Max. Who should be judge of that renown you name, But I?
Por. Yes, I, and all who love your fame.
Max. Porphyrius, your replies are insolent.
Por. Sir, they are just, and for your service meant. If for religion you our lives will take, You do not the offenders find, but make. All faiths are to their own believers just; For none believe, because they will, but must. Faith is a force from which there's no defence; Because the reason it does first convince: And reason conscience into fetters brings; And conscience is without the power of kings.
Max. Then conscience is a greater prince than I, At whose each erring call a king may die! Who conscience leaves to its own free command, Puts the worst weapon in a rebel's hand.
Por. Its empire, therefore, sir, should bounded be, And, but in acts of its religion, free: Those who ask civil power and conscience too, Their monarch to his own destruction woo. With needful arms let him secure his peace; Then, that wild beast he safely may release.
Max. I can forgive these liberties you take, While but my counsellor yourself you make: But you first act your sense, and then advise; That is, at my expence you will be wise. My wife I for religion do not kill; But she shall die—because it is my will.
Por. Sir, I acknowledge I too much have done, And therefore merit not to be your son: I render back the honours which you gave; My liberty's the only gift I crave.
Max. You take too much——but, ere you lay it down, Consider what you part with in a crown: Monarchs of cares in policy complain, Because they would be pitied, while they reign; For still the greater troubles they confess, They know their pleasures will be envied less.
Por. Those joys I neither envy nor admire; But beg I from the troubles may retire.