Max. No, no; 'Tis plain that word you unawares did use, And told a truth which now you would excuse. Besides my wife and mistress, here are none, Who can the title of a princess own.
Por. There is one more, Your daughter, sir: Let that your doubt remove.
Max. But she is not that princess whom you love.
Por. I named not love, though it might doubtful seem: She's fair, and is that princess I esteem.
Max. Go, and to passion your esteem improve, While I command her to receive your love. [Exit Por.
Enter St Catharine.
S. Cath. I come not now, as captive to your power, To beg; but as high heaven's ambassador, The laws of my religion to fulfil: Heaven sends me to return you good for ill. Your empress to your love I would restore, And to your mind the peace it had before.
Max. While in another's name you peace declare, Princess, you in your own proclaim a war. Your too great power does your design oppose; You make those breaches which you strive to close.
S. Cath. That little beauty, which too much you prize, Seeks not to move your heart, or draw your eyes: Your love to Berenice is due alone; Love, like that power which I adore, is one. When fixed to one, it safe at anchor rides, And dares the fury of the winds and tides; But losing once that hold, to the wide ocean borne. It drives away at will, to every wave a scorn.
Max. If to new persons I my love apply, The stars and nature are in fault, not I: My loves are like my old prætorian bands, Whose arbitrary power their prince commands: I can no more make passion come or go, Than you can bid your Nilus ebb or flow. 'Tis lawless, and will love, and where it list; And that's no sin, which no man can resist: Those who impute it to me as a crime, Would make a god of me before my time.