Heraclius, Emperour of the East a tragedy
Corneille, Pierre, 1606-1684., Carlell, Lodowick, 1602?-1675.
Page  18


Leontina, Eudoxia.
MY Plot now ripe, I must no more conceal
My deep design, but all to thee reveal;
For, you may help to perfect my intent:
Phocas by Martian must to death be sent.
Twas for that cause I gave him a reprieve,
And that Act done, he should no longer live,
But for Pulcheria's sake, whom he doth love;
A Mistress with a Throne must strongly move.
To kill his Father, Madam, 's an offence,
With which nor Love, or Empire can dispence.
His kill'd the common Father of us all;
Tis just that he by his own Son should fall.

Tis just to him, but unjust to his Son.

He shall not know he's such till it be done,
But pass still for Leontius, son to me,
And so by both their deaths Heraclius free.
I know the guiltie Father merits death,
But that so brave a Son should stop his breath,
To me looks horrid, though he know it not,
His so great fame will have a lasting blot.
It is not fit a bloudie Tyrants son
Should wear that Glorie he as mine hath won.
Enter Page.
Exuperius comes to kiss your hand.
Page  19
Exuperius! I am at a stand.
That name surprizes me; what makes he here?
How this new Visitant revives my fear?
He hates the Tyrant for his Fathers bloud.
Of tattling still I tell you comes no good.