THE DESTRUCTION OF Jerusalem BY Titus Vespasian. In TWO PARTS. As it is Acted at the THEATRE ROYAL.  
Written by Mr CROWN.  
PART the First.  
LONDON, Printed for James Magnes and Richard Bentley in Russel-street, near the Piazza's, and the Posthouse in Covent-Garden. 1677.   

TO HER GRACE THE DUCHESS OF PORTSMOUTH.  
BEauty (Madam) has received from Nature a Dominion so pleasing, that Men contend not with more ambition for Empire over their own Sex, than subjection to Yours. King's have worn Your Sex's Chains with as much pleasure as their Crowns, and Conquerors have followed Your Triumphs with as much delight as they have seen their own attended by Kings: A Dominion so absolute, that all Your Commands are Laws. Indeed Princes who are beloved, shall be absolute, their Subjects will force Arbitrary Power upon 'em: Nothing enslaves like Love, Force binds our Hands, but Love captivates our Hearts. How absolute then must Beauty be? No man yet ever had the will much less the power to rebel against it. They who should seek to depose it, would begin a Civil War in their own bosoms, and lay waste and ruinate the most delightful Possessions of their minds. And (lastly) so large, that it finds Subjects where it finds men: Its Empire extends as far as Humane Nature, and its Spoils are all that's excellent in the whole Creation. But men claim to be subjects of its Empire as the birthright of Reason, and esteem that (too) as one of Reason's great advantages. Beasts are excluded that Claim; cannot be naturalised into that Dominion, for want of the ennoblements of Reason. Men are exalted to love Beauty by the same faculty which lifts 'em to adore Heaven; and there is a kind of Divinity in Beauty, which makes Love to be a kind of Religion: Beauty is certainly the fairest visible Image of Divinity in the world. The Ancients, therefore, built Temples and Altars to it, and ranked it amongst Celestial Powers. We Christians have much ado to abstain from that Idolatry; however we pay it as high Honours, though under other Names. That these, Madam, are the Rights and Possessions of Beauty, you cannot but know; that they are therefore yours all the World knows, but you. But, Madam, wrong your Beauty in your own opinion as much as you please, you cannot injure it in others; the Sun will shine though you wink, and you will be fair, whether you regard it or no. And, that Beauty will have Empire, how great, may appear by the many and mighty Conquests it makes; and in a Nation too where you have such numerous and considerable Rivals for that Dominion, some perhaps as powerful as any in the World, You, like the Goddess of Beauty, gain the Golden Ball, not from humble Mortals, but your fellow Goddesses. How clear a Title you have to it, I shall not say, for I shall not please you by it, and I shall displease them: Nothing is so hateful to the conquered as to be upbraided with their misfortune: But certainly how mean an opinion soever you have, Heaven has none, of that Workmanship which he takes care to plant such Lights of Glory round about to show: And though Nature might have discovered you to more advantage in a greater Empire, and by brighter Lights of Fortune, yet it proves how fond she was of that fair Idea which she was not able to conceal. They then who admire you, show but their good Manners to Nature and Providence, in commending Nature's workmanship, and Providence's choice of a Favourite. But I fear the many Fair Ones, over whom you triumph, will think themselves treated by this Discourse with too much insolence; however I am sure they will not grudge you the few Flowers that a poor Poet brings to strew in your way, especially when they come from Gardens warmed by the lustre of your favour; and watered by Royal Bounty, which you caused to be showered upon it: moved to it by no Friends of mine, for I had few; by no Merits, for I had fewer; but only by your own excellent mind. How many attractives than have the following Poems to excuse their pressing into your presence? They attend you not only as born in general Vassalage to your Beauty, but as Creatures that received life from the concurrence of your Favour. I am now engaging in another Theme more safe than the former, I shall anger neither Sex by expatiating on an Excellence which will contract You no envy, Your Patronage of Wit, that Province You may enjoy without any trouble from multitudes of Pretenders, You need not fear lest the ambitious Great Ones of either Sex invade you in it. No (Heaven be thanked) we live in an Age wherein men are content to want it, and to let others possess as much of it as they please: We need no Laws to secure us in the possession of that propriety. Witty men indeed do often quarrel with one another about it, because they know the value of it; others think it not worth contending for: Against it indeed they often strive, and they have reason, it treats ' emrudely, will have no friendship no acquaintance with them, will make no court to 'em, will scarcely lend 'em a little sense for common Conversation: This carriage I must confess is very provoking, especially when to men of Quality. They have cause to be angry with it, and to revenge themselves of it, as they often seek to do, by thrusting it out of their own, or any favour which might advantage it, setting up Fashions, Dresses, or any thing in the room of it. Your Grace then must both know and value the Jewel well, which you will take up and wear, when it is not only flung into the dirt by others, but trod upon. And wear it safely you may. Wit may dress you in all the lustre it has, and never endanger you a blasting from the fascinations of envious and malignant eyes. But though by ascribing this praise to You I displease not others, I fear I shall Your Grace, for by protecting a despised Quality You could not aim at praise: Besides praise being one of the vainest pleasures of mankind, so excellent a mind cannot nor need not delight in it: You may find satisfaction enough at home, You need not go abroad for happiness. And we who place Your Statues in our Gardens, add no glory to You, only make our own Walks delighted in by ourselves, and frequented by others, which else would lie neglected by both. I fix then Your Grace's Image at this Jewish Temple Gate, to render the Building sacred, nor can the Jews be angry with so beautiful a Profanation; and in guiding them to You, they are conducted like their Ancestors to repose and happiness, in the most fair and delightful part of the World. There I shall leave 'em, and retire to the contemplation of it, no moderate degree of happiness to one who is with so much devotion,  
MADAM, Your Grace's most humble, and most obliged Servant, JOHN CROWN.   

THE EPISTLE TO THE READER.  
Reader,  
THE world having been kind to these Plays, I would not be so ungrateful to requite any of my Judges by giving 'em offence, at least if I am so unhappy as to do it, I would not willingly let it pass without some Apology. I have raised up an Hero in these Plays, which appears to some pious Critics to be an evil Spirit, and makes 'em to have no good opinion of me for having such familiarity with him. There are several things in his part, and particularly in a Scene of dispute between him and his Mistress, in the third Act in the second Play, which I have been requested by many, and some very considerable persons not to print. To comply with 'em I have left out some few things, and would willingly have done all, but that on second thoughts I considered, the disarming my Hero was tacitly to acknowledge him a braver man than he is, and even yield him the better of the cause, I therefore thought it would be fairer dealing in the behalf of Truth, which needs no tricks, to expose him to all his advantages, so make the Victory of Truth the more glorious. And, Reader, if you will please to peruse that Scene carefully, you will find he is no such formidable person as imagined, and is indebted for his reputation more to other's opinion and partiality, than his own strength. He makes not one argument against Religion, and only evades those that are made for it; as any one of ordinary capacity may easily discover. Indeed his cause will admit of no more. I was loath then to cut off no less than a whole limb of a Wretch, who if he had more Hands than Briareus, had too few to fight against Heaven: And certainly whatever I am imagined to have, I showed him no great kindness in sending him to storm so impregnable a Tower, from whence any Child might throw him down. He might easier with Hercules pull up Trees by the roots, than the notion of a Deity out of the Souls of Men. A Notion so engrafted in us, it seems a part of us: Let Men strive never so much to get at liberty from it, any hair of their Heads will hold 'em. To conclude, if I could have said more for Atheism, it argues I have no great kindness for a Cause I have betrayed; if I said all I could, I hope no one will believe me of an opinion for which I have so little to say.  
This I think may suffice to recover my Reputation with these pious Critics. Before I go home, I must visit a Lady or two by the way, to pacify if I can their displeasure against this Scene also. They are angry not at Phraartes vigorous talk against Religion, but that so vigorous a Man should talk at all; they expected on his return from a Victory, something more pleasing than a Dispute. I confess they know much better than I what pleases their Sex; but at this present I was so unhappy as not to intend to please 'em. For having employed this and two Heroes more, for almost ten Acts, in nothing else but Love, I thought I had given 'em enough for reasonable Women, and might borrow this Hero to entertain the Men for a minute with a little reason, if it were but to give him some respite to breath: but I find 'tis harder to give some Ladies enough than I thought it was. Besides, these Ladies may consider, if they please, Phraartes makes not Love to them, but Clarona, to whom a Discourse of Love was not so pleasing as to them, who care to hear nothing else; she loved to talk of Religion sometimes, which they never do it seems. She would fain convert Phraartes, which they would ne'er have troubled their heads about; he on the other hand had as great a zeal for her Body, and it concerned his Love as much to gain her to his opinions, as it did her piety to gain him to hers; that this very dispute is in pursuance of his Love, removing Religion, the main, only, and perpetual obstacle that lay in its way.  
But perhaps a man ought not to talk Reason in Love: I confess since Love has got the sole possession of the Stage, Reason has had little to do there; that effeminate Prince has softened and emasculated us the Vassals of the Stage. The Reason why the Offsprings of the Moderns are such short-lived things, is because the Genii that beget 'em are so given to women; they court nothing but the Lady's Favours, with them they waste all their strength, when as the lusty Ancients who fed on the wholesome Diet of good sense, and used themselves to the strong manly exercises of Reason, have been the Fathers of vigorous Issue, who have lived longer than the oldest Patriarchs, and are like to live as long as there are men. I who am a Friend both to Love and good Sense, endeavoured to reconcile 'em, and to bring Reason into favour, not with hopes to Rule; I desired only to procure him some little Office in the Stage, but I find it made an uproar, Love would not endure such an innovation, it threatened his settled Government; and Reason is not at all popular; the Ladies knew not what to make of his Conversation, and the men generally sleep at it; that I see but little hopes of his preferment; which I am sorry for, since what future being I shall enjoy, I shall owe solely to him. Titus and Berenice as great Gallants as they have been in France, and as good a show as they have made in England, have not such a substantial Fortune to maintain them for future Ages, but I am afraid will be reduced to depend on Phraartes for a livelihood. The whinings of Love, like a pretty new Tune, please for a while, but are soon laid aside, and never thought of more; the same Notes perhaps may help to compose another, but the old Air is altered, and for ever forgotten.  
But lest it should be imagined by this long defence, I suppose the Plays to be correct: I acknowledge there are many faults in design, which I had no leisure to mend; and many in Words and Phrases which I had not inclination. I love not too much carefulness in small things. To be exact in trifles is the business of a little Genius. They therefore who pride themselves much in their knowledge of words and phraseology, boast of knowing little; for those skills appear considerable to none, but them who know nothing. Something I intended also to say in vindication of myself from theft; some Persons accused me of stealing the parts of Titus and Berenice from the French Play written by Mr. Racine on the same subject; but a Gentleman having lately translated that Play, and exposed it to public view on the Stage, has saved me that labour, and vindicated me better than I can myself. I would not be ashamed to borrow, if my occasions compelled me, from any rich Author: But all Foreign Coin must be melted down, and receive a new Stamp, if not an addition of Metal, before it will pass current in England, and be judged Sterling: That borrowing or stealing from Mr. Racine could not have supplied my occasions; but I am not so necessitous yet, nor have lived so prodigally on my small stock of Poetry, to be put so soon to those miserable shifts.   

The NAMES of the PERSONS in both Plays.  


Titus Vespasian.  
Phraartes. A Parthian King driven out of his Country, by a Conspiracy between the Romans and Parthian Rebels, comes to Jerusalem with a Royal Train; falls in Love with Clarona, and for her sake stays during the whole Siege.  
Mathias. High Priest, and Governor of Jerusalem.  
Sagan. His Deputy.  
Phineas. Prince of the Sanhedrim, or Supreme Council of Jerusalem.  
Tiberias. Commander of all the Roman Forces under Titus Vespasian.  


Malchus. King of Arabia,  
Antiochus. King of Comagene,   Allies to Titus Vespasian. And assist him with Forces at the Siege of Jerusalem.  
John. A dissembling Pharisaic Jew, made of Matthias' Council, but betrays him, and falsely accuses him to the Seditious.  
Eleazar. A Leader of the Seditious.  
Monobazus. Brother to the King of Adiabene, a neighbouring Country to Judea, in love with Queen Berenice.  
Queen Berenice, by Nation a Jewess; made Queen of Judea, and several bordering Provinces, by the Romans.  
Clarona. Daughter to Mathias.  


Semandra.  
Phedra.  
Clarona.   Women to Qu. Berenice.  
Romans, Parthians, Pharisees, etc.     

The PROLOGUE to the First Part.  
A Poet lately by you sent to Hell  
Justly, as he acknowledged when he fell:  
His discontented Spirit walks around  
This Stage, where he received his mortal Wound.  
Seeking the reason why he walks, we find  
'Tis to reveal hid Treasure left behind;  
Not to build Tombs of honour to his Name,  
But ransom us his suffering friends from shame.  
Some thought because he had not on the Stage,  
Ranted it oft in huffing Equipage,  
Profusely lavished all his wealth away  
On some one loved and perhaps jilting Play,  
(As some unhappily have done before)  
That living niggardly he died but poor;  
As if that wasting were the way to gain,  
A Maxim ne'er will within Ludgate reign.  
Two Chests of Rubbish, which we Bullion call,  
We find of his, our skill indeed is small,  
Artists alone know Mettle in the Oar,  
But if it Silver prove we still are poor;  
If you Wit's Senator will judge it Brass;  
You may instead of Gold make Leather pass,  
As you have done sometimes by Sovereign Power.  
And if you do, Wit has no Emperor  
To whom he may appeal from your Decrees,  
'Tis one of Wits severest destinies  
Still by a damned Republic to be ruled;  
Where Men by names of Liberty are fooled:  
Where Virtues are by Vices still outbraved,  
And bravest Men are oft by Slaves enslaved.  
Never was born a Monarch yet in Wit,  
And none by force that Throne could ever get,  
Though Usurpation all of you design,  
And every Senator's a Catiline.  
Keep these great Plots among your own high Tribe,  
But do not Slaves for Senators prescribe?  
Poets are Slaves, who but for your delight,  
Toil in the Muse's Gardens day and night.  
If blood you love, then stab some living Slave;  
Let this dead wretch lie quiet in his Grave.   

A SONG to be sung by Levites at the Temple Gates, on the opening of the Scene.  
Day is dismounted on the watery Plain,  
And Evening does begin to fold  
Up Light's rich Cloth of Gold,  
And Nature's Face the Night begins to stain.  
Holy Angels round us keep,  
While our sense dissolves in sleep.  
While the half of us is dead  
Let the living half be lead  
To your Gardens, to your Bowers,  
Where you pass your pleasing hours.  
Treat within your heavenly Tents  
Your Brethren Spirits thus in state  
While they wait  
The leisure of their slumbering sense.   

THE DESTRUCTION OF Jerusalem. The First PART.  

ACT I.  

SCENE I.  The Curtain drawn, the Brazen Gates of the Temple appear; Music is heard within. Above, without the Temple as in the womens' Court, behind guilded Lettuces, appear Queen Berenice and Clarona at their devotion. Enter Phraartes and Monobazus. Phra. 
HA! at Devotion still? Can the tired Air  
Obtain no truce from Sacrifice and Prayer?  
They are importunate, with their great power  
They let him scarce enjoy one quiet hour;  
But ply him still with Sacrifice so fast,  
He's Cloyed with new, ere he digests the last.  
These are gay Splendid follies!  Monob. 
Something more,  
If we own Gods; we must those Gods adore.  Phraar. 
'Tis true! And Heaven does in no place appear,  
Treated with such Magnificence as here.  Monob. 
I like it well.  Phraar. 
And I, for I confess  
Were I a God I would expect no less.  
But this Romantic Tale of Gods and Fate,  
Takes well, and is a useful Art of State,  
Which the fond world into subjection brings.  Monob. 
Since you dispute a Power supreme to Kings,  
What Gods may in your Kingdom Worshipped be?  Phraar. 
None— Or if any, the Slaves worship me,  
Though now a Villain does profane my Throne;  
But his base blood shall soon his guilt atone:  
But you, who so devout and grave would seem,  
With whom these Powers are in such great esteem,  
Who are your heavenly Lords?  Monob. 
We prostrate fall  
To our own Gods alone; but reverence all.  
And if we err 'tis on the safest hand;  
All own some Power that does the world Command:  
Even mighty Rome bows to Celestial Powers.  Phraar. 
She does— but lower to her Emperors.  
But (ah! my Friend!) thou hast revived my shame,  
My blood is fired at that insulting name.  
But all her Idols shall my Chains repent,  
I'll make her Gods and her less insolent.  Monob. 
Since to this place you did your Fortune's guide,  
Your envious Stars have seemed to Change their side:  
The glorious things you in short time have done  
Have this thronged City's Admiration won.  
They Idolise your name, and boast with pride,  
To their great Race of Kings you are allied.  
Exalted hopes they on your valour build,  
Look to have Prophecies in you fulfilled.  Phraar. 
I small respects should to my Kindred pay,  
Did not imperious Love command my stay.  Monob. 
The same insulting power confines me here,  
And see, Our lovely Goddesses appear.  [Both turn towards the Temple. Phraar. 
Divine Clarona!  Monob. 
And the beauteous Queen!—  Phraar. 
Kneel, to whom Gods might on their Knees be seen.  
Ill-mannered Powers; with a regardless Eye,  
Can you behold such beauty prostrate lie?  Monob. 
How bright a Vision entertains my Eyes,  [Aside. 
Whilst I am doomed to endless miseries?  
Like one shut out from Heaven, the glories there  
Torment his sight, and add to his despair.  Phraar. 
I'll raise 'em up; for I resentments feel,  
That Creatures so Divine so long should kneel.  [Proffers to go, and is stopped by Monobarus. Monob. 
Hold! they are now on some uncommon Rite,  
To which this Evening they their Gods invite:  
Queen Berenice (who not by birth alone,  
As their King's Daughter, claims the Jewish Throne;  
But as successor to her Brother slain,  
O'er many neighbouring Provinces does Reign;  
And by her beauty rules both them and Rome!)  
Is lately from Vespasions Army come,  
In part to tender her lost Nation peace,  
And take their humble State in its distress,  
To the protection of her conquering Eyes,  
And partly for the great Solemnities  
These devout Tribes to their dead Kindred pay,  
If their own Laws and Customs they'll obey.  Phraar. 
'Tis fit they should, chiefly when Princes die,  
Kings should not sleep without Solemnity.  Monob. 
For this some time sh' as in jerusalem stayed;  
Mean while the Crowd, by frantic Rebels swayed,  
From their own Governors and Priests revolt,  
And every moment the Queen's life assault.  
This, Royal Sir, you by experience know,  
For to your Sword she does her safety owe.  Phraar. 
Rather to yours, brave Friend, that honour's due!  
I only seek in Fame to Rival you.  Monob. 
You're to your own unjust. But now the Queen,  
Who the whole time has rudely treated been,  
Wearied with Clamours and Devotion too,  
Has thoughts of bidding them and Heaven adieu:  
Some say to Night she'll towards the Camp repair,  
And take her leave of Sacrifice and Prayer.  
Howe'er she now does her last Offerings make,  
Whilst from their Oracles they Counsel take.  Phraar. 
Valour's the only Oracle of War!  
Let 'em ask that, and their vain Altars spare.  
But the great Ceremony does conclude;  
When Gods retire, poor Mortals may intrude:  The Gates open, and Mathias, Sagan, and another Priest come out of the Sanctuary. Loud Music plays. Phineas, John, Pharisees enter on one side of the Stage, Queen Berenice and Clarona on the other. Mathias whispers John and the Pharisees, who immediately after go off. Phraartes and Monobarus address themselves in dumb show to Clarona and Berenice. The Music at length ceases, and Mathias thus speaks to the Queen. Matth. 
Now, Madam, we with solemn thanks must own,  
The royal pity to your Nation shown:  
You from the stormy Cloud that hovers o'er  
This Town, descend like a relenting Power,  
Into your sacred Guardianship to take  
A distressed place, which Earth and Heaven forsake:  
But oft, as when the fatal hour draws nigh  
of some great Man, whom pain compels to die,  
His struggling powers with scorn their sentence take,  
And 'mongst themselves do a Rebellion make:  
Then on his own distorted Limbs does seize,  
And there chastise weak Nature's Cowardice:  
But thinks the while, he has with Monsters fought,  
And horrid shapes are in his Fancy wrought;  
So in distracting pangs our Nation lies,  
As if deprived of sense with Miseries.  
Tearing itself, and haunted with a Fiend  
That does to Zeal and Piety pretend;  
And fills their cheated thoughts with Axes, Rods,  
Chains, Death, and all the List of Heathen Gods:  
That every thing is a false God they see,  
And all they do is Zeal and Piety;  
But if the hated Name of Rome they hear,  
Then they in frantic Agonies appear:  
Rending the Air with a fanattick Cry  
Of Tyrants, Rome, new Gods, Idolatry.  Phine. 
Yes, Madam, this is our unhappy state;  
Nay, all that Rome adores they so much hate,  
They fly at you, 'cause your commanding Eyes,  
Are great Vespasian's Gods and Destinies:  
And if what he adores they can profane,  
They boast as if they had a Dagon slain.  Q. Bear. 
Yes, ay their zeal to my dishonour prove,  
They boldly would prescribe me whom to love:  
I not alone must quit a glorious State,  
And all the Crowns that on my passion wait;  
But the whole power of Love I must repeal,  
To please I know not what fantastic zeal.  
I love, and long have loved; nor count it shame  
If to the World my passion I proclaim,  
For the renown of him I love, may hide  
A Princess blushes, and excuse her pride.  Monob. 
Oh! my stabbed heart! what killing words I hear!  
What torturing pangs must I in silence bear?  [Aside. Phraar. 
Oh! Divine Music! harken fairest Saint!  [To Clarona. 
When will your Angel-voice my Ears enchant  
With such a Song might ravish Gods or Kings,  
And make the Crowing Cupid's clap their Wings?  Claro. 
When from all goodness I my thoughts remove,  
Then Heaven perhaps may punish me with Love.  Phraar. 
Oh! may you ascend to such a height with speed,  
The Gods may in your punishment exceed!  
Be so severe, no heart that e'er despised  
The sacred power of Love was so chastised.  Q. Bear. 
And now their frenzy at a passion flies,  
In which, more than in Arms, their safety lies:  
One smile of mine can Caesar more subdue,  
Than the whole Universe in Arms can do:  
Yet is my Life in so much danger here,  
Each hour some barbarous assault I fear;  
Nay, coming guarded with a slender train,  
I had, on my approach to Town, been slain  
By a fierce Ambush for my Chariot laid,  
Had not my Angel guided to my aid  
This generous Prince unknown, who ever since,  [To Monob. 
Has still employed his Sword in my defence;  
And to the King I grateful must appear,  [Turning to Phraar. 
Whose Sword obliges me with safety here.  Sag. 
To King Phraartes' Sword our lives, our Town,  
Altars and Temples their protection own!  Phraar. 
Beauty and Gods to worship men pretend,  
And what they worship they should still defend;  
And they alike in my protection share,  
Because they equally defenceless are.  Matth. 
Well, Madam, since our Crowds thus rude appear,  
We are unworthy of your presence here.  
But now the Feast of Passeover draws nigh,  
The yearly triumph of Divinity;  
When to his Temple all our Tribes repair  
From every Nation, where they scattered are;  
To sound his praise, and at his Altars wait,  
The old Deliverance to commemorate:  
When our good Angel Egypt's first-born slay,  
And all our Tribes from bondage drew:  
And through retiring Seas a passage made,  
Whilst Kings and Elements our Powers obeyed;  
This Feast we hope you'll with your presence grace,  
The chief remain of all our Royal Race.  Q. Beren. 
I gladly would to Heaven my Tribute pay,  
But great Affairs will not admit my stay:  
Part of my solemn Invitation here  
Was the due honour I the memory bear  
Of King Agrippa, my dear Brother slain,  
Of our high blood the hope and great remain;  
Whose royal life by fatal honour lost,  
Your State a Friend, and me this sorrow cost.  Monob. 
Gods! how I tremble at the words I hear,  [Aside. 
Little thinks she his Murderer stands so near:  
And less that her fair Eyes revenge his blood,  
Even on his heart by whom he was subdued.  Q. Beren. 
When I the Royal Body can obtain,  
From those with whom it Captive does remain,  
Here in some Tomb, that does devoutly keep  
Our Father's sacred Ashes, it shall sleep:  
Mean while in honour of his royal Name,  
To pay my Vows and Offerings here I came;  
And now my public mourning days expire,  
My own affairs command me to retire:  
But wheresoever I shall my Progress bend,  
Your Laws and State have an eternal Friend.  Phraar. 
And wheresoever I this bright Beauty see,  [to Clarona. 
That place shall more than sacred be to me.  Matth. 
My Daughter, Sir, you too much honour show.  [to Phraar. 
For what your bounty, Madam, would bestow,  
We pay our thanks, but we have all decreed,  
We in Jerusalem's defence will bleed.  
We think we War against the Gods of Rome,  
And all that die have Crowns of martyrdom:  
But though we Roman Gods and Tyrants hate,  
To your Commands we gladly bow our State:  
And the small time you stay command as Queen,  
With all the state our Kings have treated been.  Ex. Phraar. Monob. Beren. and Clarona. [Guards for the King and Queen, Matth. 
Now with Heavens praises we the day have closed,  
Some hours in Counsel might be well disposed;  
For though we have suppressed the Rebels powers,  
And close confined them in their Vaults and Towers,  
'Tis said to Edom they've for aid addressed,  
To save poor Saints by Tyranny oppressed.  
And fifteen thousand Arbiters of State  
Are on their March, the business to debate:  
But though we slight these Advocate's defence,  
We yet may fear our Prisoners' Insolence:  
Therefore their angry minds a while to please,  
I sent a Train of devout Pharisees,  
The only Men the Zealots now adore,  
Led too by John our new-made Counsellor,  
To ask with mildness, what is their intent?  Phin. 
Yes, but I wish you better Men had sent:  
For, Sir, in short, your Counsels are betrayed,  
John and the Pharisees unite their Aid  
To undermine your power; the Pharisees  
Their own revengeful humour to appease,  
Because of late you wisely, Sir, have checked  
The pride and growth of that usurping Sect.  Sag. 
And th' other Traitor by designs like these  
To creep in power by unperceived degrees:  
For which he does all Villainy contemn.  
He fawns on us, and then he prays with them.  
To every Art and subtlety he flies,  
Them he deludes with Prayers, and us with lies.  
The Holy Place he visits every hour,  
But 'tis to whisper in the Rebel's Tower;  
What we consult, where to deceive the Rout,  
He is at once both perjured and devout:  
And does at once both Parties cheat and please,  
Outfaces us, out-whines the Pharisees;  
Who see his subtle Crafts, yet trust him still,  
In love to falsehood and his dextrous skill.  Matth. 
All these Mysterious Characters I've read,  
And seen the lurking Treachery that's hid  
In humble fawn, and in fierce pretence  
To each punctilio of obedience.  
For I'm assured their Treacheries infused  
Those false surmises, which the Crowd abused;  
But they shall find I so much Treason hate,  
From Foes and Traitors too I'll guard the State:  
But they return—  [Enter John and two or three Pharisees. John. 
No hopes or means their furies to dissuade?  Phin. 
Dissembling Villain, we're by thee betrayed.  John. 
I'th' name of injured Piety I'd know  
On whom you all these foul reproaches throw?  Phin. 
On thee, and that false Tribe, who on pretence  
Of rigorous Piety and nice Innocence,  
Craftily all our Interests devour,  
And whine themselves into Esteem and Power;  
Casting such Mists before the people's eyes,  
That none but they are thought devout or wise:  
Then when they have made the Crowd our power contemn,  
We must be silent, or depend on them.  John. 
Sir, such has been my Service to the State,  
That I disdain to bring it in debate,  
And therefore shall not offer a reply  
To such a false injurious Calumny.  
But though my wrongs I can with patience bear,  
Methinks my zeal's a little moved to hear  
These good and pious Men reproached— nay more,  
Zeal and Religion wounded on their score.  1. Phari. 
You're bold and know not whom you disrespect,  Phin. 
Yes; pious Sir, 'Tis an Imperious Sect,  
Wherewith our Land has swarmed Three hundred years,  
Whose pride in your dividing name appears:  
You by the Style of Pharisees are known;  
Proud Separatists who common Saints disown:  
And (as if you were of Diviner Birth)  
The rest you Style the people of the Earth.  Sag. 
From these in proud contempt your Sect withdraw,  
For your Seraphic lives correct the Law:  
And your Complexions are so Nice and Fair,  
You 're sick, if you but taste a sinner's Prayer.  
But Gentiles with such Nauseous Zeal you fly,  
As if the sight of them defiled your eye:  
And thus our People's hearts and wealths you steal;  
Murder and Rob with Loyalty and Zeal;  
And the fond Crowd into Rebellion draw;  
Abuse our State, our Altars, and our Law.  Phin. 
And thou, false Traitor, dost us all delude,  [To John. 
Both us, the Rebels, and the Multitude.  John. 
How! I delude!  Phin. 
Yes; we have Read the sense  
Of all your Fawn, Prayers and Diligence:  
Such as false Fiends in active Duty pay  
To cheated Souls, on whom they hope to prey.  
Most wondrous kind and ready at each call,  
Intending to betray and Damn 'em all.  Matth. 
Yes; you have not alone your trust betrayed,  
But false Constructions on my Councils made,  
As if to Rome I would my Country yield,  
That by its fall I might my Greatness build:  
A Crime I so much scorn—  
I would not sell the Stones on which I tread,  
For all the Crowns upon Vespasian's head:  
And now lest Justice should your Crimes prevent,  
You to the Edomites for Aid have sent:  
But if they shall press armed within the Gate,  
I'll treat 'em here, as Enemies to th' State.  
And then to show how I their force despise,  
I will the Rebels in their sight Chastise.  John. 
Ha! are my Arts and Policies descried?  
I must defend what 'tis in vain to hide.  
Have I in your assistance wept and prayed?  
And now must all your guilt on me be laid?  
This I deserve from Providence, 'tis true,  
But 'tis ingrateful wickedness in you.  
Yet I, Heaven knows, did truth and peace intend,  
But means should be as Holy as the end:  
But in this Treason I'll no longer share,  
I'll to my shame the Mystery declare.  
'Tis truth, my Friends, what these bad men have said,  [To the Pharisees. 
I'm an Impostor, you are all betrayed:  
I promised Peace; but you are sold to Rome,  
Defend your Altars, Lives, the Romans come.  
Dark Compacts with Idolaters are made,  
And they are hastening to these Tyrant's aid.  
Who to secure the Power they so much prize,  
To all the Roman Gods will Sacrifice.  Matth. 
Unheard of Impudence! the Friends that fly  
I'th' Air will shout at this amazing lie.  1 Phar. 
'Tis truth! and in the Holy Cause we'll die.  [All draw. 
To Arms! to Arms! Tyrants! Idolatry!  Matth. 
Hold, you deluded men! what frantic Rage  
Has seized you all? for what would you engage?  2. Phar. 
We to our Laws and Altars will be true.  Matth. 
And to the Gold about the Altars too.  1. Phar. 
That falsehood soon shall by our Swords be shown.  Matth. 
You'll guard it from all Rapine but your own.  [An Alarm without. 
But Hark! the Cities filled with new Alarms!  
Close all the Gates.— The news?  [Enter a Levite. Levit. 
To Arms, to Arms!  
The Edomites are come! we're all in blood,  
Queen Berenice is assaulted by the Crowd,  
Who as she passed beset her Chariot round,  
Where your fair Daughter has received a Wound.  
At which the Parthian King made all give way,  
And had his God entreated would not stay;  
But with Five hundred followers of his own,  
Assisted by his Friend the brave Unknown,  
Plunged in the Throng, whilst both from towers and Walls  
To the Idumean Troops a Rabble calls,  
Crying save us, save Jerusalem, and assist  
Your Brethren, brethren a proud usurping Priest.  Phin. 
The Treason's out! now let's the Traitors seize.  Matth. 
These are the Grand Seducers! fall on these.  [Phineas and the Guard chase John and the Pharisees off the Stage. Matth. 
Now, haste to th' Edomites without the Gate,  [To Sagan. 
And tell 'em they the impious pleasures wait  
Of Thiefs, who Rob what they pretend to Guard;  
And would their Aid with Sacrilege reward:  
If on fair Terms they to depart deny,  
Defend the Gates and with your Darts reply.  [Ex. Sagan. 
And now I, guarded by the sole defence  
Of these blessed Robes and my own Innocence,  
Will to these Favourites of Heaven, to know  
What new Credentials they have now to show.  
For these proud Men their own Commissions Seal,  
And place their sole Authority on Zeal.  Mathias goes out, and the Temple Gates are closed, and a Guard placed   

ACT II.  

SCENE I.  After Clashing and Shouts without. Enter Phineas and a Levite. Scene a Street. Phin. 
TRiumphant News!— Let us our voices raise,  
And fill the Steets with Joyful sounds of Praise.  
The Parthian King, with the brave unknown Prince,  
Men that seem dropped from Heaven for our defence,  
Have chased the Rebels to their Vaults and Towers;  
As storms drive flying Billows to the Shores.  Leu. 
The King's great Soul wants but the light Divine,  
To make it every way with Glory shine.  
But see, the Train approach the Palace Gate,  
Whilst joyful Crowds on their Preserver wait.  Enter Phraartes, Monobazus, Mathias, Queen Berenice, Clarona, Semandra, Phedra, Guards. Two or Three Prisoners. Phraar. 
You lift your Swords against a King; from whence  
Has your base Spirits all this Insolence?  [To Prisoners 
You sordid Villains at the best are made  
For the low Earth, on which a King should tread.  
By the mean Victory my Sword has gained,  
I have myself and Dignity profaned:  
And can myself no Expiation make,  
Less on their Altars I revenge should take:  
Which I forgive!— but Drag these Slaves away,  
With speed out of your Monarch's sight, and lay  
Their servile Necks beneath the High Priests Feet,  
Let him dispose of 'em, as he thinks meet.  Guard Carries them to Mathias, whilst Phraartes turns to Clarona. Phraar. 
Fair injured Power! what Offering shall I make?  
These I disdain to give, and you to take;  
'Twere Sacrilege designing to appease  
Your Anger with whole Hecatombs of these:  
So many Princes at your Feet should lie,  
And at your Sentence either live or die.  
Howe'er a Royal Sacrifice I bring,  
The Flaming Soul of a Love-wounded King.  Claro. 
Great Prince! the Joy I in your Triumphs find  
Has more already than appeased my mind.  
For though I know not love, and any Flame,  
But that of pure Devotion, must disclaim;  
Yet for the Generous and truly brave  
Of all Religions I a Friendship have;  
And as for others I my Prayers employ,  
For your great Soul I'd be content to die,  
And oh!— how rich an offering would it be  
To Heaven, which you thus vainly make to me.  Phraar. 
Oh! tell not me of Heaven and Powers above,  
There's no Elysium but Clarona's Love.  Claro. 
To a poor Shrine you offer your regard,  
Where you must take Devotion for reward.  Monob. 
Madam, you Crown with undeserved Praise,  
A courage you did both inspire and raise.  Qu. Beren. 
I but my sense of Gratitude would show,  
For what your Valour, Sir, did twice bestow;  
Nor can the breath by your defence enjoyed,  
Be better sure then in your Praise employed.  Matth. 
Go; and abuse the Liberty I give,  [To the Prisoners. 
'Gainst him, by whose indulgence now you live.  
Not all the wrong I from your hate endure,  
Shall one Revengeful deed from me procure;  
As fellow Servants of one Lord above,  
You shall enjoy my pity and my Love.  
But yet I will impale my Master's ground,  
And from the rotten Sheep protect the sound.  1. Phar. 
We'll do the same, and Guard them from the Power  
Of wicked Shepherds, who the Flock devour.  Matth. 
These men Heaven's Favourites themselves repute,  
And then as such none must their Power dispute.  [Prisoners are dismissed, and Matth. turns to Phraar. and Monob. 
Now, valiant Princes, we must pay to you  
The public Triumphs which to both are due;  
And to the Mighty Parthian King, who springs  
Of Jewish blood by a long Race of Kings,  
Let the great Shades of all who wore this Crown,  
For their saved Monuments his Valour own.  
And now the Stars their twinkling Fires disclose,  
And night approaching summons to repose,  
Let Guards these Royal Persons wait with care,  
Who both my Guests and my Protectors are.  [They all go out attended with a Guard, except Mathias and Phineas, who stay— and Enter the Sagan. Matth. 
Now, what from Edom? will they stay or Fly?  
And our Indulgence or our Valour try?  Sag. 
They are resolved to guard the Rebel Crew:  
Till you free them, or else the Romans you.  Matth. 
And do they know on whose designs they wait?  Sag. 
They Style 'em Saints and Guardians of the State:  
Till they are freed they'll not our Walls forsake,  
But send for Wives and a Plantation make.  
Set Javelins till they grow, whose Martial shade  
Shall serve for Shelter, and for Ambuscade.  Matth. 
Now it is plain, these Idumeans came  
To add fresh Brands to our domestic flame;  
And on pretence our Tumults to appease,  
To share with Thiefs in public Robberies.  
But I'll see well to all the Guards to night,  
And if to morrow the bold Edemite,  
In Thiefs defence, to face our walls shall dare,  
Their Martial Plants unpleasant Fruit shall bear.  [Ex. omnes.  

SCENE II.  The Palace. Enter Queen Berenice and Semandra. Seman. 
Come, Madam, please to rest, this silent Night  
Kind sleep does to her Bowers our sense invite.  Q. Ber. 
Let the soft thing to dying Lovers go,  
And on despairing Minds her Balm bestow.  
The Joy the happy hours approaching near,  
When I must leave my dull Devotion here,  
And on Love's wings to my Vespasian fly,  
Transports my Soul to such an Ecstasy,  
That with an Empire's price should not be bought,  
The single pleasure of one flying thought.  
Tell me, Semandra, dost thou not espy  
A New delightful Spirit in my eye?  
Does not my cheerful blood its Revels take,  
And often in my Cheeks fresh Sallies make?  Semand. 
Ah, Madam! your triumphant Beauties wear  
Glories too bright for my weak eyes to bear.  Q. Beren. 
Be gone! thou Paint'st me in a Flattering Dress.  Semand. 
Rather, no Tongue your Beauties can express.  [Queen Beren. pulls out a Glass and looks in it. Q. Beren. 
Indeed my Glass will needs obliging be,  
I fear th' unfaithful thing takes part with thee.  Semand. 
By all that's fair it does its trust betray,  
Nor half the Beauties it receives repay.  Q. Ber. 
Nay, I confess I'm pleased: for I must own  
I was half weary of Devotion grown,  
What with the grief for my dear Brother's blood!  
What with the Clamours of the foolish Crowd;  
Who their own safety madly will oppose:  
What with Impatience too at length to close  
These seven long Weeks of grave Devotion here,  
Which did to me a tedious Age appear,  
I was so tired— that now the time is gone,  
Methinks my eyes another Air put on;  
And lay their Penitential looks aside,  
With all the Joy of a young smiling Bride.  Semand. 
Nay! Madam! never yet in any Face,  
Triumphing Love appeared with so much Grace.  
But you have often promised to relate  
Your Loves; how long shall my Impatience wait?  Q. Ber. 
I have not Fancy rich enough t' explain,  
Half the Delights that Story does Contain.  
'T was on a great Triumphant Day at Rome,  
When all the Adoration Gods assume,  
Or Flattering Priests ascribe to Powers Divine,  
When with uncommon Flames their Altars shine,  
Was to the young Victorious Titus paid,  
When he through Rome a pompous Entry made.  
It were too dull and tedious to display  
The bright and various splendours of that Day,  
Young Titus Fame ne'er spoke him half so fair!  
Men Gazed with envy, Women with Despair.  
We who, the King our Father lately dead,  
By Rebels chased, to Rome's protection fled,  
Were then Spectators there—  Semand. 
Your Stars were kind;  
For to this mighty Fate you were designed.  Q. Ber. 
And from us all this vote his mien did gain,  
That we had never seen a braver man:  
I felt my heart a secret Flame possess,  
But thought my Eyes secured my Heart success.  
Tho Roman Ladies did my Rank contemn,  
At least my Beauty might contend with them.  
And so it proved; for the whole time he stayed,  
His sole Address was at my Altars made:  
Which they resented with such scorn, and Pride,  
Some raged with madness, some with envy died.  
But, oh my Stars! how pleased was I to see  
My Beauty thus revenge my Quality.  Semand. 
Oh Heaven! that I that Victory had seen!  
And from that time your Joys have dated been?  Q. Ber. 
Not to relate how oft th' imperial Groves  
And Gardens have been Witness of our Loves,  
Eternal Vows in their delightful shade,  
With an entire Exchange of Hearts, were made.  Semand. 
Since which your Stars, propitious to your Love,  
Did in few Months two Emperors remove,  
That old Vespasian to that Glory chose,  
No rigorous Laws your passion might oppose;  
And if those Rites he'll stubbornly Maintain,  
Few Months will period the old Monarch's reign.  Q. Ber. 
Name not the Empire; Power I contemn,  
'Tis Love I seek, I scorn the Diadem.  Semand. 
But hark! Delicious sounds that way descend,  
The Parthian King's fair Mistress they attend.  [Music within. Q. Ber. 
Sent by the King, no question, and designed  
To chase sad thoughts from her too Pensive mind.  
That Divine Creature always is above,  
Nothing below can her attention move.  Semand. 
Madam, she always like a Flame ascends,  
From Heaven she came, and towards Heaven she tends;  
And has so small concerns for things below  
She never yet was seen to change her Brow.  
Sometimes indeed she has let fall a tear,  
But 'twas when others' griefs she chanceed to hear.  
Her own are into Bowers and Temples made,  
And there she sings as in some pleasant shade.  Q. Ber. 
She far excels the happy Minds above:  
But cannot her fair soul descend to Love?  Semand. 
Yes, as the Saints do in the other state;  
Or Guardian Angels those on whom they wait?  Q. Ber. 
Such sublime Friendships may Devotion please:  
But is the brave young King content with these?  Semand. 
Madam, I doubt he aims at something more,  
Though it is said he ne'er loved so before;  
He looks upon her as some Heavenly thing,  
And doubts if he should Love or Incense bring?  Q. Beren. 
Well; my Complexion is not so Divine,  
More of this drossy Earth is mixed with mine—  
But King Phraartes comes, let us away,  
And strive to hasten on th' approaching Day.  
Which with the View of him shall Feast my sight,  
Who is both mine and all the World's delight.  [Exit. 

SONG sung within.  

HEnce, hence, thou vain fantastic fear  
Of Ills to come, we know not where;  
Stand not with thy infernal face  
To fright my Love from my embrace;  
To what a height should we love on,  
Wert thou and all thy Shadows gone?   

Sigh, sigh no more, nor cry forbear  
'Tis sin, I neither must nor dare;  
If sin can in these pleasures dwell,  
If this can be the Gate of Hell,  
No flesh can hold from entering in;  
Heaven must forgive so sweet a sin.   

Down, down she does begin to fall,  
And now the Shadows vanish all;  
And now the Gate is open to bliss,  
And now I'm entered Paradise;  
Whilst envying Angels flock to view,  
And wonder what it is we do.    Enter Phraartes, Monobazus. Phraar. 
Ah Friend! my heart here in an Ambush lies,  
I'm wounded by a Spirit in Disguise.  
A thing composed of Prayer, whom if I wed,  
Some Incense cloud must be our Nuptial bed.  [Mon. is Pensive, and seems not to regard Phra. Phraar. 
But Ha! my Friend in grief! shall I complain,  
Of his unkind retirements still in vain?  Monob. 
Sir, you have many sorrows of your own,  
And to add mine would be unkindly done.  Phraar. 
I many sorrows? thou mistak'st the name,  
Too fierce resentments of my injured Fame.  
That after many a glorious Victory,  
When Rome with Terror did my Valour try,  
That a bold Villain should his King betray,  
And bolder Room should give my Crown away;  
Are wrongs for which not I, but Rome shall grieve,  
Who soon severe Correction shall receive.  Monob. 
I do not doubt but your great Soul's above  
The Power of Fate, but can you conquer Love?  Phraar. 
Thou find'st the only weakness of my mind  
There I must own some tenderness I find.  
An unknown passion makes my spirit bow;  
Whose insolence I never felt till now.  
I've seen, admired, adored, yes and enjoyed,  
Till both my Eyes and Appetite were Cloyed,  
Beauties of all Complexions, Nations, Graces,  
Hourly attended once on my Embraces.  
Each hour to different pleasures I could go;  
Now cool my blood in the European Snow,  
Then heat it at the Asian Fires again,  
Then boil it o'er a Sunburnt African.  
But this one Beauty has subdued me more,  
Than all the Armies of 'em did before.  Monob. 
But to her Captive she will mercy show.  Phra. 
Oh! she is colder than the Mountain's Snow.  
To such a subtle purity she's wrought,  
She's prayed and fasted to a walking thought.  
She's an enchanted Feast, most fair to sight,  
But starves the appetite she does invite;  
Flies from the touch of sense, and if you dare  
To name but love, she vanishes to air.  
Ten days has this bright flame confined me here,  
Ruling my soul with tyranny severe.  
But too much talk on my own griefs I spend:  
Now let me hear the sorrows of my Friend.  Monob. 
Reservedness to so great a Prince were rude,  
And to so brave a Friend ingratitude.  
Have you not heard of Monobazus name?  Phra. 
Yes, Prince, and am acquainted with your fame.  
The valiant Brother of the Adiabenan King.  [Embraces him. 
What wandering Fortunes could thee hither bring?  
I've heard how thou didst guard his life and Crown,  
When Slaves would have deposed him from the Throne,  
Because some Merchant Jews, 'mongst other Wares,  
Had made him change his own Belief for theirs.  Monob. 
Service beyond the gratitude of Kings,  
Like Crimes, Misfortune on the Subject brings.  
So he the least acknowledgements disdained,  
And sought the life of him by whom he Reigned.  
Thrice I his Armies beat in open Field,  
Making his struggling Fate entirely yield:  
Subjecting Kings that to his aid he drew,  
One in the head of all his Troops I slew.  
Then gave him back his vanquished Crown, and went  
By my own doom to willing Banishment.  
Roving the world I hither chanced to stray,  
And drawing nigh this Town in close of day,  
It was my fate, by an old shady wood,  
To see a Chariot with armed Troops pursued.  
With my own Train to its relief I made,  
And came not much untimely to its aid.  
But for my own repose with too much speed,  
For scarce I had th' assaulted freed,  
But straight a Goddess, or a thing more bright,  
With murdering Beauties charged my dazzled sight.  Phra. 
And 'twas the Queen.  Monob. 
It wounds my heart to tell,  
It was the Sister of the King who fell  
By my cursed Sword; and she was going then  
To mourn the death of him, whom I had slain.  Phra. 
Killing surprise! I pity now thy flame,  
And shall no more thy sad Retirements blame.  Clarona appears above in the Balcony in her Night-dress, with a Taper in one hand, and a Book in another. 
But ha! whence comes this golden dart of light,  
Which on the sudden wounds the breast of night?  Monob. 
See, some new wonder, Sir, invites our eyes.  [Shows Clar. Phra. 
The chief indeed of Jewish Prodigies.  
Young, fair, and woman, and without desire,  
The only Miracle I can admire.  Monob. 
She's at Devotion sure, for it is said,  
Thrice in the night she from her downy bed,  
And soft repose, does her fair body raise,  
And from her window towards the Temple prays.  Phra. 
Nay, from above she certainly dropped down,  
And like some Siren in a Tempest thrown  
From her own Element, and place of birth,  
Can relish none of all the Joys on Earth.  
I am all flame at sight of one so fair.  Mon. 
I am all shade, and wander in despair.  Phra. 
She's giving audience to some Angel now,  
I must disturb 'em, for I jealous grow.  Monob. 
May your fair Goddess to your Prayers be kind,  
I'll go relate my sorrows to the wind.  [Exit Phra. 
Clarona!  Clar. 
Ha! who calls?  Phra. 
A wretched thing  
That begs your pity.  Clar. 
The great Parthian King:  
What is it creeps into his Royal breast  
This stormy night, and drives away his rest?  Phra. 
What should, or can disturb my rest, but love?  
That bearded Shaft which nothing can remove.  
But you are still engaged in heavenly things,  
And have no pity for poor mortal Kings.  Clar. 
Alas, Sir! do you my compassion crave?  
Your glorious Acts my admiration have.  Phra. 
And yet not love where admiration's due?  Clar. 
Oh yes! my love does the whole world pursue  
With all the blessings of my hourly Prayer,  
And you, the noblest part, have sure your share.  Phra. 
Blessings and Prayers, and at a common Feast,  
Where the whole world is an invited Guest;  
Do not crowd me among the sordid rout,  
Where all your Charity is doled about.  
But me to Noble Entertainments bring,  
And treat me like a Lover and a King:  
Nor shall the saucy world sit down with me,  
Gods at this Feast shall my Attendants be.  Clar. 
Religion is a Feast of true delight,  
To which might I your glorious Soul invite,  
You never would repent your happy state,  
And I with joy would at your Table wait.  Phra. 
My relish no Chameleons food endures,  
My love I long to entertain with yours:  
Let Souls like Planets be with Vapours fed,  
Invite my senses to the Nuptial bed.  Clar. 
I merit not so great a Monarch's Throne:  
But were I worthy, I am not my own.  
I am the Child of Sacrifice and Prayer,  
Born when the Womb did totally despair.  
My Soul was kindled at an Altar flame;  
Religion gave instructions for my frame:  
And Nature punctually her Rules obeyed,  
And me exactly for Religion made.  
And from my birth I've educated been  
A Maid of Honour to that mighty Queen.  
And now am Heaven's adopted Daughter grown,  
And, like some Virgin Heiress of a Throne,  
Guarded and waited on by Spirits, fed  
By Prayer and Contemplation, Angel's bread.  
Enclosed from all the world, and scarcely dare  
Mix my devoted breath with common air.  
And in this state I ever must remain,  
And not in thought my Virgin-whiteness stain.  Phra. 
Blessed news! the only glory I design:  
Now you are fit for no embrace but mine.  
And I have long desired to mix my blood  
with some Celestial Daughter of a God.  Clar. 
Your mortal Deities, Sir, may bestow  
Their Daughters on you, yet your Match below.  
The King I hope will these expressions bear?  
But yet if I of his Religion were,  
I in the same condition would remain;  
For I would be of chaste Diana's Train;  
In Woods and Forests breathe untainted air,  
And against love an open War declare.  
And e'er your little God should conquer me,  
With Daphne, I'd be turned into a Tree.  [Exit. Phra. 
You should not long within your bark remain,  
I would embrace you into life again.  [Enter a Gentleman. 
But ha! here's one with News.  Gen. 
Haste, Sir, and see  
The stormy Air all filled with Prodigy;  
A numerous Army in the Sky appears,  
And every Troop a bloody Banner bears.  
They march along in the Moons timorous light,  
Then dive in air and vanish from our sight.  Phra. 
This is some charmed and visionary Land,  
I scarce can trust the ground on which I stand.  
Their Earth oft trembles, and their Buildings groan,  
Built like the Theban Walls of living stone.  
Their Stars grow Comets, Clouds armed Legions breed,  
Each has more Warriors than the Trojan Steed:  
Wonders, not Fishes, spawn within their Seas,  
And all the winds that blow breathe Prophecies.  
Nor are their People of a Kind entire,  
But got betwixt Devotion and Desire.  
But let us see if Nature with a grace  
Can show her tricks, and cheat me to my face.  [Exeunt.   

ACT III.  

SCENE I.  Enter Mathias, Phineas, Sagan, Guard. Matth. 
AN Army in the Air.  Sag. 
I saw it move.  Phin. 
And round the Sky Troops of Iron Chariot's drove.  Sag. 
Through all the Air they scattered Rays so bright,  
As if their prancing Steeds were shod with Light.  Phin. 
Straight of the sudden all the Shapes were flown,  
The warlike Imagery was taken down;  
Folded in pitchy Clouds, and rolled with care  
Into the Wardrobe of the wealthy Air.  Sag. 
The Martial Atoms, from their noble form  
Dissolved in Clouds, now combat in a Storm.  Phin. 
The Air ungoverned by its Prince the Sun,  
Like factious States, to Anarchy does run;  
Wind, Thunder, Rain, and Lightning strive to share,  
Like Rebels, all the Provinces o'th' Air.  
See! how the Clouds like angry surges fly,  
And dash the Crystal beaches of the Sky!  Sag. 
The stormy night now she her period knows,  
Cruel and fierce, like an old Tyrant, grows;  
Whilst all her Train, before her Mistress dies,  
Revel about, and ransack all the Skies.  Matth. 
This Tempest comes from Heaven's dispensive hand,  
These Divine Riddles who can understand?  
What means that fiery Sword's mysterious Ray,  
Which o'er our shaking Towers night and day,  
In Heaven's bright Canopy does proudly shine,  
As brandished by the Majesty Divine?  Sag. 
Methinks Jerusalem, at her solemn Feast,  
Seems treated like the Tyrant's trembling Guest,  
In Purple clad, her Table richly spread,  
But death and horror hanging o'er her head.  Phin. 
Heaven's Arch ne'er shone with such a light before,  
It seems as if some Angel lictour bore  
The blazing Fasces, at the passing by  
Of some Divine Procession in the Sky.  Matth. 
Alas! we in Jerusalem daily see  
A greater, and a living Prodigy.  
A manlike Echo pined into a Sound,  
A walking Vault that does one tone rebound;  
And night and day does in our Streets proclaim,  
With restless Soul, Woes to Jerusalem;  
And nor for Prayers nor Racks concerned will be,  
But senseless as Dodona's vocal Tree.  
But ha! the wrestling winds are out of breath,  
And all is silent now, like sleep or death.  Phin. 
The tilting winds have stopped in full career,  
And the fierce Lightning now has broke his Spear.  Sag. 
The appeased Clouds now mildly kiss the shore,  
Of that bright Sky they did assault before.  [Noise is heard like an Earthquake. Matth. 
What frightful noise is that?  Sag. 
In the Earth's Womb  
The four imprisoned winds contend for room.  Matth. 
The shaking Earth is seized with trembling pangs,  
And on thin air the vaulting City hangs.  [A small voice is heard. Phin. 
Hark! a shrill voice beneath the Altar cries.  Sag. 
Some ominous Bird sure through the Temple flies.  [The Prophet is discovered asleep by the Altar. 
But ha! see where the restless Prophet's thrown:  
That is the ominous Bird, whose frightful tone  
Fills all Jerusalem with panic fear.  
What powerful Demon has conveyed him there?  Phin. 
The Spirit of Ob, that in the Wizard cries,  
From whence he has his lying Prophecies.  
Seize on the shrieking Owl; shall he alone  
Have rest, that let's Jerusalem have none?  Matth. 
Forbear— This Creature, like a Trumpet, knows  
No sound he gives, it is Heaven's breath that blows.  [Prophet wakes and rises. Proph. 
From the bright dwellings of the rising Sun,  
And from his resting place when day is done,  
From the four winds and the Earth's hollow womb  
A Voice, a Voice— a dreadful Voice is come;  
A Voice against our Elders, Priests, and Scribes,  
Our City, Temple, and our holy Tribes;  
Against the Bridegroom, and the joyful Bride,  
And all that in Jerusalem reside.  
Woe, woe, woe.—  Phin. 
Stop, stop the Witch.  Matth. 
Hold! let him pass secure,  
His raving Soul does pain enough endure.  
And his unconquered flesh no torment lacks,  
H'as wearied Torturers and torn the Racks;  
As if unsouled, and acted by some Power  
That sent him here, as Fate's Ambassador.  Phin. 
No Law of Nations should be his defence,  
He seems an Agent for some Pestilence.  Matth. 
Begone, poor wretch, and seek thy own repose,  
And Heaven prepare us for these threatened Woes.  Proph. 
Woe, woe, woe.  [Ex. Prophet. Phin. 
He grates my Ears with this unpleasant sound:  
But hark! a Voice does from the Vault rebound.  [A great Voice is heard from under the Stage like a Tube. Matth. 
A Voice! 'tis Thunder, or some Pagan God  
Groans here tormented, chaceed from his abode.  [The Voice cries— Let us depart. 
Let us depart, the horrid Voice does cry!  
What art that call'st? and whither should we fly?  Phin. 
The Temple lives! it moved before and broke  
The bars that fettered it, and now it spoke.  Matth. 
It rather dies! and these affrightful groans  
Are its departing Soul's contending moans.  [The Vale flies open, and shows the Sanctum Sanctorum. Matth. 
But oh! retire, the sacred Curtain tears,  
And all the Temple's bright third Heaven appears;  
And, to the profanation of our Eyes,  
Exposes all the Divine Mysteries.  Sag. 
It seems as if the starry Heaven were rent,  
And Angels shone through the torn Firmament.  Matth. 
And see— one of that bright and heavenly Choir  
Appears above, all clad in Robes of fire;  
And now does from the golden Roof descend,  
Whilst the Vaults groan, and yielding Arches bend.  Sag. 
Let's fall upon our faces, lest we die.  Phin. 
Haste to the Incense Altar! let us fly.  Matth. 
You may— but I fixed here will boldly stay,  
And hear what this strange Messenger will say.  [An Angel descends over the Altar, and speaks. Ang. 
Stay, stay; your flight, fond men, Heaven does despise,  
All your vain Incense, Prayers, and Sacrifice.  
Now is arrived Jerusalem's fatal Hour,  
When She and Sacrifice must be no more.  
Long against Heaven hast thou, Rebellious Town,  
Thy public Trumpets of Defiance blown;  
Didst open Wars against thy Lord maintain,  
And all his Messengers of Peace hast slain:  
And now the Hour of his Revenge is come,  
Thy Weeks are finished, and thy slumbering doom,  
Which long has laid in the Divine Decree,  
Is now aroused from his dull Lethargy;  
His Army's raised, and his Commission sealed,  
His Orders given, and cannot be repealed:  
And now thy People, Temple, Altars, all  
Must in one total Desolation fall.  
Heaven will in sad Procession walk the round,  
And level all thy Buildings with the ground;  
And from the Soil, enriched with humane blood,  
Shall Grass spring up where Palaces have stood:  
Where Beasts shall feed, and a revenge obtain,  
For all the thousands at thy Altars slain.  
And this once blessed House, where Angels came  
To bathe their airy wings in holy flame,  
Like a swift Vision or a flash of light,  
All wrapped in Fire, shall vanish in thy sight;  
And thrown aside amongst the common store,  
Sink down in Time's Abyss, and rise no more.  [The Angel ascends. Matth. 
Oh, wondrous Vision! Oh, I faint with fear!  
Was it a humane Voice that filled my Ear?  
A real sight that entertained my Eye,  
Or was I snatched into some Ecstasy?  Sag. 
Whether I dreamt or died I cannot tell,  
For yet more life does in a Statue dwell.  Phin. 
I lived and waked, and with these steadfast Eyes  
Saw the strange Vision both descend and rise;  
And with a Voice, that could no Ears deceive,  
Heard it speak wonders more than I'll believe.  Matth. 
Did he not tell us, in a threatning tone,  
Jerusalem's fatal Hour was hastening on?  
As if that ours and Truth's eternal Sun  
Had but few Minutes of his Race to run,  
And this bright Heaven should then be taken down,  
And among all Time's common Trophies thrown?  Phin. 
It did.  Matth. 
It must be some illusion then!  
The Starry Heaven shall not so long remain.  
It's Basis cannot so much strength afford,  
That stands on Nature, this on Nature's Lord.  
Nay, that depends on this— For d'ye suppose  
Th' unwearyed Sun his daily progress goes,  
And the Earth's Womb her various Offspring bears,  
Only as Vassals to Idolaters;  
And yields her Gums and Spices to maintain  
Some Glutton's Table, or some Idols Fane;  
And Heaven and Earth round in a yoke should draw,  
To grind for those that break their Maker's Law?  Phin. 
No, 'tis for us that wait on his Commands:  
For us the world was made, for us it stands.  Mat. 
Yes, on these Columns the whole Arch is bent,  
This Golden Roof supports the Firmament.  
The Sun with Altar-Flames adorns his head,  
And from this Oil the heavenly Lamps are fed;  
And all the Order which in Nature dwells  
But dances to the sound of Aaron's Bells.  
That to say Heaven will ruin on us send,  
Is to declare the world is at an end;  
And Nature is disbanding all her Powers,  
Then falls the Temple of the world, and ours.  Sag. 
If to Tradition we may credit give,  
Ages will roll about e'er that arrive,  
For yet two thousand years ere we are blessed  
With the Sabatick thousand years of rest.  Phin. 
Besides, we yet expect our promised King,  
At whose approach a Golden Age must spring;  
And a long train of smiling years ensue,  
When joyful Nature shall her youth renew:  
And all the Powers that now the Earth invade,  
Shall vanish each like a Gigantic shade.  
And the whole Globe shall but two Monarchs have,  
Him, and the Sun his tributary Slave.  Matth. 
Those things lie safe in Promises Divine,  
As the rich Gold lies ripening in the Mine.  
And like the Babylonian Pensile Bowers,  
They are born aloft on never yielding Towers:  
Towers of firm truth which may our Faith delight,  
Tho the fair Gardens are above our sight.  
Then whatsoever these things portend, we know,  
Though Famine, Plague, and Wars may lay us low,  
The world may sink, but not one Stone of these,  
Till faithful Heaven performs his Promises.  
But come— No sleep to night shall close my Eyes,  
Go summon all the Sanhedrim to rise.  
We'll find what fit Constructions there can be  
Of this strange sight, and stranger Prophecy.  [Exeunt.  

SCENE II.  The Palace. Enter Phraartes and Monobazus. Monob. 
Things of more wonder never filled my Eye.  Phraar. 
Nor ever mine a prettier Novelty.  Monob. 
Novelty!  Phraar. 
Why? must I astonished prove,  
To see by Moonlight a few Shadows move?  Mon. 
No, Sir: but these no common Shadows are.  Phra. 
And that's the only cause you think them rare.  
Were Thunder, Lightning, an Eclipse o'th' Sun,  
And all the feats by light and shadow done,  
But once or twice in several Ages shown,  
Mankind would all of 'em for wonders own.  
Think Gods appeared, and fall upon the knee,  
Each time, perhaps, they did a Rainbow see.  Mon. 
Nature frames those, these Nature's works surpass.  Phra. 
Why more than Shadows in a Looking-glass?  
At first, no doubt, they did Mankind surprise,  
And they were judged stupendious Prodigies.  
There are strange Births peculiar to each Clime,  
Monsters are bred out of Egyptian slime.  
These may be Natives of the Jewish air,  
Bred of the Fumes of Sacrifice and Prayer.  Mon. 
Yes, did they slaughter men, we might presume  
Their Souls might for revenge those shapes assume:  
But the poor Beast does perish in the flame,  
And has no Soul to play an aftergame.  Phra. 
But may not Atoms meet which Flames disperse?  
Revelling Atoms made the Universe.  
Or may not numerous Heaps of Victims slain,  
Dislodge the transmigrated Souls of men?  
Which stripped of the warm flesh they love to wear,  
Get for the present some thin Rags of air?  
Or rather, spite of all our wisdom knows,  
These may be real men, we shapes suppose?  
For all these spacious Regions of the Sky,  
Can never waste like Lybian Deserts lie?  
Nature frames nothing for a vain intent,  
And no doubt Peoples every Element.  
The Sea has Mermaids, and the purer Air  
May Nymphs of a more fine complexion bear;  
And these were jolly Youths, who in our sight  
Might celebrate some Festival to night:  
For round the airy Plains their Chariot's drove,  
As if they kept Olympian Games above.  Mon. 
All this is raillery; for if a throng  
Of wandering Tribes had there been planted long,  
The busy people of our Globe below  
Had found, perhaps had conquered 'em e'er now.  
No, they are Bubbles and have no abode,  
And only speak the greatness of that God  
Who guards this State, and do so strange appear,  
I would my own weak little God cashier,  
And this more mighty Jewish one adore,  
But when I once have offered to a Power,  
To him, as to my King, I loyal prove,  
Or to the Friend or Mistress that I love.  Phra. 
And I to these so little credit give,  
I scorn a God that by his Tricks must live.  
I from all Shadows set my Vassals free,  
And plainly bid 'em fear no Power but me.  
But ha! kind fortune to my arms does fly,  
Th' accesses to the Gardens open lie,  
Where oft Clarona on the Gods bestows  
The Hours designed by Nature for repose.  
Some happiness is near, my heart forebodes,  
I'll in and chase away my Rival Gods.  [Exit. Mon. 
Oh! that my Rivals were as weak as they;  
The great the brave Vespasian bars my way.  
Glory and Empire are to Female blood  
More tempting dangerous Rivals than a God.  [Exit. [The Scene changes to a Garden, Clarona 〈◊〉 Enter Phraartes. Phra. 
Oh! whither Love hast thou thy wanderer led?  
My feet profane the ground on which they tread.  
All the abstracted sweets in Nature found,  
Lie here together in a slumber bound.  
No Mortal can resist the charming bliss;  
This hand does ravish from my lips a Kiss.  [Clarona 〈◊〉 Clar. 
Save me, good Spirits! what Shade is that so nigh?  [Starts at the sight of Phraartes. Phra. 
No Ghost, or Shadow, but substantial I.  Clar. 
The King!  Phra. 
Your Slave; may I your pardon gain,  
That I your sacred privacy profane?  
wandering in solitude the Gardens round,  
I all accesses hither open found.  
Coming to sigh away the hours of night  
Under your window;— by the Moon's pale light,  
Who o'er your Face her Silver Garment spread,  
I found you slumbering on this Rosy Bed.  
It was impossible from hence to go,  
With wonder fixed to Earth, I here might grow,  
My Root would wantonly beneath you creep,  
To suck the sweets of earth on which you sleep.  
This I might do, should I here longer stay,  
Yet then as easily be torn away.  Clar. 
On the Night's wonders gazing all alone,  
Weary and pensive here I sat me down,  
And to a gentle sleep resigned my sense,  
Not fearing this my Servants negligence.  Phra. 
My Stars contrived it thus to crown my love,  
And I their noble kindness will improve.  
Now is the Golden Minute come at last,  
The rich Extraction of a thousand past,  
Which like the patient Chemist I have spent  
In toil, and many a vain Experiment.  
And (oh! my Stars!) if now I let it go,  
Never this blessing on me more bestow.  Clar. 
What does the King by this discourse design?  Phra. 
Oh! Youth and Love will help you to divine.  
What meaning did young Troilus display,  
When to the Grecian Tents where Cresseid lay,  
From Troy in such kind conspiring Night  
And Hour as this, he stole to his delight?  
What meant Leander, when at such an Hour  
He laboured through the Waves to Hero's Tower,  
Whilst on the shore to ravish him she stood,  
From the Embraces of the faithless stood?  Clar. 
Are you the King?  Phra. 
Exalted by such bliss,  
I am God, and you my Paradise.  
Where e'er I wander pleasures crowd my way,  
And I with every one a life could stay.  
Oh! I could dwell an Age upon this Hand;  
But should I to those Cheeks or Lips ascend,  
Such numerous delights my senses court,  
To gather all, Eternity's too short.  Clar. 
What has this change in King Phraartes made?  
Will he my Ears with such discourse invade?  
He who approached me with so great an awe,  
Priests with less reverence near Altars draw;  
That any thing was sacred did deny,  
On Earth, in Nature, or in Heaven, but I?  
What have I done that has my Honour stained,  
And made me now deserve to be profaned?  Phra. 
Can any Temples be profaned by Prayer,  
Or Altars by the Victims which they bear?  Clar. 
By Victims sinful and impure they may:  
And only such you at my Altars lay.  Phra. 
You wrong my innocent and spotless love.  Clar. 
Convince me of it, and from hence remove.  
Him who my ruin did attempt to night,  
I mean yourself, for ever from my sight.  Phra. 
From their Foundations bid me Mountains tear,  
Or hale a fixed Star out of his Sphere,  
Remove the world, as soon I could obey,  
As take myself from hence, whilst here you stay.  
This is my Heaven, which I with toil attain,  
And shall I now leap down to Earth again?  
My arms for safety I around you spread,  
Throw me from this high happiness I'm dead.  Clar. 
You on a Precipice would safely dwell,  
But you would strive to throw me down to Hell.  
You for my ruin are by Hell designed,  
And chosen for it out of all Mankind.  
As having all their excellence and more,  
By whom he thousands had subdued before:  
The Serpent in your Figure (I believe)  
Stole into Paradise and ruined Eve:  
With such a pleasing Tongue he spoke his suit,  
And with such Hands bestowed the fatal Fruit.  
That to put all his Troops at once to flight,  
I must for ever banish you my sight.  Phra. 
Hell and his Troops into destruction go,  
My love of their designs does nothing know:  
My love's intentions generous have been;  
But if for you to love again be sin,  
Be saved, pursue the Joys you call divine;  
Attain your Heaven, though I despair of mine.  
But pray let me be saved a little too,  
The Heaven I cannot compass, let me view.  Clar. 
No, Sir, in pity I deny your Prayer,  
Why should I keep you in a scorching air,  
When I no ease or pleasure can bestow?  
If to a cooler Clime you will not go,  
The Sun whose heat does your Diseases breed,  
Tan your fair Virtues, and your Torments feed,  
Thus, Sir, I will for ever cloud from you;  
This I am bound in Charity to do.  Phra. 
Share your compassion, and unveiled remain,  
I am your Enemy and beg for pain.  
Let not so great a Sinner torment want.  Clar. 
Beg nothing of me, for I'll nothing grant.  Phra. 
What not to see you! are those Beauties made  
To pine and wither in a barren shade?  Clar. 
Ask me no more, I will no more reply.—  Phra. 
And will you then one parting view deny?  
Sun rise no more, for ever quench thy light,  
For now the world has nothing worth our sight.  [Ex.   

ACT IU.  

SCENE I.  A Room in the Tower. Enter John, Eleazar, Pharisees, etc. Eleaz. 
HOW, for these several hours in Council sat?  John. 
Close in a Tower with Guards at every Gate:  
All their Designs they hide; but it is said,  
Some tender Lambs must be to slaughter laid.  1 Phar. 
With blood of Saints he stains the holy Chair,  
He is a Tyrant and Idolater.  John. 
I fear through frailty he too much inclines,  
And am in doubt some impious thing designs;  
Nay am assured— Nay, since it must be known,  
The horrid Villany's already done!—  
Vespasian is our Sovereign Lord declared,  
And Crowns of Gold are for his head prepared.  
Nay, at an hour when all in sleep lay drowned,  
A Guard in secret brought an Image Crowned:  
His head a guilded wreath of Laurel wore,  
His face Vespasian's proud resemblance bore.  
'Tis in the Palace hid, but they design  
At his approach it shall in public shine;  
Stand in the Temple, and our Laws defy,  
And all that will not bow to it shall die.  Eleaz. 
Oh horrid! horrid! well, oh stormy Air!  
For Divine Vengeance may'st thou Troops prepare.  2. Phar. 
It is a Plot I plainly understand,  
To murder all the Zealous of the Land.  John. 
Heaven knows with grief I stain his Mitred Hairs:  
Who lays me near him as the Robes he wears.  
But in my Soul it did impatience breed,  
To think the Sheep should by the Shepherd bleed;  
To see the Temple by the Priest defiled:  
Nay more, to see the Father kill the Child.  
And if myself unfaithful I proclaim,  
In saving it, I'll glory in my shame.  Eleaz. 
Appease your Soul, if this can Treason be,  
'Tis holy falsehood, pious treachery.  John. 
But yet all falsehood has the face of ill.  1. Phar. 
In a good Cause 'tis but Religious Skill.  John. 
Nay to preserve the Choice Ones of the Land,  
I'd be the Earth on which their Tower should stand:  
For though our Lights by various Names we call,  
Like Jewels still there's Beauty in us all.  
And though like Brethren brethren ourselves we fight,  
'Gainst Foster-fathers' we can all unite.  Eleaz. 
No more! we'll have his blood, the Tyrant dies,  
The Priest shall be the Morning Sacrifice.  2. Phar. 
He does the Priestly Diadem defile,  
And we'll revenge the consecrated Oil.  John. 
Nay, since your Zeal's inflamed, I'll lead you on,  
And with my aid my former guilt atone;  
For friendship's sake I did the Cause betray,  
But now I will the heavenly Call obey.  
A Brazen Image stands before my eyes;  
Revenge! revenge! a Voice within me cries,  
Kill, kill these cursed Apostates, who design  
To set Hell's Standard 'midst the Camp Divine.  
Spare not a man who in his List is found,  
Who spares a Traitor does Religion wound.  Eleaz. 
I'm thirsty for their blood.  1. Phar. 
And I.  2. Phar. 
And I.  3. Phar. 
To eat their flesh were holy gluttony.  John. 
It were! and Heaven no doubt would bless the Meal,  
Such unclean Beasts we might devour with zeal.  
But their foul flesh shall not be so preferred;  
In Craws and Paunches it shall be interred.  
They have no right to any other Tomb,  
Nor shall defile Jerusalem's sacred Womb.  Eleaz. 
Their Souls renounce the Gardens of the just,  
Nor shall their Bodies here pollute their dust.  1. Phar. 
But when shall we attempt this blessed deed▪  
How many Swords! what Forces do we need?  2. Phar. 
For they are strong, and keep an hourly guard.  
And our poor 〈◊〉 Friends, debarred  
From aiding us, under their 〈◊〉 lie.  
Besieged by all the fury of the Sky.  John. 
Ask you for aid when you heavens' service do?  
We are too strong, th' Idolaters too few.  
We have our Cause, our Innocence, and Prayer.  
Nay, we have Armies mustering in the Air▪  
And are to Arms invited from above,  
The Winds are joined to represent our Love▪  
Troops rendezvous'd in Clouds to show from whence,  
In our distress, we may expect defence.  
A fire shone round the Temple to declare.  
Pure Reformation is enkindled there▪  
The Brazen Gates untouched were seen to move,  
To let us know the Gates of Divine Love  
Were opening to us, if we'll enter in▪  
And now Jerusalem's glory does begin.  Eleaz. 
Oh! blessed hour! and yet more blessed we▪  
Who in this work the Instruments shall be.  1. Phar. 
We are too few the sweet rewards to share.  2. Phar. 
They will be more than humane strength can bear.  Eleaz. 
Nay, we to farther aid have no pretence,  
But yet our Friends that come for our defence,  
May, of our mighty deeds, Spectators be.  John. 
They shall admittance have in Charity.  
Not that in such a Cause their Swords we need.  
A Cause that will reward each drop we bleed.  
Sinners who die in it, may at the price  
Of a few Traitor's heads, buy Paradise.  
Has any here—  
Defiled a Sister, or a Father slain,  
A traitor's blood will wash away the stain.  
And if to Sinners such Rewards accrue,  
What Joys what Pleasures will be showered on you,  
Who are all Saints?  Omn. 
All, all.  Eleaz. 
I am in pain!  
My breast cannot my furious zeal contain.  John. 
And now, my Friends, when Providence shall deal  
Rewards and Blessings to your faithful zeal;  
And you shall make division as you please,  
O'th' hoarded wealth of richest Palaces;  
Oh do not cast a hot and lustful eye  
Upon the Temple, if she naked lie,  
And her bright Gold should on your fingers smile;  
Take heed— for that will all the rest defile.  1. Phar. 
Oh doubt us not!  John. 
Still barring all Constraint;  
For nothing is so sacred as a Saint.  
And in our own defence we may make bold,  
Serving our Master, with our Master's Gold.  [One Enter 
But see the Spy we at the Palace placed,  
To watch the Sanhedrim, returns in haste.  Mess. 
O, Sirs! to Arms! a Voice from Heaven calls!  
From foggy Clouds a sleepy Unguent falls:  
And some good Angel round the Palace flies,  
And with it has anointed all their Eyes;  
But to the Priests does double Portions give,  
That nothing in the Palace seems to live;  
But a few pining Lamps, that burn so dim,  
They seem as drowsy as the Sanhedrim.  John. 
'Tis plain, Heaven aids our holy Cause, and sends  
A Spirit to bind their hands, and help his Friends.  2. Phar. 
If we with speed these Traitors not destroy,  
Angels will do't, and rob us of the joy.  3. Phar. 
Haste, haste, let us go fire the Palace straight.  John. 
No— first assist our Friends without the Gate.  
Both shelter and revenge will now be good.  Eleaz. 
Yes— let them warm themselves with Trautors blood.  3. Phar. 
But will not the strong Gate despise our pains?  
'Tis clad in Iron, and girded round with Chains?  John. 
Fear not, I can the sacred Tools produce,  
Kept in the Tower for the Temple's use.  
And they can force it open in a trice  
With as much ease as Prayer does Paradise.  Eleaz. 
Haste, haste, the Cocks have thrice alarmed the dawn,  
And Night's black Chariot, as by Whirlwinds drawn,  
Drives on to its last Stage in solemn state,  
Whilst raging Storms on her Retinue wait.  
Now whilst the Tempest rocks the drowsy Town,  
Oh! let the heavenly work with speed be done.  2. Phar. 
Now is the time, their Souls, like Flocks of Sheep,  
Are kept for Sacrifice in Folds of sleep.  1. Phar. 
The talking Echoes can convey no noise,  
The busy Tempest all the air employs.  [Enter one with Iron Bars and Tools. John. 
See! see! the blessed Instruments are come!  
Now Sinners hastens your eternal doom.  
Hell will be crowded with the numerous flight  
Of unclean Birds we shall unpearch to night.  
To Arms!  All. 
To Arms, to Arms!  John. 
But first let's swear,  
That each shall equally the danger share.  
By Jerusalem.  [All lift up their hands. All. 
By Jerusalem.  John. 
By the Temple.  All. 
By the Temple.  John. 
By the Altar.  All. 
By the Altar.  John. 
By the most binding Oath which we can swear,  
By Corban, the Divine Oblation there.  All. 
By Corban.  John. 
Now let each draw his consecrated Sword,  
Corban's the Oath, and Liberty the Word.  
So if I now succeed in this design,  [Aside. 
One more Religious Lie, the Mitre's mine.  [Exeunt. [A noise of breaking Locks and forcing Gates. The Scene is drawn, and Mathias, Sagan, Phineas, and the whole Sanhedrim are represented sitting asleep, Lamps burning, and the Guards asleep at the Gate. The Ghost of Herod arises. Ghost. 
Cries, shrieks, and groans from a lamenting Crowd,  
Th'air filled with wandering Souls, the Streets with blood!  
In Seas of Fire the falling Buildings drowned;  
In Chains of sleep the Priests for slaughter bound,  
Fit pleasure for a Tyrant's Ghost, like me:—  
Worthy my Pilgrimage from Hell to see.  
Sleep on, you damned Tormentors of Mankind,  
That humane Souls in airy Fetters bind,  
And all their little pleasures dearly sell,  
And will not let 'em go in peace to Hell.  
And thou, proud Town, who stillest thyself Divine,  
Queen of the world, heavens' earthly Concubine,  
Who all his favour to thyself hast gained,  
Art at th' expense of Miracles maintained,  
And fill'st the gazing world with panic fears,  
Tremble— for see within thy Walls appears,  
The brightest Vision of this threatning Night,  
The Ghost of Herod the great Edomite:  
Greatest of all abandoned Esau's Line,  
Who in thy Throne once Royally did shine,  
Ravish thy Beauty and thy Lord disgrace,  
And took his Mistress to my own embrace;  
And not contented to defile his Bed,  
His Altars robbed, and on his Victims fed;  
Revealed in blood, and did his power despise,  
And in contempt of all his Prophecies,  
Placed Esau's Chains of slavery on Thee,  
And soundly scourged old Jacob's Treachery:  
Then with mock penitence for all my guilt,  
To my own glory I thy Temple built:  
Now all the Ills in life I could not do,  
La malicious tortured Ghost pursue.  
Lash me, ye Furies, blow th' infernal fire!—  
Fill me with rage, that I may now inspire  
My Nation with the Spirit on't refined,  
And pour it scalding into every mind.  
And (you gulled Priests) invoke no more heavens' aid,  
He has you all into my power betrayed;  
And He go whet the Idumean Swords,  
And nobly banquet the infernal Birds.  
They flock about, and heaps of Carrion smell,  
I'll make to night a Jubilee in Hell.  [Exit, The Ghost goes out, and noise of clashing of Swords shricking and knocking at the Gate is heard, at which they all awake. Matth. 
In what dark Cave has all our Souls been bound?  Phin. 
Or in what drowsy Labyrinth wandering round?  Sag. 
Rather to what infernal Dungeon lead,  
Guarded with Fiends, and haunted with the Dead;  
For I have been with droves of Souls pursued,  
Chased hot, and reeking from warm Flesh and Blood.  Phin. 
I nothing dreamed but was securely laid,  
As void of sense as e'er my Soul was made;  
Yet as my dawning Soul began to rise,  
Methoughts I knocking heard, and distant cries:  
And from the Ground a sulphurous Vapour broke,  
That formed itself into a shape, and spoke.  Matth. 
A Guard of Spirits walked to night the round,  
And all our Souls in sleepy-fetters bound,  
Benumbed with fatal slumbers by degrees,  
We seemed like an old Grove of Sapless-Trees,  
Whose Vegetative Souls in Winter creep  
To their warm Roots, and there securely sleep.  [A noise within. 
But hark! a Martial noise begins to rise!  Phin. 
Loud knock's at the Gate.  They all as amazed look out several ways, and return. Sag. 
And horrid cries!  
Arm! Arm! The Court's beset; a furious Tide  
Of fighting Crowds beat up on every side.  Phin. 
The Streets with glittering Spears are planted round,  
And Bloody River's water all the ground.  Math. 
And see where Esau's Son's proud Banners fly,  
And from the Temple Walls the Town defy.  Sag. 
We are betrayed, and the Angelic Powers  
Forsook their guard to night about these Towers.  
What shall be done in a distress so great?  Phin. 
What else, but fly with speed to some retreat?  Matth. 
How? shall I fear of these vile Rebels show?  
Rather to meet their impious rage I'll go.  Sag. 
Alas! they seek your Life, nor can y' oblige  
Men, whose Devotion lies in Sacrilege.  Matth. 
heavens' Will be done! But better I were slain,  
Than I myself my Diadem profane;  
Whose Glory should I stain with sordid fears,  
My Sacrilege would be as great as theirs.  Phin. 
I see no cause why we should vainly fight,  
To guard those Sacred things Heaven seems to slight.  Math. 
If Heaven 's pleased t' abandon their defence,  
I'll guard them in the room of Providence.  John, Eleazar, and their party now break into the Room 〈◊〉 drawn Swords, and chase Mathias, etc. o● the Stage, 〈◊〉 retreat fighting as into some other Rooms of the Palace, and at the door to hinder John 's pursuit. Matth. 
My Guards!  [Exit Matth. Sag. Phin. etc. Omnes. 
Pursue.  Joh. 
So quick retreat have 〈◊〉  Eleaz. 
Fire this accursed 〈◊〉 to the ground:  
This filthy Nest that does all lewdness hide,  
Ambition, Avarice, hot Lust, and Pride,  
The Earth no longer shall this burden bear.  Joh. 
And greater Lewdnesses are harboured here;  
Vespasian's Image, and his Goddess both,  
Queen Berenice, that Romish-Ashtaroth.  
That fair Abomination, to whose eyes  
The Tyrant offers Daily-sacrifice.  Eleaz. 
Burn 'em together, let their dust repair  
To play and dally in the wanton Air.  1. Phar. 
Fire it; our time let us no longer lose.  2. Phar. 
And see, his traitorous head the Tyrant shows.  Matth. Sag. Phi. appear in the Balcony. Matth. 
You, Impious Rebels all, which here I see,  
Sons of Confusion, Blood and Cruelty;  
Born for our Nations and Religion's shame,  
That would extirpate your own Tribe and Name,  
Have wrought such ills, that even the Rising Sun  
Startles to see the villainies y' have done:  
What Cruel Devil does your hearts inspire  
To all these ills? what is it you desire?  Eleaz. 
Traitor! Our Country's Freedom and thy Blood.  1. Phar. 
And Caesar's Image here, thy Molten-god.  Matth. 
What Molten-god?— what Image?  Phin. 
This is plain,  
The cursed Image of some lying Brain.  Eleaz. 
This pious Man can all your doubts remove,  
And, Tyrant, to thy face thy Treasons prove.  Matth. 
Villain, more false than Hell,— Dost thou at last  
Add this bold Lie to all thy Treasons past?  To John. John. 
Oh, dares this man thus confidently plead?  
Merciful Heaven that will not strike him dead?  Eleaz. 
Boldly reply.  To John. John. 
Now impudence thy aid.  Aside. 
And are you not (bad man!) of Heaven afraid?  
Do you not every hour expect at least  
Heaven with your Tribe the hungry Earth should feast?  
It's qualmish stomach with cold meat is cloyed,  
Not one warm Meal since Corah's time enjoyed.  
But now a Dish is dressed, and I should fear,  
But for these holy men, to stand so near.  
Into my Soul what great Disorders creep!  
Zeal makes me rage, and Pity makes me weep.  
An aged man, a Priest, and once my Friend;  
But in Truth's Cause all these distinctions end.  Matth. 
And dar'st thou with so little fear or shame  
Thy Predecessor Rebel Corah name?  
And not expect his fate should be thy own,  
Whose Treasons are so much by thine outdone.  
Oh, hungry Earth! to thy repast with speed!  
But spare your tears, and to your proofs proceed.  John. 
Then did not I in several persons sight,  
In the first Month, on the third Watch of night?  
But was it I? that I should e'er descend  
To so much frailty to oblige a Friend?  
To my own goodness I am made a Prey;  
I am too meek, too ready to obey!  
But did not I, to all the Guards unknown,  
Convey by night an Image into Town?  
And when I wept, and did the thing oppose,  
You smiled, and said, let us delude our Foes,  
And play with that Leviathan a while,  
We by these Arts shall all his Power beguile.  
But shall not we deceive ourselves, said I?  
No strength or wisdom like integrity!—  
Then weeping, you replied, Alas! 'tis true:  
But yet the Foe is strong; what shall we do?  
Good Heaven I hope will no advantage take,  
If we should sin a little for his sake;  
Then as I trembling stood, and wept and prayed,  
You are too tender, humble John, you said.  
But ah said I again!—  Matth. 
No more, no more!—  
In pity to thy injured Soul give o'er;—  
Thy shameless Lies has Manhood so defamed,  
Of humane Nature I am almost ashamed;  
And did not some the port of it maintain,  
We might conceive Mankind were made in vain.  
Nay even admire why Heaven such pains should take,  
Mischievous Tools of dirty Clay to make.  
But to thy impudent unmanly Lie,  
My Guards and Javelins shall with speed reply.  Mathias, etc. go out of the Balcony, and John, etc. break open the door, after which a noise of fighting is heard; then Enter Phraartes and Monobazus as disturbed with the neise, and newly waked. Phra. 
What fierce and horrid found'st thus early fill  
My deafened Ears? or am I dreaming still?  
For snatched by sleep into an Ambuscade,  
I've all this night with Charms and Visions played.  Monob. 
And mighty Weights my Soul a Prisoner kept,  
As if beneath some Mountain I had slept.  Phra. 
This is some Magic place, where Spirits fly,  
Where every night the Trees all blasted die;  
And men like Watches are in pieces ta'en,  
And set together in the morn again.  
Well might the almost immortal Natives here  
Preserve their vigour to the thousandth year;  
Since every night their Bodies were not worn,  
But gently leapt and folded up till morn.  
But what bold Spirits durst so saucy be,  
To try these damned Experiments on me?  
But hark! a Noise within, like clash of Arms!  Monob. 
Palace and City filled with strange Alarms.  [Monobazus looks within. 
What Vision's that presented to my Eyes,  
The Court with bleeding Bodies covered lies!  
The brave Highpriest amidst a Guard does stand,  
Offering Victims up with his own hand  
To this fair Palace's offended Gods,  
By impious Slaves disturbed in their abodes.  Phra. 
They are some warlike shapes in Masquerade.  Monob. 
Now toward the Temple they retreat have made.  Phra. 
Fortune my Sword's fair Concubine does prove  
As false to me as Juno does to Jove!  
Entice with sleepy Charms my sense away,  
Whilst she with others does the Strumpet play.  
So Jove on Ida charmed, the Trojan's fled,  
But when the God rose from his flowery bed,  
And looked abroad out of his Golden Tent,  
The Greeks their saucy Valour did repent:  
The wanton Sorceress, now I am awake,  
Shall to my injured Sword again give back  
The stolen favours she to every Slave,  
During the Minutes of my slumbering gave.  [Exit. Monob. 
Yes, Fortune shall repent her Clownish pride,  
In scorn of Princes thus with Slaves to side.  [Exit. They go off, and after a little fighting without, Enter in their Night-Gowns, as in a fright, Queen Berenice, Clarona, Semandra, and Phedra. Q. Beren. 
Must I be murdered then without delay?  
And do the Slaves my kindness thus repay?  
Did I, like some good Angel from above,  
Come from the Heaven of Glory and of Love,  
To help these Wretches in their deep despair,  
And do the envious Fiends such malice bear?  
They rather trebly will augment their pain,  
Than I shall see my Paradise again.  Clar. 
My Father to his Foes by Heaven resigned;  
This to contending Nature seems unkind:  
But I'll not dare to pass too harsh a sense  
On any ways of Divine Providence,  
So many Crowns our Sufferings here attend,  
None for such interest would refuse to lend.  
But See! the Sagan and Prince Phineas here!  
But oh, distractions in their looks appear.  Enter discoursing, and in great hazel, as escaped from a Fight, Sagan and Phineas. Sag. 
Ah, Madam! all is lost! the sacred man,  
By Heaven deserted, is a Prisoner ta'en.  
Inspired with a devout and glorious pride  
To guard that Heaven, who him its aid denied.  
A brave retreat he to the Temple made,  
To conquer there, or perish in its aid.  
A living Rampire for a while he stood,  
And moted round the sacred place with blood:  
The Temple trembled, and the Lamps burned dim,  
Shook with the dangers that assaulted him;  
Whilst unconcerned he on his Guard did wait,  
More fixed and steadfast than the Brazen Gate;  
Enduring thus a hot and furious Siege,  
And even shamed the Heaven he did oblige:  
But e'er the King, who like a whirlwind slew,  
Tearing down Groves of the seditious Crew,  
Through thick and stubborn Crowds could make his way,  
The Rebels had secured the Noble Prey.  Clar. 
A fall like to his life renowned and great,  
And does the story of his Fame complete.  Q Beren. 
Then we are lost, this cursed hour will prove  
The fatal period of my life and love.  Clar. 
What I divined! now all my hopes are gone,  
And my great Father's glorious race is run.  
How fares the King?  Phin. 
A Sea of armed Foes  
That Monarch like a flaming Isle enclose.  Sag. 
Waste no more precious time complaining here,  
But to our Friends our quick assistance bear.  [Ex. Phin. Sag. Q. Beren. 
And am I thrown into the Rebel's power,  
And must I never see Vespasian more?  
It cannot be decreed! I rave, I rave!  
Nature no warning at our parting gave!  
The Air would sure have fighed, the Caves have mourned,  
The Clouds have wept, the hollow Mountains groaned;  
All Friends of love would have expressed their fear  
Of two so kind, so constant, and so dear:  
Nature would then have had convulsive pains,  
And blood have startled out from both our Veins.  Clar. 
Alas! too little care you did express  
Of so much love, and so much happiness.  
Why would you thrust yourself into a Den  
Of Beasts, who only have the shapes of Men?  Q. Beren. 
I came not here to offer you a Peace,  
The Roman power and glory to increase;  
To add to Empire was not my design,  
Though I may hope one day it will be mine;  
All my ambitions do no higher rise,  
Than at a Smile from my Vespasian's Eyes:  
But 'twas from him all danger to remove,  
Danger, the mighty Rival to my love:  
Danger, that does enjoy him more than I,  
To whom from me he every hour does fly;  
Leaps to her arms, and I'm afraid one day  
The Harpy will devour the glorious Prey.  Clar. 
Heaven's special Providence will watch to save,  
For universal good, a man so brave.  Q. Beren. 
You are a Stranger to a Lover's fears,  
They dangers spy whose shadow scarce appears.  
In Camp how do I pass the day in frights,  
In horrid dreams and broken sleep the nights?  
With my own cries myself I often wake,  
And waking, joy to find out my mistake:  
Then in a sound and pleasing sleep I fall;  
But in the morning for my Lord I call:  
How does my Lord, to every one I cry,  
If any look with a dejected eye,  
But sad or pale, for no reply I stay,  
Conclude my Lord is slain, and faint away.  Clar. 
If such vain terrors so much torment breed,  
What would you do, if he were hurt indeed?  Q. Beren. 
What do the wounded and the dying do?  
Love joins in one, what are in Nature two:  
The breasts of Lovers but one Soul contain,  
Which equally imparts delight or pain.  
Once he on danger did too strongly press;  
(For he has all great Virtues in excess;  
In gallant things endures no mean degree,  
But loves and fights still in extremity)  
When, oh! he wounded did return from sight,  
You may conceive th' effect of such a sight.  
My sorrows violence no tongue can tell,  
Thrice in my womens' arms all cold I fell;  
And only was to wretched life again  
Tormented, by the throbbing of his pain.  
Hourly I watched by him both night and day,  
And never moved, but when I swooned away.  
My eye for ever fixed on him I kept,  
Nor lost the sight of him, but when I wept:  
In all his pains I groaned, his Fevers burned,  
Nor found I health or ease till his returns.  Clar. 
Are these the sympathies that kindness prove?  
I fear than I have the disease of love.  
At the brave King the Darts and Javelins fly,  
But it is I am hurt, and I that die.  Q. Beren. 
And has Victorious Love, so long suppressed,  
Obtained at length Dominion in your breast?  Clar. 
If Pity can be Love, than I confess  
I love that valiant Monarch to excess.  Q. Beren. 
Under Compassion you would Love disguise,  
There is no hiding Love from Lovers Eyes.  Clar. 
Perhaps I love, I scarce the difference know,  
But Pity's all that I shall ever show.  Q. Beren. 
Your Father's Fate requires so great a share  
Of grief and pity, you have none to spare.  Clar. 
I rather triumph in my Father's Fate,  
Since Heavenly Glories on his Sufferings wait:  
But the poor King has no one to repay  
The Royal life for me he throws away.  Q. Beren. 
Oh! did he know you loved, he could not die,  
No more than those who enter heavenly joy.  Clar. 
Know it he may, enjoy it never can;  
Twixt my embraces and that glorious man,  
Religious Vows have wider distance made,  
Than if there were whole worlds betwixt us laid.  Q. Beren. 
Were worlds betwixt you, bigger all than this,  
Love o'er 'em all would mount, to fly to bliss.  
Millions of Leagues that Hawk his airy spies,  
And wheresoever you perch him, home he flies.  Clar. 
He must not fly within Religion's Grounds.  Q. Beren. 
Nor ought Religion to invade his Bounds.  
Come, to some Tower let's ourselves betake,  
Where each of us a brave defence will make,  
Less for her own, than for her Lover's sake.  [Ex. Omnes.   

ACT V.  

SCENE I. The Temple.  After a Noise of fighting, Enter John, Eleazar, and the Pharisees, leading Mathias bound. Eleaz. 
KIll, Kill the Priest! to save whose cursed head  
The blood of Saints is so profusely shed!  1. Phar. 
Make the bold Heathen King his rage repent,  
Fix the Priest's head upon the Battlement.  John. 
Yes, Sir, you die— You have a Tyrant been.  Eleaz. 
Bane of Religion—  2. Phar. 
A support of sin!  John. 
Greedy of wealth.  Eleaz. 
Ambitious and profane!  3. Phar. 
Enslaving us that you alone might reign.  1. Phar. 
Despising all that our Traditions own.  John. 
Hater of Zeal, because yourself had none.  Eleaz. 
Patron of all that to your side you gain,  
Proselyte, Gentile, or Samaritan.  2. Phar. 
And that, for which you most deserve to die,  
An open favourer of Idolatry.  3. Phar. 
Yes, Sir, for power you would to Rome have sold  
Our Temple, Altars, and our sacred Gold;  
And placed their Idols here, provided you  
Might have been made a mighty Idol too.  John. 
Rome was the Idol which you worshipped here,  
Your Dagon, Ashtaroth, and Baal-Peor.  Eleaz. 
You are her Priest, she placed you in the Chair.  1. Phar. 
These are her Robes and Ornaments you wear.  2. Phar. 
And to your mighty Moloch's bloody Shrine,  
You did our lives in Sacrifice design.  Matth. 
Amazing Impudence!  John. 
Come, do not fly  
To such vain trifles, but prepare to die:  
They will not here so easily believe;  
Let not vain hopes of life your Soul deceive;  
For though I to your Crimes express some hate,  
I have a Jewish Charity for that.  Matth. 
Oh Heavens!—  John. 
What still in this disorder keep!  
Alas! the doleful Object makes me weep!  
An aged man!— nay more a reverend Priest!  
At his last hour in falsehood thus persist.  Eleaz. 
Tears for such sinners ought not to be spilled.  3. Phar. 
His Age and Office aggravates his guilt.  1. Phar. 
A Priest sell Heaven a little power to gain?  Eleaz. 
A Priest so proud?  John. 
An aged man so vain?  Matth. 
Oh! Divine goodness lend my spirit power,  
To rule itself in this tempestuous hour.  Eleaz. 
Come, bind his Eyes.  Matth. 
What, in the Temple too?  
To Heaven itself is there no reverence due?  2. Phar. 
You talk of Heaven!  Eleaz. 
You Sacrilege reprove,  
When if not hindered by the Power above,  
A Tyrant's Image had defiled this place?  John. 
So much dissembling in that aged face!  3. Phar. 
Mock Heaven the instant you expect to die!  John. 
Do you the Being of that Power deny?  
Methinks if Conscience no respect can gain;  
Shame before me a little should restrain.  
Do not I know?— Oh, that I ne'er had known;  
It costs me many a most bitter groan.  Eleaz. 
Grieve not yourself, your Cause needs no defence.  John. 
Oh! Divine Gift! of useful impudence.  [Aside. Matth. 
Oh! glorious Being! for thy Honour's sake,  
Some swift revenge on these Apostates take.  Eleaz. 
Come to the work— Let us no longer wait:  
But see! the Gentile King has forced the Gate.  Omnes. 
We are betrayed!  Phraartes, Guard, enter and pursue the Rebels, who retire and shut the door after them. Phra. 
What horrid sight is this?  Sees Mathias bound ready to die. 
To what cursed Daemon is this Sacrifice?  
Pursue, pursue the Dogs—  Phin. 
This cursed Tower  
Secures the bloody Rebels from our power.  Phra. 
Fire it, let Flames the savage Villains chase.  Phin. 
It lodges, Sir, too near this sacred place.  Phra. 
The sacred place! there can be no such thing;  
The world has nothing sacred but a King.  
I am profaned, and I revenge will have.  Matth. 
O Truth! why dwellest thou not in Souls so brave?  
Calm, Sir, your Royal Soul! your just desire  
Heaven will pursue, with swifter wings than fire.  
Their crying sins that sleepy Vengeance wake,  
Which mounted, soon their Troops shall overtake.  
But oh what Crowns in Heaven are forming now,  
By Angel's hands, for our Preserver's brow?  Phra. 
Oh! my good Father! there was once an hour,  
When you had greater Treasure in your power:  
Now you may turn me off to Heaven for pay,  
For all this Treasure you have given away.  Matth. 
When I enjoyed this Wealth I do not know,  
Nor yet to whom I did this bounty show?  Phra. 
Nay it is that that makes my grief extreme,  
You have bestowed it on a Cloud, a Dream.  
An empty Shadow does my hopes destroy:  
Were he a Mortal did the Gift enjoy,  
With Kingdoms I would hire him to resign,  
Or spite of him my Sword should make it mine.  
But like Cambyses here I madly stand,  
To fight with winds, and conquer flying Sand:  
Roving imaginations of the mind,  
That fly around the world, and Reason blind.  
Forgive my words, forced from me by my pain;  
'Tis of Religion (Father) I complain,  
And your fair Daughter is the Gift I mean.  Matth. 
Has she the subject of this wonder been?  
Is that the Prize should be so dearly bought,  
A poor and humble Maid below your thought?  
She to Religion may herself bestow,  
Who has no taste of any thing below.  
And say Religion, Sir, should nothing be,  
Then nothing best with nothing will agree;  
And she so little feels the joys of sense,  
She's next to nothing in indifference.  
What should she do with Subjects, and a Throne,  
Who half her life is on her knees alone?  
She to a Lover will give small delight,  
Who wastes in Prayer two Watches of the night.  
Besides, she beauty wants a Throne to grace,  
And fill with pleasures such a Kings embrace.  Phra. 
Good Father, you are skilled in things above,  
Leave Beauty to be judged by Youth and Love.  [Enter Clarona, Phedra, Women, attended with a Guard. Clar. 
Are my Prayers heard, do I my Father see?  
And is he safe from Rebel's Cruelty?  Matth. 
By this great King's protection yet I live,  
To whom next Heaven thou must thy praises give,  
And, would Religion with her title part,  
On whom thou oughtest to bestow thy heart.  
Oh! Daughter, we his kindness ill repay;  
He gives us joy; and we take his away.  Phra. 
Yes, Madam, I in insolence improve;  
For now in spite of your Commands I love.  
Sentence of Banishment on me you laid,  
And I some trials of obedience made:  
But all my strife with mighty Love was vain,  
It did compel me to return again,  
And fix myself on you, my place of rest;  
You I must love, and in your love be blessed.  Clar. 
Still do those thoughts your mighty mind pursue?  
Alas! they torture me now more than you.  
Before it was the Parthian King did crave,  
But now the Prince who did my Father save.  
He asks my love, to whom my life I owe;  
Sir, ask me any thing I can bestow,  
If then I prove to your entreaties rude,  
Call me a Monster of ingratitude.  Phra. 
For the too cruel doom to me decreed,  
I know you Nature and Religion plead;  
That both have firmly against love combined,  
Nature has made it hateful to your mind,  
Religion has deformed it into sin:  
But, Madam, I am all a storm within:  
My Reason cannot hear one word you say;  
My raging love blows all the sound away.  Matth. 
Pity such stormy Passions, Sir, should blow  
In a brave heart, where such great Virtues grow.  Clar. 
With love so generous I could comply,  
Did not Religion and my Vows deny.  Phra. 
No more to me that Dream Religion name,  
On more substantial Causes lay the blame:  
Say I have something does your hatred move,  
Or that I am not worthy of your love:  
That I'm a banished King, and want a Crown,  
And have not yet revenged my wronged Renown.  
Say this, and I will satisfied remain,  
Till I my Honour right, my Empire gain,  
Till Rome, nay till the Captive world I bring  
To beg you to have pity on their King.  Clar. 
Sir, for your love, no Beauty upon earth  
But might adore the Stars that ruled their birth.  
In you, Sir, all their longings may be crowned:  
Do they love Glory, here 'tis to be found;  
If Valour, never was a man so brave;  
If Love, here's all that they can wish to have;  
If Noble Form, here they may please their sight,  
With all that is in Nature exquisite.  Phra. 
Say all these things, and love deny?  Clar. 
I at this Price Eternal Glory buy.  Phra. 
Eternal Glory!— Oh! that sounding word!  
Did it the joy of one hour's love afford,  
Or what a minute's pleasing Dream bestows,  
Than you gained something for the joys you lose;  
But do not sacrifice me to a sound,  
Where no delight or meaning can be found.  Matth. 
Your Royal Soul has only yet perused  
The Book of Nature, which is all confused:  
Religion shows you more of heavenly good,  
Than ever Nature taught or understood.  Clar. 
Or truth or falsehood which so e'er it be,  
If I believe it, it is truth to me.  
Then, Sir, forgive me if I dare not love,  
I dare not to Religion faithless prove.  
Suppose, Sir, I had vowed myself to you,  
Would you be willing I should prove untrue?  
And if I break my Vows with Powers above,  
Consider I may then prove false to Love.  Phra. 
Then give to Heaven the Soul which you have vowed,  
But let these Beauties be on Love bestowed.  
Let me enjoy those Hands, those Lips, those Eyes,  
Which only flesh and blood know how to prize,  
And will not Heaven's estate at all impair,  
And I will be contented with my share.  Clar. 
All is Religion's.  Phra. 
Do not tell me, all!—  Clar. 
It is too late my Vows, Sir, to recall.  Phra. 
All or not all, Heaven's right retain or give;  
Love must have something that he may but live.  Clar. 
What, Father, can be done?  Matth. 
I do not know,  
Feign would I pay the mighty debt we owe.  Clar. 
Me from my birth yourself to Altars vowed.  Matth. 
But by the Law Redemption is allowed.  Phra. 
Oh! blessed News! some hope is drawing nigh!  
Can I her freedom with my Kingdom buy?  Matth. 
Much lower price will do it— keep your Crown,  
Heaven needs it not, the world is all his own.  Clar. 
I've vowed myself,  Matth. 
That is as I allow:  
Subjects and Children have no right to vow.  
When Kings or Parents their consent deny,  
A Solemn League is solemn Villainy.  
But oh! I gave you my consent with joy.  Matth. 
Oh! do not now my infant hopes destroy!  Matth. 
Alas! my Reason no more aid can lend.  Phra. 
How long shall I with Shadows here contend?  
I'm kept a Prisoner in religious Rules,  [Aside. 
And holy Laws the common Jail of Fools.  
That I could travel to some happy Star,  
Or other worlds removed from this so far,  
Where the great Bell Religion is not heard,  
Nor men out of the use of Reason scared;  
Where happy Souls enjoy unbroken rests,  
And have not their delights disturbed by Priests,  
Who daily tolling of this Bell are found,  
And no man lives out of the frightful sound.  Matth. 
I see I'm thrust on ill, deny or grant,  
I must rob Heaven, or let you starve for want.  
Men are all cruelty, but Heaven will spare,  
I'll trust him, and religious sufferings bear.  
Take her, but know I steal from wealth divine,  
And for your use the Gold of Altars coin.  Clar. 
Who gave my being, may of me dispose,  
I yield the Gift a Father's right bestows.  Phra. 
Soul summon all thy force thy joy to bear,  
Whilst on this hand eternal love I swear.  Clar. 
Now I am wholly at the King's Commands,  
I kneel and beg most humbly at his hands,  
My joy, my peace, my everlasting Crown,  
All which I've humbly at his feet laid down.  Phra. 
What means my Queen? what is it she would have?  Clar. 
What I have sworn to carry to my Grave,  
And must, or perish in its just defence,  
I mean my spotless Virgin innocence.  Phra. 
Was e'er such a request to Lover made?  
Think you that such Commands can be obeyed?  Clar. 
Yes, or for ever I must wretched prove.  Phra. 
Ask not, unless you think I do not love.  Clar. 
Sir, if you do, then let your love be seen.  Phra. 
It quickly shall— I'll make you such a Queen—  Clar. 
You may, the happiest that did ever Reign,  
By your restoring Heaven to me again.  Phra. 
To night I'll give it in your Bridal Bed.  Clar. 
First round the world let me in Chains be led.  Phra. 
These are not sure your thoughts, think once again.  Clar. 
The resolution I'll to death retain.  Phra. 
Is this my Bridal Song? a sweeter sound  
Should in that heavenly voice methinks be found.  
Altars, to your omnipotence I bow,  
From me you force what Armies could not do:  
What you will have, no power can retain.  
Fair Saint! I give you to your Vows again.  
Sleep on and dream of mighty things above,  
I will not wake you any more with love.  Matth. 
Live, King Phraartes, let Jerusalem ring.  Clar. 
All chaste and holy Maids his praises sing.  All. 
Long live King Phraartes!  Phra. 
But must I all of you to Heaven resign?  
May not this Hand, those charming Eyes be mine?  Clar. 
I'll grant the King, sure, any modest Prayer.  Phra. 
Pray give me all of you that Heaven can spare.  Clar. 
You shall have all the joys in friendship's store.  Phra. 
I'll be content, since I must have no more.  
You shall remain my sacred Maiden Queen,  
A glorious Treasure only to be seen.  All. 
Long live King Phraartes.  [Enter Messenger, Sagan, and Phineas. Mess. 
Ah, Sir, new terror the whole City fills,  
An Army covers all the Neighbouring Hills;  
A dreadful shadow o'er each Valley falls,  
And Roman Eagles hover near our Walls.  
Queen Berenice, transported with the sight,  
Prepares her Chariots to be gone to night;  
The raging People roused with these Alarms,  
In wild distractions all betake to Arms.  Phra. 
Friend thou dost glorious tidings to me bring,  
Now there is business worthy of a King.  Matth. 
Arrived e'er we are fitted for defence.  Phin. 
We have been wronged with false Intelligence.  Sag. 
Sure all our Scouts have been surprised, or slain!  Matth. 
Haste, lest the Thiefs by this advantage gain,  
Shut all the Gates, and guard the outward Courts,  
But chiefly watch the Rebels strong resorts:  
Then place our Standard by the Camp Divine,  
And there in Arms let all the People join.  Phin. 
Sure they a resolute defence will make,  
Since in the Town our Nation lies at stake;  
Hither our Tribes are from all places come,  
Fear has driven thousands, and devotion some.  
Some for the Passeover that's drawing nigh,  
But thousands only here for refuge fly.  
These Buildings harbour, on a various score,  
Two hundred Legions of our Race and more.  
But on what e'er intent they here prepare,  
They to their wealth and lives devotion bear.  Matth. 
Let 'em all Arm— for though the Foe is brave,  
I on no terms a Peace with Rome will have.  
The Cause is Heaven's, and let the Power Divine  
Relinquish me, if I his right resign.  Phra. 
Father, your Foes already have their doom;  
Triumph this moment for the fall of Rome:  
Her slaughtered Legions feed your Beasts and Fowls,  
Dung Earth with Carcases, and Hell with Souls;  
The Chains of all the Captive Kings, and States  
Their Power oppress, are fallen at your Gates:  
Hither by Fate is all their Glory hurled,  
Stoop and take up the Empire of the World.  
For he who Being to Clarona gave,  
Ought the World's Empire in reward to have.  [Exeunt omnes,    

The EPILOGUE to the First Part.  
So, Heaven be thanked, the Play is at an end,  
The best pretence it has to gain a friend.  
But this designs to draw another on,  
But you may damn 'em now both under one:  
Faults to deserve it every Critic sees,  
And they and we, both want no Enemies.  
First all you Wits, who for some secret Crime,  
Have taken up a pique against poor Rhyme,  
And you at present are no little store;  
And next the Poet's Foes, and they are more.  
Then all whom Priests and Women Saints displease,  
A small and trifling number— next to these,  
(If any such can be) the pious Jew;  
The frantic part of all our Nation too,  
fanatics, who'll be angry with us all,  
For ripping up their base Original;  
Showing their Sires, the Pharisees, from whom  
They and their Cheats by long succession come:  
Whom they're so like, the difference duly prized,  
fanatics are but Jews uncircumcized.  
These Plays than must have luck to be long lived,  
None e'er for damning better were contrived.  
What made the Poet on jerusalem fall?  
A Tale of Sodom would ha' pleased you all.  
But he at show and great Machine's might aim,  
Fine Chairs to carry Poetry when lame,  
On Ropes instead of Raptures to rely,  
When the sense creeps, to make the Actors fly.  
These Tricks upon our Stage will never hit,  
Our Company is for the old way of Wit.  
Then Actors played on Nature's charge alone,  
And only Poets than could be undone;  
But now they lean so heavy on the Age,  
One Blockhead Poet falling breaks a Stage.  
Then Gentlemen for Plays so much distressed,  
Naked of show, by Enemies oppressed,  
The Poot begs the aid of all the brave;  
And that he some pretence to it may have,  
First for his Rhyme he pardon does implore,  
And promises to ring those Chimes no more:  
Next for jerusalem, but with patience stay,  
And you shall see it burnt in the next Play:  
And last, to take away all sad Complaints,  
These Plays debauch our Women into Saints,  
Forgive it in the Plays, and we'll engage,  
They shall be Saints no where but on the Stage.  
FINIS.   

THE DESTRUCTION OF JERUSALEM BY Titus Vespasian. The Second Part. As it is Acted at the Theatre Royal By Their MAJESTY'S SERVANTS.  
Written by Mr. Crown.  
LONDON, Printed for J. Magnes and R. Bentley, in Russel-street in Covent-Garden, near the Piazza's, Anno. Dom. 1677.   

The Play ended, Mrs. Marshal returns and speaks the EPILOGUE, in the Character of Queen Berenice.  
HOw! is the Gallant British Nation here!  
Nay then in spite of Titus I'll appear,  
And make this brave Assembly judge my Cause;  
Would you forsake your Loves for fear of Laws?  
You are so brave, where Love is in the case,  
Men fear no danger, womans no disgrace.  
A Confident is out o' fashion grown,  
Or any Common Friend will serve for one.  
Who, Madam, pays your eyes their Tribute due?  
— 'Tis my Lord such a one:— And, is he true?—  
— Oh! very true, and worthy my esteem.—  
— And, Madam, had you pretty Miss by him?—  
— Yes, Madam;— Oh! we lead a pleasant life,  
Lord how we laugh at his poor nauseous Wise!—  
— I thought you were adored by such a one:—  
— I loved him first, but that Intrigue is done.—  
— Why did you part?— He was a Younger Brother;  
Besides, we grew a weary of each other.  
Thus brave are you, nor can you well forbear;  
Your Women charming, men most gallant are.  
With this small Beauty I might Servants have,  
Now I am free; but I your pardon crave,  
I never more will any Friendships make,  
For my unkind, unconstant Lovers sake.  
No,— you in Love as gaul's do in the Field,  
Charge sierce, subdue, but soon your Conquests yield:  
Never keep long the Beauties which you take,  
But first dismantle 'em, then give 'em back.  
Then to all new Intrigues a long farewell;  
But Woman-like, though I dissemble well,  
I love to talk of my false Lover oft;  
And if the passions I have sighed be soft,  
And such as may unhappy Beauties please,  
All you forsaken slighted Mistresses,  
In mine, to hear your own complain come;  
'Tis better then to mope alone at home,  
Or in the Rooms, where first your hearts were won,  
Or private Lodgings, where you were— undone.  
Come all of you; but if the half resort,  
Queen Berenice will have a crowded Court.   

Some Books Printed for James Magnes and Richard Bentley, in Russel-street in Covent-Garden.  

PLato's Apology of Socrates, or Phedo, two Dialogues concerning the Immortality of Man's Soul.  
A Natural History of the Passions.  
Moral Essays, Translated from the French by the Author of Ars Cogitandi.  
Moral Essays, the Second Part. In the Press.   

PLAYS.  
Country Wit..  
Sophonisba.  
Nero.  
Augustus Caesar.  
Abdelazer.  
Sir Timothy Tandry.  
Madam Fickle.  
All Mistaken.  
English Monsieur.  
Tartuff.  
Andromache.  
Calista.  
Forced Marriage.  
The Destruction of Jerusalem by Titus Vespasian. Both Parts.  
The Rival Queens, or the Death of Alexander the Great. In the Press.  
The Fool turned Critic. In the Press.   

English Novels, New.  
Zelinda.  
Count Brion.  
Happy Slave.  
Happy Slave, Second Part.   

French Novels.  
Princess Monferrat.  
L'Heureux Esclave.  
L'Heureux Esclave, Second Part.  
L'Heureux Esclave, Third Part. In the Press.  
Rare-en-tout; A French Comedy Acted at Whitehall.   

Some Books of Devotion.  
Bishop Andrews Devotions, and Manuel for the Sick.  
Thomas à Kempis.  
Dr. Tailor's Psalter, with the Collects and Prayers to each Psalm.  
Collet's Devotions.  
Drexelius of Eternity.    

THE PROLOGUE.  
HOw! once again this fair and noble Show!  
The Poet hopes you will good-natured grow:  
He showed before his Muse but to the waist;  
The Jewish Harlot hopes her danger's past,  
If she above could aught to please you show,  
You will implicitly like all below.  
The Fool is hardy who to write does dare;  
As strong in brain as Samson in his hair  
He needs to be, who conquers when he writes,  
The Pit Philistines, Gallery Girgashites.  
But what Allies to aid him he does choose?  
Priests, Women Saints, and Pharasaick Jews.  
You wicked Wits all Holy things despise,  
More charm in 'em than you perceive there lies.  
Have you forgot since Wit was fooled by Cant?  
The Hero ruined by the sneaking Saint?  
Saintship was making of a wicked face?  
And snuffling was a certain sign of Grace?  
Since by a fine distinction then in vogue,  
The inward Saint was only faced with Rogue;  
And men did subtly split themselves in two,  
And th'outward man did all the mischief do?  
If the good Brethren by a chance did fall,  
In that deep pit of sin you Wenching call,  
'Twas but the outward Knave that was unchaste,  
And Sisters sinned but downward from the waist;  
The inward Maid as chaste was as before,  
And th'upper parts did sanctify the lower.  
Thus they could sin, and yet be Sisters too;  
Women are Wenches straight, who sin with you.  
Since those false Pharisees did works so great,  
Why may not true ones do a little cheat?  
Pervert your like to these wretched Plays,  
And make you for a Wit the Scribbler praise.  
Tub-preachers rid you all for years at least,  
Pray for an hour endure a Jewish Priest;  
So make the Stage successful as the Tub,  
And Critics may succeed to Beelzebub.   

THE Destruction OF JERUSALEM. PART II.  

ACT I.  

SCEN. I.  TITUS alone, sitting melancholy in his Tent. Tit. 
NO more, no more— whilst I her Doom delay,  
My heart each hour I to new pains betray;  
The more I think, the less resolved I prove,  
And I but wider tear the wounds of Love.  
These thoughts no more shall in my soul contest,  
I'll pull this shaft of Love out of my breast,  
And with one ' spatch conclude my lingering pain;  
This day two Victories at once I'll gain,  
Over my heart, and this rebellious Town,  
Conclude at once their sorrows and my own,  
Subdue both Love and them, my Fame complete;  
Glory begins to rise, now Love must set.  
Said I, my sorrows now an end should know,  
Vespasian never wretched was till now!  
I fight to purchase what I not regard,  
Rome with my ruin does my Sword reward.  
Gods!— the Queen's Sentence I must quickly speak.  
Or I shall all my resolutions break.  
Who waits?—  [Enter an Officer. Off. 
My Lord!—  Tit. 
How forward is the day?  Off. 
The Sun does o'er the Hills his Beams display.  Tit. 
The loitring morn does me a while prevent;  
The beauteous Queen now slumbers in her Tent:  
Some God in dream the fatal tidings bear,  
And for her doom her Noble Soul prepare.  
Till she awakes I must my Love reprieve,  
Mean while I for th'assault will Orders give.  Trumpets sound, and a Centurion enters. Cent. 
Great Sir! Tiberias with the Kings attend  
Without your Tent, and for admission send.  Tit. 
Conduct 'em in, they opportunely come,  
Now stubborn Town I must pronounce thy doom.  Centurion goes out, and immediately enter Tiberias, Malchus, and Antiochus. Tib. 
All health! to glorious Caesar! duty brings  
Myself, and your Allies, these brave young Kings,  
Thus early Sir, your great commands to know;  
Both they and all your Troops impatient grow,  
Your mercy longer should these Rebels save,  
And humbly beg they may permission have  
To throw this City, without more delay,  
Beneath your feet, and end the War to day.  Tit. 
These valiant Monarchs my desires prevent,  
What they petition is my own intent.  
These slaves no more my mercy shall outbrave,  
Yet I would fain this splendid City save.  
Me thinks it does a Noble Town appear;  
Gods Might forsake their Heaven t' inhabit here.  
With much delight I from my Camp behold  
Their shining Temple, flaming all with Gold;  
Which every morning puts such Glory on,  
I oft mistake it for the rising Sun.  
The Mountain which supports the splendid weight,  
Under the bright oppression seems to sweat;  
Whilst flocking Gods from every Region come,  
Despising all their little Fanes at home.  Mal. 
To shining walls do you such kindness bear?  
For the Dens sake will you the Wild-beasts spare?  Ant. 
Three months your generous self you deaf have shown  
To th'importunings of your own renown;  
Feeding your hungry Eagles every day,  
Only in pity to the trembling prey,  
Tiring the Arms of Fame, who to present,  
Her load of Crowns has waited at your Tent.  Tib. 
Both Men and Gods, astonished Sir, appear  
To see a Den of famished Rebels here,  
Which might so soon out of your way be hurled,  
Retard you from the Conquest of the World.  Mal. 
But how much longer shall, may soon be known;  
Two walls your Rams beneath your feet have thrown,  
That now the Town has in its sad distress  
But one poor wall to hide her nakedness.  Ant. 
Yes, mighty Caesar has one Robe bestowed,  
A work that might become some powerful God;  
A wall wherewith he has their towers confined.  
As if to make new wonders for Mankind:  
Built by your Legions in the little space,  
The Sun but thrice drove round his daily race;  
That the fourth morning the astonished Sun  
Stood still to gaze on what your Troops had done;  
And now these Crowds cannot your anger fly,  
They have no way to 'scape you, but to die.  Tit. 
You saw, constrained by famine, how they fought,  
Grass, Hay or Dung, at what dear rates they bought;  
Around the Meadows they would fiercely range,  
And freely Blood for Juice of Grass exchange:  
Nay with the plenty grew luxurious too,  
Were fat with Grass, and drunk with morning Dew,  
That I was forced this remedy to take,  
Both for my Men, and for my Horse's sake;  
Most for their own, whom I would fain reprieve,  
Compel to taste my clemency, and live.  Tib. 
Yes, Sir; but e'er they will a Roman serve,  
The foolish slaves in malice choose to starve:  
Shut in with Famine, he such shoals does eat,  
The savage Monster will our Swords defeat;  
Each Ditch and Vault his foul provisions fill;  
There scarce are living left enough to kill.  Tit. 
A strange distraction on these wretches seize.  Mal. 
The Nobler Jews are sick of that disease,  
Religious madness does their minds oppress,  
And with strange dreams their raving thoughts possess:  
Past cure of Hunger, Darkness, Iron Rods,  
They talk of nought but Heaven, Religion, Gods,  
Of conquering you, nay of enslaving Rome,  
Of Empire here, and Paradise to come.  Ant. 
Nay, every moment they expect a King  
Of their own Nation, who shall succour bring,  
Strange wonders do, both teach and rule the Earth,  
And think the Clouds big with this mighty Birth:  
It never thunders but they think he calls;  
Each storm they watch to catch him as he falls.  Tib. 
Some fondly dream, the Parthian King is he;  
Think him the eldest Son of Prophecy.  
Find him Enrolled in their Divine Record,  
And see strange wonders budding on his Sword.  
A mighty Empire is in him begun,  
He drives along the Chariot of their Sun.  
Behind the Hills already it appears,  
His valour lashes on the loitering years.  Tit. 
Poor Prince! to vault up to such heights as those,  
Improper ground he for his rise has chose.  
My injured patience shall no longer wait;  
This night I have decreed the City's fate;  
And the last morning now is drawing on  
The Sun shall rise o'er this rebellious Town.  
To all my Squadrons strictest Orders bear,  
They for a general Assault prepare.  
And if the Rebels still my mercy slight,  
Bury the City out of humane sight,  
Only from ruin save the bright abode  
Of their great Power, I would oblige that God;  
To aid Rebellion, nobly he disdains;  
Besides the Pile my admiration gains:  
What else of greatness may deserve the name,  
Preserve for monuments of Roman fame.  Tib. 
How will heavens' Vaults with acclamations ring,  
When these commands we to the Army bring?  Mal. 
For this my Arabs have impatient been.  Ant. 
No less have all my Slaves of Comagene.  Tit. 
But that this stubborn City yet may find  
How much to clemency I am inclined,  
Through all my Army Proclamation make,  
That all who to my mercy will betake,  
I'll gladly as my best of friends regard,  
And not alone will pardon, but reward;  
But no compassion shall prevail for them,  
Who this my proffered mercy dare contemn.  Tib. 
Severity to some would thousands save;  
And Sir, your Legions Troops of Captives have;  
If Caesar please, ere we the fight begin,  
We will for terror to the Slaves within,  
The Rebel Captives, ta'en in heat of fight,  
Fix on high Crosses in their brethren's sight:  
The horrid Spectacle will batter down  
Their Souls, as fast as Engines do the Town.  Tit. 
Straight let the Orders through my Camp be spread.  Tib. whispers a Cent. who goes out. Mal. 
I mighty Caesar's pleasure at the head  
Of all my Troops will wait.—  Exit. Ant. 
And I at mine;  
My Squadrons soon shall be prepared to join.  Exit. A Shout. Tib. 
Hark! from the Camp glad shouts invade the Air,  
The news are spread, and all with joy prepare.  
Like fiery Steeds they bound, and beat the Plains,  
And loudly neigh to feel the slackened Reins.  Rattling of Chains, and a loud cry as of many Prisoners within, calling for mercy. Tib. 
The condemned Captives now are lead to die,  
And vainly to your Guards for mercy cry.  Tit. 
These wretch's sorrows move me; none before  
From me did mercy undenied implore.  Tib. 
Now ere our Legions towards the City move,  [Aside 
I must assault awhile my General's Love,  
To rouse his Soul must be my speedy care;  
To a bright Heaven he shortly will repair,  
Where his fair Queen will no admission find.  
Already I have stirred his noble mind;  
But I'm afraid again he's fallen asleep,  
And the sweet dream his Soul does prisoner keep;  
I must no longer the Alarm delay,  
For the whole Empire for his waking stay.  Tit. 
Now to my friend Tiberias I'll impart  [Aside. 
The strange decree of my revolting heart:  
The victory, it o'er that Fire does gain,  
He, and all Rome so long opposed in vain.  Tib. 
Now Sir, one word!—  Tit. 
Ah! Friend! thy thoughts I guests,  
Against my love thou something wouldst express.  Tib. 
The time is drawing near!—  Tit. 
Oh! how I grieve!  
Must I the joys of love for Empire leave?  Tib. 
My boldness, Caesar, punish or forgive,  
Your beloved passion must no longer live.  
You know Rome waits but till this Siege be done,  
To place you partner in your Father's Throne.  
The Empire will not for his setting stay,  
She'll have no twilight, but perpetual day:  
But certain Laws each step to Glory guard,  
As e'er in th'upper world for the reward  
Of your great deeds a Godhead you receive,  
You first by Nature's Law this world must leave;  
So by the Laws of Rome, ere you remove  
To Power and Empire, you must die to Love.  
I mean this Love, which you descend to place  
On a Crowned Head, and one of foreign Race.  
For to be plain, Rome never will admit  
A Queen on her Imperial Throne should sit;  
‛ Less that her Laws you should with one outbrave,  
Who wears her Chains, and is her Royal Slave.  
On Caesar's noble Nature I presume;  
But I must venture whatsoe're's my doom.  
None vainly will deceive a dying friend;  
You to new Worlds of Glory now ascend.  
And Sir, it's my duty to declare  
You are for Heaven, and bid you straight prepare.  Tit. 
Thy Counsels all from perfect friendship flow:  
Too well the Roman Laws and pride I know.  
Oh! Gods! what charming love must I forsake?  Tib. 
Of that, Great Sir, there's none dispute will make.  Tit. 
Ah! Friend! more charming than thou canst believe,  
Or raise imagination to conceive.  
Like frozen Climates thou my Son may'st see,  
But what I feel is mystery to thee.  
She ne'er unvails her beauty to my sight,  
But my Soul's lost in mazes of delight!  
My thirsty Eyes drink in a secret fire,  
I feel a joy no repetitions tire.  
Her charms each day with fresh delight I view,  
And still discover in 'em something new.  Tib. 
What must be done Sir, will you then proceed?  Tit. 
Ah! who can soon from such a love be freed?  
Yet Friend, to show my Glory I'll complete,  
That nothing for my Courage is too great.  
Against this Love which is to me so dear,  
From my own mouth this wondrous sentence hear:  
Know then, the hour I all my hopes can crown,  
Now Heaven rains on me all wished Blessings down;  
Now smiling Fate makes Garlands for my Soul,  
And spreads a mighty Bed for Love to roll;  
To the fair Queen I go, strange news to bear!  
I go— Oh! Heavens!— I go— now to declare.  Tib. 
What Sir?  Tit. 
What thou wouldst ne'er believe before,  
That we must never see each other more.  Tib. 
Amazing news!  Tit. 
Tiberias, 'tis decreed!  
My heart does for the Queen's misfortunes bleed;  
I fear of fatal consequence 'twill prove!  
But nothing can my resolutions move.  
Seven days my lab'uring Soul in pain has been,  
To break the fatal tidings to the Queen.  
Sometimes in sighs I would my thoughts express,  
And fain would have her my intentious guess.  
But she who nobly on my faith relys,  
Little suspects whence the false sighs arise.  
Sure of my heart, and lavish of her own,  
Mistakes th'intention of my secret moan.  
Pities my sorrows, and more charming grows,  
And all my courage wholly overthrows.  
But now, I've all my constancy alarmed,  
My Soul is fixed, and I am wholly armed.  Tib. 
Oh! wondrous Conquest! now your glorious name,  
And mighty deeds, shall fill the mouth of Fame.  
You barbarous Nations did subdue before,  
But now yourself those Nations Conqueror;  
Though some rude fears into our minds would press,  
Yet, Sir, from you we did expect no less.  Tit. 
Oh! we with specious names ourselves deceive,  
And solid Joys for empty Titles leave.  
Oh! Gods! what pleasures now do I forsake!  
I'll think no more, my constancy will shake.  
You flattering dreams of Love begone from hence,  
I'll do't, and ne'er regard the consequence.  Trumpets, and enter an Officer. Off. 
Great Sir, the Queen is lighted at the Tent.  Tit. 
Ah! Friend!  Tib. 
How Sir? so soon your courage spent?  
Desert the field ere you the fight begin?  
Now is the time—  Tit. 
No more,— Conduct her in.  Enter Berenice, Semandra. Ber. 
My Lord in health! now I am eased of pain,  
And my minds quiet is returned again.  
A foolish dream tormented me to night;  
What, matters not, now I have you in sight.  
But ha! I in your looks a sadness spy;  
You only to my words with sighs reply.  
Must all your thoughts to Fame devoted be?  
Can you afford no room in 'em for me?  
If present thus you banish me your mind,  
My Image sure does cold acceptance find  
In your retiring heart, when I am gone,  
And left it quite to your dispose alone.  Tit. 
Ah! Madam! all the Gods can witness bear,  
Queen Berenice is always present there.  
No time, nor absence ever shall deface  
That Image Love once in my heart did place.  Ber. 
Why Sir, do you invoke the Gods for this?  
Does Titus need a friend to Berenice?  
All they can witness will superfluous be;  
Titus is Heaven, and all the Gods to me.  Tit. 
Ye Gods! How dearly must I Empire buy?  [Aside. 
You keep the rates of Glory up too high.  
And too severe a task of me require,  
Who no delight but Berinice desire.  Tit. 
Caesar is lost! what charms does she display?  [Aside. 
Stifled in sweets his courage faints away.  Ber. 
Ah! Sir! your Eyes do from me withdraw,  
As if some Ill unpleasing thing you saw.  
Alas! permit me to relate my fears,  
Me thinks of late a change in you appears;  
These seven days I have not gained a word,  
Your altered looks did not one smile afford:  
Alas! to doubt your love I do not dare,  
And yet I cannot from some fear forbear;  
These Omens must forebode some ill I'm sure.  
My fate has been too happy to endure.  
Say then, whence springs this trouble? if from me,  
Tell me, and I will die to set you free;  
For all is done, that I was born to do,  
If I can add no more delight to you:  
For you are all—  Tit. 
Madam, no more, more—  
On me too liberally you Favours pour;  
For on a most ungrateful man they fall.  Ber. 
Ah! Sir! do you yourself ungrateful call?  
Perhaps you weary of my kindness grow,  
That never was a trouble thought till now.  
I have lived long enough, if that be true;  
For all the joy I take in life, is you.  Tit. 
My sorrow, Madam, since I must reveal,—  
My heart did never greater passion feel.—  
But—  Ber. 
Finish Sir!—  Tit. 
Alas!—  Ber. 
Speak, speak my doom.—  Tit. 
Some God assist me now— the Empire Rome—  
Sound to th'assault, I'll to my Squadrons straight,  
My Soul's oppressed, I can no more relate.  Exit. Goes on the sudden with Tib. Ber. 
Dear Heaven! what should this Mystery contain?  Sem. 
Nothing but Heaven the riddle can explain.  
You have done nothing might his anger move?  Ber. 
Except he takes offence at too much Love.  Sem. 
I wish ill news from Rome has not possessed,  
With some unpleasing thoughts, his troubled breast;  
You know the hate she bears your rank and you,  
And now if he—  Ber. 
Alas! if that were true!—  
But oh! he never can so civil prove!  
A thousand times he has assured his Love  
Should to no haughty Laws of Rome submit,  
And e'er his Love he would the Empire quit.  
And now, that I esteem my danger past,  
He will not sure undo me at the last.  
No Titus Soul must needs be generous still,  
And mine as brave must think of him no ill.  
What e'er it is, I'm unconcerned to know,  
Whilst I have him, let Thrones and Empires go.  
Their loss I would not with one tear redeem,  
I have the Empire of the world in him.  Exeunt.   

ACT II.  

SCENE The Palace in Jerusalem.  Enter Mathias, Sagan, Phineas. Phin. 
HOw long will Heaven his needful aid delay?  
With various plagues our Nation pines away.  
Besieged without, by all the power of Rome,  
Famished within, and no relief does come:  
Our Prayers on daily Embassies we send,  
But Heaven no Angel Volunteers will lend;  
He locks his mercy up in Towers of Brass,  
Nor lets our Prayers on their Embassage pass.  Sag. 
Rome's battering Rams have more effect than ours,  
Her Engines daily overset our towers;  
But our strong cries, though ne'er so loud we call,  
Cannot so much as shake heavens' Crystal Wall.  Mat. 
I cannot dive into the mystic sense;  
But Heaven his presence has withdrawn from hence:  
He none of all his wonted ways replies,  
By Angel's Visions, Dreams, or Prophecies;  
But from his own Temple he has ta'en his flight,  
And given it to Owls, and Birds of night.  Phin. 
A Reason sure no mortal thought can frame,  
But Heaven at us does all his Arrows aim.  
We know not where to make our chief defence,  
'Gainst Famine, Traitors, Rome, or Pestilence:  
If from the Roman fury to preserve  
Ourselves we fight, we only fight to starve:  
If by dear purchased Food we life maintain,  
We fight to eat, and eat to fight again.  Sag. 
These luxurious things you now relate;  
The plenty's lust of that once happy state.  
We must no more on the rich Meadows stray,  
Nor dine with Caesar's. Horses every day.  
Titus not only a poor famished Crew  
Imprisons, but their Walls and Bulwarks too.  
A wondrous proof of Roman greatness shown,  
A mighty Wall surrounding all the Town,  
Built in three days; that now we pounded are,  
Penned in with Monsters, Famine, and Despair.  
For Roman sport, like Gladiators here,  
We fight, as in an Amphitheatre.  
They laugh to see us by each other fall,  
And shut in Famine to devour us all.  Mat. 
And from that Monster we small mercy find,  
Our Crowds are all to fleeting shadows pined;  
They walk about like Spectres of the night,  
Famished to Shapes, would even Ghosts affright:  
Paler than Ghosts the starving people lie,  
And rather seem to vanish then to die.  
No tears for Friends or Kindred now are shed,  
The living look with envy on the dead,  
Who freed from Hunger's rigorous demands,  
Have flung their Tenements on Nature's hands.  Phin, 
And lest devouring Famine should be cloyed,  
And we not fast or soon enough destroyed,  
What little Orts the Monster can afford,  
Are by the bloody Rebels Swords devoured.  Sag. 
And lest the Parthian King our Nation save,  
That we from ruin no defence may have,  
That spreading Tree, under whose Boughs we sat,  
And shelter found in all the storms of Fate,  
Blasted by Love, now withors every day,  
And with him all our comfort pines a way.  Phin. 
Yes, at Clarona's feet ('tis said) he lies;  
Who saves the Father, by the Daughter dies.  Sag. 
It will dishonour on Religion draw;  
'Tis true, we are forbidden by the Law  
To match with Strangers to our Faith and Blood,  
But we are more forbid Ingratitude.  Mat. 
Your Sentiments I do not disapprove;  
My Daughter has my leave to show him Love,  
In hopes to win him by enticing Charms,  
To Divine Pleasures in Religions Arms,  
And to reward his Soul with Heavenly Joy,  
That Crown nor Rome, nor Rebels can destroy.  Phin. 
Why our own safety do we thus neglect?  
And only fight base Rebels to protect.  
We bawd for them, whilst they their lusts procure,  
We from Heavens Officers defend the door.  
Vespasian is the scourge of wrath divine;  
Let us these Rebels to the Rod resign.  Mat. 
I dare not do it, they will then resume  
Their ancient cries; Conspiracies with Rome!  
With shows of truth they will their charge maintain,  
And I shall help 'em my Renown to stain.  Cries without. 
Hark! they have now begun their morning's chase.  Sag. 
This Palace borders near the Holy Place,  
And thence the winds these doleful noises bear.  Mat. 
Some by the Rebels now are tortured there.  Phin. 
Since those foul Spirits did the Temple haunt,  
Our Ears did ne'er these entertainments want.  Mat. 
Our Altars they possess, our Laws contemn;  
Let us atone our sins with blood of them.  Ex. am.  

The Scene changes to the Temple,  Enter John, Eleazar, Pharisees, driving several over the Stage. 1 Pha. 
Oh! bloody Hypocrites!  Joh. 
Scourge! scourge 'em well!  
See if th' Idolaters no food conceal.  Enter a Pharisee followed by a Woman. 1 Pha. 
A Woman in the Act of eating ta'en.  Wom. 
Thou greedy Thief restore my Bread again.  
I three days hunger for this Morsel bore,  
Denied myself, and ran on Nature's score;  
And thou deprivest me of this poor retreat,  
Thou savage Cannibal my life dost eat.  Joh. 
Thou grievest thyself and us with vain complaints,  
We must not sinners feed with Bread of Saints.  
Now move our Plot, but so as none may know,  Whispers a Pharisee. 
Or guess, you shoot my Arrows from your Bow.  
Some Vision feign, for with a vulgar head  
Visions like Pictures serve in Reason's stead.  2 Pha. 
Enough.—  Whispers to John. 
Now Brethren to our great Affairs.—  
Oh! John, how long wilt thou deny our Prayers?  
Seest thou not how the Nation headless lies?  
The Priest deposed by his impieties,  
The Sacred Flock without a Shepherd stray  
Through Thorns and Brakes, and made to Wolves a prey;  
Whilst thou canst all their sufferings behold,  
And wilt not drive 'em safe into a Fold.  Joh. 
How precious is to me the tenderest moan  
Of suffering Saints, I oft and long have shown.  
I have lamented long to see a vile  
and Impious Man the Diadem defile,  
With Names of Good and Loyal guild his Train,  
And Saints with the reproach of Rebels stain;  
Deluding tender minds, who do not see,  
Not Mitres make a Priest, but Sanctity:  
But Sirs, I would not have the burden fall  
On me, the weakest, meanest of you all.  2 Pha. 
We have consulted, wept, and prayed, and find  
Our Souls born to thee by a powerful Wind,  
That blows from Heaven, and against that Gale  
No Humane Wisdom must pretend to Sail.  Job. 
Alas! No Holy Man a Mitre wants!  
For we are all High Priests as we are Saints.  2 Ph. 
But since some weak ones know not their own right,  
And 'gainst Religion for a Mitre fight;  
For sake of tender minds 'twere fit we join  
Internal Saintship with External Sign.  Elea. 
Sirs, shall we not this way the Law offend?  
This Office must to Aaron's Sons descend.  Joh. 
Think you (dear Brother) carnal Sons are meant?  
No, but his Sons by Heavenly descent.  
But yet suppose the literal sense were good,  
Power heavens' Crown Land, is but at will bestowed;  
And when 'tis forfeited by wicked Men,  
Returns to Saints the Royal Blood again.  
I do not speak that such a weight should fall  
On me the weakest, meanest of you all.  2 Pha. 
Dost thou oppose us still? then hear, and fear  
A Vision did last night to me appear,  
Putting a Priestly Mitre in my hand,  Takes a Mitre. 
Crown John with it (said he) at my command.  
If he rejects it, or beneath it faints,  
Let him reject too the reward of Saints.  
Now, if you dare, the Vision disobey.  Joh. 
But did the Vision John distinctly say?  2 Pha. 
With a loud voice it John did thrice proclaim,  
As if it feared I should forget the name.  Joh. 
It must some secret Mystery contain;  
For Dreams and Visions never do speak plain:  
Some of you holy ones by John are meant.  2 Pha. 
You are the John to whom the Miter's sent.  Joh. 
Brethren, indeed you value me too high.  2 Pha. 
Obedience to the Vision's voice deny?  Elea. 
Perhaps the literal sense some doubts has bred,  
I'll be the Mystic John then in his stead,  
And with the Holy Burden will rejoice.  [Ele. puts on a Mitres. John takes the Mitre from Eleazar's Head, Joh. 
I sin, I sin, I will obey the voice.  
Brethren, I thank you all, for though I know  
The Sacred burden, under which I bow,  
Cannot by flesh and blood be undergone;  
Yet you your high esteem of me have shown.  
With Cheerful Wine now fill the Holy Bowls,  
And with Religious Joy refresh our Souls.  
All Creatures for delight of Saints are made,  
And wicked Men do but our Rights invade.  
If one of us a sinners Bread devours,  
He wrongs him not, for all the world is ours.  
The Banquet spread, and let the Music play,  
Thus Saints is all your Coronation day.  
I'm but the humblest servant of you all,  
To you the ease, to me the burdens fall.  
My Priestly Blessing in this Bowl I give;  
May Traitors perish, and the Brethren live.  
For ever live, for ever love maintain.  1 Pha. 
With swelling Hearts and Bowls we wish  All. 
Amen,—  [All drink. Joh. 
Once more I wish, for ever love maintain!  2 Pha. 
Once more we say Amen.—  3 Pha. 
Amen!  All. 
Amen.  [All drink. Joh. 
Now the Apostate I condemn to die,  
Who has so long defiled this Dignity.  
By my own hand that Victim shall be slain,  
And with his Blood I'll bless my following Reign:  
True if the Soul of any private Saint  
Does after such a glorious action pant.  
Then by his valour let the Traitor bleed,  
I'll humbly yield to him the gracious deed.  Exit.  

Scene the Palace.  Enter Clarona, followed by Phraartes. Phra. 
In vain you fly, to death I will pursue!  
I've always been accustomed to subdue.  
Indeed by Villains, Fortune, and by Rome  
I've been betrayed, but ne'er was overcome.  
Here I have brought my War, nor will be gone,  
Till every Province of you be my own.  Clar. 
Little knows he his Love's too great success,  
And my now vanquished Heart's more great distress.  Phra. 
See if she will bestow on me a look!  
What Soul is able such disdain to brook?  
Malicious chance! that ever I came here!  
I stopped my Glory in its full career.  
There had not now in the whole world remained,  
A Throne unconquered, or a King unchained!  
But all that Glory in this fatal place  
I have consumed before one beauteous face.  Clar. 
Did I entreat you, Sir, so long to stay,  
And for my sake your great Designs delay?  Phr. 
I know you scorn my Love and Valour both!  
The safety I bestow on you, you loath:  
You daily like the Morn in blushes rise,  
Because you live by one you do despise.  Clar. 
All this with patience I can hear from you.  Phr. 
You can hear any thing you should not do;  
But you are deaf to all the loudest sounds  
Of all my services, of all my wounds;  
Though Camp and City both do silence break,  
And there the Dead, and here the Living speak,  
All to your hearing cannot force away.  Clar. 
I still can bear.  Phr. 
And still slight all I say.  
Why with such scorn do you my Love deny?  
Show me the man on Earth more great than I,  
And let that man the happy Lover be.  Clar. 
Greatness not valued is at all by me.  Phr. 
What do you value?  Clar. 
Nothing in this vain  
And wretched World—  Phr. 
Would I were out on't then!  Clar. 
Where is the heart such kindness would not move?  
Who can resist such merit? and such Love?  (Weeps.) Phr. 
How! do you weep! Nay then I have done ill!—  
Thus humbly I for pardon to you kneel!—  (Kneels. 
Let not my rage a trouble to you prove!  
I do confess I am unfit to Love.  
Love has too violent effect, I find,  
On my too rash, and most unruly mind.  Trumpet sounds. 
The Trumpet calls!— farewell, too Lovely Maid!  
To reach thy Heavenly Beauties I have strayed;  
Like the Mistaken Fool, who wanders round  
To find the place where Heaven does touch the ground.  
Whilst thou continu'st still, far, far above  
Tallest deserts, and most aspiring Love.  
Who highest climb but reach thee with their Eye▪  
No more than those who in the Valleys lie.  (Offers to go. Clar. 
Oh! stay!  Phr. 
That charming voice did I not hear?  
Or did my thoughts deceive my credulous Ear?  Clar. 
Stay yet a moment with me.  Phr. 
Stay with you!  
That I to all Eternity could do.  Clar. 
Sit down a while, for I have much to say.  Phr. 
Such kind commands how gladly I obey.  Clar. 
Did I e'er think that any should subdue  (aside. 
My heart to Love, and to confess it too?  
Oh Heaven! that thou so kind to me hadst been,  
That I had never King Phraartes seen.  Phr. 
Is it for this that I must tarry here?  Clar. 
You may have patience, Sir, till more appear.  
Oh had I never King Phraartes seen,  
My life had been all happy, and serene!  
I had not known what shame or guilt had meant,  
Nor had a thought of which I might repent.  Phr. 
Have I transplanted any of those foul  
And thorny weeds out of my desert soul  
Into your breast? let 'em not there remain,  
Return 'em to their Native soil again.  Clar. 
You have a Plant, I thought no more could grow  
In my cold breast, than Roses in the Snow:  
A Plant whose name I did abhor before,  
Nor dare I name it lest I speak no more.  Phr. 
What Artist can my trembling doubts remove?  
Oh that I durst suppose it to be Love!  
I'd give my Crown I could my thoughts beguile  
But with those dawning glimmering hopes a while.  Clar. 
What unknown Fates are kept for us above?  
That I should own to any one I Love!—  Phr. 
What vast oppression of delight is this?  
Hold! for I bow beneath the weight of bliss.  Clar. 
Alas! I think indeed you altered grow,  
And blood out of your wounds begins to flow.  Phr. 
Let it flow on:— But did you say you Love!  Clar. 
Suppress this passion, it may hurtful prove.  
Lean on my bosom whilst your wounds I bind.  Phr. 
Oh joy! oh sweetness! oh my ravished mind!  
I cannot speak the half that I would say;  
And hark, the Trumpet calls me now away.  Trumpet sounds. Clar. 
Peace, murdering sound! thou shalt not be obeyed;  
You shall not stir, the bleeding is not stayed:  
Do not go from me.—  Phr. 
Do not go from you!  
If by each blow I gave, a King I slew,  
For all their Crowns I would not stir from hence;  
But I must fight, my Love, in your defence.  Clar. 
Can I be safe, and you in danger thrown?  
Preserve my life in saving of your own:  
Refresh yourself a while with gentle ease,  
And I'll oppose our cruel Enemies,  
If need require;— I'm of a Nation bred,  
Whose softer Sex has oft our Armies led,  
Our Country saved, and singly have prevailed,  
When all the courage of our men have failed.  Phr. 
Sweetest of creatures! if there Angels be,  
What Angel is not wishing to be thee?  
Our state not yet so very desperate grows,  
That we should throw our Jewels at our Foes.  
Love is thy field; for those delightful harms  
Thou art all over thee prepared with arms:  
Shoot all thy Arrows in one melting kiss,  
And wound me, wound me to the death with bliss.  
Our Vows are sealed, and I a God am crowned!  kisses her cheek. Clar. 
In a red Sea of blushes I am drowned.  Phr. 
Torrent of sweetness! pour on me again  
Thy overwhelming pleasures!—  Clar. 
Oh refrain!—  Phr. 
I cannot! cannot!  Clar. 
Now you must no more;—  
When Heaven my Country's freedom shall restore,  
And fill the Land with joy, it may be then  
You shall not be the only wretched man.  Phr. 
That word alarm does to my courage sound!  
Another Soul does in my breast rebound.  
Above a man I shall this moment fight,  
And will be blessed above a God to night:  
For yet ere night no Foe alive shall be,  
To interpose betwixt my joys and me.  
But one kind look, and I to Arms repair.  Clar. 
Take it, and with it my devoutest prayer  
To Heaven to guard you.—  Phr. 
Oh how am I blessed!  Clar. 
Much less than I am!— pray at my request  
Be careful of yourself.—  Phr. 
That I shall be,  
Cause Love has made me now a part of thee.  
I leave with thee for pledge my soul, my heart.  Clar. 
Good Angels guide you.—  Ex. Phr. 
Thou my Angel art.  
She's mine; and now the Gods she did adore,  
And heavenly thoughts shall never haunt her more.  Ex.   

ACT III.  

SCENE The Roman Tents.  Enter Berenice and Semandra. Ber. 
OH heavens'! not see me! nor approach me once!  
All Love, all pity, all respect renounce!  
Amazing change in him this does express;  
Something has ruined all my happiness.  Sem. 
Oh judge not so severely of your fate!  Ber. 
It is too true:— what less than bitter hate  
Could make him thus disordered from me run,  
Nay seek occasions Berenice to shun?  
I have but once beheld him all this day,  
And then he turned his eyes from me away,  
Would not with one, my many smiles requite;  
I was so far from yielding him delight,  
That he would look on any thing but me,  
I was the hatefull'st object he could see.  Sem. 
The sight appeared to me exceeding strange,  
I wonder what it is has wrought this change;  
I cannot think it from unkindness flows,  
I rather fear from Rome some Tempest blows:  
Or from the Camp new threatning clouds arise;  
I see the Armies daily Mutinies  
Against his Love;— and may I not believe  
He grieves lest these your Noble mind should grieve?  Ber. 
Does he so meanly of my heart esteem?  
Is it a trouble to endure for him?  Sem. 
What though it may afford delight to you?  
Should he be pleased you suffer for him too?  
May not the best of men afflicted prove,  
She should be troubled whom he best does love?  
No doubt to crown you Empress he aspires,  
And sinds Rome will not bow to his desires:  
Is it unnatural a generous mind  
Should grieve to be from generous acts confined?  
That he in spite of him ignoble proves,  
And cannot act as bravely as he Loves?  Ber. 
Thy fond defence does but accuse him more;  
As if Rome durst oppose her Emperor?  
Do not I know her Emperors to please,  
She both her Laws and Gods will Sacrifice?  
But what though she denies her mighty Throne?  
His passion sure entirely is his own:  
No Laws did ever yet to Love forbid,  
And having him, can I an Empire need?  
Who want a Throne that they may happy prove,  
Have hearts too great, or else too little Love.  
By none but Caesar I can be undone,  
And I will be appeased by him or none.—  
But ha! a shout!  Sem. 
It should a Triumph be,  
It sounds like the glad voice of Victory.  Ber. 
Inquire the cause, and ease me of my fear;  
I'm on the wrack till I the tidings hear.  Sem. goes out, and immediately reenters. Sem. 
Madam, it is a Triumph as we thought,  
The Army have a glorious victory got,  
Not o'er the Rebels, but their General's mind;  
Your Lord it seems this fatal Morn designed  
To head his Squadrons, and expose in fight  
Himself, the Worlds both glory and delight.  
A thought his loyal Legions could not bear;  
His resolution by the earnest prayer  
Of all his Kings and Captains is subbued,  
And now the glad victorious multitude,  
With joys triumphant make the echoes ring,  
Whilst their great Captive to his Tent they bring.  Ber. 
To the whole world he would have injury done,  
All have a right in him as in the Sun;  
Heaven one so brave for common good does frame:—  
I once an interest in him too might claim,  
But that I fear is lost—  (weeps. 
I'll run to him, my thoughts he shall set free,  
I cannot live in this uncertainty;  
'Tis worse than death his kindness to suspect,  
Or live one moment under his neglect.  Ex. Enter Titus, Tiberius, Malchus, Antiochus. Tit. 
The humble prayers your Loyalties have made,  
My resolution with success invade;  
Go and discharge my Legions on the Town,  
Each moment now is laden with renown.  
The Gods and I will faithfully take care,  
The living and the dead rewards shall share.  
We'll Laurels place on each victorious head,  
I'll crown the living, and the Gods the dead.—  
Are th'Engines mounted?  Tib. 
All upon the wheel.  Ant. 
The towers already seem with fear to reel.  Mal. 
To th'inner wall we now have near access;  
The City's stately Robes, and upper dress  
Of Suburbs burnt, she now no longer bold,  
With some few rags stands shivering in the cold.  Tit. 
How do these men compel me to deface  
The charming beauty of this goodly place?  Tib. 
And that the obstinate and rebel Jews,  
May hope no more your mercy to abuse,  
We on the Plain have drawn before their eyes,  
A lively Scheme to show their destinies:  
They need not vex the Stars, or trouble Art,  
The Hills and Valleys can their fates impart;  
The vocal Forest is transplanted there,  
From groaning Trees they Oracles may hear;  
The Hills are shaded with a horrid Wood,  
And Valleys filled with Vineyards weeping blood:  
Crucified bodies cover all the Plain,  
Let'em view them and obstinate remain.  Tit. 
These men distort my nature, wrest my mind,  
And torture me lest they should mercy find.  Titus talks to Tib. — Enter Berenice, Semandra; Malc. Antioc. gaze on Ber. Mal. 
The Queen! with beauty let me fill my fight,  
And take before hand the reward of fight:  
My Sword in Caesar's service I employ  
But to see her, whose Love he does enjoy.  Ant. 
The fair young Queen! with beauty I'm oppressed!  
Oh Caesar! Caesar! for a man too blessed!  
The Gods more happiness on thee bestow,  
Then they themselves are capable to know.  Tib. Mal. Ant. Ex. Titus sees the Queen, and starts. Tit. 
The Queen! I at the sight of her grow i'll,  
Like one in view of him he means to kill.  Ber. 
May I of Caesar crave without offence,  
The favour of a moment's conference?  Tit. 
Is it the Queen says this! Is she to know  
That all things here allegiance to her owe?  
And that she no way can oblige me more,  
Then in commanding what she does implore.  Ber. 
I never shall survive the happy day,  
When I on Caesar obligations lay;  
Since so much glory were too great to bear:  
I have already had too great a share  
Of pleasures, in the sole belief that I  
Could contribute to his felicity.  Tit. 
Should the fair Queen the moment not outlive,  
In which her Love to me does pleasure give,  
How often must that beauteous Princess die?  
Since all my thoughts I on her Love employ,  
And every thought affords my soul delight.  
But oh! my injured passion I must right!  
Was all my Love not real but deceit?  
And did you but believe my kindness great?  Ber. 
Far be all ill suspicions from my breast;  
I should myself (and justly too) detest,  
If a mean thought of Caesar e'er should find,  
Any the least reception in my mind.  
All his past Love I do not, dare not wrong.  
But I the glory have enjoyed too long:  
Caesar is pleased to let it now decline,  
Which I impute to some offence of mine;  
For he can think no thought but what is brave,  
No, I some great offence committed have,  
But what, is wholly to my soul unknown,  
If I might know it, I my crime would own.  Tit. 
To what do these unkind expressions tend?  
You make me think indeed you can offend,  
Since you to these suspicions can be wrought.  Ber. 
I do not, Sir, accuse you of a fault;  
Caesar can err in nothing he can do,  
So great a glory never was my due,  
Much less when I have something done or said,  
Which all my right has justly forfeited.  Tit. 
Now truth assist me:— this unkind debate  
Argues not mine, but your own cruel hate;  
You sure incline to what you feign would prove,  
And have a mind I should no longer Love.  
This is too hard, too painful to be borne,  
I swear (as I a thousand times have sworn)  
But that the day the sight of you does show,  
I care not if the Sun would shine or no;  
That all the joy that does by Life accrue,  
Is but to Love, and be beloved by you.  Ber. 
My Lord's displeasure I too justly bear,  
That I to doubt his constancy should dare;  
But he may pardon me, when he does know  
All my suspicions from my kindness flow.  
I trouble have on Caesar's brow espied,  
And he his thoughts and person too does hide.  
My tender heart with sorrow pines away,  
If I behold my Lord but once a day:  
And I much less can his retir'dness bear,  
And not his grief, as well as kindness share.  Tit. 
Oh! how with Love she overwhelms my heart!  
After such Love I never can impart  
A secret, that to you may trouble prove;  
To me be all the grief, to you the Love.  
Oh Rome! oh glory! oh renown! which way  
Will you the loss of so much Love repay?  Ex. Ber. 
Again in secret sorrow from me part!  
Oh my distraction! oh my tortured heart!  
What can the sense of these disorders be?  Sem. 
I must confess they are too dark for me.  Ber. 
Fate to our mutual Love no good designs,  
Whatever he pretends, his heart declines:  
Love treats not thus the person that's beloved,  
Common compassion would have kinder proved.  Sem. 
My counsel can afford but small relief,  
But do not too much listen to your grief.  An alarm; Enter a Centurion followed by Romans. Sem. 
Soldier, the news.  Cent. 
The Parthian King is here,  
That name's enough to show what danger's near:  
I cannot talk, there's business to be done.  Ex. Ber. 
My Lord in danger!  Sem. 
Whither do you run?  Ber. 
To die with him.  Sem. 
Oh fear not! Heaven will save,  
Were all his Legions slain, a man so brave.  An alarm; the Centurion returns with Monobasus. Ber. 
Centurion, the success relate with speed.  Cent. 
My Lord is from the Parthian Monarch freed  
By this brave Stranger's aid, who to defend  
His glorious Enemy, opposed his Friend.  Ber. 
Prince! my resentments I want words to tell,  
This deed does all past services excel:  
Sure you have some command from my good Fate,  
My Friends and me with diligence to wait.  
All your deserts I will to Caesar own,  
And for reward procure some vacant Crown,  
If I have interest still; but I'm afraid  
I rather need an Intercessor's aid.  Ex. Mon. 
Oh heavens'! what pleasing sweetness does she wast,  
Entirely lost to my disordered taste?  
I little pleasure in that kindness take,  
Which she bestows but for another's sake.  
Now heart but hold till I my passions speak,  
And then with sorrow and confusion break.  Ex.  

Scene a Street.  Enter Mathias, and Guard, pursued by John, Eleazar, and the Pharisees; John in his Pontifical Vestments. Joh. 
Seize 'em alive! profane and wicked men!  Phar. seize Mat. &c 
Now Heaven to justice brings you once again;  
And vengeance surely long enough has stayed:  
Behold the desolations you have made,  
Look in the Streets, and see each corner filled,  
With carcases of Saints your sins have killed;  
Listen to every house, and hear the groans  
Of many starving, dying Holy ones,  
Who cry not, oh the Famine! oh the Pest!  
But oh th' Apostates! oh the Romish Priest!  
For your Idolatries in Plagues we lie;  
Yet for these sins (no doubt) you grudge to die.  
Yet you the Romans can with rage pursue;  
Alas! not Romans ruin us, but you.  
They're but your Instruments; your guilt affords  
Force to their Arms, and edges to their Swords.  
Had you good nature, you would wish to die,  
To free the Nation from the misery;  
Not of the Plague, the Famine, or the Foes,  
But of your impious selves, our greatest woes.  Mat. 
Could height of impious boldness Saintship give,  
Thou surely wert the greatest Saint alive;  
Of that vile kind of Saints thy followers are,  
Thou sure art excellent without compare:  
For thou hast taken all degrees in sin;  
Didst first in little villainies begin,  
With whispering murmurings, dissemble, lies,  
So didst to Murder and to Treason rise;  
And now at length the crawling Snake is grown  
A Royal Basilisk, and has a Crown.  
Horrid! when we are plagued such various ways,  
Is it a season to be acting Plays?  
Here in a house of horror, death and woe,  
To mock Religion with Theatrick show?  
And must you too the holiest things abuse?  
For sport no subject but Religion choose?  1 Pha. 
Sport dost thou call it? thou wilt find, I fear,  
The Saints are all in serious earnest here.  2 Pha. 
And mean to stone thee; if that be a jest,  
Of such a fatal pleasure make thy best.  Joh. 
No— wicked man! we act this weighty part  
With all the saddest, deepest thoughts of heart.  
I know I walk upon the brink of Laws,  
Near both to sin, and to perdition's jaws;  
And had not I a strong impulse within,  
And mighty call without, that I should sin,  
My angry conscience would my soul condemn  
In wearing of this Holy Diadem.  1 Pha. 
But you are saved from all these pious fears.  Joh. 
I am anointed by the brethren's tears;  
Called by the groaning of the suffering Cause,  
And voice of providence more loud than Laws.  
By strong impulses knocking every hour,  
I could not rest till I assumed the Power;  
Where e'er I went, methoughts a voice would cry,  
John!— John!— take up the fallen dignity:  
That if there any usurpation be,  
The Priesthood's guilty of usurping me.  
I sought not Power, but Power did me invade:  
But thou (vile man!) shouldst not the Saints upbraid▪  
Our dangers thou shouldst rather weep to see,  
Exposed to things so scandalous by thee.  Mat. 
Was ever heard of impudence like this!  Elea. 
Hale him to Judgement.  Mat. 
To eternal bliss;  
To an abode which blessed enough would be,  
From men so impious only to be free.  Enter a Pharisee running. 3 Pha. 
Be gone! be gone! the Pagan King is nigh,  
Returned out of the Field with Victory.  Joh. 
Curse on that Infidel, the Priest he'll save.  Elea. 
Why should a Heathen such successes have?  Enter Phraartes and Guard, who beat John, etc. off the Stage; Mathias pursues. After an alarm Phra. and Mat. return. Phr. 
Why Father do you thus expose your age  
To Rebels treachery, and Roman rage?  
Can your Gray-hairs by you forgotten be?  
Or does it shame you to be saved by me?  Mat. 
It does, that you should bleed for us each day,  
Who, Sir, for you can nothing do, but pray.  Phr. 
Good man! I am rewarded far above  
All I can merit, in your Daughters Love.  Mat. Ex. Several with baskets of provision. 
There I have brought rich plunder for the Crowd,  
Not to supply their treasures, but their blood:  
To their repast the hungry rabble call,  
Go scatter life, throw souls among 'em all.  Ex. with provisions. A shout. Phra. Ex.  

Scene a Chamber.  Enter Clarona weeping, a Book in her hand, sets herself in a Chair. Clar. 
Oh my devotion! I shall let thee go,  
For deadly, deadly sick with Love I grow:  
No sight of him but does my strength decay,  
And yet I cannot keep my eyes away.  
To these clear Springs of life no more I go,  looks on the Book. 
'cause they my souls decaying beauty show.  Enter Phraartes, who starts to see her weeping. Phr. 
In tears! what villainy has fortune done  
To my best Soul, whilst I to Arms was gone?  
What have I spied?— now I the cause divine,  
I see a Book, that is no friend o' mine.  
And does that trash still please your sickly mind?  
Love has not wrought a thorough cure I find.  Clar. 
You with Religion still will be severe;  
You would think much should I as harsh appear  
To your friend Love.  Phr. 
Would it not pity breed,  
To see thee climbing Mountains for a Weed?  
Chained like Prometheus rather to the brow  
Of barren Rocks, for ever clad in Snow,  
And there Religion gnawing of thee still;  
Who would not the devouring Vulture kill?  Clar. 
How poor Cymmerians to the Sun unknown,  
Think every Land all darkness, like their own.  Phr. 
How wretched Lands with Fables overflown,  
From Mountains of the Moon, and Springs unknown,  
With Mud of falsehood rank their fertile Earth,  
Give nothing else but Priests and Prophet's birth.  Clar. 
When men by miracles the truth display,  
We may believe what miracles will say.  Phr. 
Workers of miracles I least believe;  
Men love Byways who have design to thieve.  Clar. 
But it some Faith in us may justly breed,  
When what they do, does Nature's power exceed.  Phr. 
Nature's an Ocean endlessly profound,  
Where Line could never yet discover ground:  
We only see what on the surface swim,  
And what we often see, we ne'er esteem.  
If one by chance a Monster brings to shore,  
The Monster we admire, the Fisher more.  Clar. 
Supposing secret skill such feats could show,  
Can men by any Art events foreknow?  
What eye can have a prospect of events,  
Through a long Wood of various accidents?  
Chance can no more show what will come to pass,  
Then things remote a broken Optic glass.  
Yet have our Sacred Prophets often here  
Drawn Maps of future things so plain and clear,  
That after-ages have unsoiled, untorn,  
Found their own Pictures drawn ere they were born.  
None could display 'em but the Heavenly mind,  
Where all th' Ideas are at first designed.  Phr. 
None knows how much may by the Stars be guest,  
Or on th' imagination be impressed.  
But you ne'er find in draughts so much adored,  
More than dead colours daubed, and features scored,  
Which with some small addition may with ease  
Be drawn to what resemblances you please.  Clar. 
Have you of life to come no hope or fear?  Phr. 
Why more of that, than the Platonic year?  
I'll never toil after a state unknown.  Clar. 
But you should search for fear there should be one:  
Prudence all ills that may be does prevent.  Phr. 
Then prudence will not lose firm Continent,  
To rove the Seas in an imprudent chase  
Of floating Isles, and some Enchanted place.  Clar. 
But such a place is worthy to be sought,  
And were there none, yet Heaven's a pleasant thought.  Phr. 
It may like Poetry the mind employ,  
In idle intervals of active joy;  
But I'll not all my life a dreaming lie,  
Whilst solid pleasures run neglected by:  
Whilst to uncertain cares my thoughts I give,  
Lose what I'm sure of, and forget to live.  Clar. 
Where do you think you after death shall dwell?  Phr. 
'Mong a rude heap of things; where none can tell.  
I had myself at no request of mine,  
And I'll as generously my being resign.  
How I came it ne'er disturbs my head,  
Nor what I shall be when I once am dead.  Clar. 
Then your brave self must you for ever lose?  Phr. 
I would not a new Lease of life refuse,  
Could I the deed obtain by any Art.  Clar. 
Oh heavens'! methinks you should not seek to put,  
Were it from me alone, so soon as death,  
And leave me wandering on wild Nature's Heath,  
When we from these poor Cottages are thrown,  
Having no dwellings, and desiring none.  Phr. 
For a new life I on high Rent would stand,  
But I'll mean while enjoy my present Land;  
I will improve it till I've tired the clods,  
Then for new Acres I would thank the Gods.  
But let us this fantastic talk give o'er,  
These Fairy thoughts shall pinch thy soul no more;  
Let us not think of Lands remote, unknown,  
But eat the Fruits and Spices of our own.  Enter Phedra. Phed. 
Parthian Commanders wait without to bring  
Tidings of great concernment to their King.  Ex. Phra. Clar. 
That Heaven such cost on a brave mind should lay,  
On no design but to be cast away.  

SONG.  

COme pious Mourner, pray no more,  
But let the Gods alone;  
You favours endlessly implore,  
But will be granting none:  
Can you expect from any King  
To gain whate'er you crave,  
Who dare when you your offerings bring  
Torment and wound his Slave?  
You ask of Heaven Eternal Crowns,  
As your devotions due,  
And yet can wound me with your frowns,  
For asking smiles of you.   

Asunder let's no longer stray,  
But both devotions join;  
Let us when dead be saved your way,  
But whilst we live in mine.  
Is e'er I to a soul am pined,  
I gain the thing I sought;  
I'll be content to be all mind,  
To act it o'er in thought.  
Admit me to the place of bliss,  
To Love's divine abodes,  
And we will laugh at Paradise,  
And not be Saints, but Gods.    Enter Phraartes, with some Parthian Commanders. Phr. 
Brave men! for the most glorious news you bring,  
Challenge the love and friendship of your King.  
My drooping Fate is now revived again;  (to Clar. 
My Crown's restored, and the Usurper slain:  
My people weary of the Villain grown,  
Of him, and Roman pride have cleansed my Throne.  
My conquering Army near the Town is come,  
And wait to guard me hence in triumph home.  
These gallant men who have the tidings brought,  
At the last Storm to Town their passage fought.  
Now I'm in sight of Love's fair promised Land,  
I see the shining of the Golden Sand.  Clar. 
I never shall be able to deny;  (aside. 
That I could save my innocence and die.  Phr. 
She falls! she vanquished falls into my arms!  
To conquering Love resigning all her charms.  
Can any happiness compare with mine?  
'Tis wretched sure to be a Power Divine,  
And not the joys of happy Lovers know.  
Wouldst thou (my dearest!) be an Angel now?  
Oh how the moments sweetly slide away!  
But yet I must be wretched for a day.  
Who waits?— did you not say my Troops had none  
Whose guidance they might safely trust to Town?  Parth. 
No Jewish Guides could any where be found,  
The Romans Troops spread ninety furlongs round.  Phr. 
I'll Salley out to day, and be their Guide;  
I dare in no man but myself confide.  
These Troops of mighty consequence are grown,  
My Fortunes all depend on them alone.  
But oh! that I could build a Tower of Brass,  
Through which the force of Thunder could not pass,  
My Love from danger safely to enclose;  
For I am fearful of each wind that blows,  
Lest it should breathe too rudely on my dear;  
Then how much more shall I in absence fear  
The cruel Enemy?— I dare not go.  Clar. 
Obliging kindness in your stay you show:  
But if misfortune should befall your men,  
Both would in danger be of ruin then.  Phr. 
And has my dangers in thy thoughts a part?  
Who can express the pleasures of my heart?  
The only place of strength within our power  
Remaining now, is Queen Mariamne's Tower;  
Shall I entrust thee there till my return?  Clar. 
There for your absence I will sadly mourn.  Phr. 
Then will you think on me?  Clar. 
I will indeed.  Phr. 
And will you wish me back again with speed?  Clar. 
For swift return and Victory I'll pray.  Phr. 
How shall I do to force myself away?  
Do not look on me, lest I never go;  
This is the hardest work Love has to do.  
Come, to the Tower that must my Love receive,  
And there I'll take a momentany leave;  
Then like the Monarch o' the Winds, I'll go  
And lose my stormy Squadrons on the Foe.  
And when the mighty Vapour's spent and done,  
The wasting Roman inundation gone,  
And not a Cloud in all the heavens' we see,  
I'll come a hot and pleasant Calm to thee.  Ex.   

ACT IU.  

SCENE The Roman Tents.  Enter Titus, Malchus, Antiochus, Tiberius. Tib. 
NOw Sir, one more Assault, and we conclude  
The torments of the starving multitude.  
We to our Squadrons portions divide,  
Which like wild Horses to its members tied,  
Did rend it limb from limb, and left alone  
A torn dismembered carcase of a Town.  Mal. 
I did the Temple storm, the place to save  
From its own Guard, as Caesar orders gave;  
And the vile Slaves to burn my Troops and me,  
Gave fire to th'entrance of their Sanctuary,  
And in a moment leveled with the ground  
Solomon's Porch, and all the Buildings round.  Ant. 
The Town must bow to you within a day,  
For Famine sweeps its dirty crowds away;  
They who maintain it are not men, but bones,  
Shadows of men, and walking Skeletons.  
Their looks scare death itself, nor do they need  
To fly from wounds, they have no blood to bleed.  
Their flesh if mangled, like chopped Earth appears,  
Or cloven Trees torn with the wind and years.  Mal. 
My civil Fate did better treats afford,  
And with fat juicy Villains fed my Sword;  
That I had no great reason for complaints,  
I had a noble banquet of crammed Saints.  Tit. 
To all the Heavenly Powers I dare appeal,  
If I'm in fault for what these wretches feel.  Tib. 
Except by mercy lengthening that disease,  
Which stubborn cruelty with speed would ease.  An alarm; Enter an Officer. Tit. 
The news!  Offic. 
The Guardian Angel of the Town,  
The Parthian King, is from its succour flown:  
He broke from thence, like Thunder from a Cloud,  
And tore down all that in his passage stood.  
Thence with his followers o'er the Mountains fled,  
And all the way with slaughtered Romans spread.  Ant. 
Then the proud City's dying pangs are past;  
Her mighty Ghost is yielded up at last.  Mal. 
The very Soul of all their Souls is fled.  Tib. 
Better their Walls had vanished in his stead,  
Pursue him—  Tit. 
No, since for his life he flies,  
Let him enjoy what with disgrace he buys.  
Now I'll release the wretches from the rack;  
Prepare my Legions for a new attaque:  
Their Temple save, unless the Slaves appear  
Too obstinate, and it shall cost too dear.  Mal. 
I am prepared:— but e'er the Fight begin,  (aside. 
I must go gaze on the fair Jewish Queen.  
I know I must not hope, but I may dare  
To peep in Heaven, though I must ne'er come there.  Ex. Ant. 
I must to the fair Queen before I go,  
My thirsty Soul does more intemperate grow:  
That hot Elixir I must hourly taste,  
Which I'm assured will burn me at the last.  Ex. Tit. 
Now Friend, the hour draws near when wretched I,  
The torments of departing Love must try,  
And with one stab that fatal wound must give,  
Of which I shall be groaning whilst I live.  Tib. 
Oh! does your mighty resolution yield!  
I thought you had entirely gained the Field.  Tit. 
Dost think I from my breast so soon can tear  
A Love which has so long been growing there?  
Throw all that heap of riches out of door  
I hardly got, and in a trice be poor?  
Three years I loved and fought, on no design  
But at the last to make this Treasure mine:  
I have spoiled half the world but to be seen  
Attired in Glories, pleasing to the Queen.  
Nay I who shun her Love to gain a Throne,  
Desired the Empire for her sake alone.  
And now I have obtained my wished success,  
And I'm in reach of supreme happiness,  
Shall I at last myself and her deceive,  
And what I sought for, what I slighted leave?  Tib. 
Oh! do these thoughts your Soul once more invade?  
All this before you in the balance weighed;  
With an impartial finger poised the Scale,  
And left out nothing might for Love prevail:  
But still the Roman Laws, your own Renown  
And Glory, weighed the other balance down.  
And now—  Tit. 
Her Love to all things I prefer,  
What is Renown or Empire without her?  Tib. 
Grant, Sir, all charms that in her Sex are seen,  
Are lodged in her, but still she is a Queen.  
A Roman courage her great heart contains,  
But there's no Roman blood within her veins.  
And not our Tyrants yet so bold have been,  
To marry with a Stranger, and a Queen.  
This hate to Crowns is all that Rome in chains,  
Still of her ancient Liberty retains.  
Nay Roman Monsters, whose supreme delight  
Was against Reason, Laws, and Gods to fight;  
Who Rome and Nature in confusion hurled,  
And walked Antipodes to all the world;  
Yet they who durst both bourn and plunder Rome,  
Once to invade this Law durst ne'er presume.  
And Sir, shall you the world's delight do more  
Against our Laws then Monsters did before?  Tit. 
All this too well I know, but must I lose  
My freedom ere I am at Rome's dispose?  
It will be time enough these thoughts to have,  
When I am chosen her Imperial Slave:  
Till than my heart and person both are free,  
And I am Master of my destiny.  Tib. 
Ah Sir! against this fatal passion strive,  
And do not Rome of your brave self deprive:  
Shall she lose all the Glory of your Reign,  
Only to ease a Love-sick Lady's pain?  
For Sir, were you a God and should presume  
To ' spouse a Queen, you must not govern Rome.  
Her Rank is by your Army too abhorred,  
Who hate to see a Queen command their Lord:  
Their hourly discontents I scarce can quell,  
They out of Loyalty would fain Rebel.  
Nay they have all resolved the very hour  
The Town is won, to choose you Emperor;  
But lest the Queen should in your Glory share,  
They firmly have decreed to banish her.  
And the brave Rebels I declare I'll lead;  Kneels, and flings his Sword at Titus feet. 
If you will guard your passion, take my head,  
For I will ne'er endure the greatest Throne,  
And bravest man, should be by Love undone.  Tit. 
Oh rise! thou truly Roman spirit, rise!  (raiseth him. 
I have resolved on this great Sacrifice,  
But do not know which way I shall begin;  
I cannot speak to the unhappy Queen.  Tib. 
Release your spirit from that trifling care,  
I'll to the Queen th'unpleasing message bear;  
And as the Patient's sight an Artist hides,  
When from the Body he a Limb divides,  
That Nature may not doubly be oppressed,  
Then with a curious hand performs the rest;  
So I the fatal deed will gently do,  
And not torment you with an Interview:  
And will so mollify the parting pain,  
That injured Love but little shall complain.  (offers to go. Tit. 
Oh! stay Tiberius! make not so much speed,  
I know not if I shall survive the deed;  
With haste I boldly rush on a design,  
Which may at once destroy her life and mine.  
But yet what must be suffered we in vain  
Delay some moments, and prolong our pain.  
Go then, the sad and killing tidings bear,  
Excuse my crime, and all my grief declare;  
Implore her my retirement to forgive,  
Tell her I cannot see her, go,— and live!  
And if to reign in my ungrateful breast,  
Her rigorous Fate can sweeten in the least,  
Tell her that I deserted and alone,  
Even an Imperial exile in my Throne,  
To my own self more hateful then to her,  
The name of Lover to my Tomb will bear;  
That all my life will be in sorrow spent,  
And all my Reign a glorious banishment.  Ex.  

The Scene changes to the Queens Tent.  Enter Berenice and Monobasus. Ber. 
How Sir! have I under the name of Friend  
These many months a Lover entertained?  Mon. 
Let it not, Madam, your displeasure move,  
That I presume t' inform you of my Love:  
Till now in humble duty I suppressed  
The torturing secret, till it burned my breast.  
My bosom better could have fire retained,  
It would have less my scorching vitals pained.  Ber. 
Suppose your passion great as you express,  
What did encourage you to this address?  
Durst you once hope you entertained should be,  
Or find the least encouragement from me?  Mon. 
My passion never yet so bold has been;  
It were less vain to ask the Gods to sin.  
Yet were it possible for you to err,  
Torments and death I would much rather bear,  
Than you one moment should unhappy be,  
And place your heart on one so low as me.  Ber. 
Good Heaven! then what design could you propose?  
Did you this secret for no end disclose?  Mon. 
To ease my soul was all I did design.  Ber. 
Would it had been in any breast but mine.  
Now I not only must ungrateful seem,  
But all past services must crimes esteem;  
Against my nature my just debts disown,  
Nay I must punish you for what you've done.  
And oh! good Heaven! what starts into my thought!  (aside. 
I've found what has this change in Titus wrought;  
I've been too lavish in this Stranger's praise,  
That, that did this disorder in him raise.  
Sir, you have ruined me, have friendship shown,  
To make my fate as wretched as your own:  
To save my life you have your Sword employed,  
And all the comforts of that life destroyed.  
Oblige me this once more for goodness sake,  
Yourself with speed out of my presence take.  Mon. 
What means this storm so sudden and severe?  (aside. 
My cruel Fate pursues me every where.  
My name can like a Charm, uncalm the Sea,  
Where e'er I wander, there no peace can be.  Ber. 
Will you not please to answer my desire?  Mon. 
But one word more, and Madam I retire.  Enter Semandra. Sem. 
Madam, the King—  Ber. 
No Visitants admit,  
I'm for all Conversation now unfit.  Enter Malchus, followed by Antiochus. Ant. 
Ha! Malchus here!  Mal. 
Antiochus so nigh!  Ant. 
Ha! Prince Monobasus do I espy?  Mal. 
What does the Queen that Traitor entertain,  
By whom her Brother was so lately slain?  Mon. 
Oh hateful sight! does fortune hither bring  
My mortal Enemy th' Arabian King?  Ber. 
They gaze as if they both this Stranger knew.  Mal. 
Now my revenge the Rebel shall pursue,  
Whose fortune oft has put me in distress;  
Besides I'm jealous here of his success.  
And dares he, Madam, in your sight appear?  Ber. 
Oh Sir! his quality I fain would hear,  
For till this hour his name I never knew.  Mal. 
Prince Monobasus, who your Brother slew,  
Dispersed my Troops, and wounded me in Fight,  
'cause I maintained his injured Brother's right.  Ant. 
What need this great officiousness be shown?  Mal. 
You are his Friend.  Ant. 
I do the title own.  Mal. 
You did not once this mighty friendship show.  Ant. 
But I love Valour in a Friend or Foe.  Mon. 
Do not for me, Sir, discompose your mind,  
I only from the King prevention find:  
The guilt he makes with so much passion known,  
I now was humbly on my knee to own.  Ber. 
Oh heavens'! and does there stand before my view  
My Brother's murderer!  Mon. 
It is too true—  
Your Brother I unfortunately killed.  Ant. 
You did, but it was fairly in the Field.  Ber. 
Did this ill Spirit me all this while pursue,  
And did I entertain his service too?  
Now I perceive he hither did retreat,  
By subtle ways his mischiefs to complete;  
On all my Brother's Race to wreak his spite.  
Wherein could he offend to such a height,  
That even his life was a revenge too small,  
But I amongst your Enemies must fall?  Mon. 
All names most black and odious are my due,  
Excepting that of Enemy to you.  Ber. 
Cease your feigned Love, for I your life will have;  
Mine but for ends of malice you did save,  
And so am unobliged; yours all the pleas  
Of Justice craves; Guards, on the murderer seize.  Ant. 
Ah Madam!  Mon. 
Do not, Sir, a hindrance be,  
The Queen will both oblige herself and me.  Ber. 
Yes, you shall die.— But why do I presume  
On lives of others here to pass a doom,  
When in few hours perhaps it will be shown,  
I have not power to assure my own?  
And see, — Tiberius from my Lord is sent,  Enter Tib. 
I am assured he brings me some complaint:  
What it should be, I cannot, dare not guests;  
If he be jealous, that does Love express.  
But that slight grief were easy to disarm;  
No, something else does his great Soul alarm:  
What e'er it is, vain fear I will repel;  
I'm sure from Titus I've deserved so well,  
That I my innocence may boldly trust,  
For if he be unkind, he is unjust.  
Tiberius, quickly thy ill news impart,  
What does sit heavy on thy Prince's heart?  
I know the news is bad I am to hear,  
'cause thou art chosen for the messenger.  Tib. 
Ah Madam!—  Ber. 
Nay I am not now to learn,  
How thou hast made my ruin thy concern;  
Hast tampered with thy Prince's heart, and strove  
To sow dissensions, and to blast our Love.  
But I forgive thee, since I have thereby  
The pleasure had his constancy to try.  Tib. 
Madam, what e'er I in my life have done,  
I am too much a Roman to disown;  
That Caesar's Glory I with care have sought,  
Can never by his Friends be judged a fault.  
But since my Lord did so unhappy prove,  
To have his Glory contradict his Love,  
That I took part with Glory is most true,  
But, Madam, never out of hate to you.  
The Roman Laws were made ere I was born,  
Nor bear I to your Rank a Native scorn;  
I wish Rome paid Crowned Heads the honour due,  
At least from all her Laws exempted you.  
But since she'll not reform at my request,  
Of her proud humour let us make the best.  
Then Madam know, my Lord at last o'ercome  
By me, by all the Army, Senate, Rome,  
Knowing how much your Rank incurs their hate,  
And fearing to involve you in a state  
That to you both unfortunate would prove;  
Exceeding tender of your generous Love,  
And of the happiness of one so dear;  
Assured your courage the great shock will bear,  
Sends to inform you 'tis the will of Fate,  
You two for ever now must separate.  Ber. 
For ever separate! what does he intend?  
Will he to Berenice this message send?  Ant. 
Oh heavens'!  Mal. 
Amazement!  Tib. 
Madam, 'tis too true!  
But to his noble Love I le justice do;  
All kinds of passions in his Soul arise,  
He weeps, laments, adores, and almost dies:  
But to what end? his many griefs are vain,  
Rome in her Throne no Queen will entertain.  
You two must part, and after this one day,  
He begs no longer in the Camp you'll stay.  Ber. 
Alas! Semandra—  (half weeping. Sem. 
What I long did fear!  
Madam, this sad assault with courage bear;  
Raise all that's great in you to your defence,  
You'll need it in this mighty exigence.  Mon. 
Oh Gods! have I this fatal difference made?  Ant. 
All this is falsehood, and the Queen's betrayed.  Mal. 
Now some small pleasure in despair I take.  (aside. Ber. 
And can Vespasian Berenice forsake?  
Are these his oaths and vows?  Ant. 
It cannot be;  
Tiberius, the Queen is wronged by thee.  Yib. 
She is not, Sir.  Ant. 
She is; and wert thou where,  
I durst presume thy falsehood should appear.  Mal. 
Did I think that, your labour I would save.  Tib. 
Kings, when you please you shall occasion have.  Mon. 
Ah Sir! I beg let your contention cease;  (to Ant. 
To me the injured Queen's revenge release.  
If, Madam, a poor Malefactor may,  
After his Sentence be allowed to pray,  
I beg the glorious office on my knees,  
And after doom me to what death you please.  Ber. 
How! do you think my Honour I le refer  
For Justice to my Brother's murderer?  
To his great Ghost too much offence I give,  
Since by your aid I am content to live.  
To too much guilt already I'm betrayed;  
Your life should now be offered to his shade:  
But lest if I your guilty blood should spill,  
The world should think I pay my debts but ill,  
All your past deeds I with your life requite,  
But never more appear within my sight.  Mon. 
Then to the Town I will myself convey,  
Sorrow should in the shades of sorrow stay:  
The Gods have there all kinds of deaths in store,  
Shortly I shall afflict the world no more.  Ex. Ber. 
For you who these great mysteries reveal,  (to Tib. 
I from your message to your Lord appeal;  
Against his faith I nothing will believe,  
Till I this sentence from his mouth receive:  
And if it proves not as thyself hast said,  
Tiberius, know I will demand thy head.  Tib. 
Agreed!— mean while I will my Lord prepare  
For your approach, and straight attend you there.  Ex. She offers to go, and is stayed by Sem. Sem. 
Hold, Madam, will y' in this disorder go?  
Some little pains upon yourself bestow;  
Stay till your Beauty has regained its grace,  
Your Hair and Vail let me in order place.  Ber. 
No, no, Semandra, let thy Queen alone,  
Titus shall quickly see what he has done;  
The aid of these poor trifles I despise:  
If my too constant heart, my weeping eyes,  
My grief!— my grief!— my death no pity gain!  
What can these slighted ornaments obtain?  (goes out weeping. Mal. 
The Queen's resentment adds to my despair.  Ex. Ant. 
I'll bury all my troubled thoughts in War.  Ex.  

Scene Titus his Tent.  Enter Titus and Tiberius. Tit. 
Great Gods! how I this hastening combat fear?  
My guilty Soul wants courage to appear.  
Her absence once I not an hour could bear,  
Now for her sight with terror I prepare.  Tib. 
Sir, place strong Guards about your heart one hour;  
This storm repulsed, you are a Conqueror.  Tit. 
Poor victory injured beauty to subdue!  
What more could an untamed Barbarian do?  Sees her coming. 
She comes! Great Genii of me and Rome,  
Help me in this one Field to overcome;  
If you regard the honour of the Throne,  
Trust not my Glory with myself alone.  Ber. 
So Sir, and is your fainting passion tired?  
Have you at length my parting hence desired?  Tit. 
Ah Madam! do not a poor Prince oppress;  
The Gods who gave me all the happiness  
Of your past Loves, think I too blessed have been,  
And now to moderate my joys begin.  
Glory they in the room of Love bestow,  
By splendid steps to ruin I must go:  
Be doomed to Empire, to a Throne confined;  
Have power, but lose the freedom of my mind:  
Great as a God, as solitary too;  
Adored, but banished from the sight of you:  
For, Madam, I with sorrow must declare,  
We for eternal parting must prepare.  Ber. 
Oh cruel man! do you these words express  
Now you have raised my Love to such excess?  
Did I for this permit my eyes each day,  
On you to gaze my liberty away?  
Advance my flame to an immoderate height;  
Hating all bounds in what I took delight?  
Stifle all thoughts that with your interest strove,  
And even exchange my very soul for Love?  
And will you now unjust to me become,  
For a poor servile flattery of Rome?  Tit. 
Glory's unjust, which never can repay  
With all it gives, the half it takes away.  Ber. 
Is this a time the secret to impart?  
Why all this while have you not warned my heart?  
Can you deny that your own Laws you knew?  
Nay did not often I object 'em too?  
And in Love's pleasing way with caution tread,  
Fearing it to some precipice would lead.  
But you with oaths enticed me to Love on;  
I Loved, and Loved, till all my heart was gone.  
Why named you not the haughty Laws of Rome,  
When I might have returned unwounded home?  
And been contented in as high degree  
To part with you, as you do now from me.  Tit. 
Oh! do not make my charge too weighty grow!  
I under too much guilt already bow.  
Part with content! the Gods can tell what stings,  
What torturing pangs this parting moment brings.  
The other crime I must with shame confess,  
And I have no excuse but Love's excess;  
I did not soon enough these thoughts produce,  
Myself I then took pleasure to seduce:  
My dazzled eyes were blinded with delight,  
And Power and Empire were not then in sight.  
I all those cares did from my breast remove,  
And would hear nothing but the charms of Love.  Ber. 
False man! that Power and Empire which you name,  
You swore you sought but to protect your flame:  
And now your Stars have flattered you, must I  
For the reward of all my kindness die?  
Oh Titus! Titus!— think what 'tis you do—  
Must Berenice be slain, and slain by you?  Tit. 
'tis true, the guilt I'll to myself assume,  
And not accuse the Army, Senate, Rome.  
It is my Glory governs me alone,  
Else I by Arms could place you in the Throne.  
I know what injury myself I do,  
And that I cannot live exiled from you:  
But let me die, 'tis Glory I decree,  
I'll live in an immortal memory;  
Succeeding ages shall my virtues own,  
Adore my ashes, and my Statues crown,  
Whilst to the world I've an example set,  
No Stoic shall attempt to imitate.  Ber. 
Oh unkind Prince! your desired Fame enjoy!  
To gain it too, inglorious ways employ:  
Leave a renowned example when you die,  
But leave another of inconstancy.  
I'll strive no more, I did but stay to hear  
(What did to me impossible appear)  
The mouth which swore me Love this sentence speak,  
And all past oaths in my own presence break.  
Nay infidelity with pride proclaim,  
And boast on falsehood to erect a Fame;  
That immortality shall thence begin,  
Great deed to ruin an unhappy Queen.  
When I am dead, the praise of it assume,  
Let your crowned Statues triumph o'er my Tomb;  
The conquest must immortal Glory gain,  
A Queen for loving you, by falsehood slain.  Tit. 
Oh! how you tear me!  Ber. 
Yes, I may believe  
You much for her whom you have ruined grieve.  
Oh wretched me!— why should the best of men,  flings herself down in a Chair. 
Whose noble nature does the friendship gain  
Of his worst Enemies,— Heaven not so mild,  
Who the delight of all the world is styled,  
Of cruelty and falsehood make his boast,  
Practised to wretched me, who Love him most?  
This, Heaven! is just from thee; I for his Love,  
To my Religion did unfaithful prove,  
Contemn thy Laws, and for his sake dismiss  
All hope or right in future Paradise:  
And he in fear of Laws, his Faith denies,  
And from my Love to future Glory flies;  
Only when dead an empty Fame to raise,  
To live in Brass, and breath in airy praise.  Tit. 
You break my heart.  Ber. 
Farewell, oh cruel Prince!  
What you have done, few moments shall evince.  
I will not crowd your way to Glory long,  
Nor will I crave heavens' vengeance for my wrong.  
I would not have him arm in my relief;  
Heaven could I help it should not see my grief:  
No, I'll seek vengeance from another place;  
I know your Soul, though cruel, cannot chase  
Out of your troubled thoughts with so much ease,  
My present grief, and all past kindnesses;  
But when my blood you on the floor shall see,  
Each drop a Dagger to your heart shall be.  Ex. Tit. 
Oh! let me follow her, she's gone to die.  Tib. 
That does not need; her Women, Sir, are nigh,  
And they will turn those thoughts out of her breast.  Tit. 
I'm a Barbarian, I myself detest;  
Nero in cruelty I have outdone.  Tib. 
Dismiss your sorrow, Sir, the day's your own:  
Poor not on wounds which at the present bleed,  
But think of Glories which shall soon succeed.  Tit. 
Cursed be the Fate such Victories bestows;  
Why should proud Rome be suffered to impose  
On Princes such ungrateful things as these?  
She shall not part, let Rome say what she please.  Tib. 
Oh Sir!—  Tit. 
Ye Gods! I know not what I say!  Tib. 
Come Sir, pursue the Triumphs of the day:  
Spur on your swift success, this rebel Town  
Subdued, and then you perfect your Renown.  Tit. 
Talk not to me of fond Renown, the rude  
Inconstant blast of the base multitude:  
Their breaths, nor Souls can satisfaction make,  
For half the joys I part with for their sake.  
I'll not so dear for sordid flattery give;  
Without Renown or Empire I can live,  
But not without the Queen; she, only she,  
Fame, Empire, Glory, all things is to me.  
Go and endeavour to appease her mind,  
And say, my Love she spite of Rome shall find.  Ex. Tib. 
These are the struggle of departing Love;  
Th'ill Genius in a tempest does remove:  
I'll let the storm consume itself, and then  
He'll soon the mild Vespasian be again.  Ex.   

ACT V.  

SCENE The Palace.  An Alarm; Enter Mathias, Phineas, Sagan. Mat. 
ALl's lost! we are resigned to Heathen rage.  Sag. 
Heaven in our aid no longer does engage.  Phin. 
Have we a shadow twenty Ages chased?  
Is all our Faith proved a vain Dream at last?  Mat. 
What shall we say? these things our Reason pose:  
The more we think, the more ourselves we lose.  
Our thoughts we never can in order place;  
They dance, like Atoms, in a boundless space.  Sag. 
Let's think no more, but make a swift retreat  
To some strong place, where during the fierce heat  
Of Rage and Slaughter, we may shelter take,  
And for ourselves at least Conditions make.  Phin. 
This Tower where your Daughter keeps, is strong,  
And may, with some Provisions, hold out long.  Mat. 
Life now is much the least of all my cares;  
But of heavens' bounty no good man despairs.  
Clarona.—  [Clarona appears in the Balcony.] Clar. 
Ha! my Father's voice I hear!  
'Tis he! Oh! this disperses all my fear.  Exit. Mat. 
Daughter!— she answers not! Oh! I begin  
To tremble! all I fear 's not well within!  [knock. Enter Clarona. Clar. 
My Father here! I scarce can speak for joy!  
I by degrees did all my Guards employ  
To seek and aid you; but of all I sent,  
Not one returns; that all my patience spent,  
Of Guards forsaken, looking every hour  
For bloody Foes, and nothing in the Tower  
But my poor trembling Women here, and I,  
I was resolved to seek you out, and die.  Enter Phedra, running. Phed. 
Hast, Sir, the Rebels come; you'll be too late!  
I saw 'em from the Tower; they're at the Gate!  
They're come! I heard the Murderers call for you.  Mat. 
Pursued by Romans, and by Rebels too!  
Base wretches! with what danger, guilt and pains,  
They purchase Misery, Dishonour, Chains;  
Total Destruction! It is fit we die,  
We fight and hinder them of Slavery.  Enter John, and Pharisees. Joh. 
Kill! kill! their Idol's gone: they can repair  
No longer to their Parthian Lucifer.  John, Eleazar, etc. force four into the Tower. An Alarm. Enter Mathias, Phineas, Sagan, Clarona, Phedra, pursued. Phineas, Sagan, fall dead; Mathias wounded. Mat. 
For this I thank thee; thou hast set me free  
From having share in all that misery  
Thy wickedness does on thy Country bring.  Joh. 
No; the vile Achan, the accursed thing  
That made us stink, and all our prayers prove  
Offence to Heaven, we from the Land remove.  
Thou, wanton Idol, who our Land has stained  
With Pagan Love, and all our Race profaned,  
Shalt perish too.  (Wounds Clarona. Elea. 
By thy allurements led,  
That Savage Boar much blood of Saints has shed.  [An Alarm, and Shout.] 
Hark, an Alarm!  (John and Elea. look out. Joh. 
The Roman Troops are near!  Elea. 
And Parthian Banners in the Streets appear!  Joh. 
I fear that cursed Dragon King is come!  
He plagues us more than all the Power of Rome.  Exeunt John, Eleazar, and Pharisees: Mat. 
Oh, Daughter! do you bleed?  Clar. 
Too slow I do:  
But, Sir, I hope to fall asleep with you.  Mat. 
The sight oppresses Nature; but my mind,  
Does from thy Piety true comfort find.  
Our Temple, Nation, Glory, Faith are gone;  
And what wouldst thou do in the world alone?  
When dead, we shall behold within the Scenes,  
What this dark Riddle of our destruction means.  
I try to sound this depth, but have not Line;  
Thick gloomy Mists encompass things Divine:  
Poor human understandings they despise;  
Vainly proud man endeavours to be wise.  
Come, Daughter, follow my Celestial part,  
Haste to be more an Angel than thou art.  (die. Clar. 
The Light, the Splendour of our Nation's gone,  
A brighter in our Firmament ne'er shone.  
In this one gallant man does slaughtered lie  
Truth, Wisdom, Valour, Learning, Piety.  
This Tax, as Nature's Subject, I must pay,  (weeps. 
The little time I in her Empire stay:  
My wound, I hope, will liberty bestow;  
For if not mortal, grief will make it so.  
How to the Tower shall I convey these dear  
Sacred remains?  Phed. 
I see some Soldiers near.  
Perhaps they may be of our Friends.  Clar. 
Go try;  Ex. Phed. and reenters with Soldiers. 
Beg of 'em this last act of Charity.  
My Father from my arms went up to Joy,  
Now in his cold embraces I will die.  Ex. led by Phed. and Soldiers, some carrying off Mat, An Alarm; Enter Phraartes and Monobasus, Mon. 
Whilst you Clarona search, I'll still alarm  
The Foe, and keep our Soldier's courage warm.  Phr. 
Does thy rash youth at length its error see?  
But few hours since, with foolish bravery  
Thou wert thy Rival's Buckler, and didst prove  
So kind, to save him to enjoy thy Love.  
My tenderness to thee has ruined both:  
But that thy Youth I pitied, and was loath  
So many blooming hopes at once to shed,  
Thy Rival, and our troubles, had been dead.  Mon. 
I to attain the Queen did long despair,  
So placed my happiness in serving her.  Phr. 
Never contemn thyself; he who will have  
Fortune or Women love him, must be brave.  
Women are apt to err: that beauteous She  
Who thinks herself too good, or fair for me,  
Shall be too fair for all the world beside,  
And take up all her pleasure in her pride.  
But throw away despair, for I am here;  
Thy Queen is thine, thy happiness is near:  
Thy Rival shall in Chains thy Nuptials grace,  
And thou his Mistress in his Tent embrace.  
Be gone; I'll follow.— When I parted hence,  Exit Mon. 
My Love I trusted to this towers defence.  
Ha! the Gates open!— and no Guard within!  
I fear this cursed Tower has faithless been:  
If it has, let but any Air, or Sound  
Offend her, I will burn it to the ground.  Exit A Bed placed, a Lamp by it. Enter Clarona led by Phedra. She lies down on the Bed. Clar. 
Death, I attend thy coming; for I now  
Have finished all I have to do below.  
I hear a noise: the echoing Chambers ring  
With sounds confused.  trampling within. [Phedra runs out, and returns.] Phed. 
Madam, it is the King.  Clar. 
And shall Clarona see him e'er she dies?  
Is such a blessing granted to my eyes?  Enter Phraartes. Phr. 
Silence, and darkness! all's not well, I fear;—  
I shake!—  Clar. 
My Lord!—  Phr. 
Her Heavenly voice I hear!—  
Now to a gentle calm my passions fall,  
That Divine Music has appeased 'em all.  
My Love!— to thy embraces let me haste;  (embraces. 
That this to all Eternity might last.  
But ha! thou sighest and weep'st! what dost thou ail?  
Art thou not well? thy cheeks are cold and pale!—  
Ease, ease my Soul, for I distracted grow!—  
The cause of all this pompous sorrow show!  
Why is this Lamp, this Solitude, this Bed?  
Speak, ere I fall in thy embraces dead.  Clar. 
Insatiable eyes, give o'er, give o'er;  
One close and greedy look, and then no more.  Phr. 
What talk is this?  Clar. 
No longer to detain  
Your wandering thoughts, see there my Father slain.—  
And the same bloody weapon pierced my breast,  
Which sent his Soul to everlasting rest.  Phr. 
Plagues! tortures! death on all by whom 'twas done!  
And me, from your defence for being gone!  
This has exceeded all that I could fear.—  
And see!— blood!— blood is sprinkled every where!  
Where is the wound whose fatal Spring does feed  
This Purple River!— run for help with speed!—  
Millions of Gold to any one for aid!—  
Confusion!— why is not my will obeyed?  Clar. 
I have had all the help that skill can give.  Phr. 
Is there no hopes!  Clar. 
Most certain hopes.  Phr. 
To live!  Clar. 
To live.  Phr. 
Oh joy!  Clar. 
My joys indeed are near;  
Ever to live in Heaven, no longer here.  Phr. 
Is that your life?— I feared that pleasing tale  (aside. 
Of Heaven, at last would over Love prevail.  
Man is a foolish Pamphlet, full of Lies;  
Lies are his hopes, and Lies are all his joys:  
Some promise him to come, and some to stay;  
Those never come, and these fly fast away.  Clar. 
Oh! how much Love and Excellence I leave!  Phr. 
Oh! how much sweetness shall the Grave receive!  Clar. 
How is my way to death with pleasures strewed!  
That I could stay for ever on the Road;  
For ever, ever, slumber on this breast:  
I'm hushed with Music to my long— long— rest.  
My beloved Lord— farewell—  (dies. Phr. 
She dies!— she dies!—  
Speak once again! open once more those eyes!  
Phraartes speaks to thee!— she's fled— she's fled—  
And her pale Picture left me in her stead.  
This— this is all of her that I must have—  
And this is too the portion of the Grave.  
— Away with tears!— this fond— this womanish flood!—  
One kiss!— and then— to blood— revenge— and blood.  (kisses. 
Charms!— conquering charms in death!— hence with her hence!  
For I begin to wander from my sense!—  
Where are those lying Priests, that hang the Graves  
With Maps of future Worlds?— show me, you Slaves,  
These Lands of Ghosts!— where is Clarona gone?  grows mad. 
Aloft!— I see her mounting to the Sun!—  
The flming satire towards her does roll,  
His scorching Lust makes Summer at the Pole.  
Let the hot Planet touch her if he dares!—  
Touch her, and I will cut him into Stars,  
And the bright chips into the Ocean throw!—  
— Oh! my sick brain!— where is Phraartes now?  
Gone from himself!— who shall his sense restore?  
None, none, for his Clarona is no more!—  Enter Monobasus. Mon. 
Hast hence Sir! all's on fire! Heaven rains it down,  
Sends Troops of flame to prey upon the Town!  
A Legion now the Temple round besets,  
Thick drops of Gold the falling building sweats.  
The Romans strive with streams of Jewish blood  
To quench the fire, but 'twill not be withstood.  
A Divine fury on the flame has seized,  
It claims the pile, and will not be appeased.  
The cursed Jews a League with it have made,  
And to destroy the Romans lend it aid;  
That a strange mixture now you may behold,  
Rivers of Fire, of Blood, and liquid Gold.  Phr. 
I thank the Fire, it does revenge my wrong;  
I'll go and guide its ravenous Troops along,  
And all the plunder I can find bestow—  
And wish the World I in its arms could throw.—  
Ruin from hence the Universe invade!—  
My light is set in an Eternal shade.  
Look in and see my wretched meaning there—  Mon. 
Clarona pale and slumbering does appear.  (looks in. Phr. 
Dead! dead!— gone out; that dark and fatal door  
Which once locked on us, never opens more;  
That vanished light no more on me shall shine,  
Now I'll prepare her Funeral pomp and mine.  
The Macedonian King but to the shade  
Of a dead Friend, whole Cities offerings made,  
Wasted whole Provinces, whole Nations slew;  
Then what should I for a slain Mistress do?  
Something I'll do, but what I cannot tell,  
My mighty thoughts 'bove all expression swell.  [Offers to go, Monobasus stays him.] Mon. 
Oh stay Sir! I have lost a Mistress too,—  
And want revenge and death as well as you.  
Ambassadors this moment tidings bring,  
My Royal Brother's dead, and I'm a King.  
I sent 'em back, and gave my Crown away,  
And here to die with you on purpose stay;  
For I less Glory judge it, and judge true,  
To govern Kingdoms, then to die with you.  Phr. 
Gallant young King!— let me your welcome give  
To our high Rank!— much honour we receive,  
Which I am sorry we so soon should lose.  
But since to share my destiny you choose,  
I will not seek to do your Glory wrong:  
No, you shall die with me,— then come along,—  
Our Persons, Fames, and Glories we will bear,  
To live and reign, we know not how nor who  
In better company we cannot go;  
We dare the utmost of our Fortunes know:  
Plunge into deeps and never be perplexed,  
Be Kings this moment, and be nothing next.  Ex.  

The Scene the Temple burning, filled with Jews lamenting.  Om. 
Oh!— our Temple!— our Temple!—  
1. Jerusalem's lost!— that Heaven should this permit!  
This Queen of Nations now in dust must sit.  Enter John and Eleazar. Herald 
What shall we do? the fire does raging grow,  
And streams of people to the Romans flow.  Joh. 
I've Prophets hired, who shall deliverance cry,  
And death to all that to the Romans fly.  Enter two Prophets. 1 Pro. 
Lift up your heads, ye people! for this hour  
Salvation comes, from Heaven the seat of Power.  2 Pro. 
Salvation comes! a flaming Sword she bears!  
Woe for partakers with Idolaters.  Enter a Pharisee. Phar. 
Hast, haste! deliverance on our Swords does wait!  
The Roman Tyrant at the Golden Gate  
In person, with a Legion of his Guard,  
With Fire encompassed, is from flight debarred.  Joh. 
Fall on; and lest the Pagan should retire,  
Set the North Chambers of the Priest on fire.  Exeunt. An Alarm; Enter Titus, Tiberius, Malchus, and Antiochus. Tib. 
Gods! at what rash design does Caesar aim,  
To plunge himself thus deep in blood and flame?  Tit. 
Oh save this building!  Mal. 
Sir, all hopes are past,  
The mounted flame does keep his seat too fast.  Ant. 
Besides, the Dogs do their own Temple burn,  
These fiery Spears against our breasts to turn.  An Alarm; Enter an Officer. Offic. 
Hast, hast, Sir, succours to your Legions bring,  
They fall in crowds before the Parthian King.  
On yonder burning Mount, which all commands,  
He like another flaming Mountain stands;  
And fights, and kills, with rage so much above  
All that is Man, the Romans think him Jove.  
Some cry for mercy, some by terror fall;  
By fear, by fire, and him, they perish all.  Tit. 
That triple League no longer shall succeed;  
The King, the mighty Chief of it, with speed  
Shall be undeifyed by my own hands:  
While I ascend with the Praetorian Bands,  
Tiberius, King Antiochus and you  
The Rebels in the upper Tower subdue.  
Rebellion there has long my Power defied,  
But I will wound him now on every side:  
Cut off that Hydra's head all at a blow,  
That no more new ones in the stead may grow.  Ex. After an Alarm within, Enter Malchus and Tiberius meeting. Mal. 
To Caesar haste, with all the speed you can,  
The Parthian King is something more than Man;  
At least he is in League with Powers Divine,  
For Heaven and Earth in his assistance join:  
Voices are heard, and Visions seen i'th' Air,  
Thunder and Lightning to his aid repair.  Tib. 
Strange things you tell; and which does yet increase  
My wonder more, the strange and sudden Peace  
Is made between the Parthian King and Gods:  
'Tis not long since they were at mortal odds.  Exeunt. The Scene is drawn, and Phraartes, Monobasus, and their followers are seen defending a high rocky Mount. The Romans oft attempt to Scale it, but are beaten down by great Stones flung on their heads: Titus, Tiberius, Malchus, Antiochus, come to their assistance, Scale the Mount, and after some opposition ascend and take it. After a sight upon the Mount, the Scene closes. A shout of Triumph. The Scene changes to the Town. Enter Titus, Tiberius, Malchus, Antiochus. Tit. 
This loud and open flattery forbear,  
This public impudence; I hate to wear  
A Robe of Glory which is not my own,  
And tread on ashes which I ought to Crown.  Tib. 
The Parthian Monarch's valour all must own;  
But that does add the more to your Renown,  
Whose greater valour conquered so much odds.  
The King, the Fire, the Thunder, and the Gods.  Tit. 
Vainglorious falsehood still, and flattery all;  
He fell by Gods, by Gods alone could fall.  
At first the Gods against the Romans fought;  
As they the Glory to destroy him sought,  
For whom the whole World's Empire was too small,  
Who was too great by mortal hands to fall.  Tib. 
I'm sure the Visions helped him while they stayed.  Tit. 
They did; but he, contemning of their aid,  
Enraged they intermeddled with his Fame,  
Chasing us, sunk in Ambuscadoes of flame,  
The Gods had laid, to save their Favourite, Rome:  
Yet scarce durst stay to execute their doom,  
But flung the burning Temple on his head;  
Then straight for shelter to their Heaven they fled:  
Thus down alive into the shades he fell,  
And stead of dying, he invaded Hell.  Tib. 
Caesar this vast Revenue of Renown  
May give away, and not impair his own.  
Your Eagles now, Great Sir, their wings have spread  
O'er all the Town, and struck Rebellion dead.  
See, mighty Sir, beneath your feet in Chains,  
The torn dissected Monster's last remains.  
This bloody villain, Hunger;— this, surprise  (pointing to John and Eleazar. 
Drove from strong Vaults, that might all force despise.  Ant. 
With these, some thousand Captives, Sir, are torn  
From their Retreats, your Triumph to adorn.  
The noble Jews in Battle chose to fall,  
And bravely with their Country perished all.  Tib. 
Of all the slain the numbers to compute,  
The numb'ring Art of Rules is destitute:  
The Earth cannot suffice the dead for Graves,  
Nor Iron Mines yield Chains enough for Slaves.  Tit. 
These Slaves shall satisfy me for this guilt,  
And for the blood of all their Nation spilled:  
Conduct 'em hence, and Guard 'em to their doom,  
They shall be public spectacles in Rome;  
First wait on my Triumphal Chariot there,  
Then in a spacious Amphitheatre  
I'll for this Triumph build, be all enclosed,  
And to wild Beasts in open view exposed.  Tib. 
Now Sir, that none of their surviving Race,  
(As some will from your clemency find grace)  
In after ages may their fancies please,  
With hopes from double-meaning Prophecies,  
The plainest sense of 'em we will display,  
And in their ears fulfil 'em all to day.  
Besides the heaps wherewith their Scrouls abound,  
On an old Tower we an Inscription found,  
Where it was writ,— One day in Jewish Land  
A man shall rise, who shall the World command.  
These foolish Slaves applied the God's intent  
To their base Nation, which to you was meant.  
On you, Sir, it shall be fulfilled this hour,  
You are proclaimed that mighty Emperor.  A shout. Om. 
Long live Titus Vespasian Emperor of Rome!  Tit. 
My thanks to all my Troops; I'll grateful prove  
For all their Valour, Loyalty, and Love.  
Oh! now I have received the fatal blow,  
And must from Love to worlds of Glory go:  
Leaving all joys for ever out of sight,  
Which gave my Soul in th' other state delight.  
Where is the Queen? my promise I forget,  
For I must see, perhaps retain her yet.  Tib. 
Great Sir, (as I have been informed) displeased  
You stayed so long, she has her rage appeased,  
And all her sorrow changed into disdain,  
Lamenting most, she did so much complain.  
She now for ever has renounced your sight,  
And is preparing for a speedy flight.  Ant. 
Not far from hence, her Train and Chariots stay.  Mal. 
And see, she's veiled, and coming, Sir, this way.  Enter Berenice and Semandra. Tit. 
Ah, Madam! whither—  Ber. 
Trouble me no more.  Tit. 
I but one word, one look from you implore.  Ber. 
Pray Sir retire.  Tit. 
Whence does this change arise?  Ber. 
Why talk you, Sir, with one you so despise?  
You have attained the Empire you desire,  
To the applauses of your Troops retire:  
The Music which did so delight your ears,  
And ravish you, whilst I lay drowned in tears,  
Let 'em once more their cruel joy repeat;  
Though wherein I have ever given so great  
Offence to all your Troops, I cannot tell,  
Except it was in Loving you too well.  Tit. 
Oh, Madam! do you mind a foolish crowd?  Ber. 
They speak their Emp'rours' sense too plain, and loud;  
And whom you slight, they surely may contemn.  
Go Sir, you have attained the Diadem  
So long desired and sought; observant be  
To all your Laws, and be not seen with me.  
I'm going now your orders to obey,  
And shall not long afflict you with my stay.  Tit. 
Oh! to my Love you great injustice do;  
Do I prefer th'Imperial Throne to you?  Ber. 
Why else to banishment must I be sent?  Tit. 
Oh! Gods! and see you not my great constraint,  
By what strong maxims I am captive led,  
What Pikes and Javelins guard th'Imperial Bed?  
And it were yet more baseness to submit,  
And for the sake of Love, the Empire quit;  
That were a folly nothing could redeem,  
For Love, to lose your Love and your esteem.  
You would look back and blush, to see your Chains  
Drag after you the wretched small remains  
Of a poor Emperor despised, forlorn,  
Whom you in Honour would be forced to scorn.  Ber. 
These are great maxims, Sir, it is confessed,  
Too stately for a woman's narrow breast.  
Poor Love is lost in men's capacious minds;  
In ours it fills up all the room it finds.  
I cannot tell what Glories you pursue,  
I'd quit the Empire of the World for you.  Tit. 
And Madam, what for you would I refuse?  
But poorly Empire and Renown to lose,  
Were all those just pretences to forsake,  
I to so brave a heart as yours can make;  
So giving Fame for Love, should forfeit both.  
For Madam, say, would not your Spirit loath  
An abject Prince, who should such meanness show,  
He poorly should for Love to Exile go?  
Yet this inglorious Exile I must choose,  
Or Throne, Life, Glory, You, and all must lose.  Ber. 
No, you shall lose no Glory for my sake,  
I nothing from you, but myself, will take:  
With too much flame I love Vespasian still,  
To let him bear for me the least of ill.  
So great a Love for you my heart contains,  
I'd go to Rome with you a Slave in Chains;  
But think it hard you should my Love requite,  
With driving me for ever from your sight.  Tit. 
Must my misfortunes still my crimes be thought?  
Oh! Gods! in what distractions am I brought?  Ber. 
You of your own distractions can complain;  
But mine, though greater, I lament in vain.  
Say all your grief is more than a pretence,  
You have Renown your loss to recompense,  
And by your own free choice yourself undo;  
But I am into Exile sent by you.  
Despised, forlorn, disgraced, inglorious made,  
Nothing in my obscure and mournful shade  
To comfort me, for all the wrongs I bear,  
But death,— whose aid I will not long defer.  [Offers to go out in passion, but is stopped by Titus.] Tit. 
What do you threat me with?— strive not in vain,  
You shall not stir whilst these sad thoughts remain.  
This shall not be the Tragical event  
Of parting:— stay, unless 'tis your intent  
I should at farewell some revenge afford,  
And at your feet fall dead upon my Sword.  
If ever you would kind to me appear,  
If ever Titus to the Queen was dear,  
As to my life any regard you bear,  
Do not part from me in this sad despair.  Ber. 
I can deny you nothing; I will still  
Live and be wretched, since it is your will.  
I hope though I to Exile must remove,  
I am not wholly banished from your Love.  
The Laws of Rome do not their Emperor bind,  
At once to chase me from his sight, and mind:  
And 'tis no fundamental rule of State,  
Of a poor Queen the memory to hate.  Tit. 
I hate your memory!— Oh most unkind!  
Why with these words do you afflict my mind?  
The thought of you is all the joy (Heaven knows!)  
I in my glorious banishment propose.  
Since the first hour my heart to Love did bow,  
It never felt such tenderness as now;—  
Witness these tears—  (weeps. Ber. 
Oh Sir! these are not due!—  
An Emperor weep!— and must I pity you?  
Show me less Love, that I may part with ease.  Tit. 
Oh! Gods! who thought of these extremities!  Ber. 
Who could have thought a Love so chaste as mine,  
So great, so pure, so void of all design,  
Should so unfortunate to me have proved?  
Would I had never seen, or never Loved.  [She pauses to weep, and then proceeds.] 
Well Sir, your sorrow kindly I resent;  
So kindly, that I'll go to banishment:  
Since till I'm gone unhappy you must be,  
I will make room for your felicity.  
Let Power Vespasian to herself enjoy,  
I will not enviously by stay destroy  
So great advancement of th' Imperial Throne,  
Better one Queen, than the whole World undone.  
And for your future peace, I will provide  
Some Cave this troubler of the world shall hide,  
Where I till death will Love you as before,  
But never interrupt your Glory more.  Ex. Tit. 
Oh! I am lost!—  Tib. 
Now the great Combate's done,  
All danger's over, and the day's your own.  
Altars and Temples now—  Tit. 
Oh! I despise  
Those flattering pomps, and splendid mockeries,  
Where I am worshipped like a Power Divine,  
And yet all hearts are free to Love but mine.  
Myself I'll longer on the wrack retain,  
And at her Chariot see her once again;  
Then gaze till wide and spacious Seas of Air  
Drown the last view, and then for death prepare;  
I mean that tedious death, which men would feign  
Guild with the specious title of a Reign.  
Prepare to march by the approach of day,  
I hate in this abandoned place to stay,  
Where I am hourly with the thoughts pursued  
Of the Queen's tears, and my ingratitude.  Ex.   
FINIS.