Unmask them, and discover who they are.— Good Gods, is it Porphyrius whom I see!
Plac. I wonder how he gained his liberty.
Max. Traitor!
Por. Know, tyrant, I can hear that name, Rather than son, and bear it with less shame. Traitor's a name, which, were my arm yet free, The Roman senate would bestow on thee. Ah, madam, you have ruined my design, [To Ber.
And lost your life; for I regard not mine. Too ill a mistress, and too good a wife.
Ber. It was my duty to preserve his life.
Max. Now I perceive [To Por.
In what close walk your mind so long did move: You scorned my throne, aspiring to her love.
Ber. In death I'll own a love to him so pure, As will the test of heaven itself endure; A love so chaste, as conscience could not chide; But cherish it, and keep it by its side. A love, which never knew a hot desire, But flamed as harmless as a lambent fire; A love, which pure from soul to soul might pass, As light transmitted through a crystal glass; Which gave Porphyrius all without a sin, Yet kept entire the right of Maximin.
Max. The best return that I to both can make, Shall be to suffer for each other's sake.