Fel. Alas, what torments I already feel!
Max. Go, bind her hand and foot beneath that wheel: Four of you turn the dreadful engine round; Four others hold her fastened to the ground; That, by degrees, her tender breasts may feel, First, the rough razings of the pointed steel; Her paps then let the bearded tenters stake, And on each hook a gory gobbet take; Till the upper flesh, by piece-meal torn away, Her beating heart shall to the sun display.
Fel. My dearest daughter, at your feet I fall; [Kneeling.
Hear, oh yet hear your wretched mother's call! Think, at, your birth, ah think what pains I bore, And can your eyes behold me suffer more? You were the child, which from your infancy I still loved best, and then you best loved me. About my neck your little arms you spread, Nor could you sleep without me in the bed; But sought my bosom when you went to rest, And all night long would lie across my breast. Nor without cause did you that fondness show: You may remember when our Nile did flow, While on the bank you innocently stood, And with a wand made circles in the flood, That rose, and just was hurrying you to death, When I, from far, all pale and out of breath, Ran and rushed in—— And from the waves my floating pledge did bear, So much my love was stronger than my fear. But you——
Max. Woman, for these long tales your life's too short; Go, bind her quickly, and begin the sport.
Fel. No, in her arms my sanctuary's placed; Thus I will cling for ever to her waist. [Running to her daughter.
Max. What, must my will by women be controuled? Haste, draw your weapons, and cut off her hold!
S. Cath. Thus my last duty to you let me pay: [Kissing her mother.
Yet, tyrant, I to thee will never pray. Tho' hers to save I my own life would give, Yet by my sin my mother shall not live. To thy foul lust I never can consent; Why dost thou then defer my punishment? I scorn those Gods thou vainly dost adore; Contemn thy empire, but thy bed abhor. If thou would'st yet a bloodier tyrant be, I will instruct thy rage; begin with me.
Max. I thank thee that thou dost my anger move; It is a tempest that will wreck my love. I'll pull thee hence, close hidden as thou art, [Claps his hand to his breast.