Plac. Help, help the princess, help!
Max. What rage has urged this act, which thou hast done?
Val. Thou, tyrant, and thy crimes, have pulled it on. Thou, who canst death with such a pleasure see, Now take thy fill, and glut thy sight in me. But—I'll the occasion of my death forget; Save him I love, and be my father yet: I can no more—Porphyrius, my dear—
Cyd. Alas, she raves, and thinks Porphyrius here.
Val. Have I not yet deserved thee, now I die? Is Berenice still more fair than I? Porphyrius, do not swim before my sight; Stand still, and let me, let me aim aright! Stand still, but while thy poor Valeria dies, And sighs her soul into her lover's eyes. [Dies.
Plac. She's gone from earth, and with her went away All of the tyrant that deserved to stay: I've lost in her all joys that life can give; And only to revenge her death would live. [Aside.
Cyd. The gods have claimed her, and we must resign.
Max. What had the Gods to do with me or mine? Did I molest your heaven? Why should you then make Maximin your foe Who paid you tribute, which he need not do? Your altars I with smoke of gums did crown, For which you leaned your hungry nostrils down, All daily gaping for my incense there, More than your sun could draw you in a year. And you for this these plagues on me have sent! But by the Gods, (by Maximin, I meant,) Henceforth I, and my world, Hostility with you, and yours, declare. Look to it, Gods; for you the aggressors are. Keep you your rain and sunshine in your skies, And I'll keep back my flame and sacrifice. Your trade of heaven shall soon be at a stand, And all your goods lie dead upon your hand.
Plac. Thus, tyrant, since the Gods the aggressors are, [Stabbing him.
Thus by this stroke they have begun the war. [Maximin struggles with him, and gets the dagger from him.