THE Roman Bride's Revenge. A TRAGEDY; As it is Acted at the Theatre-Royal, by His Majesty's Servants.  
— Me Lectori credere Mallem,  
Quam Spectatoris Fastidio ferre superbi,  Hor. 
LONDON: Printed for john Sturton, at the Middle-Temple-Gate, in Fleetstreet, 1697.   

Dramatis Personae.  

MEN.  
Galienus. Emperor of Rome; in Love with Portia.  
Martian. Perfect of the Praetorian Cohorts and Generalissimo of the Roman Army; in Love with, and Contracted to Portia.  
Aurelian. His Friend, and Brother to Portia.  
Perennius. Favourite to the Emperor; in Love with Portia, a Villain.  
Laetus. His Friend and Creature.  
Cleander. Faithful Slave to Martian.   

WOMEN.  
Valeria. Empress.  
Portia. Sister to Aurelian, betrothed to Martian.  
Crispina. Maid to Portia.  
Guards, Attendants, Priests, etc.    

To William Gregory, of How-Caple, Esq  
THE Author having given me leave to choose a Patron for his Play, I knew not where to make a better Choice than You, Sir, who Inherit the Virtues of your Grandfather, the Worthy Mr. Justice Gregory, as well as his Estate. He, who so honourably acquitted himself of the great Trust of Speaker of the House of Commons: He, who Exerted the Patriot in the worst of Times, and showed himself an Englishman, when 'twas dangerous to be so; who chose rather to resign his Place on the Bench, than oblige an Arbitrary Prince, by putting a forced Meaning on the Laws, to serve his Turn, in destroying the Subject: But his Virtue was rewarded, and this happy Revolution saw him in the Chair, where he discharged the Duty of a Just Judge, a Good Christian, and a Charitable Benefactor; in short, who lived beloved and died lamented by all Men: I could not, Sir, I am sure, oblige the Author more, than by putting this his first Endeavour under the Protection of the Heir of this great Man, who does in nothing degenerate from so Excellent an Ancestor; and I, Sir, have no less Satisfaction, in making Use of this Opportunity, to shew●how much I am,  
Your Obliged Humble Servant, J. Sturton.   

PROLOGUE.  
WHen the hot Sun with scorching Beams does shine,  
With Ice we calm the raging heat of Wine▪  
Our Author in like Circumstance is cast;  
He cools his Fancy to oblige your Taste:  
He underwrites to please▪ and frames his Wit,  
Exactly to the Level of the Pit.  
Knowing what Stuff will pass, 'tis his Intention,  
Never to Soar above your Apprehension.  
Therefore he writes to you, the Moderate Wits,  
True Country 'Squires, conceited Fops & Cits,  
Pimps, Panders, Parasites, Prigs, Beaux & Bullies,  
And Whores, with all their Equipage of Cullies.  
I think I see one there, just so attended;  
Since the Vacation, Lord, how things are mended!  
I told her Fortune then, which I remember  
Was, she should get new Rigging in December;  
Now I Jo. Haynes protest upon my Honour,  
She's there, with all my Prophecy upon her▪  
In me a strange Prophetic Spirit reigns,  
Which I impute to an Excess of Brains,  
That does my Business upon each Occasion,  
For none I hope will think 'tis Inspiration.  
A Poet came to me the other day,  
To learn the Destiny of his new Play;  
Urged by good Nature, I in pity showed him  
How to prevent a Shame the Devil owed him;  
But he would on to meet the Critics Shot;  
So Volunteering Poet went to Pot.  
Our Author brings you here his Virgin Muse;  
A Virgin you should gently, gently use:  
And if she's A●ker'd, now, at the beginning,  
Consider this is her first time of sinning:  
Like your kept Misses, more experienced grown,  
She hopes to give Content to all the Town.  
Ladies, I'm sure you will be pleased to day,  
For he has two constant Women in his Play:  
And if he's not deceived, a pretty Tale,  
But yet he has this Refuge, if that fail,  
When Poet's Plots in Plays are damned for Spite,  
They Critics turn, and damn the rest that write:  
So the State Plotter on the like Pretence,  
Missing his Aim, becomes an Evidence.   

EPILOGUE,  Spoke by Miss Allison. 
WEll, our sad Poet is the lazy'st Rogue,  
HE has sent me here without an Epilogue.  
What shall I do?— no matter what I say,  
It need have no Relation to the Play.  
The Poet fancies that I'll plead his Cause;  
Tell you of Passions, and Drammatic Laws:  
Or lash the growing Follies of the Town,  
But I have other Business of my own,  
Tho' you may think my Rose not yet full blown.  
I, who must make my Fortune o' the Stage,  
Will ne'er expose the Vices of the Age:  
Which I expect to find my chief Support;  
And thrive by them, as Flatterers do at Court.  
'Tis not for me to ridicule a Beau;  
I may get Good of him, for aught I know.  
Why should I call that Dam Spark a Bully,  
Or the good natured keeping Fool a Cully?  
When I as well as others, soon may hope  
To be maintained by some conceited Fop.   

THE Roman Bride's Revenge: A TRAGEDY.  

ACT I.  

SCENE I.  A Grove, at the end of it, a Magnificent Temple: Solemn Music is heard at a Distance. Enter Perennius and Laetus. Per. 
SHE's gone! Oh! Laetus! Portia's gone for ever!  
This Night, this very Hour, within you Temple,  
That rough hewn Soldier, Martian, bears her from me!  
What is Perennius now? What his Glory?  
His boasted Favour with Rome's Emperor?  
The feeble Exhalation of a Night,  
That strikes a Terror into none but Boys.  
For what are all that dread me here but Boys?  
The only Man, Rome holds, contemns my Frowns.  Laetus. 
‛ Saint not so loud within the sacred Grove,  
Or you disturb the holy Juggler's Omens,  Per. 
Oh! that I durst disturb the hated Rites,  
That rob me of my Peace, and of my Love▪  
Snatch the bright Maid from the pale quaking Priests,  
Rifle her Sweets even in the awful Temple,  
And break the sullen Malice of my Fate.  Laet. 
Now, by the Gods, why lose you thus your Temper,  
In impotent Complain on your Fate?  
If you want Power to supplant your Rival,  
Exert the Statesman, and contrive Revenge.  Per 
What can I think? or how can I contrive?  
Whose ruffled Thoughts in mad Confusion roll?  
The different Gusts of Hope, Desire, Despair,  
Rage, and Revenge drive on the furious Billows,  
And to a Hurrican toss up th' impetuous Storm,  
That wrecks my Temper, sinks my cooler Counsels,  
And leaves me without Refuge from Destruction.  Laet. 
Come smooth this rapid Tempest to a calm;  
A minutes Calm may safely make the Port.  
Think of the Emperor; you know the ways  
To twist, and wind him as your Interest leads:  
You feed his changeful Appetite with Pleasures;  
His Anger, and his Smiles are at your beck;  
If Martian like a Gyant●●●le your Heaven,  
Make your fond Love destroy him with his Bolts.  Per. 
Alas! I've tried my Power with him in vain,  
In only this he's fixed against my Will.  
Martian alone, of all his Father's Friends,  
Yet braves the Shock of my destroying Hand.  
Here I am ●oil'd, for like a vast Colossus,  
He stands too firm, and mighty for my Gripe.  Laet. 
He must be undermined then—  
Call to your Aid, the well known Arts of Court,  
Those sure can shake the Emperor's Resolves?  Per. 
Oh! 'tis not to be done,  
I've tried him in his Wantonness of Favour.  
His peevish Gratitude for Life received,  
From Martian's Hands surrounds him as a Bulwark.  Laet. 
Despair not yet, for you will surely have her;  
The Wife perverts the Virtue of the Maid,  
And Husband warms her for the Lover's Arms.  Per. 
Oh! no, she's Virtue all, and stubborn Chastity,  
Cold as th' Icicles of severest Winter,  
Unsullied, as the Rose within the Bud,  
Before the Morning Sun has kissed it open.  
I tell thee, I may as well hope to possess  
A Goddess, Diana's self, as Portia;  
She has no Pride for Flattery to work on;  
The Vanity and Follies, that betray the rest  
Of Womankind, lose all their Force on her.  Laet. 
Believe not that, Nature has made 'em all  
Of the same Various, and inconstant Mould:  
When the gay Bait is fitted to their Tast,  
They change, and clasp the sweet Temptation fast:  
Remember she is Woman Sir—  
Woman, that loves with Violence to Day,  
Is cold to Morrow, and even hates the next day.  
Remove your Rival, as I'll show the means;  
Then time, and the soft Dalliance of Court,  
And warm Addresses of a vigorous Lover,  
Will melt her waxed Virtues down before you,  
Deface the old, and make what new Impression  
You shall like best—  Per. 
Proceed.  Laet. 
'Tis not th' Emperor's Gratitude preserves him,  
You know him better— for himself's the Centre  
To all the Motions of his Love, or Hate.  
He thinks he holds the Soldiers firmer to him,  
By giving them their Darling for their Leader.  
Since on their fickle Wills his Empire hangs.  
He would repose that Trust, where most secure;  
And Martian's oft tried Loyalty persuades him,  
That he has his, as he the Arms Hearts.  
But prove him false, you rouse his Native Fears,  
And even his Doubts will fix his certain Ruin.  
For when he doubts, no longer he will trust him,  
And Safety bids him end his Trust with Death.  Per. 
But for this Proof, my precious dear Contriver.  Laet. 
Produce you me, to charge the Treason home,  
You can't want swearing Rogues enough to vouch it:  
That is a Trade in Rome, Families live by't,  
And never blush to own their Occupation.  
Enforce but you his Popularity,  
His ancient junian Race, that twice freed Rome:  
Show how h'affects their old Roman Manners,  
Even in his wedding Revives th' Obsolete Rites  
Of Conferreation; his nice Palate  
Can relish nothing of our present Times.  
Th' Emperor's Fears will swell the Fantom so,  
He'll fly like Lightning to the Holy Temple,  
And crush him in the very Hour of Bliss.  Per. 
There may be Life in this, I like it well,  
I'll winnow so his Looks, his Words, and Actions,  
That I will show he's more of Chaff, than Corn.  
Snatch we this Moment, this white Lock of Time,  
Before he comes here to these damned Espousals.  
Ha! let's away, for see the Pomp draws nigh,  
Followed by Portia, and the fatal Martian.  
I cannot bear the sight: I'll blast his Joys,  
And in the Harbour of his full fraught Wishes,  
Sink the gay Pinnace with her goodly Cargo.  (Exeunt Ambo.  

SCENE II.  Enter Flamens, Augurs, and Pontifices in their Robes, followed by Heautboys, Flutes, and Trumpets▪ after them the Camilli with the Sacrificing Vessels in their Hands, with the Officers of the Sacred Rites; next the Auspexes, than the Flamen Dialis, the Camillus Puer, and Portia led by three Boys, followed by Martian. As the Pomp passes on Martian and Portia come forward. Mar. 
POrtia, my Love, dismiss these needless Terrors;  
For I will fold thee fast within my Arms,  
And Fence thee round from all these spreading Mischiefs:  
My Love shall chase thy Griefs and Fears away,  
And with fierce Kisses warm thee into Joy.  Enter Aurelian. 
And see thy noble Brother, my Aurelian,  
Come from the War t' extend my growing Bliss!  (They Embrace. 
Oh! let me clasp thee thus my Friend for ever?  
More welcome to me, than Wealth to Poverty,  
To Sick Men Health, to harassed Countries Peace.  Aur. 
My Master, Brother, Father, Friend! Oh! thou  
Dearer to me far than Fame, or Victory.  Por. 
My Brother!  Aur. 
My Sister too! this gives a double Pleasure  (They Embrace. 
For my past Fears, to find thee thus secured  
From the Assaults of the injurious Court.  Mar. 
Her Roman Virtue is her surest Guard.  
Is not this Triumph worth a Soldier's Toil?  
So brave a Friend, a Wife so wondrous good?  
Oh! my unruly Joys!— give, give you Gods,  
Your glittering Boons of Gold, of Power, and State,  
To those mean Souls, who think 'em worth their Hopes;  
I'll not have less, nor can you give me more  
Than full Possession, of my present Store.  Por. 
You see my Love the Rites attend us!  Mar. 
Proceed.  (As she's led forward, she looks back on Martain. 
O! my Friend, support me!  
A sudden shivering shoots through all my Veins,  
As cold, and chilling, as the hand of Fate.  
For as my gentle Portia parted from me,  
Methought she grew all pale, and wan, as Death.  
Now by the Gods, the dreadful Fantom works so,  
I cannot bear the ghastly Image of it.  Au. 
'Tis but the Deluge of too mighty Pleasure,  
That bears your Spirits down th' impetuous Stream.  
The shock will soon be over.  Mar. 
O! it is more, and Fate I feel is in it;  
The Gods are angry at my Happiness!  Aur. 
Have they not Reason think you?  Mar. 
Ha!  Aur. 
When you amidst this Hurricane of Nature,  
And all th' expiring Gasps of falling Rome,  
Deaf to their Calls, are lost in lazy Love?  Mar. 
Touch not my Love, I charge thee, touch not that.  Aur. 
Ha! but I must, I came to rouse you from it.  
Is it for naught d'ye think, that the Wise Gods  
Send such amazing Prodigies among us?  
Nothing but wild Confusion is all round,  
Nature seems sick, and these her dying Pangs,  
The Sun, her Soul, shines with diminished Light,  
Or rather sheds a gloomy Twilight on us;  
No genial Heat to raise the sickly Herbage,  
And cheer the drooping Relics of Mankind.  
The Earth, as weary of her guilty Burden,  
With dire Convulsions opes her ponderous Jaws,  
And sucks whole Cities with their People down.  
The Sea swells o'er its ancient Boundaries,  
And drowns whole Countries; through the Air are heard  
Sad hollow Groans, and lamentable Screams,  
That kill like Mandrake's Shrieks, all those that hear 'em.  
And is this then a time for Bridal Joys?  Mar. 
Ha' this! all this! and from my Portia's, Brother!  Aur. 
Pardon me Sir, I taste the noble Honour  
You design her, but must prefer my Country  
To all, to every Good, that's merely mine.  
His Countries Glory is the Soldier's Idol!  
For 'tis for her he toils in Foreign Camps;  
She cools his Heats, and warms his friezing Limbs;  
Fires his large Soul with that Immortal●Fury,  
That with undaunted Ardour hunts her Foes  
Through all the bloody Tempest of the Field.  
The Gods selects us Soldiers from Mankind,  
To give our Country's Safety to our Care;  
Shall we betray that Trust then, Who should guard it,  
And while her harrass'd Armies starve abroad,  
Here see her rifled by Domestic Spoilers,  
The pointed Dagger levelled at her Heart,  
And lose the Sense of it in unmanly Pleasures?  
O! Virtue, Honour, whether are you fled?  
When Martian has forgot your glorious Charms!  Mar. 
Enough▪ my Friend, I own the guilty Charge,  
Thou'st got the start of me in Glories Race,  
I own I've been a Lag; all shall be mended,  
And Rome shall find, that I've not yet forgot her;  
Be but thou still my Friend.  Aur. 
Oh Sir, for ever!  
Be sure of that, not all the Shocks of Fortune,  
Or wearing time shall 〈◊〉 pervert my Faith.  Mar. 
Then let's away, I'll to my forties Bosom,  
And in that Aromatic Flame  
Burn off the 〈…〉 my rising Soul;  
And on the Eagle of her soaring Virtues,  
As from th' Imperial Funeral Pile,  
Mount up the Roman's just avenging God  
And purge their City from the ●●lty Herd  
Of Pimps, Bawds, Flatterers, Informers, Ruffians,  
Usurers, and Betrayers of the public Good,  
Exert the Soldier in this noble Cause,  
And fix their Freedom, and restore the Laws.  Aur. 
Bravely resolved, away then to the Temple,  
And thence to cheer your longing Army's Hearts.  Mar. 
It shall be so but see th' Emperor comes,  
And with him Perennious  
That Monstrous Birth of prostiuted Favour.  (Exeunt. Enter Emperor, Perennius, Laetus, and Train. Perennius, and Laetus seem to speak to him as he 〈◊〉. Em. 
There needs no more, you've made his Gild most plain,  
And he shall find that 〈◊〉 will not  
Bear his Wrongs like a poor came 〈◊〉;  
For I will punish him, as he deserves;  
Nor shall the awful Temple there protect him,  
I'll treat my Justice with ingenious Mischief,  
Even to the height, and wantonness of Revenge.  (Pass on to the Temple.) Scene opens and discovers a magnificent Temple; during the Ceremony the Emperor gazes earnestly on Portia▪ The Solemn Invocation and Music. 
O Juno! Suadela! O Mighty Jove,  
Diana! and thou brightest Queen of Love,  
Who, o'er our Nuptial Rites preside,  
Shower united Blessings on our beauteous Bride,  
Give her Health▪ and give her joy,  
Give her every Year a Boy,  
Brave as his Father, as his Mother Good,  
Full of the Virtues of his ancient Blood.  
Send us kind Omens while aloud we Sing,  
Jo! Thalassius! John! John! Thalassius! John! John!  When the last Chorus is sung, the Flamen Dialis leads Portia to touch the Fire, and the Water ●n the Altar▪ at another Flamen does Martian, they cross, so that while one touches the Fire, the other touches the Water, and when the Chorus is done, the Flamen Dialis asks Martian, Will you Caius have Caia to be your Wife? He answers Yes? Then he asks Portia, Will you Caia have Caius to be your Husband? As she's going to answer, the Emperor steps between, and separates them. Emp. 
NO▪ by the Gods, I swear it ne'er shall be,  
Sooner shall Tigers wed the bleating Sheep,  
And Birds engender with the 〈◊〉 Serpent;  
Sooner shall all Extremes unite, than thou, and Portia  Mar. 
Gods— good Gods fix my staggering Piety.  
That I don't violate your holy Dwellings.  Por. 
Alas! my Boding●fears! what means the Emperor?  Emp. 
To snatch thee from Perdition, from a Traitor.  Mar. 
Traitor, ha'▪ What Villain has traudued me?  
And is my Virtue so unknown to you?  Emp. 
Traduce thee? O●? Impudence, Oh! acted Virtue!  
With such false Baits you catch my needless People  
To back your Treasons; but I'll crush thee Scorpion,  
And heal the Wound up with thy guilty Blood.  Mar. 
Produce the Villain that will dare t' accuse me?  Emp. 
It is enough, that I'm convinced, 'tis true.  Mar. 
It is too much, too much, ingrateful Prince;  
Have I for this, upheld thy sinking State,  
And stemmed the Torrent of o'erflowing Foes,  
That from each side came rolling in upon thee?  Aur. 
Oh! have but Patience; do not fix your Ruin.  Mar. 
Preach Patience to the Winds or raging Fires;  
They'll sooner hear thee. Shall I bear my Wrongs  
Like Boys, and Women with secret Moans, and Tears?  
No, by the Gods, I'll urge his Baseness home,  
Upbraid him with Ingratitude to's Face.  
Have I not left the sweets of downy Peace,  
For the fierce Shock of Wether, and of War,  
The parching Heats, and the ●●eak amazing Colds▪  
To keep thee safe in thy 〈…〉 Ease?  
Have I not spent whole sleepless Night in Arms,  
To keep your lazy Slumbers here unbroken,  
On Beds of Roses with lewd Whores, and Boys?  
Whilst the Ambition of your mighty Mind  
Soared not above some Kitchen Mystery▪  
And durst not hear the Battles that I fought.  Emp. 
Ha! durst not hear 'em? Base detracting Envy▪  
●Be Witness all how I disdain this Boaster.  (Pauses alittle▪ 
He knows it well, when Fury once prevailed,  
(for I 〈◊〉 War, not out of Fear, but Choice)  
How I like 〈◊〉 in the Phlegraean Plains,  
Quashed stern Ingenuus, and drove home the Goths,  
Whose numerous Swarms struck Rome itself with Terror.  Mar. 
It was a Start quite from thy Native Bent,  
And yet even then thy Cruelty burst out,  
With wild Delight enjoyed the bloody Field,  
Vvantoned in Goa●, and dimmed your brightest Action.  
Like a wide wasting Plague, y'impeopled Countries  
That owned the Roman Pow'r, you then had fallen  
A Victim to th'avenging Army's Rage,  
Had not my misplaced Love most timely quelled 'em.  Em. 
I'll hear no more▪—  Mar. 
You dare not, by the Gods!  
You dare not hear how much you are indebted,  
Because you have resolved you ne'er will pay.  
Your Life you own me; and your Empire too;  
To me you own the Power by which you wrong me▪  
If you not like it, why return the Gift.  Emp. 
This Insolence is never to be born—  
Guards seize the Traitor, I'm not safe even here.  Mar. 
Oh! the just Gods— pauses a little— but I deserve it all!  
For if I am a Traitor 'tis to Rome.  
To let this purple Monster lay her waste.  
For she derives her Sufferings all from me▪  
Her Vvidowed Matron's Pangs, her Orphan's Tears,  
Her ravished Virgins, and her murder'd Fathers.  
For 'twas from me she took thee for her Lord.  Emp. 
It is enough— there needs no farther Proof,  
Away with him—  Por. 
O! Emperor hear me, hear the wretched Portia!  
If ever gentle Pity touched your Soul,  
For Honour, and for Justice hear me speak!  Mar. 
Kneel not to him, nor urge him by such Motives,  
How can he pity us that sports with Murder?  
And laughs at all the Groans of gasping Rome?  
How can the source of daily Wrongs love Justice?  
Or Honour move his mean degenerate Heart▪  
That leaves his noble Father still in Bonds,  
The shameful Footstool of the Persian King▪  
Who, still unpunished when he mounts his Horse,  
Treads on the hoary Majesty of Ro●e▪  Emp. 
What e'er he does the Majesty of Rome▪  
Shall not be bearded in th' imperial City▪  
Therefore away with him to the 〈◊〉 Rock.  Por. 
Stay, stay till I've spoke but to the Emperor.  To the Guards. 〈◊〉 again. 
O! Sir, consider, will you kill your Soldier?  
Your Empire's Guard, and for a few rash words?  
Forced from him by this Burst of sudden woe?  
To have me snatched from his impatient Arms,  
Even in the brightest shine of his full hopes!  
To lose me when he most did think me his!  
Oh! 'tis enough to make him talk, and rave!  Emp. 
Rise Noble Portia, I must not let you kneel.  Port. 
O! I will kneel as long as I have Life;  
Till I can move your cruel Breast to Pity.  
Think what it is to lose a thing you love,  
Though but a Trifle, and as he loves me,  
For Oh! he loves me; good Gods how he does love me!  
His very Soul is bound up in my Faith;  
I'm sure 'twould kill him should I speak unkindly;  
Indeed it would; and when you drag me from him,  
You tear the very Strings of his poor Heart.  
Think what the wild convulsive pangs of Love,  
Of wondrous Love, would force your Tongue to speak!  Emp. 
Well Madam, you've Charms I find that will prevail;  
His Life I give you, even against my Peace;  
But see you learn Compassion from me, Fair One,  
I shall expect it.—  Mar. 
Barbarian, I despise thee, and thy Pity.  
I charge thee do not dare to banish me,  
For if thou dost—  Por. 
O! do not rouse his Wrath I've lulled asleep▪  
But with me kneel, and own the generous Gift.  Mar. 
How! Portia? is this kind to thank the Tyrant  
For the extent, and utmost stretch of's Malice!  
Life without thee is lingering on the Rack.  Por. 
Ha! without me? forbidden it ye just Powers!  
No, I will wander with thee through the World;  
Through the bad World, to find out a Retreat  
from Villainy; for Virtue, and for Love.  
Come let's away, for Exile's only here.  Emp. 
Go see him straight without the City Gates.  To the Guards. Taking hold of her Hand. 
Hold, Madam, you must stay and shine in Rome;  
The leading Star of all her 〈◊〉 Host.  Por. 
Stand off—  Snatching 〈◊〉 Hand away, and flying to Martian, catches hold of his Arm amidst the Guards. 
for I'll go with my Lord, my Love!  
Thus will I cling to him as long as I have Life:  
Not Death itself shall lose my eager hold.  Emp. 
Dogs, Hell, and Furies, am I not obeyed?  
Cut off the traitor's Arm, even in her gras●?  
And drag him hence, and drive him out of Rome;  
If he comes back, he dies.  Por. 
Oh! hurt not him; for see my Hands are loos'd.  (The Guards struggle, and offering to cut his Arm, she lets go. (He's born out. Mar. 
Dogs! barbarous Tyrant! bloody Villains!  Por. 
Stay, take one parting Kiss, stay prithee do;  
Stay but a Moment, for I've much to say,  
Believe me constant, think me thine for ever.  
Not Racks, nor Torture shall pervert my Faith!  
Oh let me hear from thee! each tedious Minute,  
I'll send thee back my restless Throws and Pangs,  
My eager Long, and my raving Wishes.  Looking up and about. 
Ha! he is gone! torn from my panting  
Bosom!  
Torn from me in the Temple, at the Altar!  
Revenge it Gods upon this bloody Tyrant!  
Pour on his guilty Head, Distress and Ruin,  
Poverty, Contempt, Rebellion, Slavery,  
Knawing Diseases, Leprosies, Plagues, and Famine!  
Blast all his Hopes, and Wishes in Enjoyment!  
Seize him ye Furies, sink him, plunge him in profoundest Hell▪  
For my poor Martian! for my injured Martian!  Aurel. 
Forgive me Friendship, if I'm silent now;  Aside. 
Or seem to break thy holy Laws to keep'em!  
It is the only means of dear Revenge;  
If I dissemble well, I gain the Power  
To crush the Tyrant, and restore my Friend.  Emp. 
Wrong not thy Virtue thus for ● black Traitor,  
But lift thy Eyes up to a Monarch's Love.  (To Portia; offering her his Hand. Por. 
Ha! Love from thee!— blasted be thy Tongue,  
That spoke the guilty word▪ thy Mind that formed it!  
I ne'er shall fall from the auspicious Height  
Of Martian's Love, to th' low Abyss of thine.  
O! no! the vast Descent's too terrible,  
And my Soul sickens at the dreadful View.  
Avaunt, be gone, nor with one touch pollute me.  (Starts away from him. Aurel. 
Forbear my Sister, before the awful Gods,  
T' affront their Sacred Image in your Prince!  
But know the generous Honour, that he means you;  
And let me give you to his Royal Arms.  Por. 
Is it Aurelian spoke those guilty words?  
Sure 'tis impossible! desert thy noble Friend  
On the first shock of his unequal Fortune?  Aur. 
No Friend can balance with my Emperor's Will:  
He, and the Gods, require our first Obedience.  
Nor shall you fond throw away their Blessing.  Por. 
O Martian! Martian! How wilt thou believe it.  
A part of me is false to thee already?  
Oh! Where is Virtue fled? Apostate Wretch!  
How I despise thee, and disclaim thy Blood!  (pauses a little. 
Oh! break my Heart, this is too much to bear!  
Stand off▪ and give me Room, that I may die,  
I will not stay in this contagious World!  
O let me fly aloft to the great Gods,  
And snatch their idle Thunder to destroy you!  
Oh! Oh! Oh!  (Faints away. Emp. 
Ha! by the Gods, she faints! go bear her gently  
To the Imperial Palace; Quiet, and Music  
May smooth, and lull this Frenzy of her Mind.  
Come to my Arms, my Brother now, and Friend,  (to Aurel. 
Thy Zeal for me shall meet a just Reward;  
The Prize thou giv'st, deserves my Diadem!  
For on her Love depends thy Emperor's Life.  
Bound with these Bonds, my Empire thou shalt share.  
Thine be the rugged Glories of the War,  
And mine the boundless Joys of this soft yielding Fair.  
The End of the First ACT.    

ACT II.  

SCENE I.  An Antichamber in the Empresses Apartment in the Palace. Enter Perennius and Laetus. Laetus. 
HAve but a little Patience.—  Peren. 
Patience!  
Now Curses on thy Counsels, they have ruined me;  
And then thou thrusts me out to slavish Patience.  
Patience! the lazy Refuge of mean Souls,  
That rather bear, than struggle with their Fortune.  
Gods! how I despise it; if I fall, it shall  
Be in a manly grapple with my Fate▪  
While my large Ruins crush ye all to Atoms.  
No more of thy dull Counsels.  Laet. 
You liked 'em once.  
And by 'em have removed your powerful Rival.  Peren. 
But raised a greater— set Portia farther off,  
Beyond the bounds of my extensive hopes.  
MY Ambition too's defeated; for her Brother  
Wears all the Plumes of his degraded Friend,  
And fond as a Child of's new gaudy clothes;  
Already's go to take possession of 'em.  
Had I but gained that point, my love had thrived,  
Spite of the changeful Emperors Will, or Power.  Laet. 
I know not what you think, that look through Mists,  
Through Clouds of Passion; but to me I swear  
By the great Gods, that all seems wondrous Well▪  
Why are we here else? at this dead of Night?  
And by the Empresses Order? but with freedom  
To consult your mutual satisfaction.  
Is she not raging with neglected Love?  
Resents she not with more than equal Ardour,  
Th' estranged Affections of the Emperor?  
But you will lose this means of Happiness,  
Rather than have Patience! slavish Patience!  Per. 
Pardon me Friend, my Soul is on the Rack,  
I cannot think of losing heavenly Portia!  
But wild distraction seizes on my Brain!  
And like a Whirlwind rends my very Heart up.  
But I am calm again, now Hope appears,  
Temperate as Age to hear thy Story out.  Laet. 
When I say I told her of it—  Per. 
Ay then! What said she?  Laet. 
At first she silent stood, as struck with Lightning,  
Fixed were her Eyes, and motionless each part,  
The charming Red forsook her beauteous Face,  
And left it bleak, and wan; then in a moment,  
A fiery Blush overspread it; and from her Eyes  
A shower of Tears burst with impetuous force,  
As if they meant to quench the angry Flame  
That burned her Cheeks. And then you might have seen  
Pride, Love, Desire, Despair, Fear, and Disdain,  
Rowl, clash, and break like furious meeting Tides;  
Till in this mighty Hurrican of Passion,  
The wretched Princess sunk into her Chair.  Per. 
Proceed, this Story moves me.  Laet. 
It would be  
Tedious to repeat her various Agonies,  
And all that past till her tempestuous Rage  
Had worked itself into a calm of Thought,  
How to redress, if not prevent her Wrongs.  
But having informed her of the share you took  
In her Sufferings, she appointed this Place,  
And Time, for our Consultation; and I  
Have got, I think, the means of both your ease.  Per. 
As how my best Friend?  Laet 
You see the Empress comes.  
You shall partake it with her.  Enter Empress. Empr. 
Divorced! thrown from him like a loathed Embrace!  
Am I grown old and ugly in one Month?  
Gods! I shall be the out-cast of the Court!  
The Laughter, or the Pity of the Vulgar!  
Of every fawning Rascal! Oh! my Heart!  
May all the Plagues he has invoked light on him!  
For his base Perjuries! Oh! but I love him,  
Even to Distraction Love, th'ingrate●● false one:  
That blunts my Rage, and quite disarms Revenge,  
Converts my Curses on my Tongue to Blessings.  
I have no Refuge left, but sad Complaints;  
And those, but fan the'fury of my Love;  
Set all his Charms in my despairing Eyes,  
Show me the dear, blissful, heavenly good I lose.  
Oh! Death! Confusion, 'tis not to be born!  Laet. 
I cannot see such Beauty in such Grief!  
I will break off the anxious Scene, Madam!  Empr. 
Ha', Laetus, are ye● here, Perennius, too?  
'Tis much to find two Friends, and in Disgrace.  Per. 
Madam, such Beauty wronged can ne'er want Friends.  Empr. 
Flatter me not, for I'm grown old and withered.  Laet. 
Fresh by the Gods, and Beauteous as the Morning.  Empr. 
Oh! were I so, how could my Emperor slight me?  Per. 
His Appetite's too weak to taste so fierce a Joy.  Empr. 
Is Portia fair? For yet I never marked her.  Per. 
Bright as Pondora, made by all the Gods,  
T'allure the stubborn Heart of the first Man.  Empr. 
Ah! me!  Per. 
But, Madam, to the means of your Relief.  Empr. 
Ay my good Friends, proceed.  Laet. 
The Emperor's Passion is yet but young,  
And by removing Portia, would soon die;  Per. 
And then his Love for you in course revives.  Empr. 
But how! how shall I compass this Design?  Laet. 
Madam, I have a Friend among the Vestals,  
Who will convey her safely to their Temple.  Per. 
Their Habit gives them passage where they please;  
Nor will she scruple to venture with a Priestess.  Laet. 
Thence may she make her wished escape to Martian.  Empr. 
If she does love but half so well as I,  
She will be swift to catch this blessed occasion.  Laet. 
But she must haste to use this dead of Night.  
The Priestess shall be here within an Hour.  Empr. 
Well, I'll away to free her and myself;  
For while she's here, no hopes for me remain,  
But a black Scene of dreadful Woe, and Pain.  Per. 
Well, but how wilt thou perform this lucky Thought?  Laet. 
Why, I will be this holy Vestal Virgin,  
And bear your Portia for you, to your Arms.  Per. 
Let me embrace thee, thou Soul of brave design,  
But finish this, and all my Fortune's thine.  (Exeunt.  

SCENE II. Portia's Apartment.  Scene opens, and discovers Portia lying in a Melancholy posture on a Couch. Enter the Emperor. Emp. 
SUCH was Europ●, such bright Danae was,  
And such was Leda, thus transporting fair,  
When with dilusive Arts great jove compressed 'em!  
Oh! that I could, like him, but change my Form,  
T' assume that likeness, that would please you most.  
God's might unenvied, keep their Joys above,  
I'd wish no other Heaven but my Love.  (She starts from her Couch, on discovering the Emperor. Por. 
Ha! is he here? and at this dead of Night!  
Oh! guard my Virtue Heaven from the Tyrant!  (Turns aside. Emp. 
Why d'ye start? why turn those Eyes away?  
That like Achilles' Spear should heal the Wounds they gave.  Por. 
O Sir, for Virtue's sake with speed retire!  
I must not hear, nor see you at this time.  Emp. 
Oh! name not Virtue with that charming Face,  
Beauty and Virtue are at Mortal odds,  
And as irregular as Frosty Summers.  
What has that melting form to do with Virtue?  
That artful Dawbney o● the Deformed and Old,  
To force from Men a faint regardless look,  
Who else would never mind'em.  
Beauty and Youth abound with Love Charms,  
And from their own bright source of Heav'nly Fires,  
Difuse around soft Flames, and warm Desires.  Por. 
Oh! name not Love, that is a noble Passion,  
Disdains the barren Soil of guilty Minds,  
And only sprouts in the warm Sun of Virtue.  
Canst thou, that tamely bears insulting Nations,  
Seest Tyrants burgeon on each fide, each day,  
Without one Check, can that low grovelling Soul  
Pretend to reach the lofty heights of Love?  Emp. 
Mistaken Notions lead your sense astray;  
Love dwells not in the noisy busy Breast,  
But in the sweet Retreat of Peace and Joy,  
Now, by the Gods, the Trojan Shepherd chose  
With Judgement, when for Beaty he refused,  
The rugged Cares of Courage, and of Kingdoms.  
Let th' Ambitious take the busy World,  
Thou shalt to me be Victory and Crowns▪  
Ambition will but give the half his Heart;  
I'll not withhold even the minutest part.  Por. 
Oh! how my Soul disdains thee!  
Thou, that hast held the Chariot of Rome's Glory,  
With such a seeble Rein, that it is fallen,  
With vast Rapidity, from its full Noon,  
Down to the doubtful twilight of its Set.  
How canst thou think to move a Roman Mind,  
Full of the injured Genius of her Country,  
That groans beneath thy mean Tyrannic sway?  Emp. 
Well! I will draw the inspiration, hence;  
And from thy Lips suck that old Roman Virtue,  
That for thy sake shall make pale War look lovely.  [Goes to her, Embraces her; She struggles from him. Por. 
Stand off! imperial Villain! touch me not!  
Thy sooty Soul pollutes me from thy Mouth;  
Could I tell how, I'd stop thy guilty Breath.  Emp. 
How lovely is thy Rage!  Enter Empress. 
What brings her hither to disturb my Bliss?  
My Soul was fluttering with the very Kiss.  (aside. Por. 
Thanks to the Gods for this deliverance.  Empress. 
Where is this Ttayteress? Where those baneful Charms  
That hold my Emperor from my longing Arms?  
Ha! he is here! here at this Midnight hour,  [Sees him. 
All raging Love, and she within his Power!  
Her Virtue must too weak a Guard have been,  
Against the force of such alluring Sin.  Emp. 
Wrong not, by your fond Jealousy betrayed,  
Th' immortal Virtue of this heavenly Maid;  
In Contradiction by the Gods, designed,  
To our false Maxims against Woman kind;  
For in a Court, in spite of Force, or Prayer,  
She's Constant, chaste, a Woman, Young and Fair.  Empress. 
Why will you then pursue a fruitless pain?  
Fly what you have, for what you can't obtain?  
Return my Wanderer; O! return again!  
I Sigh, I Pant, I perish by delay;  
(My sleeping Cares, my Pangs, and Fears all Day)  Embraces him. 
Come to my Breast, thou'st been too long away.  
When scarce awake, about my Arms I cast,  
With eager hopes, to press my Emperor fast;  
But he not there, I draw 'em back gain;  
Then reach all round, but all alas! in vain;  
For he's fled from me, who should ease my Pain▪  
My Fears awake me, and I gaze around,  
But there no Print of my false Love is found;  
Frighted I rise, to seek where he is fled;  
Then throw myself upon my Widowed Bed.  Por. 
O! Emperor! can't such a tender Love  
Your stubborn Heart with gentle Pity move?  Emp. 
Her nauseous fondness but provokes my scorn.  Por. 
O barbarous Wretch, sure of no Woman born!  
No soft Compassion harbours in thy Mind,  
But all thy Deeds confess thy Savage kind.  
Foolish as false, slight the best Joys of Life,  
In the Embraces of a constant Wife.  Emp. 
A Wife's Embraces are all palled and dull—  
Besides, your Image fills my extended Soul.  
From your fierce Love no Refuge I can find;  
Like Gild, inexpiable, it haunts my Mind;  
Converts me all into its self like Fire,  
In which, like Fuel spent, I must at last expire.  Empress. 
O! try by Absence, to dissolve these Charms!  
Fly from her Witchcraft to my Circling Arms.  Emp. 
Too weak that Circle to secure my Heart;  
She has spread the Poison through each vital part.  
Absence alas! attempts my Cure in vain,  
Absence itself augments the charming Pain,  
The more I'm from her, still I love the more,  
Possession only can my Peace restore.  
But there Fate stands, and with an awful Brow,  
Checks each fond Wish, and every eager Vow:  
Drives me all naked from Hopes warmer Air,  
To the severest Winter of Despair.  Por. 
Behold more kind, and nobler Beauties there.  [Pointing to the Empress. Emp. 
You turn my Eyes from you, to her in vain,  
' Spite of Despair, and all its ghastly train;  
I'll love you still, and fond the raging Pain.  
Nor to pale Night will I resign my Breath,  
But eat the enticing blandishments of Death;  
Death to your Power a speedy end would give,  
But in the Tortures you ordain I'll live.  Empress. 
Believe him not, for he is all Deceit,  
Taught by my Ills, avoid the treacherous Bait.  
For, ah! by fond Credulity betrayed,  
I thought all true the loved Dissembler said:  
Believed his Words, addressed with all the Art.  
Of strong Persuasion, to subdue my Heart.  
Believed his Oaths, believed each tender Vow:  
Believed his melting Tears, which artfully did flow!  
The fatal shelf of Faith in him, oh! shun,  
I but believed him, and I was undone!  Portia. 
Fear not fair Empress any wrong from me,  
How little he can move my Heart, you see.  
His Words, like empty sounds, pass by my heedless Ears,  
His Love gives me no Pleasure, and his Threats no Fears.  Empress. 
See, she rejects you! whether would you fly?  
It is not Portia dotes on you, but I.  
Oh let me reap the Fruit of her kind Scorn!  Emperor. 
Away, this fondness is not to be born.  
Nor do you much insult ingrateful Fair,  
On thee I will revenge these Pangs of my Despair.  
I will not long, thus burn with hopeless Fires,  
Nor groan beneath the weight of impotent Desires.  Por. 
Thy threats don't touch me; more than thy vain Love.  Empress. 
Hear me, O hear ye conscious Powers above,  
How oft he swore the Tyler's Streams should go,  
Back sooner to the Source from whence they flow:  
That Sun and Moon should sooner lose their Light,  
And bury Mankind in Eternal Night.  
Than he be false. Then Tiber quickly turn,  
And with inverted Volumes hast t' your Native Urn:  
Rise Darkness, rise, and hid us all, for he's forsworn:  
The dear Protester now is falser grown,  
Than Wind, or Ocean, or the changefull Moon.  [Pressing him in her Arms. Emperor. 
I cannot, will not love, nay, see you more.  Empress. 
O! ye just Gods, who heard him when he swore!  
By juno, Venus, Vesta, and by jove;  
To me, and me alone Eternal Love.  
Why ye tame Gods, why don't ye strike him dead,  
Why done't your Bolts pierce his devoted Head?  [Pauses. 
— Ah no! good Gods spare, spare his precious Life,  [Kneeling. 
Transfix the Heart of his abandoned Wife.  Emperor. 
I'll hear no more—  
For such Contagion her soft Words impart,  
I feel a Foreign Pity storm my Heart.  [aside. Empress 
O! you must hear me; for Pity's sake, but hear,  
To my Complaints you may afford your Ear,  
Though your dear Heart be gone—  Emp. 
— I must away,  
I shall betray my weakness if I stay.  [He struggles to get from her. Empress. 
Oh! stay and tell me, tell me, prithee do,  
Why thou deserts thy wretched Empress so?  
What Crimes your Anger, and Aversion move,  
But a too mighty tenderness, and Love?  Emperor. 
Stand off— and lose me, or—  [Clapping his Hand on his Dagger. Empress. 
Draw not thy Dagger, thy poor Wife to kill,  
Thy Cruelty will do't— indeed it will.  [Weeps. Emperor. 
There's a Confusion fixes me in Ill,  
Methinks it is unworthy me to yield.  
No, I will fly, since I can't keep the Field.  [Breaks from her and Exit. Empress. 
Oh! he is gone, the cruel false one's gone!  Por. 
Pursue him, Madam, and the day's your own.  
Your Goodness bore his stubborn Vices down,  
And for just Pity made a noble way,  
You suffer them to rally, if you stay.  Emp. 
O! I am weary of this fruitless Pain!  
Gods! must I wast my Charms, and Youth in vain,  
No I will arm me with severe Disdain.  
A generous Pride my surest Guard will prove,  
Against the Fury of my hopeless Love.  [Pauses. 
Ah! no— it will not be— my Heart rebels,  
And all the Efforts of Pride my raging Love repels.  
Well, I will after him— pursue him still,  
And if he will not love me, sure he'll kill!  
Oh! that he would even so but give me Rest,  
I'd clasp the dear Destroyer to my dying Breast.  [Exit. Por. 
Unhappy Princess, may'st thou find Success,  
For mine is twisted in thy Happiness;  
If thy strong Virtue but Triumphant proves,  
We both shall reap the Harvest of our Loves.  [Exit.  

SCENE III.  Changes to the Street. Enter Martian and Cleander. Mart. 
CLeander, prithee leave me with the rest.  
Surprised, turned out to the inclement World,  
Naked of Help, I have no means to keep thee.  
Banished, proscribed, a Price set on my Head,  
My only Bosom Friend, that should have lent  
His Shoulder to support this sinking Atlas,  
Flies from me with the common nasty Herd  
Of Knaves, Sycophants, Buffoons, and Flatterers,  
And with my Laurels decks his Faithless Brow.  
All eat me like Infection; therefore leave me.  Clean. 
Oh! Sir, dismiss this Avarice of Woe,  
And let your Servant share your wretched Fortune!  
As he has done your Good! I'm no Summer Fly.  
To love your Shine, and fly your stormy Wether.  
My Indastry has got some little Treasure  
Under you, that may help you in your Exile.  Mar. 
Why shouldst thou love me so, who by me  
Alone hast lost thy Freedom.  Clean. 
— Dear Sir,  
I lost my Freedom in my Country's Cause,  
And in amends Fate gave the best of Masters;  
And may I on a Dunghill, like a Dog,  
Rotsie, rot piece meal, if ever I forsake you.  
Is it so hard, to let your poor Slave starve with you.  Mar. 
Yes, for 'twould be unjust, and shock my Nature  
O false A●eli●n! O degenerate Rome!  
Learn Faith, and Virtue from this noble Slave!  
Honest Cleander, I have no business for thee,  
I'm at the end of Life's uneasy Journey,  
And can reach Death's near Inn without thy help.  Cle. 
O Sir! far be that Thought! your Country calls  
Implores your Help, to free it from Oppression.  
Fly to the Army, they will own your Cause,  
And save lost Rome from black devou'ring Knaves.  Mar. 
'Twill be in vain, for Knaves will still be uppermost;  
They float aloft, like Chaff upon the Water,  
Which though by moving you a while disperse,  
Soon as the ruffled Element is settled,  
They gather all a top again.  Clean 
— Think of your Portia then,  
When you are gone, where will be her Rescue?  Mar. 
Ay, there Cleander thou hast touched the Note,  
That breaks the drowsy Charm of lazy Death,  
And makes my Soul exert its Native Fire.  
What leave her, to the Tyrant's Will and Power?  
For him to brood o'er all her chaster Sweets!  
Gods! good Gods! how that wild Thought distracts me!  
No, I will live, for her thus cursed will live!  
And rouse the sleeping Soldier in my Bosom.  
To win the Army to revenge her Wrongs,  
Crush the black Tyrant, and deliver Rome.  
Force may be swifter than their distant Rescue.  
Therefore I will secure my Portia first.  
And she in safety, I can't perish all.  
It shall be so— Cleander, I'll employ thee.  Clean. 
Blessings on you Sir, let me embrace your Knees,  Kneels and embraces 'em. 
For this kind Word; you shall see your Slave,  
Fly through impervious Dangers, even to death;  
Swift as Revenge or Jealousy to serve you.  Mar. 
You say the Guard takes you for Portia's Slave?  Clean. 
I have been with her often since the Evening,  
Went with her in the crowd too from the Temple.  
Trusting my Faith, she sent me oft to find you,  
And beg you hasten to deliver her.  Mar. 
She shall be obeyed, for I'll now to her.  Clean. 
Sir.  Mar. 
With her consult of means for her escape,  Clean. 
The Army, Sir, is the only means she hopes.  Mar. 
Th' Army's uncertain, for they are Romans too.  
Romans, and once my Friends, therefore must be false.  Clo. 
This way you perish, known to all the Court.  Mar. 
No, I will take thy Habit, and so pass.  Cle. 
Consider Sir,  Mar. 
No more I am resolved, thou'lt find me in the Porch of Vestal  Clean. 
I must obey, may all the Gods protect you  Thunders. Mar. 
A sudden clap of Thunder without Clouds,  
A waving Sword i'th' Air,— 'tis wondrous strange.  [pauses. 
Avaunt be gone ye dreadful boding Omens!  
For I will on, since Love will have it so.  
If I have erred ye ruling Powers above,  
'Tis by the force of a resistless Love;  
Spare her, for I alone am Criminal,  
And on my head let all your vengeance fall.  
Give me relentless Gods this one relief;  
With this Increase enrich my Barren Grief;  
Then shall I have the Cordial Joy to see,  
My Portia happy by my Misery,  
In that vast pleasure lose my wretched state,  
And smile at the vain Impotence of Fate.  [Exit. 
The End of the Second Act.    

ACT III.  

SCENE. I.  Portia's Apartment in the Palace. Enter Portia at one Door, and Martian in Cleander Habit at the other. Por. 
WEll, good Cleander, hast thou seen my Lord?  
And will he haste, to rescue his lost Portia?  Mar. 
With all the speed of longing eager Love:  [Runs to her and embraces her. Port. 
Unhand me Slave— What means this Insolence?  [She starts from him. Mar. 
What does not then my charming Portia know me?  
And can a thin disguise conceal her Martian?  (He pulls off his Beard. 
Methinks her Heart should beat at my Approach,;  
And by its Sympathetick Throbs reveal me.  (She looks earnestly at him while he speaks; and after the first word runs into his Arms. Por. 
Martian!— ha'! My Lord! my Love! my Life!  Mar. 
Portia my Soul! my Bliss! my Heaven!  (They Embrace. 
Oh! do I hold thee once more in my Arms!  
The full Amends of all my Sufferings past!  Port. 
Where hast been poor wanderer? Where hast been?  
What hast thou done? How have the Gods dealt with thee  
Since thou wert ravished from me at the Altar?  
Where is the Army? Will they own thy Cause?  
Are they come with thee? Am I free from Bonds?  
Answer me— tell me all; Oh! tell me quickly!  
For I have yet a thousand things to ask;  
And horrid strange, prodigious things to tell thee.  Mar. 
Speak on— I'll answer thee with Kisses; press thee  
Close to my Heart, while on thy panting Bosom  
I breathe the dear Distractions of my Fondness!  
Lose all my Griefs; all thoughts of pressing Fortune  
In this Abyss of Joy, of beamy Heaven!  
Eternal Raptures of Almighty Love  
Dance round my Heart, and make me grow Immortal.  Por. 
Oh! I am faint with Joy; Convulsive Heave  
Extend my Bosom, and my throbing Heart  
Flutters about, as if 'twould beat its last!  Mar. 
Gods! good Gods! give me, Oh! give me Portia!  
Give me but her, and cast your Crowns and Glory,  
Victory and Fame to the poor busy Slaves,  
That would be great, with her I would sit down,  
In peaceful and unenvied Poverty,  
Above the anxious Greatness of Renown.  Por. 
O! all ye Heavenly Powers! that fixed this World,  
With the Cement of Universal Love,  
Why is such tender Passion not your Care?  
Such Virtue, and such Truth by all forsaken?  
Can you view Mortal Joys with envious Eyes?  
Or grudge the scanty rivulets of our Pleasures,  
Amidst such Torrents of surrounding Woe!  
Ah! no— 'tis I; 'tis my contagious Fate,  
'Tis cursed I have ruin'd my poor Martian!  
O! that I rather never had been born!  
Or scalded o'er with frightful Leprosies,  
Wrinkled with Age, and loathed Deformities.  Mar. 
Accuse not Heaven, nor curse thy Beauteous Form!  
My Crimes alone have made me thus unhappy.  Por. 
And canst thou love me still? after the Sufferings,  
That I have cost thee?—  Mar. 
— Sure thou dost not doubt it—  
Love thee still?— Yes, by my dearest Hopes!  
Thy very Name yields Joy; thy Talk darts Raptures,  
An oh! thyself— oh! 'tis not to be spoke!  
'Tis mighty ecstasy beyond unfolding.  
Heaven is most just, withholds thee from my Arms,  
Because it sees I've not deserved thee yet.  Por. 
Alas, thy Love restores my tainted Blood,  
Or sees not the black Crimes it has admitted!  Mar. 
What canst thou mean? thy frightful Words, and Gesture,  
Cast a i'll shivering Horror o'er my Soul.  Por. 
Perhaps thou knowst it not— the guilty Shame  
Confounds me. I cannot utter it—  Mar. 
If it be aught that does concern my Love,  
That threatens that, delay not to inform me,  
If not, all other Ills are Foreign things,  
And give no Pain.  Por. 
Must I then tell my Shame?  Mar. 
Ha! thy Shame! what would these dreadful Words,  
Tainted Blood, black Crimes and guilty Shame!  
Nay, thy Shame too, ha'!— Gods, I shall grow wild  
With ghastly doubts, with strange, with shocking Fears!  
Art thou infected with thy Sex's Frailties?  
False to thy Vows?— thy numerous Vows and Oaths?  
Impossible! Answer me,— Can this be?  
This is too much, too much, relentless Powers  
Makes me fall out with Providence, and think  
That We're abused with Maxims of your Goodness!  
This is not Just— I cannot, will not bear it,—  Por. 
O! have but Patience.  Mar. 
I've all th' extent of patiented Sufferance.  
Can bear th' Insults of the tumultuous People,  
The Savage Fury of a Tyrant's Will;  
Not all the threatening Hurricane of Heaven,  
Nor the right Hand of dreadful thundering jove,  
Nor should the Frame of Nature burst asunder,  
And crush us all to Atoms, would it move me.  
But this is worse than Poverty, Disgrace,  
Exile, Diseases, Rods, Axes, or Destruction.  
O end me, end me, quickly Gods, lest I  
Blaspheme, and doubt your Being's. Ah!  
Blast me with Lightning; throw me down,  Por: 
But ah! my Brother! your loving Friend Aurelian!  Mar. 
What of him?  Por. 
Ah! he is false! couldst thou think it.  
Urged me to falsehood too, indeed he did:  
Courted the Tyrant with most Servile Flattery,  
To build his Fortune upon Martian's Ruins.  
Calm this loud Tempest, thy Mistake has raised,  
Or see me perish in thy Sight this moment!  Mar. 
O! thou hast Power to forth unruly Frenzy,  
Yes, I will hear you, though you Damn me farther.  Por. 
Oh! that I love thee Martian, with all the Force  
Of Purity and Truth, be Witness Heaven!  
And every awful Power bend down and hear,  
While in the fond Abundance of my Heart,  
I swear, I love thee more than Health, or Life,  
Than Liberty, or wished for Peace of Mind  
Next to my Countries good, and my own Honour!  Mar. 
O charming Words! O ecstasy of Sound!  
How it expands my Soul with mighty Joy!  
So when the thundering Drum, and Trumpets Clangor,  
The Horses Neighing, and the Soldier's Shouts,  
Rouse me to Battle with a Godlike Rage,  
The noble Fire extends my Heart, and Bounds,  
Through all my Veins, and I am Ardour all,  
Tumultuous Transport, and Immortal Fury.  [Pauses, 
I have offended Portia by my Doubts,  
But Oh! my Love, I swear thou a● trevenged,  
Ixions' Wheel, and old Prometheus' Vulture,  
And all the various Tortures of the Damned,  
Are sure much less than mine was. But my Fair,  
Since thou art true, no matter who is false.  
What sayest thou now? Am not I infected?  
Spotted all o'er; a part of me has wronged thee.  Mar. 
No, thou art white, and pure as Innocence!  
He is no part of thee; nor of thy Kin,  
Born of some Slave, and palmed upon thy Parents,  
The filthy product of some Courtier's Lust,  
And in Hypocrisy has outdone his Sire.  
I knew his Treachery, and had forgot it  
Name him no more, the horrid Thought distracts me,  
And quite inverts the Orders of my Soul.  
For Oh! he'd wound himself about my Heart,  
With all the noble Bonds of Sacred Friendship,  
That it has cost me strange stupendious Pangs,  
To rend him from it— but he's gone, and  
May all the Curses he invoked light on him.  Por. 
Ha! I hear a noise! fly my gentle Love,  [A Noise at a distance 
Fly far from Rome; Oh! fly this Den of Thiefs!  
I charge you by your Love, make haste away;  
I had thus long in Joy forgot thy Danger:  
You are not safe, this is the Seat of Ruffians,  
Informers, Sycophants. Here the Brother  
Trusts not the Brother, nor the Son the Father.  
Or if they do, they're certainly deceived.  
All Ties of Trust and Confidence are ceased.  Mar. 
I must not leave thee then in such Contagion,  
But thou must with me—  Por. 
More willingly, than  
With a Guardian God: but how is't possible?  Mar. 
All's possible  
To love like thine, and mine,— I'll force my way  
Through the thin Guard.  Por. 
That will but arm the Court against thy Life.  Mar. 
What is the Court? the mean enervate Court?  
There's not the Soul of one brave Man among 'em,  
They love themselves too well, to seek out Danger;  
I am thy Soldier, and this Arm shall make 'em.  
Keep awful distance, while I bear thee through 'em.  Por. 
Thy Love and Courage will not see the Hazard,  
But I alas!— yet I will with my Love,  
To die with thee is next to living with thee:  
— But oh! my Fears,  
I hear the Noise again, Doors opening, the steps  
Of some in haste, ah! clap on thy Disguise,  
Or I shall die with dreadful Apprehension!  (He claps it on. Mar. 
Fear not my Love, thou must be Heaven's chief care,  
And for thy Virtue they will spare thy Martian.  Por. 
See 'tis the Empress!  Enter Empress. Emp. 
— Who have you here?  
For I've important Business with you Portia,  
That near concerns your Happiness and mine.  Por. 
This, Madam, is an honest faithful Slave,  
Whom I am sending to my exiled Lord.  Emp. 
Will you not go yourself then?  Por. 
— Did I know how,  
Swift as the wind, with all the speed of Fear.  Emp. 
That I designed to tell you, when I found  
My Emperor with you; but than you know,  
My Love, Desire, and Hope, made me pursue him,  
But since I could not find him; I'm returned,  
To beg thee, if thou h'st Pity, Love, or Virtue,  
As much thou seem'st to have, to fly him straight.  
I cannot rest while you are here thus near him.  
For ah! his Wit, his soft deluding Tongue  
Will melt thee else to an abhorred Compliance.  
Oh! he is perfect in betraying Wiles;  
Knows every subtle passage to the Heart,  
And all the wondrous force of pointed Looks,  
Can thaw the Icy Bosom of a Vestal,  
Though for the Sin she's sure to suffer Death.  
Oh! what cannot his cunning Arts perform,  
Persuade the Miser from his hoarded Gold;  
Active Ambition into languid Ease;  
And even the Priesthood into humble Honesty.  
Fly therefore fly, the dear Destruction fly,  
For if you stay, your Virtue surely dies.  Por. 
Not that I doubt my Virtue, I would fly,  
But my Soul, still languishes to Martian,  
With most impetuous Ardour!— Oh! show me  
But how I shall get to him.  Emp. 
'Tis thus:  
I have procured a pious Vestal Virgin,  
Who will convey thee safe to Vesta's Temple,  
And thence find Means to get you out of Rome;  
She waits us now in a loan Gallery?  
To which I will by secret Doors conduct you,  
That come not near your Guards—  Por. 
You hear, Cleander, where you soon may find me,  
Go to my Lord, and let him know the Joy.  
'Twill ease his throbbing Heart, and cure his Griefs.  
He'll bless the Gods, that when no help was hoped,  
Sent kind Relief to Virtue in Distress.  Mar. 
Madam, I will, and may the Powers above,  
Crown all the Pious Empresses Desires!  (Exit. Emp. 
Come gentle Portia, use the present Hour,  
The next, perhaps, may not be in our Power.  (Exeunt Ambo.  

SCENE II.  A Gallery in the Palace. Enter Perennius, and Laetus in a Vestal Virgins Habit. Peren. 
THIS is the place the Empress ordered us  
To wait her in: But I must not be seen.  (Is going. 
Gods! what sudden Trembling's this, that shakes me?  
My Nerves forsake their office, my knees knock;  
Faintness and shivering chills my Heart!  Laet. 
'Tis the surprise of near approaching Joy,  
That, like a Midnight Alarum in a Camp,  
Starts all your Faculties into Confusion:  
They'll soon into their ancient order fall,  
And bear you bravely to the noble Onset.  Per. 
I hope they will-Hark! a Noise! ' saint 'tis the Door,  
I will before, to give you timely Notice,  
If ought approach, bring her through the back Court;  
'Tis most remote and safe.  Laet. 
— Be gone, I will.  [Exit Peren. The Door opens, the Empress and Portia enter with a Candle, Laetus goes to 'em. Empress. 
O! Here's the pious Priestess that conducts you,  
To her, and to the Gods I must commend you  
And if the Wishes of a Wretch, like me,  
Will ought avail, may they convey you safe,  
To him you love, and make your Exile easy!  Por. 
Opinion is the God that makes us happy,  
And where my Martian is, I must be so;  
For he is Country▪ Friends, and all to me.  Laet. 
Madam, this Light must out, or back with you.  [To the Empress. Por. 
What in the Dark!  Laet. 
The Light will discover●s.  
The Moon's kind Beams will do our business best.  Por. 
And will you gentle Virgin bring me safe  Laet. 
To Vesta's Temple, and from thence to Marti●●u!  
It is our Duty to assist th' unhappy.  Por. 
It were Impiety, indeed, to doubt  
The highest Holy Ministers of Heaven.  Laet. 
Nothing but Fear, and Noise, and worse delay  
Can disappoint your Happiness!  Emp. 
Portia farewel, may Heaven reward thy Virtue!  Por. 
And yours the Emperor  (Exit with Laetus. Emp. 
Oh! that he would!  
It is not in heavens Power to bless me more▪  
But I'll go seek him out; and with fresh Tears  
Melt his hard Heart, dissolve it into Love;  
And in the Flames, that all my Bosom Fires  
Consume his wand'ring Wishes and Desires.  (Exit at the Door, and shuts it after her, Enter Emperor with Attendants and Lights. Emp 
It was not well to leave her in Despair;  
I might have given at least some doubtful Hope.  [Pauses. 
I swear her tender Love was strongly moving!  
And she is fair, by Heaven! yes, wondrous fair!  
And must be loved by all the World but me;  
But I am doomed to odd Fantastic Madness;  
To dote on Pride, and vain affected Virtue,  
That spurns me from her, and disdains my Love.  
While I avoid the willing Charms that Court me.  
But I will shake thy Chains off, cruel Portia,  
And in my Empress' downy Arms forget thee.  
Why dost thou fix thy beauteous Hand upon me?  
Tear out my Heart, yet by the Gods I'll leave thee;  
Gentle Valeria in her Breast shall shield me  
From the imperious fury of thy Eyes.  
Oh!  (Groans, 
Like a poor Wretch upon his Feavourish Bed,  
I toss, and tumble; turn from side to side,  
And yet no easy posture can I find,  
The raging Calenture still burns within.  (Seems to muse. Enter Perennius at a distance. Por. 
Now Curses on ill Luck! the Doors are fast,  
Through which we should have made our wished escape.  
They must come this way back.— Ha! the Emperor.  (Seeing him (Studys. 
Hell and Furys all's lost, what must be done?  Emp. 
Well, I will to her; dry her falling Tears,  
Lock her within my burning Arms, and swear  
Never to see her fatal Rival more.  Peren. 
It must be so— this Laetus is unlucky;  
His Head designs well, but he has no Fortune,  
And I still lose by venturing on his Bottom.  
This Dagger, as he enters, shall secure me,  
For yet this Secret is between us two:  
And see they come.  Enter Laetus and Portia. Laet. 
Despond not, Madam, all will yet be well.  Per. 
Ay, when this Dagger has transfixed thy Heart.  Stabs him. Laet. 
As he falls. Ha! slain by thee! Villain, Dog! but I deserve it.  (Dies. Per. 
(Aside.) Die quickly then, or else 'twill do no good.  
Hold Madam, hold, I must secure you,  
For the Emperor. Lights there Portia, Treason!  
Portia is flying.  (Aloud to Portia, who shrieks at Laetus' fall, and is running back Emp. 
Ha! what sayest thou,  
That Sound has ruin'd all my best Resolves!  (Runs to her. 
Whither is she Flying! whither, and with whom?  Per. 
That Sir, I can't yet tell, but this will show me.  (Takes a Light and looks at Laetus. Emp. 
Go instantly and seize the heedless Guards,  Per. 
O ye good Gods, Sir, if it bened Religion  
That has conspired against your Happiness!  (Seems to look more earnestly at Laetus with the Light, kneeling down to the Body. Emp. 
Throw her vile Body to the hungry Dogs.  Per. 
Ha! what is't I see! sure my Eyes must Err!  
It is impossible! it cannot be!  
What Laetus! my Friend! Death to my Repose!  
The honest Laetus slain by this cursed Hand!  
Was this the kind return of all thy Friendship?  
This the best Gift Perennius could bestow?  Emp. 
How's this! bemoan the Traitor in my hearing?  Per. 
Pardon me Emperor, if I pay these Tears,  
To one that loved me better than himself:  
He was my Friend, my faithful honest Friend,  
At least, I thought him so; the best good Man,  
The plainest open Virtue, I e'er met with.  
That, and his zealous Love for you, my Lord,  
Won my Heart, for I've heard him swear,  
He'd die a thousand Deaths for your least Pleasure,  
But oh! I find (alas! that he should prove it)  
The fairest Tongues oft hid the foulest Hearts,  
And noisy Zeal conceals the Traitor's ends.  
Yet, if he did dissemble—  Emp. 
If he did?  
Why, is't not plain, art not thou witness of it?  Per. 
'Tis true, my sovereign, and the Avenger too,  
He from my Hand deserved to meet his Fate,  
That durst impose upon my honest Nature,  
And wrong the best of Masters, and his Friend.  Per. 
Bless me, Sir, a Man! what is't a Man?  Emp. 
A Man, Madam, yes, a young handsome Man!  
I find your boasted Virtue's of a piece,  
With that of all the rest of your frail Sex;  
A cunning Blind, to put off them you like not,  
And to secure your sport with those you fancy.  
Yet tell me, foolish Fair, how couldst thou choose  
This grovelling Vassal, and refuse his Lord?  Per. 
O! base Valeria! couldst thou fall so low,  
From all thy shining Virtue, to Revenge  
So mean, and so ungenerous as this!  Emp. 
Ha', Valeria, didst thou say the Empress?  
Didst thou not name Valeria? speak.  Per. 
Yes, and though I disdain thy poor Reflections,  
Yet since my Honour claims the Truth, I'll speak.  
It was the Empress that betrayed me to him,  
With the false Hopes of flying to my Love.  
I knew no other, than his Habit promised.  
Through a blind Door she led me to this place,  
And with dissembled Pity took her leave.  Per. 
O! horrid Treachery, that she could do so!  Emp. 
Valeria, this low sordid Deed has stifled  
All kind Designs of growing pity for thee.  
And Portia's mightier Beauties now resume,  
And fix their Empire in my Heart for ever.  Per. 
O, Sir, relapse not from such just Designs.  
However the Empress meant to ruin me,  
'Twas but the bad effect of too much Love.  
You have no cause of anger at her Fault,  
Since 'twas for you, only for you, she did it.  Emp. 
Excuse her not, she knew you Innocent!  
And therefore I must hate detest, and loathe her.  Per. 
What have I done, now Curses on my Tongue!  
'Twas forged, and false, on purpose to abuse you!  Emp. 
That cannot be, you knew not this by Door.  
Come plead not for her, nor against my Passion.  
For I'm all Fire, all Wild, and furious Love.  
And by a Witchery most strange, and odd,  
I love, and burn for, what obstructs my Hopes.  
Perennius take my Portia to thy charge;  
The Morning's Dawn shall make her Beauties mine.  
Mean while, I will divorce me from Valeria,  
And drive her out of the Imperial Palace.  Per. 
O hear me Sir, I beg you, on my Knees.  (Knelt. Emp. 
I will not hear one word upon that Subject,  
But fly to punish thy ignoble Wrongs.  (Exit. Per. 
Punish 'em on thyself then brutal Tyrant!  
I have no Enemies, no Wrongs, but thee,  
Thou art the hatred Source of all my Wrongs.  
O! ye great Gods, we're taught that you are just,  
Why sleeps your Thunder then? why are your Bolts  
Spent upon Trees, Mountains, and idle Deserts,  
And never reach this Butcher of Mankind?  
This old Oppressor of Innocence and Virtue!  
Let 'em reach him, or me, I care not which,  Per. 
Go fetch a Guard.  (To the Servant left with him. Por. 
But Heaven is deaf as him to all my Prayers.  
I will not bear't, O! but for Poisons, Daggers,  
Any kind ready way to fly to Death!  Per. 
Madam, you spend your balmy Breath in vain,  
He hears you not, or if he did can't pity,  
That would destroy the Fund of all his Hopes.  
I own, I pity you, and if I durst.—  Por. 
What wouldst thou do? for 'tis impossible  
A Minister of his should e'er do good.  Per. 
You're too severe, to censure all for him.  
'Tis true, my Fortune ties me to him fast,  
Nay, I in Gratitude must own do love him.  
Yet, I approve not all his cruel Deeds.  
No, by the Gods, my Soul is made so tender,  
Each mournful Object melts it even to Tears.  
What Pains, Diseases, Racks could ne'er wrest from me,  
Behold your Suff'rinngs, Madam, now extort!  (Seems to weep. Por. 
'Tis wondrous strange— how couldst thou ever please him.  Per. 
Princes like Fortune, often blindly raise  
The Objects of their Power without thinking.  Por. 
And canst thou pity, and not resolve Redress?  Per. 
Were I a God, for this I'd prise my Godhead,  
That I could help the Wretched without Danger;  
But as ● am a Man, the Emperor's Slave,  
I forfeit Wealth, and Life, by such a Deed.  Por. 
Can generous pity dwell within your Breast,  
And yet not dare to do a dangerous Good?  
O! if you ere have felt the Pangs of Love,  
And all the Long of opposed Desire,  
I do conjure you by your Hopes to free me.  Per. 
That Conjuration quite disarms my Fears,  
And fills my Heart with a most noble Daring.  
For I do love, and in that very manner.  Enter Guards. 
But see the Guards, I now must say no more.  
Here, conduct her to my Apartment—  (They carry her off. 
This was a dexterous turn of my Wit,  
That like the friendly Hand of some kind God,  
Snatched me from off the very brink of Ruin,  
And here has thrown the Prize into my Bosom!  
Fortune has yet but blessed my Hopes by halves;  
Held out the glittering Cup of Joys brim full,  
Then dashed it on the Ground, even at my Lips.  
But now I'll hold the fickle Goddess fast;  
Grasp bright Occasion by the foremost lock,  
And use the lucky hours she hast lent me.  
Portia shall win me to her hoped escape.  
Till I have trained her to the lonely Grotto,  
That will drown all her Cries, and Woman's Skreams.  
And when I have revenged me on her Beauties,  
With my best Jewels, I will fly from Rome.  
'Tis but the Scene of Pleasure to remove,  
No Exile can be worse than hopeless Love.  (Exit. 
The End of the Third ACT.    

ACT IU.  

SCENE I.  Under the Palace Garden Wall. Enter Martian in his own Habit. Mar. 
IWaited the Extent of all my Patience  
At Vesta's Temple for her promised Coming,  
And yet she came not! Night now wears apace;  
'Tis not two Hours to Morn; O! scanty Time▪  
For the important Business of my Life!  
O! Sun! yet rest within thy Wavy Bed,  
And stop the fiery Steeds of hastening Day!  
And thou, O Night! yet spread thy dusky Wings,  
To lull Mankind from their injurious Cares;  
There will be time enough for busy Men,  
To ruin, and supplant each others Fortune.  
But ah! for me, for Virtue in Distress,  
This only Night, of all Times gloomy roll  
Is left, marked out for Safety.  
I sent Cleander too, to learn the Cause  
Of Portia's Stay; and told him he should find 〈◊〉  
Impatient here beneath this Garden Wall.  
How tedious is Delay to Men in Pain!  Enter Cleander from the Garden. 
O! Art thou come? Where does my Portia stay?  
Is she alive? Is she well? Is she safe?  
Answer with speed, for in thy drooping Looks  
I read Disorder, that almost distracts me.  Cle. 
She was, Sir, intercepted in her Flight;  
Perennius guards her till the Morning,  
And then she is to wed the Emperor;  
Not one is suffered to come near th'Apartment.  
The Empress too's divorced, and driven with Shame  
From Court, even now; the Cause I could not learn  Mar. 
The Cause! the 'Cause is wondrous plain, Cleander—  
But by the Gods he shall not have his Will,  
While I have Life. No, were he guarded round  
With Hydra's, flaming Chimaeras, blasting Furies,  
And all the Terrors of his Native Hell,  
Yet I would through 'em force my horrid wa●  
And with this Sword revenge my Love, and Rome.  [Is going] Clean. 
Stay, Sir, and think— [stopping of him] to certain Death you go.  Mar. 
Death! What is Death? Is Death to be avoided?  
Why should I shun that Sabbath to my Labours?  
That Boundary of Fortune's stormy Power?  
Death is the honest Friend that I would find,  
That flatters none, but with an equal Foot  
Enters the Cottage, and the gilded Palace.  Clean. 
I fear not Death— should joy to die with You—  
Yet when Chance offers fair for your Relief,  
'Twould be mere Frenzy to through Life from us.  Mar, 
What dost thou mean? What Hopes, or what Relief  
Hast thou in View? for I, alas! see none.  Clean. 
The Lodgings of Perennius face the Garden,  
And from his Windows Portia may escape  
With ease, there are no Guards on that Side:  
The Garden Doors are open too; through which  
I will with speed convey a Ladder to you.  Mar. 
Fly then, fly quickly, with a Lovers Haste,  
Beneath those Windows thou wilt find thy Master,  
Impatient of thy least Delay— Be gone.  [Exeunt severally; the Scene opens into a Garden; the Palace at a distance, Martian goes in at the Garden Door. Enter Portia alone. Por. 
I would not stay for my Deliverer,  
Could I tell how to get from out this place:  
For tho' with generous Care he let me down,  
Yet sure so near a Favourite of a Tyrant,  
That's only swayed, by Cruelty and Lust,  
Must move, by more ignoble Springs than Pity!  
His Words too bore a dark and doubtful Meaning;  
His Eyes, at mention of Trust in him,  
Sparkled with Fire, while his mantling Blood  
Flushed o'er his Face; he grasped me too with Ardour,  
As on the Window he set me in the Chair.  
Good Gods, direct me in this dangerous Course,  
Betwixt this Scylla, and that wild Cha●ibdys!  
On both Sides worse than Death, and in the midst  
All is uncertain; horrid Darkness all!  
Hark! a Noise! and this way it approaches!  [A Noise. 
I tremble at each Tree and Bush, for fear  
It should be some Court Villain. Yet must on;  
Perhaps from hence some Outlet I may find,  
By wand'ring round. O! grant ye Powers I do,  
For here is nought but Death, or foul Dishonour!  Ex. Enter from the other side the Emperor, Attendance, Lights, Music. Emp. 
That is the Window, place yourselves beneath it,  
And charm my Goddess with your humble Lays.  
The Force of Music, and the Power of Numbers,  
May break the Icy spell that chills her Heart  
Against the pressing Beams of warmer Love.  

Music and Song.  

(1.)  
IF Caelia you had Youth at Will,  
And long could hoard the fleeting Treasure,  
You might be Coy and Cruel still,  
And yet awhile delay your Pleasure:  
But your Youth is swiftly flying,  
And your Charms will soon be dying;  
And then you'●● use inviting Arts in vain,  
Your Love will give no joys, your Scorn will give no pain.   

(2.)  
The faded Lustre of your Eyes  
Will then alas! no more surprise us,  
When every Charm in Ruin lies,  
Your Face, and not your Will denies us.  
Use your Time then, use the Blessing;  
Lose no Hour without possessing:  
For when the first tumultuous Bliss is past,  
If leaves a grateful joy, that will for ever last.    Enter Servant's, forcing in Portia. Por. 
O Gentlemen, if your Minds know pity;  
If you had Mothers that had any Virtue,  
Force me not to the hated Tyrant's Presence!  
1. Nay, Madam, you shall to the Emperor.  
2. Finding this Lady flying her speed we thought betrayed some guilt,  
And therefore we have brought her to your Majesty.  Emp. 
You have done well. O where is the base Slave,  
That durst betray this high, importunate Trust?  
For I will plunge him in abhorred Disgrace.  Por. 
Unlucky Maid, still to undo thy Friend!  Emp. 
What froward Maxims, Madam, make you fly  
From Empire, Glory, and pursuing Love?  Por. 
Ah! Strange Excess of thy inhuman Rage;  
That when thou'st left me nothing but my Woe▪  
Wilt not permit me to enjoy even that,  
But dash the wretched Pleasure with thy love.  Emp. 
Why so averse to Joy? so fond of Sorrow!  
Life is a curious Web, by Nature wrought,  
Fine to the Eye, but torn by ev'ry Chance;  
You burst its tender Threads with ponderous Grief,  
And shun the downy Pleasures it will bear.  Por. 
Pleasure from thee!  Emp. 
From me? Yes, by the Gods;  
Soft flowing Pleasures of brisk Wit and Love;  
Ingrateful Fair, I would disperse those Clouds,  
That gather round thy Morning Sun of Life,  
And thou with a false Pride, dost spurn me from thee.  Por. 
Were't thou Victorious, Brave, as the first Caesar,  
I could not love; but as thou art, I loathe thee  
More than the vilest Slave in thy poor Empire.  Emp. 
When Power submits to beg it should be so,  
But Love impos'd false-Med'cines for my Cure;  
Thy Insolence now frees me from the Cheat.  
I've not forgot I am thy Emperor;  
That thou art made the Subject of my Pleasure,  
Yes, I will rush into thy struggling Arms,  
In all the Rage of my Tempestuous Love,  
And seize the Joys by Force, Iasked in vain.  [Embraces her▪ Por. 
Aside. O Gods, defend me from the Tyrant's Lust;  
I must against the Dictates of my Heart,  
Sooth him with Hope, to gain some Time for Help.  
The surest Means to gain a Woman's Heart,  
Is to convince her that you truly love her,  
Which I must doubt, if you attempt my Honour.  
Force is th' Effect of Fondness, of your Ease,  
That shuns the Pain of surer Arts to please;  
Beauty is bought by tender Vows and Sighs;  
You rob, if you deny to pay its Price.  Emp. 
Have I not sighed & breathed a thousand Vows,  
Yet nought have gained by all my Fru'tless Pain,  
But haughty Slights, Disdain, and vile Affronts.  Por. 
Consider, Sir, my Soul's too full of Grief,  
Suffers too much by an unhappy Love,  
To taste another Passion yet, give Time;  
For in a little Time I may be free,  
To view your Love with a more equal Eye.  Emp. 
My Love's too fierce to brook the least Delay▪  
I will consume thy anxious Love in Mine,  
Whose beamy Sunshine ne'er can be obscur'd,  
With rising Clouds of Sadness or Misfortune.  
Here thou wilt find no Tears, no Sighs, but such  
As fan the A● and gently heave the Breasts  
With struggling-Pleasure, and Excess of Joy;  
Whispering Murmurs, and Eternal Billing.  
Our Coos shall be more piercing than the Turtles;  
I'll clasp thee to me, and I'll twine about thee  
Closer than Ivy, or the curling Vine,  
We'll mix like Waters, till we lose Distinction.  Por. 
If all my Sufferings cannot move your Heart,  
Think upon Hell, the Wheel and Rolling Stone,  
Unheard of Woe, that Fancy cannot paint;  
A Tyrant's Hell too is the dismal Centre,  
Where all the Lines of Circling Tortures meet.  Emp. 
Mistaken Fair, here is the Hell you threat;  
No Tantalus dreads the lose impending Rock;  
No Tytius lies extended o'er the Plain;  
The Eternal Food of Birds in Hell. But here  
Vain Biggots Fears the Cares of busy Men,  
And Lovers Pangs create the uneasy Torments;  
But I will burst the Chain that holds me down,  
And with resistless Fury scale my Heaven.  [Embraces, and offers to kiss and ruffle her. Enter Martian. Mar. 
The gloomy Night has put new Darkness on;  
And led by some strange Fate, I wander round,  
And cannot find the well known Lodgings out.  Por. 
Stand off, unhand me, thou firstborn of Hell;  
Thou Blot of Nature, thou Crime of Providence,  
Thou Sum and Extract of all, that is most loathsome!  Mar. 
Ha! my Portia, in the Hands of Ravishers!  
Villain, forbear my Love.  [Martian draws, and runs at the Emperor, is intercepted by the Guards.] Emp. 
What! is it thou? thou art a daring Rebel;  
But I'll deal with thee as thy Crimes deserve.  
Go drag him hence to the Tarpeian Rock;  
Dash him to pieces; shall I ne'er have Rest  
For Traitors?  Mar. 
O Portia! O farewel, for ever!  Por. 
O dismal Sound! for ever?  May. 
For ever!  Por. 
Sure, there are Joys above for suffering Virtue:  
There we shall meet again; my Soul will know thee:  
It is so full of thee, I'll not stay long;  
Indeed I won't, but reach thee in thy Flight.  
O Heaven! O Earth! and thou, O Neptune, hear me,  
And six eternal Racks upon my Soul,  
If I out live my Martian many Minutes.  Emp. 
Must I speak in vain? drag him away.  Mar. 
Oh! my Love, farewell.  Por. 
Ah▪ this is worse than Death  [They force him out; she Faints] [While they're employed about Portia, Perennius enters at the upper end of the Walk.] Peren. 
Now curse on Business, that must thus intrude,  
When I should feast myself with Portia's Beauties,  
Yet this is of a Nature, that new arms me  
Against the other Fears that checked my Love,  
Th'Army mutining, and just entering Rome,  
led on by Aurelian,  
Must be the Emperor's Downfall, and mine with him.  
Since that is sure, I'll make my Joys as sure;  
Grasp first the Treasure of this charming Maid,  
Then fly with Speed from the black gathering Storm.  Emp. 
So, she revives;—  
Go bear her gently to Valeria's Lodgings,  
And bid her Maids prepare her for my Love,  
I'll not defer my Marriage or Enjoyment.  [They bear her off.] Per. 
Ha! What's this?— do my Eyes and Ears deceive me?  
Is Portia snatched again from my Embrace?  
Fate presses so from every side upon me,  
I have no Time for Thought— [pauses] I must excuse  
Her Flight, nor yet inform him of his Danger,  
Lest his Despair should but augment his Rage,  
Beyond my Power to calm, My Lord.  Emp. 
Perennius!  
Ingrateful Slave, how dared thou tempt my Fury,  
Even in the guilty Moment▪  Per. 
'Tis true, my sovereign;  
If by appearance we should judge of things,  
There is too just a Cause for your Dread Anger;  
But my dear Master—  Emp. 
No more of thy false Wiles to blind my Eyes,  
The Veil is off that hide the cunning Villain,  
That could betray me, and let my Portia go:  
Seize him, if he resists you, kill him.  [To the Guards [Perennius draws, runs at the Emperor; is stabbed by the Guards. Per. 
Come on, I'll not fall tamely by the Tyrant  
O that in'enervate Arm should miss thy Life!  
Yes, cursed Prince, I own the brave Design;  
I was thy Rival, and bright Portia's Lover,  
And let her go, to ri●●e all her Sweets,  
Surfeit on Joy, for one immortal Moment.  
But Fortune mocked me with a hoped Success.  
O that she would thee too! nay, well I know it.  
Aurelian comes soon, to revenge me on thee;  
The more to blast thy fancied Pleasures know;  
Valeria was imposed on by my Arts;  
And knew not Laetus, more than Portia did;  
〈◊〉 that Device I thought to bear her off;  
Then slew fond 〈◊〉, to secure my Love;  
For some more lucky Hour, but in vain—  
My Life is on the Wing,— so Curses on thee;—  
Thou wilt not be behind me long.— Oh!  [Dies. Emp. 
D'ye thou Prophetie Dog!—  [Spurns him] 
What can the dying Villain mean? Revenge,  
Aurelian;— 'tis not matter what—  
Fame must fly swiftly, to prevent my Joy;  
And that once gained, she can 〈◊〉 ha●t destroy.  [Exit. Enter Empress alone. Empress. 
Ah! wretched me, I've drained my Eyes of Tears,  
But not my Heart of Woe! that's still fixed here:  
No Plaints can move it, and no Sighs redress!  
Tho' banished hence from my dear cruel Lord,  
My Treacherous Feet will still pursue his Steps;  
I've fought the Garden round, and cannot find him,  
What can I do, or whither can I turn?  
Horror, Despair on ev'ry Side besiege me!  
Death— 'tis Death that only can relieve me;  [Pauses. 
Yes, I will die;— my Fondness does deserve it—  [Pauses 
To love beyond such Slights.— but shall I die  
Thus tamely?— yes— What! thus? thus unrevenged?  [Pauses 
Ah! yes, that Death best suits my tender Love.  
Ha! there he goes; my Heart bounds at the sight,  
And strikes a Transient Joy all o'er my Soul!  
I'll follow him, and die within his Arms;  
He'll pity sure his bleeding Victims Groans;  
Perhaps may kiss my pale and breathless Lips;  
May wish he'd been more kind, and I more happy.  [Exit● Scene changes to Portia's Apartment, Enter Portia, and her Maid Crispina. Cris. 
Why are you, Madam, obstinate in Woe,  
And shun the Indulgence of a Smiling Fortune,  
For a vain Love, and Fruitless Constancy?  
Rome courts you for her Empress, and your Prince  
Dies at your Feet, with most unfeigned Desires.  Por. 
No more,— I will not hear my Love blasphemed.—  
Is this a time to urge the impious Cause!  
For oh the Tyrant's Ministers of Murder,  
Perhaps this Minute butcher my poor Love.  [Pauses, and fixes her Looks on one place.] 
Ha! dreadful Image of my certain Woe:  
What horrid Scene is this, thou dost present me?  
See— where he lies, 〈◊〉 out upon the Floor:  
His noble Limbs hacked by that Cut throat Villain!  
See if that Coward does not pierce his Bosom,  
Where his brave Heart dwells, that abhorred a Coward  
See from the gaping Wounds, the Purple Flood  
Rowls like a Torrent down his mangle● Body,  
And in it his great Soul Ha! Paleness! Death!  
Oh! Horror! Horror! Horror! Poisons! Daggers!  
Dispatch me quickly, ere the Tyrant comes  
To drag to's polluted Nuptial Rites.  
Ah! my dear Martian! stay for thy dying Portia;  
Beat the Wing awhile, and I'll be with you.  Cris. 
How strange Imagination works upon her!  Por. 
Oh! oh!— [groans] Lo! now I come  [faints away. Cris. 
Help here quickly, help; the Empress faints.  [Enter several Women, and run to her; endeavour to receive her▪] 
So she recovers,— stand off, and give her Air.  Por. 
Be gone,— and let me die,— I will not live;—  
Why did you rouse me from this Golden Vision!  
Of Martian, triumphing Martian, and endless Love?  Cris. 
Let not the anxious Dreams of Fancy rack you;  
What boot your Pangs, your Fury, or Laments?  
They can't revoke his Sufferings, nor your Doom;  
The Emperor loves too much, to quit you ever.  
You had better, Madam, seem to like the Fate;  
You can't avoid.  Por. 
I will not answer thee—  
But lose myself in kind distracting Thought.  
Portia, thy Name should now inspire thy Love,  
And make it struggle to some Godlike Act.  [pauses. 
Brutus' thy Portia set the great Example  
To Roman Wives, which I a Bride will follow.  [pauses. 
Ha!— sure some Heavenly Beam informs my Mind;  
Bears it above the common pitch of Glory,  
To a brave Deed, that'● singularly great!  
Oh! bright Ambition of aspiring Virtue!  
To what amazing Heights thou dost transport me!  
For distant Ages to behold with Wonder!  
No, my dear Lord,  
Your Portia shan't survive you;  
Nor will she tamely fall like helpless Woman,  
〈◊〉 as resolved, and bold, as Catsoes Daughter;  
My Countries Gennius, with my Love conspires,  
To form the Vengeance for lost Rome, and Martian:  
It shall be so— the Noble Thought revives me.  
And shoots a pleasing Horror through my Soul.  Cris. 
Strange Agonies are labouring 〈…〉,  
Betwixt Ambition and defeated Love;  
I hope my wholesome C●●sels will prevail,  
And turn the Scale for the surviving Lover;  
I'm sure I gain my Ends by that; to rise,  
And shine, at Court among the foremost Beauties,  
For moderate Charms will make a Figure there,  
As well as moderate Honesty or Virtue.  Por. 
I must dissemble with this Servile Maid,  Aside. 
Whose Eyes are dazzled with approaching Grandeur.  
To get the Means of my adored Revenge.  
[To her] Crispina, you have said you loved me,  
And seem to draw your Counsels from that Love;  
Tell me then, and tell me truly too;  
Is it not better die with him I love,  
Than live with him, that loves but for a Day,  
If he does love me.  Cris. 
Doubt not your Charms, Madam;  
For those will fix his wandering Heart for ever.  
To die! oh! 'tis a dreadful thing to die!  
The old themselves, even in that tasteless Age▪  
That crawl upon the barren part of Life;  
All, on the horrid Precipice of Death,  
Catch hold of every rootless seeming Stay,  
That may defer awhile their certain Fall.  
And should Youth then, amidst its blooming Joys,  
And all its lively force of Appetite,  
Fly Life's full Feast, for hungry starving Death?  
It is unnatural to the last degree.  
Besides the learned themselves, I find, can't tell  
What we are after Death, or that we are.  
If we are not then, how can Martian 〈◊〉 you?  
If his Love's ceased, why then should yours survive?  
In doubtful things, the Wise, the surer choose:  
Th'Emperor lives in Glory, and in Love,  
And he will make you great, as you are fair.  Por. 
Greatness indeed I own has many Charms,  
When built on solid, not unfaithful Ground;  
But 'tis a fleeting Greatness he presents:  
Valeria lost it in one Rapid Month.  Cris. 
I'm glad she will dispute it; for when Woman  Aside. 
Once parleys with her Constancy, 'tis gone.  Aloud.] 
Valeria, Madam, is no Rule to you;  
Th'event has showed yours are the stronger Charms.  Por. 
Till the next taking Face shall come in view.  
No, no, Crispina, I'm not yet so vain—  
To think I can secure my Greatness so.  
Yet I do know a way.— But oh! my Heart!  
How I am sliding from the heights of Virtue  
Into the Abyss of the foul Tyrants Love.  Cris. 
Grant him a Tyrant, and a vile 〈◊〉;  
O 'tis a noble Task then for your Virtue,  
To offer up yourself, to mould this Tyrant  
Into the generous Principles of Honour,  
For your Countries Good.  Por. 
That will prevail,  
I fear, against the Force of all my Vows.  Cris. 
It must, it shall, it does.  Por. 
— Well, may I trust thee?  Cris. 
My Life, my Fortune, and my Heart, are yours.  Por. 
My Mother on her Deathbed did bequeath 〈◊〉  
A noble Juice, the lasting Seal of Love.  
With that, she fixed my Father in his Faith,  
Even to his dying Hour. Here take this Key;  
In th'inmost Drawer of my own Cabinet,  
Thou'lt find it sealed up in a gilded Viol:  
Haste, and fetch it, that with the Magic Words,  
Which I must use, I may drink it to him;  
(For that's required to its ●ure Operation)  
Even in the sacred time of our Nuptials.  Cris. 
I will be back before the Rites begin.  Por. 
Be so, and now my labouring Soul's at ease;  
And like a willing Victim I will go  
To the bright Altar of Divine Revenge:  
Heaven for th'unhappy kindly took this Care  
To place th' Asyle of Friendly Death, still near  
To that Retreat, with eager Haste I'll fly;  
I'm not entirely wretched, who dare die.  
The End of the Fourth ACT.    

ACT V.  

SCENE I.  The Street near the Palace. Enter Martian alone. Mar. 
'TWas not well done, to fly from my Preservers;  
What tho' my Love, and good Cleander's Care;  
Dragged me away from out the lucky Fight  
That set me free, I should have lost occasion,  
And died with such brave Friends;  
Well, I will back,  
At least to know 'em; if I can't assist them  Enter Cleander. [Is going.] Clean. 
O which way, Sir— O whither are you going?  Mar. 
No more— I will not thus desert my Friends;  
Such noble Friends, that snatched me from Destruction  
In Rome, almost within the Tyrants hearing.  Clean. 
Had I, Sir, known what since I have beheld,  
I had not forced you from the doubtful Combat,  
To pain your Soul with Tortures worse than Death.  Mar. 
What dost thou mean? thy Words, and frightful Looks  
Import some strange Event; is Portia dead?  
Has she outgon me in the Race of Love?  
O wretched Martian, mean inglorious Martian;  
To fly from Death, while Portia sought it out!  Clean. 
O Sir, she lives! is too well pleased with Life.  Mar. 
Ha!  Clean. 
This Minute, Sir, I saw her pass the Court;  
Joy in her Face, and Pleasure in her Eyes,  
To her black Nuptials with the Emperor.  Mar. 
What, Portia!  Clean. 
Portia.  Mar. 
My Portia?  Clean. 
Your Portia, Sir.  Mar. 
The softest Dear protesting vowing Maid,  
That ever soothed a Doting Lover's Passion;  
Can she be false?  Clean. 
Even she is false;  
She h's caught the cursed Cantagion from her Brother;  
And in the very Moment of your Death,  
With Smiles and fond Caresses, weds your Butcher.  Mar. 
Impossible and false!  Clean. 
I'd not abuse her,  
Nor you; I saw it; with these Eyes I saw it.  Mar. 
Thy Eyes deceived thee then; for thou saw'st her  
Dragged to the impious Bridals, all in Tears;  
In struggling Agonies, in the Pangs of Death:  
If she would live, even to endure so much;  
If thou saw'st Portia, 'twas thus that thou didst see her:  
Do I not know her strong Immortal Virtue?  
Did she not swear that she would not outlive me?  
And yet within an Hour wed my Murderer?  
No more, lest thou provoke my lasting Hate.  Clean. 
I've done, Sir.  Mar. 
But art thou sure thou saw'st her?  Clean. 
I dare not, Sir, repeat it; for I fear,  
More than my Death you hate.  Mir. 
Tell me, I say,  
Are sure that it was her that thou didst see?  Clean. 
The Hall's now full of most amazed Beholders,  
And in the Throng, disguised you may see all;  
If I have urged ● falsehood, ever hate me.  Mar. 
If this be so— O Friendship, Love, farewel▪  
If this be so— where is the Wretch like me?  
If this be so— but I'll not wrong her Virtue,  
Nor Credit aught, but my own Eyes against her.  [Exeunt  

SCENE II.  A Magnificent Hall; the Emperor and Portia in their Bridal Habits. Enter Martian and Cleander, disguised. Emp. 
LET every Trumpet, Flute, and Instrument  
Of Music sound aloud; beat the big Drum,  
And make the Echo of my Joys rebound  
Up to the Vaulted Roof of Heaven itself;  
That all the Gods may Emulate my Pleasures;  
While Portia drinks the Bridal Beveridge.  [Portia drinks, having first put something in the ●owl.] Emp. 
What did my Love mix in our Bridal Bowl?  Por. 
A Philtre, Sir, to fix your roving Heart:  
Whose Magic Force will make you always mine.  Emp. 
Ha! give it me; for greedily I'll drink  
The Noble Charm, by which I grow Immortal:  
For to love always thus, is more than Godhead.  [Drinks it all off. Mar. 
Oh Triumphing Falsehood! O Excess of Woman!  Enter Empress, with her Hair dishevelled, and her Bosom all bloody. Empr. 
Where is the Emperor? where is my false Prince?  
● cannot l●●e, nor die away from him.  
Oh! let me clasp thee in my fainting Arms:  
Be not uneasy at my dying Fondness;  
●adulge it now, indulge it, prithee do;  
'Tis the last time it ever will offend thee.  Emp. 
Ha! Valeria!  
What barbarous Hand has made this bloody Havoc?  Empr. 
This, this, my Emperor, tho'it was too weak  
To hold you there, could execute your Hate:  
Yet when I'm dead, as soon I find I shall be,  
Prithee remember how Valeria loved she;  
Bore all thy Slights, ' thy Scorn, and thy hard Usage,  
Sought no Revenge but on her injur'd self:  
True, I complained of thy Ingrateful Falsehood;  
But my Complaints arose from furious Love;  
The more I did complain, I loved thee more:  
Prayed to the Gods to guard the dear Destroyer,  
And rather died than you should be uneasy.  Emp. 
'Tis sad, O Portia; this is wondrous sad!  Empr. 
Think then, oh! think; does not such tender Love  
Merit a kind place in your Remembrance?  
Ah! no— if it be kind, it must torment thee:  
Forget me rather; O let be forgot.  
Rather than give my Love one anxious Pang.  Emp. 
Ah my Valeria!  Empr. 
Ha! your Valeria? did you not call me yours?  Emp. 
I did, thou matchless Tenderness and Love.  Empr. 
And do you pity me?  Emp. 
By Heaven I do.  Empr. 
It is enough, and now I die most happy:  
O the fierce Joy so struggles in my Breast,  
That all the Strings of Life now burst asunder.  
O! I have lost you in surrounding Darkness!  
O do not hate my Memory! this Kiss,  
And this last dear Embrace; and now I'm— nothing.  [dies Empr. 
She's gone,— the tender Mourner is no more;  
And like the Swans, her dying Notes so sweet,  
They charm my Soul, and fix me here for ever.  Por. 
Ah! poor unhappy Princess, art thou dead?  Throwing off his Robes, and coming up to her. Mar. 
Yes, she is dead, false Portia, and thou living!  
Slain, by thy Gild she's dead!—  
Such Victims should be offered at such Rites.  [starting] 
Ha! Martian!  Mar. 
Virtue and Truth, fond Tenderness and Love,  
Should fall at Union of so foul a Pair.  
Murder, Perjury, Oppression, Falsehood,  
Hypocrisy, Ingratitude, and all;  
All that can make ye both Supremely wicked,  
Meet in ye. But your Impious Joys are short;  
For see this Sword shall end 'em in this Place.  [Lays his Hand on his Sword. [Portia runs to Martian, and stops him.] Por. 
Hold, Martian, hold, touch not the Emperor.  
He's my Sacrifice.  Mar. 
Gods, she loves him too!  
This whets my Rage, adds Fire to my Revenge!  [The Emperor starts from the Empress. Emp. 
Ha! bold Assassins', in my very Palace?  
How came this Traitor to evade my Sentence!  Mar. 
That I don't know The Gods it seems decreed it,  
To torture me afresh with sight of thee,  
And that false Maid.  Por. 
I will be justified.  Mar. 
'Tis impossible— not a vile Prostitute,  
That for a Drachma sells her common Favours  
To the mean, greasy Refuse of the Vulgar,  
Could have done worse. O Portia! Portia!  Por. 
O Martian, Martian! hear your Portia speak.  Mar. 
Stand off, and touch me not, Polluted Fair.  Por. 
You shall not dash me from you till you hear me.  Emp. 
Ha! Portia! is this well? what means my Love▪  Por. 
Begun, no more, the anxious Scene is over.  Enter a Messenger in haste. Mess. 
O fly, Sir, quickly, if you yet have Time  
To save yourself from imminent Destruction.  
Aurelian leads on the Praetorian Bands:  
Who, with united Fury seek you out,  
Vowing Revenge for Martian's Injuries;  
I only have escaped to give you Notice.  Emp. 
No more,—  
Nor with thy Fears disturb my last Resolves:  
Yes, I will fall as Galienus should—  [Draws. [Makes at Aurelian, who retiring, draws; the Soldiers come behind, and seize the Emperor. 
And do one piece of Justice e'er I die,  
Upon that bold aspiring Traitor.  Enter Aurelian, and Soldiers, spoaks ent'ring. Adriel. 
Here, cease the Vulgar Slaughter; seize the Tyrant▪  
My Fellow-soldiers, this is he, that Ground ye  
With Poverty, for all your Toils, and Battles,  
Fought in his vile Cause, ravished your Mothers,  
Daughters, Sisters, butcher'd your Fathers.  
And has unpeopled Rome, and drove your General,  
Your brave Martian, from the Sacred Altar.  
Seize too his Bride; who, tho' my Sister, falls  
A Victim to my injured Friend and Honour.  Por. 
My Brother! this noble Fury that should  
Make thee dreadful, to me is fresh Endearment.  Mar. 
What do I hear! what strange new wonder's this?  Emp. 
Aurelian! this from thee, ungrateful Man;  
Have I for this advanced thee to these Honours?  Aur. 
Thy Native Thirst of Gild advanc me to 'em;  
To bribe my Virtue, to betray my Friend,  
Pervert my Sister, and to taint my Blood;  
With Villainies a Soldier's Heart disdains.  
To fix you safe, in doing daily Wrongs,  
I turned thy cunning Arts against thyself,  
To gain a Power to do my Country Right;  
Revenge m'assaulted Honour, and my Friend.  Por. 
O the malignant Influence of my Stars!  
Martian alive, and my lost Brother true,  
And yet no Hopes of Happiness for me!  Mar. 
Art thou Aurelian, that hast done all this,  
Or has some God assumed thy awful Form?  Aur. 
My noble Friend, O fly to my Embrace:  
My Heart has panted like a Virgin's for thee,  
ere since I saw thee, lest my swift Relief  
Should be outrun by Fate, as it was ne'er,  
When my first Troops just snatched thee from Destruction.  Mar. 
When will the measure of my Woes be full?  
If thou'rt Aurelian, I am more unhappy.  Aur. 
What do I hear? what was that fatal Sound?  
O end me Gods; destroy this wretched Being,  
Since I have lived to make my Friend unhappy.  Mar. 
It is thy Goodness, and thy Virtues wound me;  
These call me Base, Ingrateful and Injurious;  
For I have wronged thee—  
Doubted thy Faith, believed thee false; nay, cursed thee.  
O turn those Curses on this guilty Head,  
Good Gods, and shower your Blessings all on him.  Aur. 
No more, my Friend, I gave but too much Cause,  
But rather chose to cut thee to the quick,  
Than not effect the cure of thy sick fortune.  Mar. 
And canst thou then forgive thy guilty Friend?  Aur. 
O let me hold thee here, and tell thee so.  [they embrace. Mar. 
O thou bright Beam of Comfort to my Soul;  
That like the Morning Star dost promise Day  
To the black Stormy Night of Martian's Sorrows.  
Couldst thou but call a few past Minutes back,  
I might be happy still. But oh! my Friend,  
Behold that threatening Meteor that stands there;  
She blasts my Hopes, forbids all Thoughts of Joy.  Emp. 
Aside. Ha! what strange shooting Fires have seized my Blood!  
I fear I've drank some deadly Poison, that breaks  
My Thoughts, and disappoints my opening Hopes▪  
Of Empire, and of Portia, and of Revenge.  Mar. 
Canst thou believe it, Friend, the Virtuous Portia;  
Thy Sister there is married to the Tyrant.  
I saw the horrid Mystery performed,  
While the Earth shook, and Nature stood aghast;  
The yelling Furies held the Nuptial Torches,  
And Hell was pleased with the Infernal Rites.  Por. 
If e'er unhappy Portia had your Heart;  
If all your Vows and Oaths are not forgot;  
O! by those tender Pledges. I conjure you;  
Hear me while I have Life to tell my Story.  May. 
Yes, I will hear thee, thus conjured, must hear thee;  
For, how I loved, nay, I love thee still:  
Witness these Pangs and Agonies I feel,  
To find thee false.  Por. 
And O unequal Powers,  
That shed such baneful Influence on our Passion;  
Bear witness to my Truth, to my vast Love!  
Witness how much I dote on Martian still;  
Spite of his hard Suspicions of my Virtue:  
Witness how I have ever held him here,  
Without a Rival.  Mar. 
Ha! can this be so?  Por. 
Oh! hear the fatal Story of my Love;  
And see if ever Woman loved like me;  
If ever Woman has been wronged like me;  
If ever Woman has revenged like me.  Mar. 
Speak on— uncommon Love, Wrongs and Revenge,  
There's mighty Meaning in these fatal Sounds.  Por. 
Had I but known, or could have hoped thy Life,  
We had been happy, thinking you no more,  
Resolved on Death, a brave Revenge inspired me  
To sink the Tyrant in his height of Triumph,  
And punish all his Wrongs to thee and Rome,  
And in the Bridal Bowl I drank a Poison,  
In which, with thirsty Eagerness, he pledged me.  Emp. 
Was that the Philtre then, ingrateful Fair;  
And yet it is so while, it burns my Bowels?  
For from thy Virtue, tho' I draw my Death;  
That very Deed does more increase my Love.  Por. 
Oh! speak not to me; I hate the jarring Sound;  
Nothing but Love and Martian now can please me—  
But oh! I faint; it tears each Vital Part,  
Bursts all my Nerves into a thousand pieces,  
And now assaults the last Retreats of Life.  
O give me one kind word before I die.  Mar. 
Ten Thousand Thousand, for I'm Kindness all:  
What fatal Story is it thou hast told us,  
That joins th'extremes of Joy, and wild Despair?  
O my Friends! Aureiian and Cleander,  
Why draw you not this Sword to pierce this Heart,  
That has profaned the best of all her Sex:  
Blasphemed this Goddess, doubted Truth herself.—  Por. 
O my dear Martian, ●ack not thy poor Mind;  
It was the wayward working of our Fate;  
Appearance boil'd thy furious Love to Jealousy;  
But I forgive thee.  Mar. 
How canst thou forgive me?  Por. 
Yes, Indeed I do,  
And love thee, Martian, with so strange an Ardour,  
That Words cannot express it.  Mar. 
Let me crawl  
Thus on the Earth to meet thy generous Pardon;  
But how shall I approach thee, O my Love?  
Thou art all fair, all white, without one Spot;  
I All Contagion, and dark guilty Foulness.  Por. 
O! my Love, where art thou?—  [Faints. Mar. 
Ha! see the pale Destroyer invades her;  
Makes dismal Havoc in this Field of Beauty,  
And wastes the rosy Honours of her Face.  
O! Ruin! Despair! O Horror, Hell and Furies!  Aur. 
Ah! my dear Sister, Innocent and Dead!  Mar. 
Ay, dead my Friend, but see she breathes again!  Por. 
O tell me ye bright Being's, where's my Love,  
For ye must know the Hero of Mankind:  
His Eyes dart Fire, and he perfumes Breathes;  
Pleasing as dawn of Day, and awful as a God.  Mar. 
O charming Madness, when? she raves on Love.  Por. 
Oh! have I found my Truant out; come to my 〈◊〉▪  
We will be lost in Joys; the Tyrant's dead,  
Plunged in black Styx, and burning Phlegeton:  
See how the Furies toss him with their Prongs!  Emp. 
Ha! Furies and Styx, and burning Phlegeton;  
They're here indeed, and rend my tortured Body;  
But any Pains for thee, thou charming Tyrant.  Por. 
Ha! art thou gone? mounted aloft? O stay!  
The Gods will wait a while— we'll soar together.  
Wilt thou not stay? I will pursue thee then;  
Range all th' Ethereal Palaces to find thee;  
Accuse the Gods, upbraid unequal jove,  
Till to appease me; and reward my Faith;  
He gives my Martian to my Arms for ever.  
O! I have got thee now; 'tis Heaven— all beamy Joy!  [Dies. Mar. 
She's gone, Aurelian, her bright Soul is fled,  
And left the Beauteous Mansion of her Body;  
O let me fix and gaze on thee for ever!  
Will not my burning Kisses warm those Lips?  [Fixes himself, and gazes on her, sometimes kissing her. 
Nor thine convey their deadly Cold to mine?  Emp. 
Yes, yes, she's gone, I see her starry Soul  
Mount yonder; see, she makes a Galaxy!  
Ha! the Gods are now my Rivals. I come,  
My Eagle bears me from this Burning Pile,  
To all my Kindred Deities above,  
So have I caught thee, peevish Fair; away  
〈◊〉 me to Pindus' Shades; the Muses there  
Shall sing aloud our Hymeneal Song,  
To the soft Murmurs of fair Helicon;  
While we upon the blessed Castalian Shoar,  
Consummate our unfinished Love. See, see,  
Calliope, Erato, Clio, Euterpe,  
And all the rest of the lmmortal Nine:  
O hear the Mystic Numbers of their Verse,  
Full of thy Beauties, and my raging Love.—  Mar. 
Ah my poor Love, is this thy Bridal Bed?  
Death the cold Lover, that must fill thy Arms?  Emp. 
Be gone, fond Martian, tell not me of Business;  
There, that's your Man; what's the dull World to me?  
Let the mad Heroes scramble for Crowns and Sceptres;  
Give me more Beauty, young Balmy Boys and Girls.  
Ha! still opposed in my soft Round of Pleasure?  
Cut off that saucy Virtue there that awes me!  
Why am I Emperor, but to have my Will?  
Ha! Treason! Assassins'! Daggers! Poisons!  Aur. 
See how his Soul, even in its Agony,  
Exerts itself, and burns with the same Fires.  Emp. 
What, all the Earth and Firmament on Fire?  
Nay, than I must burn too. Ha! ha'! ha'! ha'!  
See that decrepit Stoic there, he'd fain  
Plunge in the Sea, to save his Beard from Fire▪  
Look how the Blind, the Lame, haggard Poverty,  
Loathsome Diseases, all scamper from kind Death!  
Why should they shun Death that know no Pleasure!  
See how that Priest too leaves his Gods in th' Lurch,  
To save himself: Ha! ha'! ha'! how that old Ladies paint  
Melts from her Face, and leaves her Furrows empty.  
Oh dreadful Sight! what, Kings and Emperors too,  
Burnt like common Chaff! Ah poor Valeria!  
Cannot this Heart dry up thy Tears? No matter,  
Steal down to Thetis, in her Coral Bed;  
The Conflagration will not reach thee there. Ha!  
True, 'tis a Funeral Pile, that's worthy me,  
When all Mankind's the Fuel; Age and Youth,  
Beauty and Deformity, Vice and Virtue;  
How I rejoice that Pleasure dies with me.  
Ha! Thunder! Whirlwinds of tempestuous Fire!  
See how the flaming Billows roll this way!  
How they consume me! oh! 'tis sultry hot!  
My Guards, Romans, clap Tyber in betwixt me;  
Euphrates, Ganges, Nile, O 'twill not do.  
See, they're drank up all with one thirsty Blast:  
O for whole Oceans; see I burn, I burn; oh!  
Ha! tossed in a moment to these Lakes of Ice!  
Gods, now I frieze! ah! cold ●shivering cold— oh!  [dies Aur, 
He's dead; the Plague of Rome is now no more;  
My Friend, what! gazing still upon my Sister:  
See here how well she has revenged thy Wrongs.  Mar. 
O do not rouse me from this lovely Horror!  
Let me run wild in gazing on my Portia!  
She has not lost the Charms of her dear Eyes:  
For tho' their Summer warming Sun be set,  
These trembling Beauties of her wintered Night,  
Dart shivering Pleasures through my shaking Heart.  
O let me look upon their chilling Brightness,  
Till unperceived it frieze away my Life.  Aur. 
You must not throw your useful Life away,  
When Rome demands you for her Lord, and claims  
Her Freedom from you.  Mar. 
O do not shock my Soul with Thoughts of Empire:  
Am I a Prospect for my Countries Hopes?  
No, no, I am the last, and worst of Men:  
A wretched Outcast, the mere Draff of Nature!  
Bankrupt of Virtue, what can Rome hope from me,  
But greater Ills, than what I've done already?  
For who destroyed this Beauteous Maid? But I,  
Who racked her with Doubts, even in the Pangs of Death:  
'Twas I, who has abused thy Virtue too;  
But I! stand off, touch not such foul Infection!  
Never forgive me, as thou'rt Friend to Justice,  
Honour or Love,— but spurn me from thee:  
Spurn me to my black Kindred, Shades below,  
Thus, thus, and thus.—  [Stabs himself, and falls. Aur. 
What has your Frenzy done? but with that Blow,  
Destroyed us all?  Clean. 
O my dear Master, see;  [taking up his Master's Dagger. 
I follow you.  Mar. 
I charge thee by thy Love,  
Thy honest Love for thy unhappy Master;  
I charge thee live, thy Liberty I give thee.  Clean. 
O do not bind me to this Rack of Life;  
What boots my Freedom, when all Joy is lost;  Mar. 
I must bequeath thee as a valued Gift  
To my brave Friend; therefore I charge thee live,  
If thou wouldst have thy Master die in Peace.  Aur. 
Talk not of Gifts to me, ah cruel Martian;  
Think not I love thee with so frail a Passion,  
To quit my Friend in Death, more than Distress:  
No Martian, I will copy out this Deed,  
As I have striven to do your past.  Mar. 
Oh! Live!  
Your Friend, your Country, and th' immortal Gods,  
Impose your Life for Agonizing Rome;  
The public Good should rule your private Will.  
For tho' I loved the best of Womankind;  
The perfect Image of the Gods themselves:  
Yet, since that private Passion lulled the Cries,  
And drowned the Groans of m'expiring Country,  
The Gods have snatched her from me by strange Means,  
And took the Glory of deliv'ring Rome  
From out my Guilty Hands, to give it thee.  
Make Rome thy Mistress, than Honour, Renown,  
Success and Joy will crown thy happy Life.  Aur. 
There's something so Divine, and Awful in you;  
It fixes me in Life against my Will;  
Makes me the Victim of the Public Good.  Mar. 
'Tis well resolved, my Friend,  
But oh! I faint— reward Cleander's Faith,  
I can no more, this one Embrace, my Friend,  [Embracs him. 
And this for thee— and ●ow farewell for ever!  [Embraces Cleander. 
Ah, my dear Portia, ●o thy Martian comes,  
My Soul is restless from thee. Put our Ashes  
Within one common Urn— oh! my Portia●  [Dies. Cl. 
He's dead, my Master's dead;  [Pauses 
O hard Command;  
Yet here I'll fix, and sure this Sight will end me,  
Without a Dagger, O! break my stubborn Heart.  Aur. 
His dying Words shall be obeyed— no more;  
Methinks I see his hov'ring Soul look down,  
And with an awful Nod forbidden our Sorrows;  
Full of that Heaven he has within his View:  
And pointing to his Breathless Body there,  
Methinks I hear him thunder out aloud  
To all the listening World this Godlike Maxim  
Learn from my Fate, that Ties of Love or Blood  
Are of no Force against the Public Good.  
FINIS.