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.