by John Dryden
Max. Draw then that curtain, and let death appear, And let both see how easy ‘twill be there.
The Scene opens, and shews the Wheel.
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.
And stand with my drawn sword before my heart. Yes, you shall be obeyed, though I am loth; — Go, and while I can bid you, bind them both; Go, bind them ere my fit of love return; Fire shall quench fire, and anger love shall burn. Thus I prevent those follies I should do; And ’tis the nobler fever of the two.
Fel. Torn piece by piece! alas, what horrid pains!
S. Cath. Heaven is all mercy, who that death ordains; And that, which heaven thinks best, is surely so: But bare, and naked, shame to undergo, ’Tis somewhat more than death! Exposed to lawless eyes I dare not be; My modesty is sacred, heaven, to thee! Let not my body be the tyrant’s spoil; Nor hands nor eyes thy purity defile.
[Ameriel descends swiftly with a flaming sword, and strikes at the Wheel, which breaks in pieces; then he ascends again.
Max. Is this the effect of all your boasted skill? These brittle toys to execute my will? A puppet-shew of death I only find, Where I a strong and sinewy pain designed. By what weak infant was this engine wrought?
Val. From Bilbilis the tempered steel was brought; Metal more tough the anvil ne’er did beat, Nor, from the forge, did hissing waters heat.
Plac. I saw a youth descend all heavenly fair, Who in his hand a flaming sword did bear, And, whirlwind-like, around him drove the air. At his raised arm the rigid iron shook, And, bending backwards, fled before the stroke.
Max. What! miracles, the tricks of heaven to me? I’ll try if she be wholly iron free. If not by sword, then she shall die by fire; And one by one her miracles I’ll tire. If proof against all kind of death she be; My love’s immortal, and she’s fit for me.
S. Cath. No, heaven has shewn its power, and now thinks fit Thee to thy former fury to remit. Had providence my longer life decreed, Thou from thy passion hadst not yet been freed. But heaven, which suffered that, my faith to prove, Now to itself does vindicate my love. A power controuls thee, which thou dost not see; And that’s a miracle it works in thee.
Max. The truth of this new miracle we’ll try; To prove it, you must take the pains to die. Bring me their heads.
Fel. That mercy, tyrant, thou deny’st to me, At thy last breath may heaven refuse to thee! My fears are going, and I death can view: I see, I see him there thy steps pursue, And, with a lifted arm, and silent pace, Stalk after thee, just aiming in his chace.
S. Cath. No more, dear mother; ill in death it shews Your peace of mind by rage to discompose: No streak of blood (the relics of the earth) Shall stain my soul in her immortal birth; But she shall mount all pure, a white and virgin mind, And full of all that peace, which there she goes to find.
[Exeunt St Catharine and Felicia, with Valerius, and guards. The scene shuts.
Max. She’s gone, and pulled my heart-strings as she went. Were penitence no shame, I could repent. Yet, ’tis of bad example she should live; For I might get the ill habit to forgive. Thou soft seducer of my heart, away —— Who ling’ring would’st about its confines stay, To watch when some rebellion would begin, And ready at each sigh to enter in. In vain; for thou Dost on the outside of the body play, And, when drawn nearest, shalt be whirl’d away. What ails me, that I cannot lose thy thought! —— Command the empress hither to be brought; [To Plac.
I in her death shall some diversion find, And rid my thoughts at once of womankind.
Plac. ’Tis well he thinks not of Porphyrius yet. [Aside, Exit.
Max. How hard it is this beauty to forget! My stormy rage has only shook my will: She crept down lower, but she sticks there still. Fool that I am to struggle thus with love! Why should I that, which pleases me, remove? True, she should die, were she concerned alone; But I love, not for her sake, but my own. Our Gods are Gods, ‘cause they have power and will; Who can do all things, can do nothing ill. Ill is rebellion ‘gainst some higher power: The world may sin, but not its emperor. My empress then shall die, my princess live; If this be sin, I do myself forgive.
To him, Valerius.
Val. Your will’s obeyed; for, mighty emperor, The princess and her mother are no more.
Max. She is not dead!
Val. Great sir, your will was so.
Max. That was my will of half an hour ago. But now ’tis altered; I have changed her fate, She shall not die.
Val. Your pity comes too late. Betwixt her guards she seemed by bride-men led, Her checks with chearful blushes were o’erspread; When, smiling, to the axe she bowed her head, Just, at the stroke, Ætherial music did her death prepare, Like joyful sounds of spousals in the air; A radiant light did her crown’d temples gild, And all the place with fragrant scents was filled; The balmy mist came thickening to the ground, And sacred silence covered all around. But when (its work performed) the cloud withdrew, And day restored us to each other’s view, I sought her head, to bring it on my spear; In vain I sought it, for it was not there; No part remained; but, from afar, our sight Discovered in the air long tracts of light; Of charming notes we heard the last rebounds, And music dying in remoter sounds.
Max. And dost thou think This lame account fit for a love-sick king? Go, from the other world a better bring. [Kills him, then sets his foot on him, and speaks on.
When in my breast two mighty passions strove, Thou had’st erred better in obeying love. ’Tis true, that way thy death had followed too, But I had then been less displeased than now. Now I must live unquiet for thy sake; And this poor recompence is all I take. [Spurns the body.
Here the Scene opens, and discovers Berenice on a scaffold, the guards by her, and amongst them Porphyrius and Albinus, like Moors, as all the guards are. Placidius enters, and whispers the Emperor whilst Porphyrius speaks.
Por. From Berenice I cannot go away, But, like a ghost, must near my
treasure stay.
Alb. Night and this shape secure them from their eyes.
Por. Have courage then for our bold enterprize. Duty and faith no tie on me can have, Since I renounced those honours which he gave.
Max. The time is come we did so long attend, [To Ber.
Which must these discords of our marriage end. Yet Berenice, remember you have been An empress, and the wife of Maximin.
Ber. I will remember I have been your wife; And therefore, dying, beg from heaven your life: Be all the discords of our bed forgot, Which, virtue witness, I did never spot. What errors I have made, though while I live You cannot pardon, to the dead forgive.
Max. How much she is to piety inclined! Behead her, while she’s in so good a mind.
Por. Stand firm, Albinus; now the time is come To free the empress.
Alb. And deliver Rome.
Por. Within I feel my hot blood swell my heart, And generous trembling in each outward part. ’Tis done, tyrant, this is thy latest hour.
[Porphyrius and Albinus draw, and are making at the Emperor.
Ber. Look to yourself, my lord the emperor! Treason, help, help, my lord!
[Maximin turns and defends himself, the Guards set on Porphyrius and Albinus.
Max. Disarm them, but their lives I charge you spare. [After they are disarmed.
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.
Por. Barbarian, do not dare, her blood to shed, Who from my vengeance saved thy cursed head; A flight, no honour ever reached before, And which succeeding ages will adore.
Ber. Porphyrius, I must die! That common debt to nature paid must be; But I have left a debt unpaid to thee. To Maximin I have performed the duty of a wife; But, saving his, I cast away thy life. Ah, what ill stars upon our loves did shine, That I am more thy murd’rer, than he mine!
Max. Make haste.
Por. So hasty none in execution are, But they allow the dying time for prayer. Farewell, sweet saint! my prayer shall be to you: My love has been unhappy, but ’twas true. Remember me! — Alas, what have I said? You must die too! But yet remember me when you are dead.
Ber. If I die first, I will Stop short of heaven, and wait you in a cloud; For fear we lose each other in the crowd.
Por. Love is the only coin in heaven will go: Then take all with you, and leave none below.
Ber. ’Tis want of knowledge, not of love, I fear; Lest we mistake when bodies are not there. O, as a mark, that I could wear a scroll, With this inscription, — Berenice’s soul.
Por. That needs not, sure, for none will be so bright, So pure, or with so small allays of light.
Max. From my full eyes fond tears begin to start: —— Dispatch, — they practise treason on my heart.
Por. Adieu: This farewell sigh I as my last bequeath; Catch it,— ’tis love expiring in a breath.
Ber. This sigh of mine shall meet it half the way, As pledges given that each for other stay.
Enter Valeria and Cydon.
Val. What dismal scene of death is here prepar’d!
Max. Now strike.
Val. They shall not strike till I am heard.
Max. From whence does this new impudence proceed, That you dare alter that which I decreed?
Val. Ah, sir, to what strange courses do you fly, To make yourself abhorred for cruelty! The empire groans under your bloody reign, And its vast body bleeds in every vein. Gasping and pale, and fearing more, it lies; And now you stab it in the very eyes: Your Cæsar and the partner of your bed! Ah, who can wish to live when they are dead? If ever gentle pity touch’d your breast —— I cannot speak — my tears shall speak the rest. [Weeping and sobbing.
Por. She adds new grief to what I felt before, And fate has now no room to put in more.
Max. Away, thou shame and slander of my blood! [To Valeria.
Who taught thee to be pitiful or good?
Val. What hope have I, The name of virtue should prevail with him, Who thinks even it, for which I plead, a crime? — Yet nature, sure, some argument may be; If them you cannot pity, pity me.
Max. I will, and all the world shall judge it so: I will the excess of pity to you shew. You ask to save A dangerous rebel, and disloyal wife; And I in mercy — will not take your life.
Val. You more than kill me by this cruelty, And in their persons bid your daughter die. I honour Berenice’s virtue much; But for Porphyrius my love is such, I cannot, will not live, when he is gone.
Max. I’ll do that cure for you, which on myself is done. You must, like me, your lover’s life remove; Cut off your hope, and you destroy your love. If it were hard, I would not bid you try The medicine; but ’tis but to let him die. Yet since you are so soft, (which you call good,) And are not yet confirmed enough in blood, To see his death; Your frailty shall be favoured with this grace, That they shall suffer in another place. If, after they are dead, their memory By any chance into your mind be brought, Laugh, and divert it with some other thought. Away with them.
[Exeunt Berenice, Porphyrius, and Albinus, carried off by Guards.
Val. Since prayers nor tears can bend his cruel mind, [Looking after Por.
Farewell, the best and bravest of mankind! How I have loved, heaven knows; but there’s a fate, Which hinders me from being fortunate. My father’s crimes hang heavy on my head, And like a gloomy cloud about me spread. I would in vain be pious; that’s a grace, Which heaven permits not to a tyrant’s race.
Max. Hence to her tent the foolish girl convey.
Val. Let me be just before I go away. — Placidius, I have vowed to be your wife; Take then my hand, ’tis yours while I have life. — One moment here I must another’s be; But this, Porphyrius, gives me back to thee.
[Stabs herself twice, and then Placidius wrests the Dagger from her.
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 alta
rs 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.
Max. Thus I return the strokes which they have given; [Stabbing Placidius.
Thus, traitor, thus, and thus I would to heaven.
[Placidius falls, and the Emperor staggers after him, and sits down upon him; the Guards come to help the Emperor.
Max. Stand off, and let me, ere my strength be gone, Take my last pleasure of revenge, alone.
Enter a Centurion.
Cent. Arm, arm, the camp is in a mutiny: For Rome and liberty the soldiers cry. Porphyrius moved their pity, as he went To rescue Berenice from punishment; And now he heads their new attempted crime.
Max. Now I am down, the Gods have watch’d their time. You think To save your credit, feeble deities; But I will give myself the strength to rise. [He strives to get up, and, being up, staggers.
It wonnot be —— My body has not power my mind to bear. —— I must return again — and conquer here. [Sits down upon the body.
My coward body does my will controul; Farewell, thou base deserter of my soul! I’ll shake this carcase off, and be obeyed; Reign an imperial ghost without its aid. Go, soldiers, take my ensigns with you; fight, And vanquish rebels in your sovereign’s right: Before I die —— Bring me Porphyrius and my empress dead: — I would brave heaven, in my each hand a head.
Plac. Do not regard a dying tyrant’s breath, He can but look revenge on you in death. [To the Soldiers.
Max. Vanquished, and dar’st thou yet a rebel be? Thus, I can more than look revenge on thee. [Stabs him again.