ACT I.
SCENE I.—A Camp, or Pavilion Royal.
Enter Maximin, Charinus, Placidius, Albinus, Valerius, Apollonius, and Guards.
Max. Thus far my arms have with success been crowned, And found no stop, or vanquished what they found. The German lakes my legions have o'erpast, With all the bars which art or nature cast: My foes, in watery fastnesses inclosed, I fought alone, to their whole war exposed; Did first the depth of trembling marshes sound, And fixed my eagles in unfaithful ground; By force submitted to the Roman sway Fierce nations, and unknowing to obey; And now, for my reward, ungrateful Rome, For which I fought abroad, rebels at home.
Alb. Yet 'tis their fear which does this war maintain; They cannot brook a martial monarch's reign: Your valour would their sloth too much accuse; And therefore, like themselves they princes chuse.
Plac. Two tame gown'd princes, who at ease debate, In lazy chairs, the business of the state; Who reign but while the people they can please, And only know the little arts of peace.
Char. In fields they dare not fight, where honour calls; But breathe a faint defiance from their walls. The very noise of war their souls does wound; They quake, but hearing their own trumpets sound.
Val. An easy summons but for form they wait, And to your fame will open wide the gate.
Plac. I wish our fame that swift success may find; But conquests, sir, are easily designed. However soft within themselves they are, To you they will be valiant by despair: For, having once been guilty, well they know, To a revengeful prince they still are so.
Alb. 'Tis true, that, since the senate's succours came, They grow more bold.
Max. That senate's but a name: Or they are pageant princes which they make; That power they give away, they would partake. Two equal powers two different ways will draw, While each may check, and give the other law. True, they secure propriety and peace; But are not fit an empire to increase. When they should aid their prince, the slaves dispute; And fear success should make him absolute. They let foes conquer, to secure the state, And lend a sword, whose edge themselves rebate.
Char. When to increase the gods you late are gone, I'll swiftly chuse to die, or reign alone: But these half kings our courage cannot fright; The thrifty state will bargain ere they fight: Give just so much for every victory, And rather lose a fight than overbuy.
Max. Since all delays are dangerous in war, Your men, Albinus, for assault prepare; Crispinus and Meniphilus, I hear, Two consulars, these Aquileians cheer; By whom they may, if we protract the time, Be taught the courage to defend their crime.
Plac. Put off the assault but only for this day: No loss can come by such a small delay.
Char. We are not sure to-morrow will be ours: Wars have, like love, their favourable hours. Let us use all; for if we lose one day, That white one, in the crowd, may slip away.
Max. Fate's dark recesses we can never find; But fortune, at some hours, to all is kind: The lucky have whole days, which still they chuse; The unlucky have but hours, and those they lose.
Plac. I have consulted one, who reads heaven's doom, And sees, as present, things which are to come. 'Tis that Nigrinus, made by your command A tribune in the new Pannonian band. Him have I seen (on Ister's banks he stood, Where last we wintered), bind the headlong flood In sudden ice; and, where most swift it flows, In crystal nets the wond'ring fishes close. Then, with a moment's thaw, the streams enlarge, And from the mesh the twinkling guests discharge. In a deep vale, or near some ruined wall, He would the ghosts of slaughtered soldiers call; Who slow to wounded bodies did repair, And, loth to enter, shivered in the air; These his dread wand did to short life compel, And forced the fates of battles to foretel.
Max. 'Tis wonderous strange! But, good Placidius, say, What prophecies Nigrinus of this day?
Plac. In a lone tent, all hung with black, I saw, Where in a square he did a circle draw; Four angles, made by that circumference, Bore holy words inscribed, of mystic sense. When first a hollow wind began to blow, The sky grew black, and bellied down more low; Around the fields did nimble lightning play, Which offered us by fits, and snatched the day. 'Midst this was heard the shrill and tender cry Of well-pleased ghosts, which in the storm did fly; Danced to and fro, and skimmed along the ground, Till to the magic circle they were bound. They coursing it, while we were fenced within, We saw this dreadful scene of fate begin.
Char. Speak without fear; what did the vision shew?
Plac. A curtain, drawn, presented to our view A town besieged; and on the neighbouring plain Lay heaps of visionary soldiers slain. A rising mist obscured the gloomy head Of one, who, in imperial robes, lay dead. Near this, in fetters, stood a virgin crowned, Whom many Cupids strove in vain to wound: A voice,—To-morrow, still To-morrow rung; Another,—lo, lo Pæan sung.
Char. Visions and oracles still doubtful are, And ne'er expounded till the event of war. The gods' foreknowledge on our swords will wait: If we fight well, they must foreshow good fate.
To them a Centurion.
Cent. A rising dust, which troubles all the air, And this way travels, shews some army near.
Char. I hear the sound of trumpets from afar.
[Exit Albinus.
Max. It seems the voice of triumph, not of war.
To them Albinus again.
Alb. Health and success our emperor attends; The forces, marching on the plain, are friends. Porphyrius, whom you Egypt's prætor made, Is come from Alexandria to your aid.
Max. It well becomes the conduct and the care Of one so famed and fortunate in war. You must resign, Placidius, your command; To him I promised the prætorian band. Your duty in your swift compliance show; I will provide some other charge for you.
Plac. May Cæsar's pleasure ever be obeyed, With that submission, which by me is paid. Now all the curses envy ever knew, Or could invent, Porphyrius pursue! [Aside.
Alb. Placidius does too tamely bear his loss; [To Charinus.
This new pretender will all power engross: All things must now by his direction move, And you, sir, must resign your father's love.
Char. Yes; every name to his repute must bow; There grow no bays for any other brow. He blasts my early honour in the bud, Like some tall tree, the monster of the wood; O'ershading all which under him would grow, He sheds his venom on the plants below.
Alb. You must some noble action undertake, Equal with his your own renown to make.
Char. I am not for a slothful envy born; I'll do't this day, in the dire vision's scorn. He comes: We two like the twin stars appear; Never to shine together in one sphere. [Exeunt Char. and Albinus.
Enter Porphyrius attended.
Max. Porphyrius, welcome; welcome as the light To cheerful birds, or as to lovers night; Welcome as what thou bring'st me, victory.
Por. That waits, sir, on your arms, and not on me. You left a conquest more than half achieved, And for whose easiness I almost grieved. Yours only the Egyptian laurels are; I bring you but the reliques of your war. The Christian princess, to receive your doom, Is from her conquered Alexandria come; Her mother, in another vessel sent, A storm surprised, nor know I the event: Both from your bounty must receive their state, Or must on your triumphant chariot wait.
Max. From me they can expect no grace, whose minds An execrable superstition blinds.
Apol. The gods, who raised you to the world's command, Require these victims from your grateful hand.
Por. To minds resolved, the threats of death are vain; They run to fires, and there enjoy their pain; Not Mucius made more haste his hand to expose To greedy flames, than their whole bodies those.
Max. How to their own destruction they are blind! Zeal is the pious madness of the mind.
Por. They all our famed philosophers defy, And would our faith by force of reason try.
Apol. I beg it, sir, by all the powers divine. That in their right this combat may be mine.
Max. It shall; and fifty doctors of our laws Be added to you, to maintain the cause.
Enter Berenice, the Empress; Valeria, daughter to the Emperor, and Erotion.
Plac. The empress and your daughter, sir, are here.
Por. What dangers in those charming eyes appear! [Looking on the Empress.
How my old wounds are opened at this view, And in my murderer's presence bleed anew!
Max. I did expect your coming, to partake [To the Ladies.
The general gladness which my triumphs make. You did Porphyrius as a courtier know; But as a conqueror behold him now.
Ber. You know (I read it in your blushing face), [To Por.
To merit, better than receive a grace: And I know better silently to own, Than with vain words to pay your service done.
Por. Princes, like gods, reward ere we deserve; [Kneeling to kiss her hand.
And pay us, in permitting us to serve. O might I still grow here, and never move! [Lower.
Ber. How dangerous are these ecstacies of love! He shews his passion to a thousand eyes; He cannot stir, nor can I bid him rise. That word my heart refuses to my tongue! [Aside.
Max. Madam, you let the general kneel too long.
Por. Too long! as if eternity were so.
[Aside.
Ber. Rise, good Porphyrius—since it must be so.
[Aside.
Por. Like hermits from a vision I retire, [Rising.
With eyes too weak to see what I admire. [Aside.
Val. The empress knows your worth; but, sir, there be [To Porphyrius, who kisses her hand.
Those who can value it as high as she. And 'tis but just (since in my father's cause You fought) your valour should have my applause.
Plac. O jealousy, how art thou eagle-eyed! She loves; and would her love in praises hide: How am I bound this rival to pursue, Who ravishes my love and fortune too! [Aside.
[A dead march within, and trumpets.
Max. Somewhat of mournful, sure, my ears does wound; Like the hoarse murmurs of a trumpet's sound, And drums unbraced, with soldiers' broken cries.
Enter Albinus.
Albinus, whence proceeds this dismal noise?
Alb. Too soon you'll know what I want words to tell.
Max. How fares my son? Is my Charinus well? Not answer me! Oh my prophetic fear!
Alb. How can I speak, or how, sir, can you hear? Imagine that which you would most deplore, And that, which I would speak, is it, or more.
Max. Thy mournful message in thy looks I read: Is he (oh that I live to ask it!) dead?
Alb. Sir—
Max. Stay; if thou speak'st that word, thou speak'st thy last: Some God now, if he dares, relate what's past: Say but he's dead, that God shall mortal be.
Alb. Then, what I dare not speak, look back and see.
[Charinus borne in dead by soldiers.
Max. See nothing, eyes, henceforth, but death and woe; You've done me the worst office you can do. You've shewn me destiny's preposterous crime; An unripe fate, disclosed ere nature's time.
Plac. Assuage, great prince, your passion, lest you shew There's somewhat in your soul which fate can bow.
Por. Fortune should by your greatness be controuled: Arm your great mind, and let her take no hold.
Max. To tame philosophers teach constancy; There is no farther use of it in me. Gods!—but why name I you! All that was worth a prayer to you is gone;— I ask not back my virtue, but my son.
Alb. His too great thirst of fame his ruin brought; Though, sir, beyond all human force he fought.
Plac. This was my vision of this fatal day!
Alb. With a fierce haste he led our troops the way, While fiery showers of sulphur on him rained; Nor left he, till the battlements he gained: There with a forest of their darts he strove, And stood, like Capaneus defying Jove; With his broad sword the boldest beating down, While fate grew pale lest he should win the town; And turned the iron leaves of its dark book, To make new dooms, or mend what it mistook; Till, sought by many deaths, he sunk, though late, And by his fall asserted doubtful fate.
Val. Oh my dear brother! whom heaven let us see, And would not longer suffer him to be!
Max. And didst not thou a death with honour chuse, [To Alb.
But impudently liv'st to bring this news? After his loss how did'st thou dare to breathe? But thy base ghost shall follow him in death. A decimation I will strictly make Of all, who my Charinus did forsake; And of each legion, each centurion Shall die:—Placidius, see my pleasure done.
Por. Sir, you will lose, by this severity, Your soldiers' hearts.
Max. Why, they take pay to die.
Por. Then spare Albinus only.
Max. I consent To leave his life to be his punishment. Discharged from trust, branded with infamy, Let him live on, till he ask leave to die.
Ber. Let me petition for him.
Max. I have said; And will not be intreated, but obeyed. But, empress, whence does your compassion grow?
Ber. You need not ask it, since my birth you know. The race of Antonines was named the good: I draw my pity from my royal blood.
Max. Still must I be upbraided with your line? I know you speak it in contempt of mine. But your late brother did not prize me less, Because I could not boast of images; And the Gods own me more, when they decreed, A Thracian shepherd should your line succeed.
Ber. The Gods! O do not name the powers divine, They never mingled their decrees with thine. My brother gave me to thee for a wife, And for my dowry thou didst take his life.
Max. The Gods by many victories have shewn, That they my merits and his death did own.
Ber. Yes, they have owned it; witness this just day, When they begin thy mischiefs to repay. See the reward of all thy wicked care Before thee; thy succession ended there. Yet, but in part my brother's ghost is pleased; Restless till all the groaning world be eased. For me, no other happiness I own, Than to have borne no issue to thy throne.
Max. Provoke my rage no farther, lest I be Revenged at once upon the gods and thee.
Por. What horrid tortures seize my labouring mind, O, only excellent of all thy kind, To hear thee threatened, while I idle stand! Heaven! was I born to fear a tyrant's hand? [Aside.
Max. [to Ber.] Hence from my sight!—thy blood, If thou dost stay—
Ber. Tyrant! too well to that thou knowest the way. [Going.
Por. Let baser souls from falling fortunes fly: I'll pay my duty to her, though I die. [Exit, leading her.
Max. What made Porphyrius so officious be? The action looked as done in scorn of me.
Val. It did, indeed, some little freedom shew; But somewhat to his services you owe.
Max. Yet if I thought it his presumption were—
Plac. Perhaps he did not your displeasure hear.
Max. My anger was too loud, not to be heard.
Plac. I'm loth to think he did it not regard.
Max. How, not regard!
Val. Placidius, you foment, On too light grounds, my father's discontent. But when an action does two faces wear, 'Tis justice to believe what is most fair. I think, that, knowing what respect there rests For her late brother in the soldiers' breasts, He went to serve the emperor; and designed Only to calm the tempest in her mind, Lest some sedition in the camp should rise.
Max. I ever thought him loyal as he's wise. Since therefore all the Gods their spite have shewn To rob my age of a successive throne; And you who now remain, The only issue of my former bed, In empire cannot, by your sex, succeed; To bind Porphyrius firmly to the state, I will this day my Cæsar him create: And, daughter, I will give him you for wife.
Val. O day, the best and happiest of my life!
Plac. O day, the most accurst I ever knew!
[Aside.
Max. See to my son performed each funeral due: Then to the toils of war we will return, And make our enemies our losses mourn. [Exeunt.
ACT II.
SCENE I.—The Royal Camp.
Enter Berenice and Porphyrius.
Ber. Porphyrius, you too far did tempt your fate, In owning her, the emperor does hate. 'Tis true, your duty to me it became; But, praising that, I must your conduct blame.
Por. Not to have owned my zeal at such a time, Were to sin higher than your tyrant's crime.
Ber. 'Twas too much, my disgrace to accompany; A silent wish had been enough for me.
Por. Wishes are aids faint servants may supply, Who ask heaven for you what themselves deny. Could I do less than my respect to pay, Where I before had given my heart away?
Ber. You fail in that respect you seem to bear, When you speak words unfit for me to hear.
Por. Yet you did once accept those vows I paid.
Ber. Those vows were then to Berenice made; But cannot now be heard without a sin, When offered to the wife of Maximin.
Por. Has, then, the change of fortune changed your will? Ah! why are you not Berenice still? To Maximin you once declared your hate; Your marriage was a sacrifice to th' state: Your brother made it to secure his throne, Which this man made a step to mount it on.
Ber. Whatever Maximin has been, or is, I am to bear, since heaven has made me his; For wives, who must themselves of power divest, When they love blindly, for their peace love best.
Por. If mutual love be vowed when faith you plight, Then he, who forfeits first, has lost his right.
Ber. Husbands a forfeiture of love may make; But what avails the forfeit none can take? As, in a general wreck, The pirate sinks with his ill-gotten gains, And nothing to another's use remains, So, by his loss, no gain to you can fall: The sea, and vast destruction swallows all.
Por. Yet he, who from the shore the wreck descries, May lawfully enrich him with the prize.
Ber. Who sees the wreck, can yet no title plead, Till he be sure the owner first is dead.
Por. If that be all the claim I want to love, This pirate of your heart I'll soon remove, And, at one stroke, the world and you set free.
Ber. Leave to the care of heaven that world and me.
Por. Heaven as its instrument my courage sends.
Ber. Heaven ne'er sent those who fight for private ends. We both are bound by trust, and must be true; I to his bed, and to his empire you. For he who to the bad betrays his trust, Though he does good, becomes himself unjust.
Por. When Brutus did from Cæsar Rome redeem, The act was good.
Ber. But was not good in him. You see the Gods adjudged it parricide, By dooming the event on Cæsar's side. 'Tis virtue not to be obliged at all; Or not conspire our benefactor's fall.
Por. You doom me then to suffer all this ill, And yet I doom myself to love you still.
Ber. Dare not Porphyrius suffer then with me, Since what for him, I for myself decree?
Por. How can I bear those griefs you disapprove?
Ber. To ease them, I'll permit you still to love.
Por. That will but haste my death, if you think fit Not to reward, but barely to permit. Love without hope does like a torture wound, Which makes me reach in pain, to touch the ground.
Ber. If hope, then, to your life so needful be, Hope still.
Por. Blest news!
Ber. But hope in heaven, not me.
Por. Love is too noble such deceits to use: Referring me to heaven, your gift I lose. So princes cheaply may our wants supply, When they give that, their treasurers deny.
Ber. Love blinds my virtue:—If I longer stay It will grow dark, and I shall lose my way.
Por. One kiss from this fair hand can be no sin;— ask not that you gave to Maximin. In full reward of all the pains I've past, Give me but one.
Ber. Then let it be your last.
Por. 'Tis gone! Like soldiers prodigal of their arrears, One minute spends the pay of many years. Let but one more be added to the sum, And pay at once for all my pains to come.
Ber. Unthrifts will starve, if we beforehand give: [Pulling back her hand.
I'll see you shall have just enough to live.
Enter Erotion.
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?
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.