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.