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.