cyd._ When, sir, her father did your life deny,

She killed herself, that she with you might die.

Placidius made the emperor's 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'll give:

And what hard fate did to thy life deny,

My gratitude shall pay thy memory.

_Cent._ Meantime to you belongs the imperial power:

We, with one voice, salute you emperor.

_Sold._ Long life, Porphyrius, emperor of the Romans!

_Por._ Too much, my countrymen; your love you shew,

That you have thought me worthy to be so;

But, to requite that love, I must take care,

Not to engage you in a civil war.

Two emperors 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 the unlucky omen of the life.

Like a rich vessel, beat by storms to shore,

'Twere madness should I venture out once more.

Of glorious trouble I will take no part,

And in no empire reign, but of your heart.

_Por._ Let to the winds your golden eagles fly;

[_To the Soldiers._

Your trumpets sound a bloodless victory:

Our arms no more let Aquileia fear,

But to her gates our peaceful ensigns bear;

While I mix cypress with my myrtle wreath,--

Joy for your life, and mourn Valeria's death.

[_Exeunt._

EPILOGUE

SPOKEN BY

MRS ELLEN[O], WHEN SHE WAS TO BE CARRIED OFF DEAD BY THE BEARERS.

TO THE BEARER.

Hold; are you mad? You damn'd confounded dog!

I am to rise, and speak the epilogue.

TO THE AUDIENCE.

I come, kind gentlemen, strange news to tell ye;

I am the ghost of poor departed Nelly.

Sweet ladies, be not frighted; I'll be civil,

I'm what I was, a little harmless devil.

For, after death, we spirits have just such natures,

We had, for all the world, when human creatures;

And, therefore, I, that was an actress here,

Play all my tricks in hell, a goblin there.

Gallants, look to't, you say there are no sprites;

But I'll come dance about your beds at nights.

And faith you'll be in a sweet kind of taking,

When I surprise you between sleep and waking.

To tell you true, I walk, because I die

Out of my calling, in a tragedy.

O poet, damn'd dull poet, who could prove

So senseless, to make Nelly die for love!

Nay, what's yet worse, to kill me in the prime

Of Easter-term, in tart and cheese-cake time!

I'll fit the fop; for I'll not one word say,

To excuse his godly out-of-fashion play;

A play, which, if you dare but twice sit out,

You'll all be slandered, and be thought devout.

But, farewell, gentlemen, make haste to me,

I'm sure e'er long to have your company.

As for my epitaph when I am gone,

I'll trust no poet, but will write my own:--

Here Nelly lies, who, though she lived a slattern,

Yet died a princess, acting in St Catharine.

[Footnote O: The celebrated Mrs Nell Gwyn.]

_END OF THE THIRD VOLUME._

Edinburgh,

Printed by James Ballantyne & Co.

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Note: Tags that surround the word =G. P.= indicate bold.

Tags that surround the word _Hartford Courant._ indicate italics.

Transcribers notes:

P. 163 Original reads 'brigh'" changed to bright.

P. 214 Original reads 'manes'" changed to names.

P. 237 Original reads 'he'" changed to be.

P. 267 Original reads 'guittars'" changed to guitars.

p. 432. Original reads 'wishout'" changed to without.

Also actioned:

word 'scander-bag' taken out hyphen.

word 'sun-shine', taken out hyphen.

word 'sweet-heart', taken out hyphen.

word 'rain-bow', taken out hyphen.

Added hyphen to 'to-night'.

Taken out hyphen for 'woman-kind', majority are 'womankind'.

Taken out hyphen for 'moon-light', 'moonlight' present.

Taken out hyphen for 'moon-shine', 'moonshine' present.

Taken out hyphen for 'cap-storm', majority are 'capstorm'.

Taken out hyphen for .before-hand', majority are 'beforehand'.

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End of Project Gutenberg's Dryden's Works Vol. 3 (of 18), by John Dryden