The destruction of Jerusalem by Titus Vespasian in two parts : as it is acted at the Theatre Royal / written by Mr. Crowne.

THE Destruction OF JERUSALEM. PART II. (Book 2)

ACT I.

SCEN. I.

TITUS alone, sitting melancholly in his Tent.

Tit.

NO more, no more—whilst I her Doom delay, My heart each hour I to new pains betray; The more I think, the less resolv'd I prove, And I but wider tear the wounds of Love. These thoughts no more shall in my soul contest, I'le pull this shaft of Love out of my breast, And with one 'spatch conclude my lingring pain; This day two Victories at once I'le gain, Over my heart, and this rebellious Town, Conclude at once their sorrows and my own, Subdue both Love and them, my Fame complete; Glory begins to rise, now Love must set. Said I, my sorrows now an end should know, Vespasian never wretched was till now! I fight to purchase what I not regard,

Rome with my ruine does my Sword reward. Gods!—the Queens Sentence I must quickly speak. Or I shall all my resolutions break. Who waits?—

[Enter an Officer.

Off.

My Lord!—

Tit.

How forward is the day?

Off.

The Sun does o're the Hills his Beams display.

Tit.

The loitring morn does me a while prevent; The beautious Queen now slumbers in her Tent: Some God in dream the fatal tydings bear, And for her doom her Noble Soul prepare. Till she awakes I must my Love reprieve, Mean while I for th'assault will Orders give.

Trumpets sound, and a Centurian enters.

Cent.

Great Sir! Tiberias with the Kings attend Without your Tent, and for admission send.

Tit.

Conduct 'em in, they opportunely come, Now stubborn Town I must pronounce thy doom.

Centurian goes out, and immediately enter Tiberias, Malchus, and Antiochus.

Tib.

All health! to glorious Caesar! duty brings My self, and your Allyes, these brave young Kings, Thus early Sir, your great commands to know; Both they and all your Troops impatient grow, Your mercy longer should these Rebels save, And humbly beg they may permission have To throw this City, without more delay, Beneath your feet, and end the War to day.

Tit.

These valiant Monarchs my desires prevent, What they petition is my own intent. These slaves no more my mercy shall out-brave, Yet I would fain this splendid City save. Me thinks it does a Noble Town appear; Gods Might forsake their Heaven t' inhabit here. With much delight I from my Camp behold Their shining Temple, flaming all with Gold;

Which every morning puts such Glory on, I oft mistake it for the rising Sun. The Mountain which supports the splendid weight, Under the bright oppression seems to sweat; Whilst flocking Gods from every Region come, Despising all their little Fanes at home.

Mal.

To shining walls do you such kindness bear? For the Dens sake will you the Wild-beasts spare?

Ant.

Three months your gen'rous self you deaf have shewn To th'importunings of your own renown; Feeding your hungry Eagles every day, Only in pity to the trembling prey, Tiring the Arms of Fame, who to present, Her load of Crowns has waited at your Tent.

Tib.

Both Men and Gods, astonish'd Sir, appear To see a Den of famisht Rebels here, Which might so soon out of your way be hurl'd, Retard you from the Conquest of the World.

Mal.

But how much longer shall, may soon be known; Two walls your Rams beneath your feet have thrown, That now the Town has in its sad distress But one poor wall to hide her nakedness.

Ant.

Yes, mighty Caesar has one Robe bestow'd, A work that might become some pow'rful God; A wall wherewith he has their Tow'rs confin'd. As if to make new wonders for Mankind: Built by your Legions in the little space, The Sun but thrice drove round his daily race; That the fourth morning the astonish'd Sun Stood still to gaze on what your Troops had done; And now these Crowds cannot your anger fly, They have no way to 'scape you, but to die.

Tit.

You saw, constrain'd by famine, how they fought, Grass, Hay or Dung, at what dear rates they bought; Around the Meadows they would siercely range, And freely Blood for Juice of Grass exchange: Nay with the plenty grew luxurious too, Were fat with Grass, and drunk with morning Dew, That I was forc'd this remedy to take, Both for my Men, and for my Horses sake;

Most for their own, whom I would fain reprieve, Compel to tast my clemency, and live.

Tib.

Yes, Sir; but e're they will a Roman serve, The foolish slaves in malice chuse to starve: Shut in with Famine, he such shoales does eat, The savage Monster will our Swords defeat; Each Ditch and Vault his foul provisions fill; There scarce are living left enow to kill.

Tit.

A strange distraction on these wretches seize.

Mal.

The Nobler Jews are sick of that disease, Religious madness does their minds oppress, And with strange dreams their raving thoughts possess: Past cure of Hunger, Darkness, Iron Rods, They talk of nought but Heav'n, Religion, Gods, Of conq'ring you, nay of enslaving Rome, Of Empire here, and Paradise to come.

Ant.

Nay, every moment they expect a King Of their own Nation, who shall succour bring, Strange wonders do, both teach and rule the Earth, And think the Clouds big with this mighty Birth: It never thunders but they think he calls; Each storm they watch to catch him as he falls.

Tib.

Some fondly dream, the Parthian King is he; Think him the eldest Son of Prophesie. Find him Inroll'd in their Divine Record, And see strange wonders budding on his Sword. A mighty Empire is in him begun, He drives along the Chariot of their Sun. Behind the Hills already it appears, His valour lashes on the loytring years.

Tit.

Poor Prince! to vault up to such heights as those, Improper ground he for his rise has chose. My injur'd patience shall no longer wait; This night I have decreed the Cities fate; And the last morning now is drawing on The Sun shall rise o're this rebellious Town. To all my Squadrons strictest Orders bear, They for a general Assault prepare. And if the Rebels still my mercy slight, Bury the City out of humane sight,

Only from ruine save the bright abode Of their great Power, I would oblige that God; To aid Rebellion, nobly he disdains; Besides the Pile my admiration gains: What else of greatness may deserve the name, Preserve for monuments of Roman fame.

Tib.

How will Heav'ns Vaults with acclamations ring, When these commands we to the Army bring?

Mal.

For this my Arabs have impatient been.

Ant.

No less have all my Slaves of Comagene.

Tit.

But that this stubborn City yet may find How much to clemency I am inclin'd, Through all my Army Proclamation make, That all who to my mercy will betake, I'le gladly as my best of friends regard, And not alone will pardon, but reward; But no compassion shall prevail for them, Who this my proffer'd mercy dare contemn.

Tib.

Severity to some would thousands save; And Sir, your Legions Troops of Captives have; If Caesar please, e're we the fight begin, We will for terrour to the Slaves within, The Rebel Captives, ta'ne in heat of fight, Fix on high Crosses in their Brethrens sight: The horrid Spectacle will batter down Their Souls, as fast as Engines do the Town.

Tit.

Streight let the Orders through my Camp be spread.

Tib. whispers a Cent. who goes out.

Mal.

I mighty Caesars pleasure at the head Of all my Troops will wait.—

Exit.

Ant.

And I at mine; My Squadrons soon shall be prepar'd to joyn.

Exit.

A Shout.

Tib.

Hark! from the Camp glad shouts invade the Air, The news are spread, and all with joy prepare.

Like fiery Steeds they bound, and beat the Plains, And loudly neigh to feel the slackned Reins.

Ratling of Chains, and a loud cry as of many Prisoners within, calling for mercy.

Tib.

The condemn'd Captives now are lead to die, And vainly to your Guards for mercy cry.

Tit.

These wretches sorrows move me; none before From me did mercy undeni'd implore.

Tib.

Now e're our Legions towards the City move,

[Aside

I must assault awhile my Generals Love, To rowze his Soul must be my speedy care; To a bright Heaven he shortly will repair, Where his fair Queen will no admission find. Already I have stir'd his noble mind; But I'm afraid again he's faln asleep, And the sweet dream his Soul does pris'ner keep; I must no longer the Alarm delay, For the whole Empire for his waking stay.

Tit.

Now to my friend Tiberias I'le impart

[Aside.

The strange decree of my revolting heart: The victory, it o're that Fire does gain, He, and all Rome so long oppos'd in vain.

Tib.

Now Sir, one word!—

Tit.

Ah! Friend! thy thoughts I guess, Against my love thou something would'st express.

Tib.

The time is drawing near!—

Tit.

Oh! how I grieve! Must I the joys of love for Empire leave?

Tib.

My boldness, Caesar, punish or forgive, Your beloved passion must no longer live. You know Rome waits but till this Siege be done, To place you partner in your Fathers Throne. The Empire will not for his setting stay, She'l have no twilight, but perpetual day: But certain Laws each step to Glory guard, As e're in th'upper world for the reward Of your great deeds a Godhead you receive, You first by Natures Law this world must leave;

So by the Laws of Rome, e're you remove To Pow'r and Empire, you must dye to Love. I mean this Love, which you descend to place On a Crown'd Head, and one of forreign Race. For to be plain, Rome never will admit A Queen on her Imperial Throne should sit; 'Less that her Laws you should with one out-brave, Who wears her Chains, and is her Royal Slave. On Caesars noble Nature I presume; But I must venture whatsoe're's my doom. None vainly will deceive a dying friend; You to new Worlds of Glory now ascend. And Sir, it's my duty to declare You are for Heaven, and bid you streight prepare.

Tit.

Thy Counsels all from perfect friendship flow: Too well the Roman Laws and pride I know. Oh! Gods! what charming love must I forsake?

Tib.

Of that, Great Sir, there's none dispute will make.

Tit.

Ah! Friend! more charming then thou canst believe, Or raise imagination to conceive. Like frozen Climates thou my Son may'st see, But what I feel is mystery to thee. She ne'r unvails her beauty to my sight, But my Soul's lost in mazes of delight! My thirsty Eyes drink in a secret fire, I feel a joy no repetitions tire. Her charms each day with fresh delight I view, And still discover in 'em something new.

Tib.

What must be done Sir, will you then proceed?

Tit.

Ah! who can soon from such a love be freed? Yet Friend, to shew my Glory I'le compleat, That nothing for my Courage is too great. Against this Love which is to me so dear, From my own mouth this wondrous sentence hear: Know then, the hour I all my hopes can crown, Now Heav'n rains on me all wish'd Blessings down; Now smiling Fate makes Garlands for my Soul, And spreads a mighty Bed for Love to rowl; To the fair Queen I go, strange news to bear! I go—Oh! Heavens!—I go—now to declare.

Tib.

What Sir?

Tit.

What thou would'st ne'r believe before, That we must never see each other more.

Tib.

Amazing news!

Tit.

Tiberias, 'tis decreed! My heart does for the Queens misfortunes bleed; I fear of fatal consequence 'twill prove! But nothing can my resolutions move. Seven days my lab'uring Soul in pain has been, To break the fatal tidings to the Queen. Sometimes in sighs I would my thoughts express, And fain would have her my intentious guess. But she who nobly on my faith relys, Little suspects whence the false sighs arise. Sure of my heart, and lavish of her own, Mistakes th'intention of my secret moan. Pities my sorrows, and more charming grows, And all my courage wholly overthrows. But now, I've all my constancy alarm'd, My Soul is fix'd, and I am wholly arm'd.

Tib.

Oh! wondrous Conquest! now your glorious name, And mighty deeds, shall fill the mouth of Fame. You barb'rous Nations did subdue before, But now your self ••hose Nations Conquerour; Though some rude fears into our minds would press, Yet, Sir, from you we did expect no less.

Tit.

Oh! we with specious names our selves deceive, And solid Joys for empty Titles leave. Oh! Gods! what pleasures now do I forsake! I'le think no more, my constancy will shake. You flatt'ring dreams of Love begone from hence, I'le do't, and ne'r regard the consequence.

Trumpets, and enter an Officer.

Off.

Great Sir, the Queen is lighted at the Tent.

Tit.

Ah! Friend!

Tib.

How Sir? so soon your courage spent? Desert the field e're you the fight begin? Now is the time—

Tit.

No more,—Conduct her in.

Enter Berenice, Semandra.

Ber.

My Lord in health! now I am eas'd of pain, And my minds quiet is return'd again. A foolish dream tormented me to night; What, matters not, now I have you in sight. But ha! I in your looks a sadness spy; You only to my words with sighs reply. Must all your thoughts to Fame devoted be? Can you afford no room in 'em for me? If present thus you banish me your mind, My Image sure does cold acceptance find In your retiring heart, when I am gone, And left it quite to your dispose alone.

Tit.

Ah! Madam! all the Gods can witness bear, Queen Berenice is always present there. No time, nor absence ever shall deface That Image Love once in my heart did place.

Ber.

Why Sir, do you invoke the Gods for this? Does Titus need a friend to Berenice? All they can witness will superfluous be; Titus is Heav'n, and all the Gods to me.

Tit.

Ye Gods! How dearly must I Empire buy?

[Aside.

You keep the rates of Glory up too high. And too severe a task of me require, Who no delight but Berinice desire.

Tit.

Caesar is lost! what charms does she display?

[Aside.

Stifled in sweets his courage faints away.

Ber.

Ah! Sir! your Eyes do from me withdraw, As if some Ill unpleasing thing you saw. Alas! permit me to relate my fears, Me thinks of late a change in you appears; These seven days I have not gain'd a word, Your alter'd looks did not one smile afford: Alas! to doubt your love I do not dare, And yet I cannot from some fear forbear; These Omens must forebode some ill I'm sure. My fate has been too happy to endure.

Say then, whence springs this trouble? if from me, Tell me, and I will die to set you free; For all is done, that I was born to do, If I can add no more delight to you: For you are all—

Tit.

Madam, no more, more— On me too liberally you Favours pour; For on a most ungrateful man they fall.

Ber.

Ah! Sir! do you your self ungrateful call? Perhaps you weary of my kindness grow, That never was a trouble thought till now. I have liv'd long enough, if that be true; For all the joy I take in life, is you.

Tit.

My sorrow, Madam, since I must reveal,— My heart did never greater passion feel.— But—

Ber.

Finish Sir!—

Tit.

Alas!—

Ber.

Speak, speak my doom.—

Tit.

Some God assist me now—the Empire Rome— Sound to th'assault, I'le to my Squadrons straight, My Soul's opprest, I can no more relate.

Exit.

Goes on the sudden with Tib.

Ber.

Dear Heav'n! what should this Mystery contain?

Sem.

Nothing but Heav'n the riddle can explain. You have done nothing might his anger move?

Ber.

Except he takes offence at too much Love.

Sem.

I wish ill news from Rome has not possest, With some unpleasing thoughts, his troubled breast; You know the hate she bears your rank and you, And now if he—

Ber.

Alas! if that were true!— But oh! he never can so civil prove! A thousand times he has assur'd his Love Should to no haughty Laws of Rome submit, And e're his Love he would the Empire quit. And now, that I esteem my danger past, He will not sure undo me at the last.

No Titus Soul must needs be generous still, And mine as brave must think of him no ill. What e're it is, I'm unconcern'd to know, Whilst I have him, let Thrones and Empires go. Their loss I would not with one tear redeem, I have the Empire of the world in him.

Exeunt.

ACT II.

SCENE The Palace in Jerusalem.

Enter Mathias, Sagan, Phineas.

Phin.

HOw long will Heav'n his needful aid delay? With various plagues our Nation pines away. Besieg'd without, by all the power of Rome, Famish'd within, and no relief does come: Our Prayers on daily Embassies we send, But Heav'n no Angel Voluntiers will lend; He locks his mercy up in Towers of Brass, Nor lets our Prayers on their Embassage pass.

Sag.

Rome's batt'ring Rammes have more effect then ours, Her Engines daily over-set our Tow'rs; But our strong cries, though ne'r so loud we call, Cannot so much as shake Heav'ns Chrystal Wall.

Mat.

I cannot dive into the mystick sence; But Heav'n his presence has withdrawn from hence: He none of all his wonted ways replies, By Angels Visions, Dreams, or Prophesies; 〈◊〉〈◊〉 from his own Temple he has ta'ne his flight, And given it to Owls, and Birds of night.

Phin.

A Reason sure no mortal thought can frame, But Heav'n at us does all his Arrows aim. We know not where to make our chief defence, 'Gainst Famine, Traytors, Rome, or Pestilence: If from the Roman fury to preserve Our selves we fight, we only fight to starve:

If by dear purchas'd Food we life maintain, We fight to eat, and eat to fight again.

Sag.

These luxurious things you now relate; The plenty's lust of that once happy state. We must no more on the rich Meadows stray, Nor dine with Caesars. Horses every day. Titus not only a poor famish'd Crew Imprisons, but their Walls and Bulwarks too. A wondrous proof of Roman greatness shewn, A mighty Wall surrounding all the Town, Built in three days; that now we pounded are, Penn'd in with Monsters, Famine, and Despair. For Roman sport, like Gladiators here, We fight, as in an Amphitheatre. They laugh to see us by each other fall, And shut in Famine to devour us all.

Mat.

And from that Monster we small mercy find, Our Crowds are all to fleeting shadows pin'd; They walk about like Spectres of the night, Famish'd to Shapes, would even Ghosts afright: Paler then Ghosts the starving people lie, And rather seem to vanish then to die. No tears for Friends or Kindred now are shed, The living look with envy on the dead, Who freed from Hungers rigorous demands, Have flung their Tenements on Natures hands.

Phin,

And lest devouring Famine should be cloy'd, And we not fast or soon enough destroy'd, What little Orts the Monster can afford, Are by the bloody Rebels Swords devour'd.

Sag.

And lest the Parthian King our Nation save, That we from ruine no defence may have, That spreading Tree, under whose Boughs we sate, And shelter found in all the storms of Fate, Blasted by Love, now withors every day, And with him all our comfort pines a way.

Phin.

Yes, at Clarona's feet ('tis said) he lies; Who saves the Father, by the Daughter dies.

Sag.

It will dishonour on Religion draw; 'Tis true, we are forbidden by the Law

To match with Strangers to our Faith and Bloud, But we are more forbid Ingratitude.

Mat.

Your Sentiments I do not disapprove; My Daughter has my leave to shew him Love, In hopes to win him by enticing Charms, To Divine Pleasures in Religions Arms, And to reward his Soul with Heav'nly Joy, That Crown nor Rome, nor Rebels can destroy.

Phin.

Why our own safety do we thus neglect? And only fight base Rebels to protect. We bawd for them, whilst they their lusts procure, We from Heavens Officers defend the door. Vespasian is the scourge of wrath divine; Let us these Rebels to the Rod resign.

Mat.

I dare not do it, they will then resume Their ancient cries; Conspiracies with Rome! With shews of truth they will their charge maintain, And I shall help 'em my Renown to stain.

Cries without.

Heark! they have now begun their mornings chace.

Sag.

This Palace borders near the Holy Place, And thence the winds these doleful noises bear.

Mat.

Some by the Rebels now are tortur'd there.

Phin.

Since those foul Spirits did the Temple haunt, Our Ears did ne'r these entertainments want.

Mat.

Our Altars they possess, our Laws contemn; Let us attone our sins with bloud of them.

Ex. om.

The Scene changes to the Temple,

Enter John, Eleazar, Pharisees, driving several over the Stage.

1 Pha.

Oh! bloody Hypocrites!

Joh.

Scourge! scourge 'em well! See if th' Idolaters no food conceal.

Enter a Pharisee followed by a Woman.

1 Pha.

A Woman in the Act of eating ta'ne.

Wom.

Thou greedy Thief restore my Bread again.

I three days hunger for this Morsel bore, Denyed my self, and ran on Natures score; And thou depriv'st me of this poor retreat, Thou savage Cannibal my life dost eat.

Joh.

Thou griev'st thy self and us with vain complaints, We must not sinners feed with Bread of Saints. Now move our Plot, but so as none may know,

Whispers a Pharisee.

Or guess, you shoot my Arrows from your Bow. Some Vision feign, for with a vulgar head Visions like Pictures serve in Reasons stead.

2 Pha.

Enough.—

Whispers to John.

Now Brethren to our great Affairs.— Oh! John, how long wilt thou deny our Prayers? Seest thou not how the Nation headless lies? The Priest depos'd by his impieties, The Sacred Flock without a Shepherd stray Through Thorns and Brakes, and made to Wolves a prey; Whilst thou canst all their sufferings behold, And wilt not drive 'em safe into a Fold.

Joh.

How precious is to me the tend'rest moan Of suffering Saints, I oft and long have shewn. I have lamented long to see a vile and Impious Man the Diadem defile, With Names of Good and Loyal guild his Train, And Saints with the reproach of Rebels stain; Deluding tender minds, who do not see, Not Miters make a Priest, but Sanctity: But Sirs, I would not have the burden fall On me, the weakest, meanest of you all.

2 Pha.

We have consulted, wept, and pray'd, and find Our Souls born to thee by a pow'rful Wind, That blows from Heav'n, and against that Gale No Humane Wisdom must pretend to Sail.

Job.

Alas! No Holy Man a Miter wants! For we are all High Priests as we are Saints.

2 Ph.

But since some weak ones know not their own right, And 'gainst Religion for a Miter fight; For sake of tender minds 'twere fit we joyn Internal Saintship with External Sign.

Elea.

Sirs, shall we not this way the Law offend? This Office must to Aarons Sons descend.

Joh.

Think you (dear Brother) carnal Sons are meant? No, but his Sons by Heavenly descent. But yet suppose the literal sense were good, Power Heav'ns Crown Land, is but at will bestow'd; And when 'tis forfeited by wicked Men, Returns to Saints the Royal Blood again. I do not speak that such a weight should fall On me the weakest, meanest of you all.

2 Pha.

Dost thou oppose us still? then hear, and fear A Vision did last night to me appear, Putting a Priestly Miter in my hand,

Takes a Miter.

Crown John with it (said he) at my command. If he rejects it, or beneath it faints, Let him reject too the reward of Saints. Now, if you dare, the Vision disobey.

Joh.

But did the Vision John distinctly say?

2 Pha.

With a loud voice it John did thrice proclaim, As if it fear'd I should forget the name.

Joh.

It must some secret Mystery contain; For Dreams and Visions never do speak plain: Some of you holy ones by John are meant.

2 Pha.

You are the John to whom the Miter's sent.

Joh.

Brethren, indeed you value me too high.

2 Pha.

Obedience to the Vision's voice deny?

Elea.

Perhaps the literal sense some doubts has bred, I'le be the Mystick John then in his stead, And with the Holy Burden will rejoyce.

[Ele. puts on a Miters.

John takes the Miter from Eleazars Head,

Joh.

I sin, I sin, I will obey the voice. Brethren, I thank you all, for though I know The Sacred burden, under which I bow, Cannot by flesh and blood be undergone; Yet you your high esteem of me have shewn. With Cheerful Wine now fill the Holy Bowls, And with Religious Joy refresh our Souls.

All Creatures for delight of Saints are made, And wicked Men do but our Rights invade. If one of us a sinners Bread devours, He wrongs him not, for all the world is ours. The Banquet spread, and let the Musick play, Thus Saints is all your Coronation day. I'm but the humblest servant of you all, To you the ease, to me the burdens fall. My Priestly Blessing in this Bowl I give; May Traytors perish, and the Brethren live. For ever live, for ever love maintain.

1 Pha.

With swelling Hearts and Bowls we wish

All.

Amen,—

[All drink.

Joh.

Once more I wish, for ever love maintain!

2 Pha.

Once more we say Amen.—

3 Pha.

Amen!

All.

Amen.

[All drink.

Joh.

Now the Apostate I condemn to die, Who has so long defil'd this Dignity. By my own hand that Victim shall be slain, And with his Blood I'le bless my following Reign: True if the Soul of any private Saint Does after such a glorious action pant. Then by his valour let the Traytor bleed, I'le humbly yield to him the gracious deed.

Exit.

Scene the Palace.

Enter Clarona, followed by Phraartes.

Phra.

In vain you fly, to death I will pursue! I've always been accustom'd to subdue. Indeed by Villains, Fortune, and by Rome I've been betray'd, but ne'r was overcome. Here I have brought my War, nor will be gone, Till every Province of you be my own.

Clar.

Little knows he his Love's too great success, And my now vanquish'd Heart's more great distress.

Phra.

See if she will bestow on me a look! What Soul is able such disdain to brook?

Malicious chance! that ever I came here! I stopt my Glory in its full careere. There had not now in the whole world remain'd, A Throne unconquer'd, or a King unchain'd! But all that Glory in this fatal place I have consum'd before one beautious face.

Clar.

Did I intreat you, Sir, so long to stay, And for my sake your great Designs delay?

Phr.

I know you scorn my Love and Valour both! The safety I bestow on you, you loath: You daily like the Morn in blushes rise, Because you live by one you do despise.

Clar.

All this with patience I can hear from you.

Phr.

You can hear any thing you should not do; But you are deaf to all the loudest sounds Of all my services, of all my wounds; Though Camp and City both do silence break, And there the Dead, and here the Living speak, All to your hearing cannot force away.

Clar.

I still can bear.

Phr.

And still slight all I say. Why with such scorn do you my Love deny? Shew me the man on Earth more great then I, And let that man the happy Lover be.

Clar.

Greatness not valued is at all by me.

Phr.

What do you value?

Clar.

Nothing in this vain And wretched World—

Phr.

Wou'd I were out on't then!

Clar.

Where is the heart such kindness wou'd not move? Who can resist such merit? and such Love?

(Weeps.)

Phr.

How! do you weep! Nay then I have done ill!— Thus humbly I for pardon to you kneel!—

(Kneels.

Let not my rage a trouble to you prove! I do confess I am unfit to Love. Love has too violent effect, I find, On my too rash, and most unruly mind.

Trumpet sounds.

The Trumpet calls!—farewell, too Lovely Maid! To reach thy Heavenly Beauties I have straid;

Like the Mistaken Fool, who wanders round To find the place where Heav'n does touch the ground. Whilst thou continu'st still, far, far above Tallest deserts, and most aspiring Love. Who highest climbe but reach thee with their Eye▪ No more then those who in the Valleys lie.

(Offers to go.

Clar.

Oh! stay!

Phr.

That charming voice did I not hear? Or did my thoughts deceive my credulous Ear?

Clar.

Stay yet a moment with me.

Phr.

Stay with you! That I to all Eternity cou'd do.

Clar.

Sit down a while, for I have much to say.

Phr.

Such kind commands how gladly I obey.

Clar.

Did I e're think that any should subdue

(aside.

My heart to Love, and to confess it too? Oh Heav'n! that thou so kind to me hadst been, That I had never King Phraartes seen.

Phr.

Is it for this that I must tarry here?

Clar.

You may have patience, Sir, till more appear. Oh had I never King Phraartes seen, My life had been all happy, and serene! I had not known what shame or guilt had meant, Nor had a thought of which I might repent.

Phr.

Have I transplanted any of those foul And thorny weeds out of my desart soul Into your breast? let 'em not there remain, Return 'em to their Native soyl again.

Clar.

You have a Plant, I thought no more cou'd grow In my cold breast, then Roses in the Snow: A Plant whose name I did abhor before, Nor dare I name it lest I speak no more.

Phr.

What Artist can my trembling doubts remove? Oh that I durst suppose it to be Love! I'd give my Crown I cou'd my thoughts beguile But with those dawning glimmering hopes a while.

Clar.

What unknown Fates are kept for us above? That I shou'd own to any one I Love!—

Phr.

What vast oppression of delight is this? Hold! for I bow beneath the weight of bliss.

Clar.

Alas! I think indeed you alter'd grow, And bloud out of your wounds begins to flow.

Phr.

Let it flow on:—But did you say you Love!

Clar.

Suppress this passion, it may hurtfull prove. Lean on my bosom whilst your wounds I bind.

Phr.

Oh joy! oh sweetness! oh my ravish'd mind! I cannot speak the half that I wou'd say; And heark, the Trumpet calls me now away.

Trumpet sounds.

Clar.

Peace, murd'ring sound! thou shalt not be obey'd; You shall not stir, the bleeding is not stay'd: Do not go from me.—

Phr.

Do not go from you! If by each blow I gave, a King I slew, For all their Crowns I wou'd not stir from hence; But I must fight, my Love, in your defence.

Clar.

Can I be safe, and you in danger thrown? Preserve my life in saving of your own: Refresh your self a while with gentle ease, And I'le oppose our cruel Enemies, If need require;—I'me of a Nation bred, Whose softer Sex has oft our Armies led, Our Country sav'd, and singly have prevail'd, When all the courage of our men have fail'd.

Phr.

Sweetest of creatures! if there Angels be, What Angel is not wishing to be thee? Our state not yet so very desp'rate grows, That we should throw our Jewels at our Foes. Love is thy field; for those delightfull harms Thou art all over thee prepar'd with arms: Shoot all thy Arrows in one melting kiss, And wound me, wound me to the death with bliss. Our Vows are seal'd, and I a God am crown'd!

kisses her cheek.

Clar.

In a red Sea of blushes I am drown'd.

Phr.

Torrent of sweetness! pour on me again Thy overwhelming pleasures!—

Clar.

Oh refrain!—

Phr.

I cannot! cannot!

Clar.

Now you must no more;— When Heav'n my Country's freedom shall restore,

And fill the Land with joy, it may be then You shall not be the only wretched man.

Phr.

That word alarm does to my courage sound! Another Soul does in my breast rebound. Above a man I shall this moment fight, And will be blest above a God to night: For yet e're night no Foe alive shall be, To interpose betwixt my joys and me. But one kind look, and I to Arms repair.

Clar.

Take it, and with it my devoutest prayer To Heav'n to guard you.—

Phr.

Oh how am I blest!

Clar.

Much less then I am!—pray at my request Be carefull of your self.—

Phr.

That I shall be, Cause Love has made me now a part of thee. I leave with thee for pledge my soul, my heart.

Clar.

Good Angels guide you.—

Ex.

Phr.

Thou my Angel art. She's mine; and now the Gods she did adore, And heav'nly thoughts shall never haunt her more.

Ex.

ACT III.

SCENE The Roman Tents.

Enter Berenice and Semandra.

Ber.

OH Heav'ns! not see me! nor approach me once! All Love, all pity, all respect renounce! Amazing change in him this does express; Something has ruin'd all my happiness.

Sem.

Oh judge not so severely of your fate!

Ber.

It is too true:—what less then bitter hate Cou'd make him thus disorder'd from me run, Nay seek occasions Berenice to shun? I have but once beheld him all this day, And then he turn'd his eyes from me away, Wou'd not with one, my many smiles requite; I was so far from yielding him delight, That he wou'd look on any thing but me, I was the hatefull'st object he could see.

Sem.

The sight appear'd to me exceeding strange, I wonder what it is has wrought this change; I cannot think it from unkindness flows, I rather fear from Rome some Tempest blows: Or from the Camp new threatning clouds arise; I see the Armies daily Mutinies Against his Love;—and may I not believe He grieves lest these your Noble mind shou'd grieve?

Ber.

Does he so meanly of my heart esteem? Is it a trouble to endure for him?

Sem.

What though it may afford delight to you? Shou'd he be pleas'd you suffer for him too? May not the best of men afflicted prove, She shou'd be troubled whom he best does love? No doubt to crown you Empress he aspires, And sinds Rome will not bow to his desires:

Is it unnatural a gen'rous mind Shou'd grieve to be from gen'rous acts confin'd? That he in spite of him ignoble proves, And cannot act as bravely as he Loves?

Ber.

Thy fond defence does but accuse him more; As if Rome durst oppose her Emperour? Do not I know her Emperours to please, She both her Laws and Gods will Sacrifice? But what though she denies her mighty Throne? His passion sure entirely is his own: No Laws did ever yet to Love forbid, And having him, can I an Empire need? Who want a Throne that they may happy prove, Have hearts too great, or else too little Love. By none but Caesar I can be undone, And I will be appeas'd by him or none.— But ha! a shout!

Sem.

It shou'd a Triumph be, It sounds like the glad voice of Victory.

Ber.

Inquire the cause, and ease me of my fear; I'm on the wrack till I the tidings hear.

Sem. goes out, and immediately re-enters.

Sem.

Madam, it is a Triumph as we thought, The Army have a glorious Vict'ry got, Not o're the Rebels, but their General's mind; Your Lord it seems this fatal Morn design'd To head his Squadrons, and expose in fight Himself, the Worlds both glory and delight. A thought his loyal Legions could not bear; His resolution by the earnest pray'r Of all his Kings and Captains is subbu'd, And now the glad victorious multitude, With joys triumphant make the ecchoes ring, Whilst their great Captive to his Tent they bring.

Ber.

To the whole world he wou'd have injury done, All have a right in him as in the Sun; Heav'n one so brave for common good does frame:— I once an int'rest in him too might claim,

But that I fear is lost—

(weeps.

I'le run to him, my thoughts he shall set free, I cannot live in this uncertainty; 'Tis worse then death his kindness to suspect, Or live one moment under his neglect.

Ex.

Enter Titus, Tiberius, Malchus, Antiochus.

Tit.

The humble prayers your Loyalties have made, My resolution with success invade; Go and discharge my Legions on the Town, Each moment now is laden with renown. The Gods and I will faithfully take care, The living and the dead rewards shall share. We'l Laurels place on each victorious head, I'le crown the living, and the Gods the dead.— Are th'Engines mounted?

Tib.

All upon the wheel.

Ant.

The Tow'rs already seem with fear to reel.

Mal.

To th'inner wall we now have near access; The City's stately Robes, and upper dress Of Suburbs burnt, she now no longer bold, With some few rags stands shivering in the cold.

Tit.

How do these men compell me to deface The charming beauty of this goodly place?

Tib.

And that the obstinate and rebel Jews, May hope no more your mercy to abuse, We on the Plain have drawn before their eyes, A lively Scheme to shew their destinies: They need not vex the Stars, or trouble Art, The Hills and Valleys can their fates impart; The vocal Forrest is transplanted there, From groaning Trees they Oracles may hear; The Hills are shaded with a horrid Wood, And Valleys fill'd with Vineyards weeping blood: Crucisi'd bodies cover all the Plain, Let'em view them and obstinate remain.

Tit.

These men distort my nature, wrest my mind, And torture me lest they shou'd mercy find.

Titus talks to Tib.—Enter Berenice, Semandra; Malc. Antioc. gaze on Ber.

Mal.

The Queen! with beauty let me fill my fight, And take before hand the reward of fight: My Sword in Caesar's service I employ But to see her, whose Love he does enjoy.

Ant.

The fair young Queen! with beauty I'm opprest! Oh Caesar! Caesar! for a man too blest! The Gods more happiness on thee bestow, Then they themselves are capable to know.

Tib. Mal. Ant. Ex.

Titus sees the Queen, and starts.

Tit.

The Queen! I at the sight of her grow chill, Like one in view of him he means to kill.

Ber.

May I of Caesar crave without offence, The favour of a moments conference?

Tit.

Is it the Queen says this! Is she to know That all things here allegiance to her owe? And that she no way can oblige me more, Then in commanding what she does implore.

Ber.

I never shall survive the happy day, When I on Caesar obligations lay; Since so much glory were too great to bear: I have already had too great a share Of pleasures, in the sole belief that I Cou'd contribute to his felicity.

Tit.

Shou'd the fair Queen the moment not outlive, In which her Love to me does pleasure give, How often must that beauteous Princess dye? Since all my thoughts I on her Love employ, And ev'ry thought affords my soul delight. But oh! my injur'd passion I must right! Was all my Love not real but deceit? And did you but believe my kindness great?

Ber.

Far be all ill suspicions from my breast; I should my self (and justly too) detest,

If a mean thought of Caesar e're shou'd find, Any the least reception in my mind. All his past Love I do not, dare not wrong. But I the glory have enjoy'd too long: Caesar is pleas'd to let it now decline, Which I impute to some offence of mine; For he can think no thought but what is brave, No, I some great offence committed have, But what, is wholly to my soul unknown, If I might know it, I my crime wou'd own.

Tit.

To what do these unkind expressions tend? You make me think indeed you can offend, Since you to these suspicions can be wrought.

Ber.

I do not, Sir, accuse you of a fault; Caesar can erre in nothing he can do, So great a glory never was my due, Much less when I have something done or said, Which all my right has justly forfeited.

Tit.

Now truth assist me:—this unkind debate Argues not mine, but your own cruel hate; You sure encline to what you faign wou'd prove, And have a mind I shou'd no longer Love. This is too hard, too painfull to be borne, I swear (as I a thousand times have sworne) But that the day the sight of you does shew, I care not if the Sun wou'd shine or no; That all the joy that does by Life accrue, Is but to Love, and be belov'd by you.

Ber.

My Lords displeasure I too justly bear, That I to doubt his constancy shou'd dare; But he may pardon me, when he does know All my suspicions from my kindness flow. I trouble have on Caesar's brow espy'd, And he his thoughts and person too does hide. My tender heart with sorrow pines away, If I behold my Lord but once a day: And I much less can his retir'dness bear, And not his grief, as well as kindness share.

Tit.

Oh! how with Love she overwhelms my heart! After such Love I never can impart

A secret, that to you may trouble prove; To me be all the grief, to you the Love. Oh Rome! oh glory! oh renown! which way Will you the loss of so much Love repay?

Ex.

Ber.

Again in secret sorrow from me part! Oh my distraction! oh my tortur'd heart! What can the sense of these disorders be?

Sem.

I must confess they are too dark for me.

Ber.

Fate to our mutual Love no good designs, Whatever he pretends, his heart declines: Love treats not thus the person that's belov'd, Common compassion wou'd have kinder prov'd.

Sem.

My counsel can afford but small relief, But do not too much listen to your grief.

An alarm; Enter a Centurion followed by Romans.

Sem.

Souldier, the news.

Cent.

The Parthian King is here, That name's enough to shew what danger's near: I cannot talk, there's bus'ness to be done.

Ex.

Ber.

My Lord in danger!

Sem.

Whither do you run?

Ber.

To dye with him.

Sem.

Oh fear not! Heav'n will save, Were all his Legions slain, a man so brave.

An alarm; the Centurion returns with Monobasus.

Ber.

Centurion, the success relate with speed.

Cent.

My Lord is from the Parthian Monarch freed By this brave Stranger's aid, who to defend His glorious Enemy, oppos'd his Friend.

Ber.

Prince! my resentments I want words to tell, This deed does all past services excell: Sure you have some command from my good Fate, My Friends and me with diligence to wait. All your deserts I will to Caesar own, And for reward procure some vacant Crown, If I have int'rest still; but l'm affraid I rather need an Intercessor's aid.

Ex.

Mon.

Oh Heav'ns! what pleasing sweetness does she wast, Intirely lost to my disorder'd tast? I little pleasure in that kindness take, Which she bestows but for another's sake. Now heart but hold till I my passions speak, And then with sorrow and confusion break.

Ex.

Scene a Street.

Enter Mathias, and Guard, pursued by John, Eleazar, and the Pharisees; John in his Pontifical Vestments.

Joh.

Seize 'em alive! prophane and wicked men!

Phar. seize Mat. &c

Now Heav'n to justice brings you once agen; And vengeance surely long enough has staid: Behold the desolations you have made, Look in the Streets, and see each corner fill'd, With carkasses of Saints your sins have kill'd; Listen to ev'ry house, and hear the groans Of many starving, dying Holy ones, Who cry not, oh the Famine! oh the Pest! But oh th' Apostates! oh the Romish Priest! For your Idolatries in Plagues we lye; Yet for these sins (no doubt) you grutch to dye. Yet you the Romans can with rage pursue; Alas! not Romans ruine us, but you. They'r but your Instruments; your guilt affords Force to their Arms, and edges to their Swords. Had you good nature, you wou'd wish to dye, To free the Nation from the misery; Not of the Plague, the Famine, or the Foes, But of your impious selves, our greatest woes.

Mat.

Cou'd height of impious boldness Saintship give, Thou surely wert the greatest Saint alive; Of that vile kind of Saints thy followers are, Thou sure art excellent without compare: For thou hast taken all degrees in sin; Didst first in little villanies begin, With whisp'ring murmurings, dissemblings, lies, So didst to Murder and to Treason rise;

And now at length the crawling Snake is grown A Royal Basilisk, and has a Crown. Horrid! when we are plagu'd such various ways, Is it a season to be acting Plays? Here in a house of horror, death and woe, To mock Religion with Theatrick shew? And must you too the holiest things abuse? For sport no subject but Religion chuse?

1 Pha.

Sport dost thou call it? thou wilt find, I fear, The Saints are all in serious earnest here.

2 Pha.

And mean to stone thee; if that be a jest, Of such a fatal pleasure make thy best.

Joh.

No—wicked man! we act this weighty part With all the saddest, deepest thoughts of heart. I know I walk upon the brink of Laws, Near both to sin, and to perdition's jaws; And had not I a strong impulse within, And mighty call without, that I shou'd sin, My angry conscience wou'd my soul condemn In wearing of this Holy Diadem.

1 Pha.

But you are sav'd from all these pious fears.

Joh.

I am anointed by the Brethrens tears; Call'd by the groaning of the suffering Cause, And voice of providence more loud then Laws. By strong impulses knocking ev'ry hour, I cou'd not rest till I assum'd the Power; Where e're I went, methoughts a voice wou'd cry, John!—John!—take up the fallen dignity: That if there any usurpation be, The Priesthood's guilty of usurping me. I sought not Pow'r, but Pow'r did me invade: But thou (vile man!) shouldst not the Saints upbraid▪ Our dangers thou shouldst rather weep to see, Expos'd to things so scandalous by thee.

Mat.

Was ever heard of impudence like this!

Elea.

Hale him to Judgment.

Mat.

To eternal bliss; To an abode which blest enough wou'd be, From men so impious only to be free.

Enter a Pharisee running.

3 Pha.

Be gone! be gone! the Pagan King is nigh, Return'd out of the Field with Victory.

Joh.

Curse on that Infidel, the Priest he'l save.

Elea.

Why shou'd a Heathen such successes have?

Enter Phraartes and Guard, who beat John, &c. off the Stage; Mathias pursues. After an alarm Phra. and Mat. return.

Phr.

Why Father do you thus expose your age To Rebels treachery, and Roman rage? Can your Gray-hairs by you forgotten be? Or does it shame you to be sav'd by me?

Mat.

It does, that you should bleed for us each day, Who, Sir, for you can nothing do, but pray.

Phr.

Good man! I am rewarded far above All I can merit, in your Daughters Love.

Mat. Ex.

Several with baskets of provision.

There I have brought rich plunder for the Crowd, Not to supply their treasures, but their bloud: To their repast the hungry rabble call, Go scatter life, throw souls among 'em all.

Ex. with provisions. A shout. Phra. Ex▪

Scene a Chamber.

Enter Clarona weeping, a Book in her hand, sets her self in a Chair.

Clar.

Oh my devotion! I shall let thee go, For deadly, deadly sick with Love I grow: No sight of him but does my strength decay, And yet I cannot keep my eyes away. To these clear Springs of life no more I go,

looks on the Book.

Cause they my souls decaying beauty shew.

Enter Phraartes, who starts to see her weeping.

Phr.

In tears! what villany has fortune done To my best Soul, whilst I to Arms was gone? What have I spy'd?—now I the cause divine, I see a Book, that is no friend o' mine. And does that trash still please your sickly mind? Love has not wrought a thorough cure I find.

Clar.

You with Religion still will be severe; You wou'd think much shou'd I as harsh appear To your friend Love.

Phr.

Wou'd it not pity breed, To see thee climbing Mountains for a Weed? Chain'd like Prometheus rather to the brow Of barren Rocks, for ever clad in Snow, And there Religion gnawing of thee still; Who wou'd not the devouring Vulture kill?

Clar.

How poor Cymmerians to the Sun unknown, Think ev'ry Land all darkness, like their own.

Phr.

How wretched Lands with Fables overflown, From Mountains of the Moon, and Springs unknown, With Mud of falshood rank their fertile Earth, Give nothing else but Priests and Prophets birth.

Clar.

When men by miracles the truth display, We may believe what miracles will say.

Phr.

Workers of miracles I least believe; Men love By-ways who have design to thieve.

Clar.

But it some Faith in us may justly breed, When what they do, does Natures pow'r exceed.

Phr.

Nature's an Ocean endlesly profound, Where Line cou'd never yet discover ground: We only see what on the surface swim, And what we often see, we ne're esteem. If one by chance a Monster brings to shore, The Monster we admire, the Fisher more.

Clar.

Supposing secret skill such feats cou'd shew, Can men by any Art events foreknow? What eye can have a prospect of events, Through a long Wood of various accidents?

Chance can no more shew what will come to pass, Then things remote a broken Optick glass. Yet have our Sacred Prophets often here Drawn Maps of future things so plain and clear, That after-ages have unsoil'd, untorn, Found their own Pictures drawn e're they were born. None cou'd display 'em but the Heav'nly mind, Where all th' Idea's are at first design'd.

Phr.

None knows how much may by the Stars be guest, Or on th' imagination be imprest. But you ne're find in draughts so much ador'd, More then dead colours daub'd, and features scor'd, Which with some small addition may with ease Be drawn to what resemblances you please.

Clar.

Have you of life to come no hope or fear?

Phr.

Why more of that, then the Platonick year? I'le never toyl after a state unknown.

Clar.

But you shou'd search for fear there shou'd be one: Prudence all ills that may be does prevent.

Phr.

Then prudence will not lose firm Continent, To rove the Seas in an imprudent chace Of floating Isles, and some Inchanted place.

Clar.

But such a place is worthy to be sought, And were there none, yet Heaven's a pleasant thought.

Phr.

It may like Poetry the mind employ, In idle intervals of active joy; But I'le not all my life a dreaming lye, Whilst solid pleasures run neglected by: Whilst to uncertain cares my thoughts I give, Lose what I'm sure of, and forget to live.

Clar.

Where do you think you after death shall dwell?

Phr.

'Mong a rude heap of things; where none can tell▪ I had my self at no request of mine, And I'le as gen'rously my being resign. How I came it ne're disturbs my head, Nor what I shall be when I once am dead.

Clar.

Then your brave self must you for ever lose?

Phr.

I wou'd not a new Lease of life refuse, Cou'd I the deed obtain by any Art.

Clar.

Oh Heav'ns! methinks you shou'd not seek to put▪

Were it from me alone, so soon as death, And leave me wandring on wild Natures Heath, When we from these poor Cottages are thrown, Having no dwellings, and desiring none.

Phr.

For a new life I on high Rent wou'd stand, But I'le mean while enjoy my present Land; I will improve it till I've tir'd the clods, Then for new Acres I wou'd thank the Gods. But let us this fantastick talk give o're, These Fairy thoughts shall pinch thy soul no more; Let us not think of Lands remote, unknown, But eat the Fruits and Spices of our own.

Enter Phedra.

Phed.

Parthian Commanders wait without to bring Tidings of great concernment to their King.

Ex. Phra.

Clar.

That Heav'n such cost on a brave mind shou'd lay, On no design but to be cast away.

SONG.

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

Asunder let's no longer stray, But both devotions joyn; Let us when dead be sav'd your way, But whilst we live in mine.

Is e're I to a soul am pin'd, I gain the thing I sought; I'le be content to be all mind, To act it o're in thought. Admit me to the place of bliss, To Love's divine abodes, And we will laugh at Paradise, And not be Saints, but Gods.

Enter Phraartes, with some Parthian Commanders.

Phr.

Brave men! for the most glorious news you bring, Challenge the love and friendship of your King. My drooping Fate is now reviv'd again;

(to Clar.

My Crown's restor'd, and the Usurper slain: My people weary of the Villain grown, Of him, and Roman pride have cleans'd my Throne. My conqu'ring Army near the Town is come, And wait to guard me hence in triumph home. These gallant men who have the tidings brought, At the last Storm to Town their passage fought. Now I'm in sight of Love's fair promis'd Land, I see the shining of the Golden Sand.

Clar.

I never shall be able to deny;

(aside.

That I cou'd save my innocence and dye.

Phr.

She falls! she vanquisht falls into my arms! To conqu'ring Love resigning all her charms. Can any happiness compare with mine? 'Tis wretched sure to be a Pow'r Divine, And not the joys of happy Lovers know. Wou'dst thou (my dearest!) be an Angel now? Oh how the moments sweetly slide away! But yet I must be wretched for a day. Who waits?—did you not say my Troops had none Whose guidance they might safely trust to Town?

Parth.

No Jewish Guides cou'd any where be found, The Romans Troops spread ninety furlongs round.

Phr.

I'le Salley out to day, and be their Guide; I dare in no man but my self confide.

These Troops of mighty consequence are grown, My Fortunes all depend on them alone. But oh! that I cou'd build a Tow'r of Brass, Through which the force of Thunder cou'd not pass, My Love from danger safely to inclose; For I am fearfull of each wind that blows, Lest it shou'd breath too rudely on my dear; Then how much more shall I in absence fear The cruel Enemy?—I dare not go.

Clar.

Obliging kindness in your stay you shew: But if misfortune shou'd befall your men, Both wou'd in danger be of ruine then.

Phr.

And has my dangers in thy thoughts a part? Who can express the pleasures of my heart? The only place of strength within our pow'r Remaining now, is Queen Mariamne's Tow'r; Shall I entrust thee there till my return?

Clar.

There for your absence I will sadly mourn.

Phr.

Then will you think on me?

Clar.

I will indeed.

Phr.

And will you wish me back again with speed?

Clar.

For swift return and Victory I'le pray.

Phr.

How shall I do to force my self away? Do not look on me, lest I never go; This is the hardest work Love has to do. Come, to the Tow'r that must my Love receive, And there I'le take a momentany leave; Then like the Monarch o' the Winds, I'le go And loose my stormy Squadrons on the Foe. And when the mighty Vapour's spent and done, The wasting Roman inundation gone, And not a Cloud in all the Heav'ns we see, I'le come a hot and pleasant Calm to thee.

Ex.

ACT IV.

SCENE The Roman Tents.

Enter Titus, Malchus, Antiochus, Tiberius.

Tib.

NOw Sir, one more Assault, and we conclude The torments of the starving multitude. We to our Squadrons portions divide, Which like wild Horses to its members ty'd, Did rend it limb from limb, and left alone A torn dismembred carkass of a Town.

Mal.

I did the Temple storm, the place to save From its own Guard, as Caesar orders gave; And the vile Slaves to burn my Troops and me, Gave fire to th'entrance of their Sanctuary, And in a moment levell'd with the ground Solomon's Porch, and all the Buildings round.

Ant.

The Town must bow to you within a day, For Famine sweeps its dirty crowds away; They who maintain it are not men, but bones, Shadows of men, and walking Skeletons. Their looks scare death it self, nor do they need To fly from wounds, they have no bloud to bleed. Their flesh if mangled, like chopt Earth appears, Or cloven Trees torn with the wind and years.

Mal.

My civil Fate did better treats afford, And with fat juicy Villains fed my Sword; That I had no great reason for complaints, I had a noble banquet of cramm'd Saints.

Tit.

To all the Heav'nly Pow'rs I dare appeal, If I'm in fault for what these wretches feel.

Tib.

Except by mercy lengthning that disease, Which stubborn cruelty with speed wou'd ease.

An alarm; Enter an Officer.

Tit.

The news!

Offic.

The Guardian Angel of the Town, The Parthian King, is from its succour flown: He broke from thence, like Thunder from a Cloud, And tore down all that in his passage stood. Thence with his followers o're the Mountains fled, And all the way with slaughter'd Romans spread.

Ant.

Then the proud City's dying pangs are past; Her mighty Ghost is yielded up at last.

Mal.

The very Soul of all their Souls is fled.

Tib.

Better their Walls had vanish'd in his stead, Pursue him—

Tit.

No, since for his life he flies, Let him enjoy what with disgrace he buys. Now I'le release the wretches from the rack; Prepare my Legions for a new attaque: Their Temple save, unless the Slaves appear Too obstinate, and it shall cost too dear.

Mal.

I am prepar'd:—but e're the Fight begin,

(aside.

I must go gaze on the fair Jewish Queen. I know I must not hope, but I may dare To peep in Heav'n, though I must ne're come there.

Ex.

Ant.

I must to the fair Queen before I go, My thirsty Soul does more intemp'rate grow: That hot Elixir I must hourly tast, Which I'm assur'd will burn me at the last.

Ex.

Tit.

Now Friend, the hour draws near when wretched I, The torments of departing Love must try, And with one stab that fatal wound must give, Of which I shall be groaning whilst I live.

Tib.

Oh! does your mighty resolution yield! I thought you had entirely gain'd the Field.

Tit.

Dost think I from my breast so soon can tear A Love which has so long been growing there? Throw all that heap of riches out of door I hardly got, and in a trice be poor?

Three years I lov'd and fought, on no design But at the last to make this Treasure mine: I have spoil'd half the world but to be seen Attir'd in Glories, pleasing to the Queen. Nay I who shun her Love to gain a Throne, Desir'd the Empire for her sake alone. And now I have obtain'd my wish'd success, And I'm in reach of supreme happiness, Shall I at last my self and her deceive, And what I sought for, what I slighted leave?

Tib.

Oh! do these thoughts your Soul once more invade? All this before you in the ballance weigh'd; With an impartial finger pois'd the Scale, And left out nothing might for Love prevail: But still the Roman Laws, your own Renown And Glory, weigh'd the other ballance down. And now—

Tit.

Her Love to all things I prefer, What is Renown or Empire without her?

Tib.

Grant, Sir, all charms that in her Sex are seen, Are lodg'd in her, but still she is a Queen. A Roman courage her great heart contains, But there's no Roman bloud within her veins. And not our Tyrants yet so bold have been, To marry with a Stranger, and a Queen. This hate to Crowns is all that Rome in chains, Still of her ancient Liberty retains. Nay Roman Monsters, whose supreme delight Was against Reason, Laws, and Gods to fight; Who Rome and Nature in confusion hurl'd, And walk'd Antipodes to all the world; Yet they who durst both burn and plunder Rome, Once to invade this Law durst ne're presume. And Sir, shall you the worlds delight do more Against our Laws then Monsters did before?

Tit.

All this too well I know, but must I lose My freedom e're I am at Rome's dispose? It will be time enough these thoughts to have, When I am chosen her Imperial Slave:

Till then my heart and person both are free, And I am Master of my destiny.

Tib.

Ah Sir! against this fatal passion strive, And do not Rome of your brave self deprive: Shall she lose all the Glory of your Reign, Only to ease a Love-sick Ladies pain? For Sir, were you a God and shou'd presume To 'spouse a Queen, you must not govern Rome. Her Rank is by your Army too abhorr'd, Who hate to see a Queen command their Lord: Their hourly discontents I scarce can quell, They out of Loyalty would fain Rebell. Nay they have all resolv'd the very hour The Town is won, to chuse you Emperour; But lest the Queen should in your Glory share, They firmly have decreed to banish her. And the brave Rebels I declare I'le lead;

Kneels, and flings his Sword at Titus feet.

If you will guard your passion, take my head, For I will ne're endure the greatest Throne, And bravest man, shou'd be by Love undone.

Tit.

Oh rise! thou truly Roman spirit, rise!

(raises him.

I have resolv'd on this great Sacrifice, But do not know which way I shall begin; I cannot speak to the unhappy Queen.

Tib.

Release your spirit from that trifling care, I'le to the Queen th'unpleasing message bear; And as the Patient's sight an Artist hides, When from the Body he a Limb divides, That Nature may not doubly be opprest, Then with a curious hand performs the rest; So I the fatal deed will gently do, And not torment you with an Interview: And will so mollifie the parting pain, That injur'd Love but little shall complain.

(offers to go.

Tit.

Oh! stay Tiberius! make not so much speed, I know not if I shall survive the deed; With hast I boldly rush on a design, Which may at once destroy her life and mine. But yet what must be suffer'd we in vain Delay some moments, and prolong our pain.

Go then, the sad and killing tidings bear, Excuse my crime, and all my grief declare; Implore her my retirement to forgive, Tell her I cannot see her, go,—and live! And if to reign in my ungratefull breast, Her rigorous Fate can sweeten in the least, Tell her that I deserted and alone, Even an Imperial exile in my Throne, To my own self more hatefull then to her, The name of Lover to my Tomb will bear; That all my life will be in sorrow spent, And all my Reign a glorious banishment.

Ex.

The Scene changes to the Queens Tent.

Enter Berenice and Monobasus.

Ber.

How Sir! have I under the name of Friend These many months a Lover entertain'd?

Mon.

Let it not, Madam, your displeasure move, That I presume t' inform you of my Love: Till now in humble duty I supprest The tort'ring secret, till it burnt my breast. My bosom better cou'd have fire retain'd, It wou'd have less my scorching vitals pain'd.

Ber.

Suppose your passion great as you express, What did encourage you to this address? Durst you once hope you entertain'd should be, Or find the least encouragement from me?

Mon.

My passion never yet so bold has been; It were less vain to ask the Gods to sin. Yet were it possible for you to erre, Torments and death I wou'd much rather bear, Then you one moment should unhappy be, And place your heart on one so low as me.

Ber.

Good Heav'n! then what design cou'd you propose▪ Did you this secret for no end disclose?

Mon.

To ease my soul was all I did design.

Ber.

Wou'd it had been in any breast but mine.

Now I not only must ungratefull seem, But all past services must crimes esteem; Against my nature my just debts disown, Nay I must punish you for what y'ave done. And oh! good Heav'n! what starts into my thought!

(aside.

I've found what has this change in Titus wrought; I've been too lavish in this Strangers praise, That, that did this disorder in him raise. Sir, you have ruin'd me, have friendship shewn, To make my fate as wretched as your own: To save my life you have your Sword employ'd, And all the comforts of that life destroy'd. Oblige me this once more for goodness sake, Your self with speed out of my presence take.

Mon.

What means this storm so sudden and severe?

(aside.

My cruel Fate pursues me every where. My name can like a Charm, uncalm the Sea, Where e're I wander, there no peace can be.

Ber.

Will you not please to answer my desire?

Mon.

But one word more, and Madam I retire.

Enter Semandra.

Sem.

Madam, the King—

Ber.

No Visitants admit, I'm for all Conversation now unfit.

Enter Malchus, followed by Antiochus.

Ant.

Ha! Malchus here!

Mal.

Antiochus so nigh!

Ant.

Ha! Prince Monobasus do I espy?

Mal.

What does the Queen that Traytor entertain, By whom her Brother was so lately slain?

Mon.

Oh hatefull sight! does fortune hither bring My mortal Enemy th' Arabian King?

Ber.

They gaze as if they both this Stranger knew.

Mal.

Now my revenge the Rebel shall pursue, Whose fortune oft has put me in distress; Besides I'm jealous here of his success.

And dares he, Madam, in your sight appear?

Ber.

Oh Sir! his quality I fain would hear, For till this hour his name I never knew.

Mal.

Prince Monobasus, who your Brother slew, Dispers'd my Troops, and wounded me in Fight, Cause I maintain'd his injur'd Brother's right.

Ant.

What need this great officiousness be shewn?

Mal.

You are his Friend.

Ant.

I do the title own.

Mal.

You did not once this mighty friendship shew.

Ant.

But I love Valour in a Friend or Foe.

Mon.

Do not for me, Sir, discompose your mind, I only from the King prevention find: The guilt he makes with so much passion known, I now was humbly on my knee to own.

Ber.

Oh Heav'ns! and does there stand before my view My Brothers murderer!

Mon.

It is too true— Your Brother I unfortunately kill'd.

Ant.

You did, but it was fairly in the Field.

Ber.

Did this ill Spirit me all this while pursue, And did I entertain his service too? Now I perceive he hither did retreat, By subtle ways his mischiefs to compleat; On all my Brothers Race to wreak his spight. Wherein could he offend to such a height, That even his life was a revenge too small, But I amongst your Enemies must fall?

Mon.

All names most black and odious are my due, Excepting that of Enemy to you.

Ber.

Cease your feign'd Love, for I your life will have; Mine but for ends of malice you did save, And so am unoblig'd; yours all the pleas Of Justice craves; Guards, on the murd'rer seize.

Ant.

Ah Madam!

Mon.

Do not, Sir, a hindrance be, The Queen will both oblige her self and me.

Ber.

Yes, you shall dye.—But why do I presume On lives of others here to pass a doom,

When in few hours perhaps it will be shewn, I have not power to assure my own? And see,—Tiberius from my Lord is sent,

Enter Tib.

I am assur'd he brings me some complaint: What it should be, I cannot, dare not guess; If he be jealous, that does Love express. But that slight grief were easie to disarm; No, something else does his great Soul alarm: What e're it is, vain fear I will repell; I'm sure from Titus I've deserv'd so well, That I my innocence may boldly trust, For if he be unkind, he is unjust. Tiberius, quickly thy ill news impart, What does sit heavy on thy Prince's heart? I know the news is bad I am to hear, Cause thou art chosen for the messenger.

Tib.

Ah Madam!—

Ber.

Nay I am not now to learn, How thou hast made my ruine thy concern; Hast tamper'd with thy Prince's heart, and strove To sow dissensions, and to blast our Love. But I forgive thee, since I have thereby The pleasure had his constancy to try.

Tib.

Madam, what e're I in my life have done, I am too much a Roman to disown; That Caesar's Glory I with care have sought, Can never by his Friends be judg'd a fault. But since my Lord did so unhappy prove, To have his Glory contradict his Love, That I took part with Glory is most true, But, Madam, never out of hate to you. The Roman Laws were made e're I was born, Nor bear I to your Rank a Native scorn; I wish Rome paid Crown'd Heads the honour due, At least from all her Laws exempted you. But since she'l not reform at my request, Of her proud humour let us make the best. Then Madam know, my Lord at last o'recome By me, by all the Army, Senate, Rome,

Knowing how much your Rank incurrs their hate, And fearing to involve you in a state That to you both unfortunate would prove; Exceeding tender of your gen'rous Love, And of the happiness of one so dear; Assur'd your courage the great shock will bear, Sends to inform you 'tis the will of Fate, You two for ever now must separate.

Ber.

For ever sep'rate! what does he intend? Will he to Berenice this message send?

Ant.

Oh Heav'ns!

Mal.

Amazement!

Tib.

Madam, 'tis too true! But to his noble Love I le justice do; All kinds of passions in his Soul arise, He weeps, laments, adores, and almost dies: But to what end? his many griefs are vain, Rome in her Throne no Queen will entertain. You two must part, and after this one day, He begs no longer in the Camp you'l stay.

Ber.

Alas! Semandra—

(half weeping.

Sem.

What I long did fear! Madam, this sad assault with courage bear; Raise all that's great in you to your defence, You'l need it in this mighty exigence.

Mon.

Oh Gods! have I this fatal difference made?

Ant.

All this is falshood, and the Queen's betray'd.

Mal.

Now some small pleasure in despair I take.

(aside.

Ber.

And can Vespasian Berenice forsake? Are these his oaths and vows?

Ant.

It cannot be; Tiberius, the Queen is wrong'd by thee.

Yib.

She is not, Sir.

Ant.

She is; and wert thou where, I durst presume thy falshood should appear.

Mal.

Did I think that, your labour I wou'd save.

Tib.

Kings, when you please you shall occasion have.

Mon.

Ah Sir! I beg let your contention cease;

(to Ant.

To me the injur'd Queens revenge release.

If, Madam, a poor Malefactor may, After his Sentence be allow'd to pray, I beg the glorious office on my knees, And after doom me to what death you please.

Ber.

How! do you think my Honour I le refer For Justice to my Brother's murderer? To his great Ghost too much offence I give, Since by your aid I am content to live. To too much guilt already I'm betray'd; Your life shou'd now be offer'd to his shade: But lest if I your guilty bloud should spill, The world should think I pay my debts but ill, All your past deeds I with your life requite, But never more appear within my sight.

Mon.

Then to the Town I will my self convey, Sorrow shou'd in the shades of sorrow stay: The Gods have there all kinds of deaths in store, Shortly I shall afflict the world no more.

Ex.

Ber.

For you who these great mysteries reveal,

(to Tib.

I from your message to your Lord appeal; Against his faith I nothing will believe, Till I this sentence from his mouth receive: And if it proves not as thy self hast said, Tiberius, know I will demand thy head.

Tib.

Agreed!—mean while I will my Lord prepare For your approach, and straight attend you there.

Ex.

She offers to go, and is stay'd by Sem.

Sem.

Hold, Madam, will y' in this disorder go? Some little pains upon your self bestow; Stay till your Beauty has regain'd its grace, Your Hair and Vail let me in order place.

Ber.

No, no, Semandra, let thy Queen alone, Titus shall quickly see what he has done; The aid of these poor trifles I despise: If my too constant heart, my weeping eyes, My grief!—my grief!—my death no pity gain! What can these slighted ornaments obtain?

(goes out weeping.

Mal.

The Queens resentment adds to my despair.

Ex.

Ant.

I'le bury all my troubled thoughts in War.

Ex.

Scene Titus his Tent.

Enter Titus and Tiberius.

Tit.

Great Gods! how I this hastning combate fear▪ My guilty Soul wants courage to appear. Her absence once I not an hour could bear, Now for her sight with terrour I prepare.

Tib.

Sir, place strong Guards about your heart one hour; This storm repuls'd, you are a Conquerour.

Tit.

Poor Vict'ry injur'd beauty to subdue! What more could an untam'd Barbarian do?

Sees her coming.

She comes! Great Genii of me and Rome, Help me in this one Field to overcome; If you regard the honour of the Throne, Trust not my Glory with my self alone.

Ber.

So Sir, and is your fainting passion tir'd? Have you at length my parting hence desir'd?

Tit.

Ah Madam! do not a poor Prince oppress; The Gods who gave me all the happiness Of your past Loves, think I too blest have been, And now to moderate my joys begin. Glory they in the room of Love bestow, By splendid steps to ruine I must go: Be doom'd to Empire, to a Throne confin'd; Have pow'r, but lose the freedom of my mind: Great as a God, as solitary too; Ador'd, but banish'd from the sight of you: For, Madam, I with sorrow must declare, We for eternal parting must prepare.

Ber.

Oh cruel man! do you these words express Now you have rais'd my Love to such excess? Did I for this permit my eyes each day, On you to gaze my liberty away? Advance my flame to an immod'rate height▪ Hating all bounds in what I took delight?

Stifle all thoughts that with your int'rest strove, And even exchange my very soul for Love? And will you now unjust to me become, For a poor servile flattery of Rome?

Tit.

Glory's unjust, which never can repay With all it gives, the half it takes away.

Ber.

Is this a time the secret to impart? Why all this while have you not warn'd my heart? Can you deny that your own Laws you knew? Nay did not often I object 'em too? And in Loves pleasing way with caution tread, Fearing it to some precipice would lead. But you with oaths entic'd me to Love on; I Lov'd, and Lov'd, till all my heart was gon. Why nam'd you not the haughty Laws of Rome, When I might have return'd unwounded home? And been contented in as high degree To part with you, as you do now from me.

Tit.

Oh! do not make my charge too weighty grow! I under too much guilt already bow. Part with content! the Gods can tell what stings, What tort'ring pangs this parting moment brings. The other crime I must with shame confess, And I have no excuse but Loves excess; I did not soon enough these thoughts produce, My self I then took pleasure to seduce: My dazled eyes were blinded with delight, And Pow'r and Empire were not then in sight. I all those cares did from my breast remove, And would hear nothing but the charms of Love.

Ber.

False man! that Pow'r and Empire which you name, You swore you sought but to protect your flame: And now your Stars have flatter'd you, must I For the reward of all my kindness die? Oh Titus! Titus!—think what 'tis you do— Must Berenice be slain, and slain by you?

Tit.

Tis true, the guilt I'le to my self assume, And not accuse the Army, Senate, Rome. It is my Glory governs me alone, Else I by Arms could place you in the Throne.

I know what injury my self I do, And that I cannot live exil'd from you: But let me dye, 'tis Glory I decree, I'le live in an immortal memory; Succeeding ages shall my virtues own, Adore my ashes, and my Statues crown, Whilst to the world I've an example set, No Stoick shall attempt to imitate.

Ber.

Oh unkind Prince! your desir'd Fame enjoy! To gain it too, inglorious ways employ: Leave a renown'd example when you dye, But leave another of inconstancy. I'le strive no more, I did but stay to hear (What did to me impossible appear) The mouth which swore me Love this sentence speak, And all past oaths in my own presence break. Nay infidelity with pride proclaim, And boast on falshood to erect a Fame; That immortality shall thence begin, Great deed to ruine an unhappy Queen. When I am dead, the praise of it assume, Let your crown'd Statues triumph o're my Tomb; The conquest must immortal Glory gain, A Queen for loving you, by falshood slain.

Tit.

Oh! how you tear me!

Ber.

Yes, I may believe You much for her whom you have ruin'd grieve. Oh wretched me!—why shou'd the best of men,

flings her self down in a Chair.

Whose noble nature does the friendship gain Of his worst Enemies,—Heav'n not so mild, Who the delight of all the world is stil▪d, Of cruelty and falshood make his boast, Practis'd to wretched me, who Love him most? This, Heav'n! is just from thee; I for his Love, To my Religion did unfaithfull prove, Contemn thy Laws, and for his sake dismiss All hope or right in future Paradise: And he in fear of Laws, his Faith denies, And from my Love to future Glory flies;

Only when dead an empty Fame to raise, To live in Brass, and breath in airy praise.

Tit.

You break my heart.

Ber.

Farewell, oh cruel Prince! What you have done, few moments shall evince. I will not croud your way to Glory long, Nor will I crave Heav'ns vengeance for my wrong. I wou'd not have him arm in my relief; Heav'n cou'd I help it shou'd not see my grief: No, I'le seek vengeance from another place; I know your Soul, though cruel, cannot chace Out of your troubled thoughts with so much ease, My present grief, and all past kindnesses; But when my bloud you on the floor shall see, Each drop a Dagger to your heart shall be.

Ex.

Tit.

Oh! let me follow her, she's gone to dye.

Tib.

That does not need; her Women, Sir, are nigh, And they will turn those thoughts out of her breast.

Tit.

I'm a Barbarian, I my self detest; Nero in cruelty I have outdone.

Tib.

Dismiss your sorrow, Sir, the day's your own: Pore not on wounds which at the present bleed, But think of Glories which shall soon succeed.

Tit.

Curst be the Fate such Victories bestows; Why shou'd proud Rome be suffer'd to impose On Princes such ungratefull things as these? She shall not part, let Rome say what she please.

Tib.

Oh Sir!—

Tit.

Ye Gods! I know not what I say!

Tib.

Come Sir, pursue the Triumphs of the day: Spur on your swift success, this rebel Town Subdu'd, and then you perfect your Renown.

Tit.

Talk not to me of fond Renown, the rude Inconstant blast of the base multitude: Their breaths, nor Souls can satisfaction make, For half the joys I part with for their sake. I'le not so dear for sordid flatt'ry give; Without Renown or Empire I can live, But not without the Queen; she, only she, Fame, Empire, Glory, all things is to me.

Go and endeavour to appease her mind, And say, my Love she spite of Rome shall find.

Ex.

Tib.

These are the strugglings of departing Love; Th'ill Genius in a tempest does remove: I'le let the storm consume it self, and then He'l soon the mild Vespasian be again.

Ex.

ACT V.

SCENE The Palace.

An Alarm; Enter Matthias, Phineas, Sagan.

Mat.

ALl's lost! we are resign'd to Heathen rage.

Sag.

Heav'n in our aid no longer does engage.

Phin.

Have we a shadow twenty Ages chas'd? Is all our Faith prov'd a vain Dream at last?

Mat.

What shall we say? these things our Reason pose: The more we think, the more our selves we lose. Our thoughts we never can in order place; They dance, like Atoms, in a boundless space.

Sag.

Let's think no more, but make a swift retreat To some strong place, where during the fierce heat Of Rage and Slaughter, we may shelter take, And for our selves at least Conditions make.

Phin.

This Tower where your Daughter keeps, is strong, And may, with some Provisions, hold out long.

Mat.

Life now is much the least of all my cares; But of Heav'ns bounty no good man despairs. Clarona.—

[Clarona appears in the Balcony.]

Clar.

Ha! my Father's voice I hear! 'Tis he! Oh! this disperses all my fear.

Exit.

Mat.

Daughter!—she answers not! Oh! I begin To tremble! all I fear 's not well within!

[knock.

Enter Clarona.

Clar.

My Father here! I scarce can speak for joy! I by degrees did all my Guards employ To seek and aid you; but of all I sent, Not one return'd; that all my patience spent, Of Guards forsaken, looking ev'ry hour For bloudy Foes, and nothing in the Tow'r But my poor trembling Women here, and I, I was resolv'd to seek you out, and dye.

Enter Phedra, running.

Phed.

Hast, Sir, the Rebels come; you'l be too late! I saw 'em from the Tow'r; they're at the Gate! They're come! I heard the Murd'rers call for you.

Mat.

Pursu'd by Romans, and by Rebels too! Base wretches! with what danger, guilt and pains, They purchase Misery, Dishonour, Chains; Total Destruction! It is fit we dye, We fight and hinder them of Slavery.

Enter John, and Pharisees.

Joh.

Kill! kill! their Idol's gone: they can repair No longer to their Parthian Lucifer.

John, Eleazar, &c. force four into the Tower. An Alarm. Enter Matthias, Phineas, Sagan, Clarona, Phedra, pursu'd. Phineas, Sagan, fall dead; Matthias wounded.

Mat.

For this I thank thee; thou hast set me free From having share in all that misery Thy wickedness does on thy Country bring.

Joh.

No; the vile Achan, the accursed thing That made us stink, and all our prayers prove Offence to Heav'n, we from the Land remove. Thou, wanton Idol, who our Land has stain'd With Pagan Love, and all our Race prophan'd,

Shalt perish too.

(Wounds Clarona.

Elea.

By thy allurements led, That Savage Boar much bloud of Saints has shed.

[An Alarm, and Shout.]

Hark, an Alarm!

(John and Elea. look out▪

Joh.

The Roman Troops are near!

Elea.

And Parthian Banners in the Streets appear!

Joh.

I fear that cursed Dragon King is come! He plagues us more then all the Pow'r of Rome.

Exeunt John, Eleazar, and Pharisees:

Mat.

Oh, Daughter! do you bleed?

Clar.

Too slow I do: But, Sir, I hope to fall asleep with you.

Mat.

The sight oppresses Nature; but my mind, Does from thy Piety true comfort find. Our Temple, Nation, Glory, Faith are gone; And what wou'dst thou do in the world alone? When dead, we shall behold within the Scenes, What this dark Riddle of our destruction means. I try to sound this depth, but have not Line; Thick gloomy Mists encompass things Divine: Poor human understandings they despise; Vainly proud man endeavours to be wise. Come, Daughter, follow my Coelestial part, Haste to be more an Angel then thou art.

(dies.

Clar.

The Light, the Splendor of our Nation's gone, A brighter in our Firmament ne're shone. In this one gallant man does slaughter'd lye Truth, Wisdom, Valour, Learning, Piety. This Tax, as Nature's Subject, I must pay,

(weeps.

The little time I in her Empire stay: My wound, I hope, will liberty bestow; For if not mortal, grief will make it so. How to the Tow'r shall I convey these dear Sacred remains?

Phed.

I see some Souldiers near. Perhaps they may be of our Friends.

Clar.

Go try;

Ex. Phed. and re-enters with Souldiers.

Beg of 'em this last act of Charity.

My Father from my arms went up to Joy, Now in his cold embraces I will dye.

Ex. led by Phed. and Souldiers, some carrying off Mat,

An Alarm; Enter Phraartes and Monobasus,

Mon.

Whilst you Clarona search, I'le still alarm The Foe, and keep our Souldiers courage warm.

Phr.

Does thy rash youth at length its error see? But few hours since, with foolish bravery Thou wert thy Rival's Buckler, and didst prove So kind, to save him to enjoy thy Love. My tenderness to thee has ruin'd both: But that thy Youth I pity'd, and was loth So many blooming hopes at once to shed, Thy Rival, and our troubles, had been dead.

Mon.

I to attain the Queen did long despair, So plac'd my happiness in serving her.

Phr.

Never contemn thy self; he who will have Fortune or Women love him, must be brave. Women are apt to err: that beauteous She Who thinks her self too good, or fair for me, Shall be too fair for all the world beside, And take up all her pleasure in her pride. But throw away despair, for I am here; Thy Queen is thine, thy happiness is near: Thy Rival shall in Chains thy Nuptials grace, And thou his Mistress in his Tent embrace. Be gone; I'le follow.—When I parted hence,

Exit Mon.

My Love I trusted to this Tow'rs defence. Ha! the Gates open!—and no Guard within! I fear this cursed Tow'r has faithless been: If it has, let but any Air, or Sound Offend her, I will burn it to the ground.

Exit

A Bed plac'd, a Lamp by it. Enter Clarona led by Phedra. She lies down on the Bed.

Clar.

Death, I attend thy coming; for I now Have finish'd all I have to do below.

I hear a noise: the ecchoing Chambers ring With sounds confus'd.

trampling within.

[Phedra runs out, and returns.]

Phed.

Madam, it is the King.

Clar.

And shall Clarona see him e're she dyes? Is such a blessing granted to my eyes?

Enter Phraartes.

Phr.

Silence, and darkness! all's not well, I fear;— I shake!—

Clar.

My Lord!—

Phr.

Her Heav'nly voice I hear!— Now to a gentle calm my passions fall, That Divine Musick has appeas'd 'em all. My Love!—to thy embraces let me hast;

(embraces.

That this to all Eternity might last. But ha! thou sigh'st and weep'st! what dost thou aile? Art thou not well? thy cheeks are cold and pale!— Ease, ease my Soul, for I distracted grow!— The cause of all this pompous sorrow shew! Why is this Lamp, this Solitude, this Bed? Speak, e're I fall in thy embraces dead.

Clar.

Insatiable eyes, give o're, give o're; One close and greedy look, and then no more.

Phr.

What talk is this?

Clar.

No longer to detain Your wandring thoughts, see there my Father slain.— And the same bloudy weapon pierc'd my breast, Which sent his Soul to everlasting rest.

Phr.

Plagues! tortures! death on all by whom 'twas done! And me, from your defence for being gone! This has exceeded all that I cou'd fear.— And see!—bloud!—bloud is sprinkled ev'ry where! Where is the wound whose fatal Spring does feed This Purple River!—run for help with speed!— Millions of Gold to any one for aid!— Confusion!—why is not my will obey'd?

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Clar.

I have had all the help that skill can give.

Phr.

Is there no hopes!

Clar.

Most certain hopes.

Phr.

To live!

Clar.

To live.

Phr.

Oh joy!

Clar.

My joys indeed are near; Ever to live in Heav'n, no longer here.

Phr.

Is that your life?—I fear'd that pleasing tale

(aside.

Of Heav'n, at last wou'd over Love prevail. Man is a foolish Pamphlet, full of Lyes; Lyes are his hopes, and Lyes are all his joys: Some promise him to come, and some to stay; Those never come, and these fly fast away.

Clar.

Oh! how much Love and Excellence I leave!

Phr.

Oh! how much sweetness shall the Grave receive!

Clar.

How is my way to death with pleasures strew'd! That I cou'd stay for ever on the Road; For ever, ever, slumber on this breast: I'm husht with Musick to my long—long—rest. My belov'd Lord—farewell—

(dyes.

Phr.

She dyes!—she dyes!— Speak once again! open once more those eyes! Phraartes speaks to thee!—she's fled—she's fled— And her pale Picture left me in her stead. This—this is all of her that I must have— And this is too the portion of the Grave. —Away with tears!—this fond—this womanish floud!— One kiss!—and then—to bloud—revenge—and bloud.

(kisses.

Charms!—conqu'ring charms in death!—hence with her hence! For I begin to wander from my sense!— Where are those lying Priests, that hang the Graves With Maps of future Worlds?—shew me, you Slaves, These Lands of Ghosts!—where is Clarona gone?

grows mad.

Aloft!—I see her mounting to the Sun!— The flming Satyr towards her does roul, His scorching Lust makes Summer at the Pole. Let the hot Planet touch her if he dares!— Touch her, and I will cut him into Stars,

And the bright chips into the Ocean throw!— —Oh! my sick brain!—where is Phraartes now? Gone from himself!—who shall his sense restore? None, none, for his Clarona is no more!—

Enter Monobasus.

Mon.

Hast hence Sir! all's on fire! Heav'n rains it down, Sends Troops of flame to prey upon the Town! A Legion now the Temple round besets, Thick drops of Gold the falling building sweats. The Romans strive with streams of Jewish blood To quench the fire, but 'twill not be withstood. A Divine fury on the flame has seiz'd, It claims the pile, and will not be appeas'd. The cursed Jews a League with it have made, And to destroy the Romans lend it aid; That a strange mixture now you may behold, Rivers of Fire, of Bloud, and liquid Gold.

Phr.

I thank the Fire, it does revenge my wrong; I'le go and guide its rav'nous Troops along, And all the plunder I can find bestow— And wish the World I in its arms cou'd throw.— Ruine from hence the Universe invade!— My light is set in an Eternal shade. Look in and see my wretched meaning there—

Mon.

Clarona pale and slumbring does appear.

(looks in.

Phr.

Dead! dead!—gone out; that dark and fatal door Which once lock'd on us, never opens more; That vanisht light no more on me shall shine, Now I'le prepare her Fun'ral pomp and mine. The Macedonian King but to the shade Of a dead Friend, whole Cities offerings made, Wasted whole Provinces, whole Nations slew; Then what shou'd I for a slain Mistress do? Something I'le do, but what I cannot tell, My mighty thoughts 'bove all expression swell.

[Offers to go, Monobasus stays him.]

Mon.

Oh stay Sir! I have lost a Mistress too,— And want revenge and death as well as you.

Embassadors this moment tidings bring, My Royal Brother's dead, and I'm a King. I sent 'em back, and gave my Crown away, And here to dye with you on purpose stay; For I less Glory judge it, and judge true, To govern Kingdoms, then to dye with you.

Phr.

Gallant young King!—let me your welcom give To our high Rank!—much honour we receive, Which I am sorry we so soon shou'd lose. But since to share my destiny you chuse, I will not seek to do your Glory wrong: No, you shall dye with me,—then come along,— Our Persons, Fames, and Glories we will bear, To live and reign, we know not how nor wh•• In better company we cannot go; We dare the utmost of our Fortunes know: Plunge into deeps and never be perplext, Be Kings this moment, and be nothing next.

Ex.

The Scene the Temple burning, fill'd with Jews lamenting.

Om.

Oh!—our Temple!—our Temple!— 1. Jerusalem's lost!—that Heav'n shou'd this permit! This Queen of Nations now in dust must sit.

Enter John and Eleazar.

He.

What shall we do? the fire does raging grow, And streams of people to the Romans flow.

Joh.

I've Prophets hir'd, who shall deliv'rance cry, And death to all that to the Romans fly.

Enter two Prophets.

1 Pro.

Lift up your heads, ye people! for this hour Salvation comes, from Heav'n the seat of Pow'r.

2 Pro.

Salvation comes! a flaming Sword she bears! Woe for partakers with Idolaters.

Enter a Pharisee.

Phar.

Hast, hast! deliv'rance on our Swords does wait! The Roman Tyrant at the Golden Gate In person, with a Legion of his Guard, With Fire encompass'd, is from flight debarr'd.

Joh.

Fall on; and lest the Pagan shou'd retire, Set the North Chambers of the Priest on fire.

Exeunt.

An Alarm; Enter Titus, Tiberius, Mal∣chus, and Antiochus.

Tib.

Gods! at what rash design does Caesar aim, To plunge himself thus deep in bloud and flame?

Tit.

Oh save this building!

Mal.

Sir, all hopes are past, The mounted flame does keep his seat too fast.

Ant.

Besides, the Dogs do their own Temple burn, These fiery Spears against our breasts to turn.

An Alarm; Enter an Officer.

Offic.

Hast, hast, Sir, succours to your Legions bring, They fall in crouds before the Parthian King. On yonder burning Mount, which all commands, He like another flaming Mountain stands; And fights, and kills, with rage so much above All that is Man, the Romans think him Jove. Some cry for mercy, some by terrour fall; By fear, by fire, and him, they perish all.

Tit.

That triple League no longer shall succeed; The King, the mighty Chief of it, with speed Shall be undeify'd by my own hands: While I ascend with the Praetorian Bands, Tiberius, King Antiochus and you The Rebels in the upper Tow'r subdue. Rebellion there has long my Pow'r defy'd, But I will wound him now on ev'ry side:

Cut off that Hydra's head all at a blow, That no more new ones in the stead may grow.

Ex.

After an Alarm within, Enter Malchus and Tiberius meeting.

Mal.

To Caesar hast, with all the speed you can, The Parthian King is something more then Man; At least he is in League with Pow'rs Divine, For Heav'n and Earth in his assistance joyn: Voices are heard, and Visions seen ith' Air, Thunder and Lightning to his aid repair.

Tib.

Strange things you tell; and which does yet encrease My wonder more, the strange and sudden Peace Is made between the Parthian King and Gods: 'Tis not long since they were at mortal odds.

Exeunt.

The Scene is drawn, and Phraartes, Monobasus, and their followers are seen defending a high rockie Mount. The Romans oft attempt to Scale it, but are beaten down by great Stones flung on their heads: Titus, Tiberius, Malchus, Antiochus, come to their assistance, Scale the Mount, and after some opposition ascend and take it. After a sight upon the Mount, the Scene closes. A shout of Triumph. The Scene changes to the Town. Enter Titus, Tiberius, Malchus, Antiochus.

Tit.

This loud and open flattery forbear, This publick impudence; I hate to wear A Robe of Glory which is not my own, And tread on ashes which I ought to Crown.

Tib.

The Parthian Monarch's valour all must own; But that does add the more to your Renown, Whose greater valour conquer'd so much odds. The King, the Fire, the Thunder, and the Gods.

Tit.

Vainglorious falshood still, and flatt'ry all; He fell by Gods, by Gods alone cou'd fall. At first the Gods against the Romans fought; As they the Glory to destroy him sought,

For whom the whole World's Empire was too small, Who was too great by mortal hands to fall.

Tib.

I'm sure the Visions help'd him while they stay'd.

Tit.

They did; but he, contemning of their aid, Enrag'd they intermedled with his Fame, Chasing us, sunk in Ambuscades of flame, The Gods had laid, to save their Favorite, Rome: Yet scarce durst stay to execute their doom, But flung the burning Temple on his head; Then straight for shelter to their Heav'n they fled: Thus down alive into the shades he fell, And stead of dying, he invaded Hell.

Tib.

Caesar this vast Revenue of Renown May give away, and not impair his own. Your Eagles now, Great Sir, their wings have spread O're all the Town, and struck Rebellion dead. See, mighty Sir, beneath your feet in Chains, The torn dissected Monster's last remains. This bloudy villain, Hunger;—this, surprise

(pointing to John and Eleazar.

Drove from strong Vaults, that might all force despise.

Ant.

With these, some thousand Captives, Sir, are torn From their Retreats, your Triumph to adorn. The noble Jews in Battel chose to fall, And bravely with their Country perish'd all.

Tib.

Of all the slain the numbers to compute, The numb'ring Art of Rules is destitute: The Earth cannot suffice the dead for Graves, Nor Iron Mines yield Chains enough for Slaves.

Tit.

These Slaves shall satisfie me for this guilt, And for the bloud of all their Nation spilt: Conduct 'em hence, and Guard 'em to their doom, They shall be publick spectacles in Rome; First wait on my Triumphal Chariot there, Then in a spacious Amphitheatre I'le for this Triumph build, be all enclos'd, And to wild Beasts in open view expos'd.

Tib.

Now Sir, that none of their surviving Race, (As some will from your clemency find grace)

In after ages may their fancies please, With hopes from double-meaning Prophesies, The plainest sense of 'em we will display, And in their ears fulfill 'em all to day. Besides the heaps wherewith their Scrouls abound, On an old Tow'r we an Inscription found, Where it was writ,—One day in Jewish Land A man shall rise, who shall the World command. These foolish Slaves apply'd the Gods intent To their base Nation, which to you was meant. On you, Sir, it shall be fulfill'd this hour, You are proclaim'd that mighty Emperour.

A shout.

Om.

Long live Titus Vespasian Emperour of Rome!

Tit.

My thanks to all my Troops; I'le gratefull prove For all their Valour, Loyalty, and Love. Oh! now I have receiv'd the fatal blow, And must from Love to worlds of Glory go: Leaving all joys for ever out of sight, Which gave my Soul in th' other state delight. Where is the Queen? my promise I forget, For I must see, perhaps retain her yet.

Tib.

Great Sir, (as I have been inform'd) displeas'd You stay'd so long, she has her rage appeas'd, And all her sorrow chang'd into disdain, Lamenting most, she did so much complain. She now for ever has renounc'd your sight, And is preparing for a speedy flight.

Ant.

Not far from hence, her Train and Chariots stay.

Mal.

And see, she's vail'd, and coming, Sir, this way.

Enter Berenice and Semandra.

Tit.

Ah, Madam! whither—

Ber.

Trouble me no more.

Tit.

I but one word, one look from you implore.

Ber.

Pray Sir retire.

Tit.

Whence does this change arise?

Ber.

Why talk you, Sir, with one you so despise?

You have attain'd the Empire you desire, To the applauses of your Troops retire: The Musick which did so delight your ears, And ravish you, whilst I lay drown'd in tears, Let 'em once more their cruel joy repeat; Though wherein I have ever given so great Offence to all your Troops, I cannot tell, Except it was in Loving you too well.

Tit.

Oh, Madam! do you mind a foolish croud?

Ber.

They speak their Emp'rours sense too plain, and loud; And whom you slight, they surely may contemn. Go Sir, you have attain'd the Diadem So long desir'd and sought; observant be To all your Laws, and be not seen with me. I'm going now your orders to obey, And shall not long afflict you with my stay.

Tit.

Oh! to my Love you great injustice do; Do I prefer th'Imperial Throne to you?

Ber.

Why else to banishment must I be sent?

Tit.

Oh! Gods! and see you not my great constraint, By what strong maxims I am captive led, What Pikes and Javelins guard th'Imperial Bed? And it were yet more baseness to submit, And for the sake of Love, the Empire quit; That were a folly nothing cou'd redeem, For Love, to lose your Love and your esteem. You wou'd look back and blush, to see your Chains Drag after you the wretched small remains Of a poor Emperour despis'd, forlorn, Whom you in Honour wou'd be forc'd to scorn.

Ber.

These are great maxims, Sir, it is confest, Too stately for a womans narrow breast. Poor Love is lost in mens capacious minds; In ours it fills up all the room it finds. I cannot tell what Glories you pursue, I'd quit the Empire of the World for you.

Tit.

And Madam, what for you wou'd I refuse? But poorly Empire and Renown to lose, Were all those just pretences to forsake, I to so brave a heart as yours can make;

So giving Fame for Love, should forfeit both. For Madam, say, wou'd not your Spirit loath An abject Prince, who should such meanness shew, He poorly should for Love to Exile go? Yet this inglorious Exile I must chuse, Or Throne, Life, Glory, You, and all must lose.

Ber.

No, you shall lose no Glory for my sake, I nothing from you, but my self, will take: With too much flame I love Vespasian still, To let him bear for me the least of ill. So great a Love for you my heart contains, I'd go to Rome with you a Slave in Chains; But think it hard you should my Love requite, With driving me for ever from your sight.

Tit.

Must my misfortunes still my crimes be thought? Oh! Gods! in what distractions am I brought?

Ber.

You of your own distractions can complain; But mine, though greater, I lament in vain. Say all your grief is more then a pretence, You have Renown your loss to recompence, And by your own free choice your self undo; But I am into Exile sent by you. Despis'd, forlorn, disgrac'd, inglorious made, Nothing in my obscure and mournfull shade To comfort me, for all the wrongs I bear, But death,—whose aid I will not long deferr.

[Offers to go out in passion, but is stopt by Titus.]

Tit.

What do you threat me with?—strive not in vain, You shall not stir whilst these sad thoughts remain. This shall not be the Tragical event Of parting:—stay, unless 'tis your intent I should at farewell some revenge afford, And at your feet fall dead upon my Sword. If ever you would kind to me appear, If ever Titus to the Queen was dear, As to my life any regard you bear, Do not part from me in this sad despair.

Ber.

I can deny you nothing; I will still Live and be wretched, since it is your will.

I hope though I to Exile must remove, I am not wholly banish'd from your Love. The Laws of Rome do not their Emp'rour bind, At once to chace me from his sight, and mind: And 'tis no fundamental rule of State, Of a poor Queen the memory to hate.

Tit.

I hate your memory!—Oh most unkind! Why with these words do you afflict my mind? The thought of you is all the joy (Heav'n knows!) I in my glorious banishment propose. Since the first hour my heart to Love did bow, It never felt such tenderness as now;— Witness these tears—

(weeps.

Ber.

Oh Sir! these are not due!— An Emp'rour weep!—and must I pity you? Shew me less Love, that I may part with ease.

Tit.

Oh! Gods! who thought of these extremities!

Ber.

Who could have thought a Love so chast as mine, So great, so pure, so void of all design, Should so unfortunate to me have prov'd? Wou'd I had never seen, or never Lov'd.

[She pauses to weep, and then proceeds.]

Well Sir, your sorrow kindly I resent; So kindly, that I'le go to banishment: Since till I'm gone unhappy you must be, I will make room for your felicity. Let Pow'r Vespasian to her self enjoy, I will not enviously by stay destroy So great advancement of th 'Imperial Throne, Better one Queen, then the whole World undone. And for your future peace, I will provide Some Cave this troubler of the world shall hide, Where I till death will Love you as before, But never interrupt your Glory more.

Ex.

Tit.

Oh! I am lost!—

Tib.

Now the great Combate's done, All danger's over, and the day's your own. Altars and Temples now—

Tit.

Oh! I despise Those flatt'ring pomps, and splendid mockeries, Where I am worshipt like a Pow'r Divine, And yet all hearts are free to Love but mine. My self I'le longer on the wrack retain, And at her Chariot see her once again; Then gaze till wide and spacious Seas of Air Drown the last view, and then for death prepare; I mean that tedious death, which men wou'd faign Guild with the specious title of a Reign. Prepare to march by the approach of day, I hate in this abandon'd place to stay, Where I am hourly with the thoughts pursu'd Of the Queens tears, and my ingratitude.

Ex.

FINIS.