Artem. Sir, the governor
Brooks sadly his son's loss, although he turn'd
Apostata in death; but bold Theophilus,
Who for the same cause, in my presence, seal'd
His holy anger on his daughters' hearts;
Having with tortures first tried to convert her,
Dragg'd the bewitching Christian to the scaffold,
And saw her lose her head.
Diocle. He is all worthy:
And from his own mouth I would gladly hear
The manner how she suffer'd.
Artem. 'Twill be deliver'd
With such contempt and scorn, (I know his nature,)
That rather 'twill beget your highness' laughter,
Than the least pity.
Diocle. To that end I would hear it.
Enter Theophilus, Sapritius, and Macrinus.
Artem. He comes; with him the governor.
Diocle. O, Sapritius,
I am to chide you for your tenderness;
But yet, remembering that you are a father,
I will forget it. Good Theophilus,
I'll speak with you anon.—Nearer, your ear.
[To Sapritius.
Theoph. [aside to Macrinus.] By Antoninus' soul, I do conjure you,
And though not for religion, for his friendship,
Without demanding what's the cause that moves me,
Receive my signet:—By the power of this,
Go to my prisons, and release all Christians,
That are in fetters there by my command.
Mac. But what shall follow?
Theoph. Haste then to the port;
You there shall find two tall ships ready rigg'd,
In which embark the poor distressed souls,
And bear them from the reach of tyranny.
Enquire not whither you are bound: the Deity
That they adore will give you prosperous winds,
And make your voyage such, and largely pay for
Your hazard, and your travail. Leave me here;
There is a scene that I must act alone:
Haste, good Macrinus; and the great God guide you!