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?