Titus and Berenice, a tragedy acted at the Duke's Theatre : with a farce called The cheats of Scapin / by Tho. Otway.

TITUS and BERENICE.

ACT. I.

SCENE I.

A Palace.

Enter Artiochus and Arsaces.

Antiochus.

THou my Arsaces art a Stranger here, This is th' Apartment of the Charming Fair, That Berenice, whom Titus so adores, The Universe is his, and he is hers: Here from the Court himself he of't conceals, And in her Ears his charming story tells▪ Whilst I a Vassal for admittance wait, And am at best but thought importunate.

Arsac.

You want admittance! who with generous care Have follow'd all her Fortunes every-where, Whose Fame throughout the World so loudly rings, One of the greatest of our Eastern-Kings. As on••e you seem'd the Monarch of her Breast, Too firmly seated to be dispossest, Nor can the pride she doth in Titus take, Already so severe a distance make.

Antio.

Yes! still that wretch Antiochus I am. But Love! oh how I tremble at the name; And my distracted Soul at that doth start▪ Which once was all the pleasure of my heart,

Since Berenice has all my hopes destroid, And an Eternal silence on me laid.

Arsac.

That you resent her pride, I see with Joy, 'Tis that which does her gratitude destroy; But ••riendship wrong'd should into hatred turn, And you methinks might••learn her Art to scorn.

Anti.

Arsaces, how false Measures dost thou take, Remove the Poles, and bid the Sun go back: Invert all Natures Orders, Fates Decrees, Then bid me hate the Charming Bere••••c••.

Arsac.

Well, love her still, but let her know your pain, Resolve it you shall ••ee, and speak again; Urge to her face your rightful Claim aloud, And court her haughtily, as she is proud.

Antio.

Arsaces, No, she's gentle as a Dove, Her Eyes are Tyrants, but her Soul's all Love, And owes so little for the Vowes I've made, That if she pity me, I'm more than paid.

[Enter Rutilius.

But see the man I sent, at last returns; Oh how my heart with Expectation burns. Rutilius, have you Berenice seen?

Rut.

I have.

Antio.

Oh speak! what says the Charming Queen?

Rut.

I prest with difficulty, through the Croud, A throng of Court-Attendants round her stood. The time now past of his servere retreat, Titus laments no more his Fathers fate. Love takes up all his thoughts, and all his cares, Whilst he to meet these mighty Joys prepares: Which may in Berenices arms be found, For she this day will be Romes Empress crown'd.

Anti.

What d•• I hear? Confusion on thy tongue! To tell me this, why was thy speech so long? Why didst not Ruine with more speed afford? Thou mightst have spoke and kill'd me in a word. But may I not one Moment with her speak, And my poor heart disclose before it break?

Rut.

You shall; for when I told her what you design'd, She sweetly smil'd, and her fair head inclin'd: Titus ne'r from her had a look more kind.

[Enter Berenice and Phaenicia.

She's here.

Berenice,

At last from the rude Joy I'm freed, Of those new Friends whom my new fortunes breed. The tedious form of their respect I shun, To find out him whose words and heart are one. Antiochus, for I'll no flattery use Since your neglect I justly may accuse, How great your Cares for Berenice have been, Ev'n all the East, and Rome it self have seen, In my worst fate I did your friendship find, But now I grow more Great, you grow less kind.

Antio.

Now durst I hope, I would forget my smart, So well she understands to sooth my heart. But, Madam, its a truth by Rumour spread, That Titus shall this night possess your bed.

Ber.

Sir, All my Conflicts I'll to you reveal, Though half the Fears I've had, I cannot tell; So much did Titus for his Father mourn, I almost doubted Love would ne'r return; He had not for me that Assiduous heat As when whole days fixt on my Eyes, he sate. Grief in his Eyes, Cares on his Brows did dwell; Oft came and lookt, said nothing but farewell.

Ant.

But now his kindness he renews again,

Ber.

Oh! he will doubly recompence his pain For that, if any Faith may be allow'd, Two thousand Oaths, two thousand times renew'd; Or any Justice in the Powers Divine, Antiochus, He'll be for ever mine.

Antio.

How she insults and triumphs in my ill, Sh'as with long practice learnt to smile and kill. Oh Berenice, Eternally farewel.

Ber.

Farewel! good Heav'n! what Language do I hear; Stay! I conjure you Sir—by all's that dear. Antiochus, What is it I have done? Why don't you speak?

Antio.

Madam I must be gone.

Ber.

How Cruelly you use me! I implore The Reason—

Ant.

I must never see you more.

Ber.

For Heav'ns sake tell, you wound me with delay.

Ant.

At least remember I your Laws obey. Why should I here wretched and hopeless stay? If the remembrance be'nt Extinguisht quite, Of that blest place where first you saw the light; 'Twas there, oh there began my Endless smart, When those dear Eyes prevail'd upon my heart, Then Berenice too, my Vowes approv'd, Till happy Titus came and was belov'd. He did with Triumph and with Terror come, And in his hands bore the Revenge of Rome. Iudea trembled, but 'twas I alone First felt his weight, and found my self undone.

Ber.

Hah!

Antio.

You too, then t'encrease the pains▪ I bore, Commanded me to speak of Love no more. So on your hand I swore at last t'obey; And for that taste of Bliss gave all away.

Ber.

Why do you study ways t'afflict my mind, You believe Sir, I am not unkind. Alas I'm sensible how well y'have ser••'d, And have been kinder much than I deserv'd.

Antio.

Why in this Empire should I longer stay, My Passion and its weakness to betray. Others, though I retire, will bring their Joys, To Crown that Happiness which mine destroys.

Ber.

You triumph thus, because your pow'r you know, Or if you did not, you'd not use me so. Though Crown'd Romes Empress, I the Throne ascend; What pleasure in my Greatness can I find, When I shall want my best and truest Friend.

Ant.

I reach your purpose, you would have me there, That you might see the worst of my despair. I know it, the Ambition of your Soul; Tis true, I've been a fond obedient Fool. Yet came this time but to new freight my heart, And with more Love possest than ever part.

Ber.

Though it could never enter in my mind, Since Caesar's Fortunes must with mine be join'd.

That any Mortal durst so hardy prove, T'invade his Right, and talk to me of Love. I bear th' unpleasing Narrative of yours, And Friendship, what my Honour shuns, endures. Nay more; Your parting, I with trouble hear, For you next him, are to my Soul most dear.

Antio.

In Justice to my Memory and Fame, I fly f••••m Titus, that unlucky Name. A name which ev'ry Moment you repeat, Whilst my poor heart lies bleeding at your feet. Farewel: Oh be not at my Ravings griev'd, When of my death the news shall be receiv'd, Remember why I di'd, and what I liv'd—

[Ex. Antioch▪

Phaen.

I grieve for him, a Love so true as this, Deserv'd, methinks, more fortunate success. Are you not troubled Madam—

Ber.

Yes, I feel Something within me difficult to quel.

Phaen.

You should have staid him.

Ber.

Who, I stay him? no, From my Remembrance rather let him go. His Fancy does with wild Distraction rove, Which thy raw ignorance, interprets Love.

Phaen.

Titus his thoughts, yet to unfold, denies. And Rome beholds you but with jealous eyes. Its rigorous Laws, create my fears for you; Romans no Forrain Marriages allow To Kingly Power still enemies th'ave been, Nor will, I fear, admit of you a Queen.

Ber.

Phaenicia, no, my time of fear is past, Me Titus loves, and that includes the rest. The splendor of this night thou hast beheld▪ Are not thy Eyes with his bright Grandeur fill'd? These Eagles fasces, marching all in state: And crowds of Kings that with their Tributes wait. Triumphs below, and Blessings from Above, Seem all at strife to grace this Man of Love. Away Phaenicia, let's go meet him strait, I can no longer for his coming wait.

My Eager wishes drive me wildly on; Nor will be temp••r'd till my Joy's begun.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Enter Titus Paulinus, Attendants.

Titus.

TOth' Syrian King, did you my Message bear? And does he know that I expect him here?

Paul.

Sir, in the Queens appartment, He alone Was seen, but e'r I there arriv'd, was gone.

Tit.

'Tis well Paulin••s for these ten days past. I have to Berenice a stranger been: But you can tell me all—how does the Queen?

Paul.

She does, what speaks, how much she values you; When you mourn'd for your Father, she mourn'd too. So J••st a Sorrow in her face was shown, It seem••d as if the Loss had been her own.

Tit.

Oh lovely fair one, little dost thou know

[aside.

How hard a Trial thou must undergo. Heav'n! oh my heart!

Paul.

What is't your Grief should raise For her whom almost all the East obeys.

Tit.

Command Paulinus that these retreat,

Paul. moves his hand and all the rest exti.

R••m•• of my purposes uncertain yet, Exp••cts to know the fortune of the Queen; Their Murmurings I have heard, and Troubles seen. The business of our Love, is the Discourse, And expectation of the Universe. And by the face of my affairs, I find, 'Tis time that I resolve and fix my mind. Tell me Paulinus, justly, and be free, What says the World of Berenice and me?

Paul.

In every heart you Admiration raise: All, Your high Vertues, and her Beauty praise.

Tit.

Alas! Thou answerst wide of my desire, Paulinus, be my Friend, and come yet nigher How do they of my sighs and vows approve? Or what expect they from so true a love?

Paul.

Love or not love, Sir, all is in your power, The Court will second still the Emperour.

Tit.

Courtiers Paulinus seldom are sincere To please their Master they have too much care. The Court did Nero's horrid Acts applaud, To all his lusts subscrib'd, and call'd him God. Th' Idolatrous Court shall never judg for me, No, my Paulinus, I rely on thee: What then must Berenice expect? declare, Will Rome be gen••le to her, or severe? My happiness is plac'd in her alone. Now they have rais'd me to the Imperial Throne, Where on my head continual cares must fall, Will they deny me what may sweeten all?

Paul.

Her vertues they acknowledg and desert Proclaim indeed she has a Roman heart: But she's a Queen, and that alone withstands All which her beauty and her worth demands. In Rome the Law has long unalter'd stood, Never to mix it's race with strangers blood.

Tit.

It is sign they are capricious grown, When they despise all vertues but their own.

Paul.

Iulius, who first subdued her to his Arms, And quite had silenc'd Laws with Wars alarms, Burning for Cleopatra's love; to Fame More just fled from her eyes, and hid his flame.

Tit.

But which way from my heart shall I remove▪ So long establisht and deep rooted love?

Paul.

The Conflict will be difficult I guess, But you your rising sorrows must suppress; Who can a heart that's not his own controul? Her presence was the comfort of my Soul.

Tit.

Af••er a thousand Oaths confirm'd in tears, By which I vow'd my self for ever hers, I hop'd with all my Love and all her charms, At last to have her in my longing Arms. But now I can such rare perfections crown, And that my love's more great than overgrown, When in one hour a happy Marriage may Of all my five years vows the tribute pay▪

I go Paulinus—how my heart does rise.

Paul.

Whether?

Tit.

To part for ever from her eyes, Tho I requir'd th'assistance of thy zeal, To crush a passion that's so hard to quell. My heart had of it's doom resolv'd before, Yet Berenice does still dispute the war. The conquest of so great a flame must cost Conflicts, in which my soul will oft be tost.

Paul.

You in your birth for Empire were design'd, And to that purpose Heav'n did frame your mind; Fate in that day wise providence did shew, Fixing the destiny of Rome in you.

Tit.

My youth rejoyc'd in love and glorious wars, But my Remains of life must waste in cares. Rome, my new Conduct, now observes 'twould be Both ominous to her, and mean in me, If in my Dawn of power to clear my way To happiness, I should her Laws destroy: No, I've resolv'd on't, Love and all shall go; Alas! it must, since Rome will have it so. But how shall I poor Berenice prepare?

Paul.

You must resolve to go and visit her, Sooth her sad heart▪ and on her patience win, Then by degrees—

Tit.

—But how shall I begin? Oh my Paulinus, I have oft design'd To speak my thoughts, but still they stay'd behind. I hop'd as she discern'd my troubl'd Brest, She might a little at the cause have guest; But nought suspecting, as I weeping lay, With her fair hand she'd wipe the tears away, And in that m••st never the loss perceiv'd Of the sad Heart she had too much believ'd; But now a firmer constancy I take, Either my heart shall vent its grief, or break. I thought to h••ve met Antiochus, and here All I e're lov••d surrender'd to his care. To morrow he conducts her to the East, And now I go to sigh, and look my last.

Paul.

I ne're expected less from that Renown, Which all your Actions must with glory crown▪

Tit.

How lovely's glory, yet how cruel too! How much more fair and charming were she now, If through eternal dangers to be won! So I might still call Berenice my own. In Nero's Court where I was bred, my mind By that example to all ills inclin'd, The loose wild paths of pleasures I pursu'd, Till Berenice first taught me to be good. She taught me Vertue, but oh! cursed Rome! The good I owe her, must her wrong become. For so much Vertue and Renown so great; For all the Honour I did ever get; Her for whose sake alone▪ I same pursu'd, I must forgo to please the Multitude.

Paul.

You cannot with Ingratitude be charg'd, You have the ••ounds of Pales••i••e ••••larg'd. Even t' Euphrates, her wide power extends; So many Kingdomes Berenice commands.

Tit.

Weak Comforts▪ for the Griefs must on her dwell▪ I know fair Berenice, and know too well; To greatness she so little did incline, Her heart ask'd never any thing but mine. Let's talk no more of her, Paulinus.

Paul.

Why!

Tit.

The thought of her, but shakes my co••st••ncy, Yet in my heart if doubts already ri••e, What will it do when I behold her eyes?

Enter Rutilius.

Rutil.

Sir, Berenice desires admittance here—

Tit.

Palinus—Oh!

Paul.

Can you already fear? So soon are all your resolutions shook? Now, Sir, 's the time—

[Ex. Rut.

Enter Berenice, Phaenicia and attendants.

Tit.

I have no power to look.

Ber.

Sir, ben't displeased, that I thus far presume, It is to pay my gratitude I come. Whilst all the Court assembled in my view, Admire the Favour you on me bestow;

It were unjust, should I remain alone, Silent, as though I had a sense of none. Your mourning 's done, and you from griefs are free. Are now your own, and yet not visit me? Your present of new Diadems I wait. Oh! g••ve me more content, and less of state. Give me a word, a sigh, a look at least, In those th•• Ambition of my Soul is plac't. Was your discourse of me when I arriv'd? Was I so happy may it be believ'd? Speak, tell me quick, is Berenice so blest; Or was I present to your thoughts at least?

Tit.

Doubt it not, Madam, by the Gods I swear't; That Berenice is always in my heart. Nor time, nor absence, can you thence remove. My heart's all yours, and you alone I love.

Ber.

You vow your Love perpe••••al and ••incere, But 'tis with a strange coldness that you ••wear. Why the just Gods to witness did you call? I don't pretend to doubt your faith at all. In you I trust, would only from you live; And what you say I ever must believe.

Tit.

Madam!

Ber.

Proceed: Alas, whence this surprize! You seem confus'd to turn away your eyes. Nothing but trouble in your face I find, Does still a Fathers death afflict your mind?

Tit.

Oh, did my Father good Vesp••s••an live! How happy should I be!

Ber.

Ah, cease to grieve! Your tears, have reverenc't his mem'ry now. Cares are to Rome, and your own glory due. A Father you lament, a feeble grief, Whilst for your absence I f••••d no relief. But in your presence only take delight, I, who shall dye, i•• but deb••rr'd your sight.

Tit.

Madam, what is it that your griefs declare? What time d' you choose? For pitty's fake for••ear. Your Bounties my Ingratitude proclaim.

Be••.

You can do nothing that deserves that name;

No Sir, you never can ungrateful prove. May be I'm fond, and tire you with my Love.

Tit.

No Madam! No, my heart (since I must speak) Was ne're more full of Love or half so like to break. But—

Ber.

What?

Tit.

Alas!

Ber.

Proceed.

Tit.

The Empire Rome—

Ber.

Well.

Tit.

Oh, the dismal secret will not come— Away Paulinus, e're i'm quite undone. My Speech forsakes me and my heart's all stone.

[Ex. Tit. Paul.

Ber.

So soon to leave me, and in trouble too? Titus how have I this deserv'd from you? What have I done, Phaenicia? tell me, speak.

Phaen.

Does nothing to your memory appear: That might provoke him—?

Ber.

By all tha'ts to me dear, Since the first hour I saw his face, till now, Too much of Love, is all the guilt I know. Thus silence is too rude, and racks my breast, In the uncertainty I cannot rest, He knows, Phaenicia, all my moments past. Perhaps he 's jealous of the Syrian King; 'Tis that's the root whence all this change must spring. Titus, this Victory I shall not boast. I wish the Gods would try me to the most. With a more potent Rival, tempt my heart, One that would make me greater than thou art. Then my dear Titus, shouldst thou soon discern, How much for thee I all mankind would scorn. Let's go, Phaenicia, with one gentle word He will be satisfied, and I restor'd: " My Injur'd truth by my complyance find, " And if he has a heart he must be kind.

Exeunt Omnes.

Ends the first Act.

ACT II.

SCENE I.

Enter Titus, Antiochus and Arsaces.

Tit.

ANtiochus! y'have done your Friendship wrong, In that y'have kept this Secret hid so long. What is't that your departure does incite, Which not unjustly, I may call a Fright? Tho on the Imperial Throne I'm plac'd, So highly seem with Fortunes favour grac'd; As if the nothing further had to grant: I more than ever, do your friendship want.

Ant.

Sir, your great kindness I so well did know, I durst not stay where I so much did owe. When first Iudaea heard your loud alarms, You made me your Companion in your arms. Nay, nearer to you did with friendship joyn, And lodg'd the secrets of your Brest in mine. Yet all this goodness but augments my sin, For I have false and most ungrateful been.

Tit.

I can't forget that to your arms alone, I owe the half of all I ever won: Witness those precious Spoils you hither brought, Won from the Iews when on my side you fought. To all those Purchases I lay no claim; Your heart and friendship are my only aim.

Ant.

My Heart! my Friendship! Heav'n, how you mistake! On my deceipt how weak a glos•• you make! When first you thought your self of me possest, You took a very Serpent to your brest.

Tit.

Antiochus, I find where thou art stung, Tell me th' officious Slave that does me wrong. Some base Detractor has my Honour stain'd, And in your easie heart a Credit gain'd. Ab••s'd and told you Titus is unjust; But I will know th•• tr••acherous Fiend, I must.

Tho you unkindly from your friend would run, And own th' unjustice which you think I've done.

Ant.

Oh Titus, if I durst but speak my heart; But 'tis a Secret hard from thence to part. 'Tis not from you, it is from Rome I fly, There's a Disease in't, I must ••hun or dye. Seek then no more what's dangerous to know, When most your friend, I shall appear your foe.

Tit.

I either to your heart a stranger am, Or sure Antiochus is not the same: What else should make you not your mind declare? What is't that you dare say, I dare not hear?

Ant.

If then, what e'r I utter, you dare hear, Receive the fatal Secret in your Ear. But arm your heart with Temper; well 'tis this:

Tit.

Go on,

Anti.

I love the charming Berenice.

Tit.

Hah!

Ant.

Yes, nor was I hateful to her Eyes, Till you came on and robb'd me of the prize. When at your Armies head you did appear, You sackt Ierusalem and conquer'd her.

Tit.

A braver Rival I'd not wish to find, Than him that dares be just and tell his mind. So far's Resentment from my heart remov'd; That Berenice is by my friend belov'd. That, I Antiochus, the thing extol, For she was made to be ador'd by all: And happy he that shall possess her;

Ant.

True, But 'tis fit none should be so blest but you, And Berenice for none could be design'd, But him that's the Delight of all Mankind. 'Tis for this cause to Syria I repair, For when you 're blest no envy should be near.

Tit.

O my Antiochus, when thou shalt see, How small's the happiness in store for me: Thou needst not fear thy Envy, let me have Thy pitty and thy aid, 'tis that I crave.

My best and truest friend, you must be so, For there's none fit for't in the World but you. None but a King, my Rival and my friend, Is 〈◊〉〈◊〉 to speak the torments of my mind. In 〈◊〉〈◊〉 behalf you Berenice must see.

Antio.

Is that an office, Titus, fit for me? I••'•• not enough her Cruelties I bear, But yo•• must too solicite my despair? I 〈◊〉〈◊〉 for ever from her to depart; Ala••! and dare not trust again my he••rt. Your passion by another may be shown, I have enough to do to rule my own.

Tit.

He that so well his own misfortunes bears, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 b••st instruct her how to temper hers. Nay, my Antiochus, you must not start. I know by mine, your news will shake her heart, For I m••st too, for ever from her part.

Antio.

Yo•• part?

Tit.

Yes! curst necessity! 'tis true, She that both conquer'd me and fetter'd you; In whom alone I sum'd up all Delight, Must be for ever banish'd from my sight.

Antio.

It cannot be. No Slave that wears her Chains, Up••n so e••sie terms his Freedom gains.

Tit.

Lord of the World my Empire wide does flow, I can m••ke K••••gs, and can depose 'em too▪ Th•• 〈◊〉〈◊〉 hearts must to my power bow down, A••d yet I ••m not Master of my own. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 th••t to Kings so long a foe has been, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 not 〈◊〉〈◊〉 my marriage with the Q••een. If 〈◊〉〈◊〉 to morrow be not gone, 〈…〉〈…〉 will to her Palace run; 〈…〉〈…〉 t••••ir rude outragious tougues, she'll hear 〈…〉〈…〉 to tell, and you to hear.

〈◊〉〈◊〉.

Now if my heart was to Revenge alli'd, How mi••••t I triumph in her falling Pride! To 〈◊〉〈◊〉 her Cruelties to me repaid, A•••• ••ith ••em all her tortur'd soul upbraid. 〈◊〉〈◊〉, Titus, I'm more just, and rather mov'd, Th••t ••v'n, Sir, you dare wrong the thing I've lov'd.

Tit.

When I the Imperial Power did first assume, I firmly swore t'uphold the Rights of Rome; Should I to follow Love, from Glory fly, Forsake my Throne, in every Vassal's eye, How mean and d••spicable must I prove! An Emperor led about the World by love! No, Prince, the fatal story you must tell, And bid from me, poor Berenice farewel. But if the hopes of reigning in my heart May any ease to her sad mind impart; Swear, friend, by all that to my Soul is dear, Entire I will preserve her ever there. Mourning at Court, and more exil'd than she, My Reign but a long Banishment shall be, 〈…〉〈…〉 those Joys that wait on Pomp and Power. 〈…〉〈…〉 she her journey hence must take, 〈…〉〈…〉 that e'r I lov'd, forsake. 〈…〉〈…〉 Care and Conduct I commend, 〈…〉〈…〉 my Rival as a King and Friend, T•••• ••earest Treasure I dare with you trust;

Antio.

Sir, do not tempt me, lest I prove unjust: Her charms that mad•• me my own Fame forgo, Will be too apt to make me false to you.

Tit.

No more; I know thee, have thy Honour try'd, Firm still in Dangers found thee by my side. Thou knew'st my Love, whilst thine was yet conceal'd, When all thy hopes by my success were quell'd: Even at that time thou didst no falshood show,

[Exit. Titus▪

And wilt not wrong me on advantage now.

Antio.

No, I'le not see her, neither dare I go: Too soon from others her hard lot she'l know. Dost thou not think her Fat••'s enough severe, Unless that I th' unwelcome Message bear? I who'm her hate, enough have felt before, And need not seek new ways to purchase more.

Arsa.

See, she approaches, now the Coward play, And when you might have Conquer'd run away.

Enter Berenice and Phaenicia.

Antio.

Oh Heaven!

Ber.

My Lord, I see you are not gone, Perhaps 'tis me alone that you would shun.

Antio.

You came not here Antiochus to find, The visit to another was design'd. Caesar, and 'tis on him the blame must light, If now my presence here offend your sight. Th' are his Commands, are guilty of the sin: It may be else I had at Ostia been.

Ber.

His friends are always with his presence Grac'd, 'T••s I alone that cannot be so blest.

Antio.

Too much his prejudice upon you gain'd: 'Twas for your sake alone I was detain'd.

Ber.

For mine? away.

Antio.

Tyrannick fair, 'tis true, He kept me here only to talk of you.

Ber.

Of me, my Lord forbear this courtly art, Y' are brave and should not mock an easie heart. In my distress, what pleasure could you see? Alas! or what could Titus say of me?

Antio.

Better a thousand times than I can tell, So firm a passion in his heart does dwell. When you are nam'd, he's from himself transform'd, And every way betrays how much he's charm'd. Love in his face does like a Tyrant rise, And Majesty's no longer in his eyes. But there are things behind I dare not speak: For at the news your tender heart would break.

Ber.

How Sir?

Antio.

Ere night the truth of what I've said you'l know, And then, I doubt not, Justifie me too. Farewell.

Ber.

Oh, Heaven what can this Language mean! You see before your eyes a wretched Queen. Sir, of my quiet, if you have such care, Or if my self your eyes held ever dear, Dispel this mist of trouble from my Soul.

Antio.

Madam, your self excuse,

For your own sake it is that I refuse. 'Twill not be long before the doubt's remov'd.

Ber.

You told me once Antiochus, you lov'd; But sure'twas only that you might betray; Or else you more would fear to disobey.

Antio.

I disobey you, ask my life and try, How gloriously I for your sake can dye. It would by far, be the more welcome fate. Then now to speak, and ever gain your hate.

Ber.

No Sir, you never shall my hatred find, 'Tis my desire, and you must be so kind. Will you?—

Antio.

Heaven this constraint is worse than death, You drive, and will not give me time to breath. Oh, Madam! put me too no further pain.

Ber.

Must I then ever beg, and beg in vain? Hence forward Prince, either the truth relate, Forbear or be assur'd for ever of my hate.

Antio.

My heart was always yours, and is so still: For ever must depend upon your Will. I wish another way, your power you'd try'd: But you 're resolv'd, and must be satisfi'd; Yet flatter not your self, I shall declare, Those horrors which perhaps you dare not hear. You cannot but believe I know your heart, Look then to feel me strike its tender'st part. Titus has told me.

Ber.

What? fear no Surprize.

Antio.

That he must part for ever from your eyes.

Ber.

We part! can things another nature take? Or Titus ever Berenice forsake?

Antio.

Perhaps 'tis strange that I shou'd tell you so, But you shall find I'll do him Justice too, What ever in a heart both kind and great Love with despair most dreadful could create. I saw in his he weep's, laments, and more, Then ever dos fair Berenice adore. But what avails it, that such love he shows? A Queen suspected to Romes Empire grows. And Titus cannot with her Laws dispence, For therf••ore 'tis you must be banisht hence.

Ber.

What do I hear, alas 〈◊〉〈◊〉!

Antio.

Nay, to morrow is your last and utmost day, In bearing this the Courage well you'l prove Of that great haughty Soul which scorn'd my love.

Ber.

Will Titus leave his Berenice forlorn? He who so many Oaths, so oft hath sworn? I'le not believe't, his love and faith's more strong, I'm sure he's guiltless and you do him wrong. This is a snare to disunite us laid, Titus, thou lov'st me, dost not wish me dead. No, strait I'le see him, and secure all fear. Let's go.

Antio.

Too well you may behold him here;

Ber.

Too well you wish it to perswade it, No; In this your base degenerate Soul you show. When you no other stratagem could find, T' abuse my heart you would betray your friend. How e're he prove, Know I your sight abhor, And from this minute never see me more.

Antio.

Oh Berenice! remorseless cruel fair▪ Born only for my torment and despair, Was it for this so faithfully I serv'd? Is this the recompence I have deserv'd? I who for you did all Ambition wave, And l••ft a Kingdom to become your Slave. Curse on my Fate▪

Ber.

If 're my heart you priz'd, You never h••d this cruelty devi••'d. Never to work my Torment, been thus bold; And ••o Triumphantly the story told. Away Phaenicia no more I'le hear him speak.

Ex. Ber. Phae.

Antio.

Now, my Arsaces, would my heart but break But yet I hope in part I've freedom won. And what love would not, by her hate sh'as done. The pain I lately endur'd thou hast beheld, I left her all Enamour'd, Jealous, Wild▪ But now pe••forming this Ignoble part, Perhaps, I'le ever bani•••• her my heart.

She left me cruelly, and let her go; My Honour and Repose command it too, For ever to my eyes a stranger be, Till I have learn't to scorn as well as she.

[Exeunt.

ACT III.

SCENE I.

Enter Berenice in disorder.

Ber.

I Of my wrong too well am satisfied; To see the perjur'd Titus, twice I try'd. Twice for admittance to him begg'd in vain: Nor is Phaenicia yet return'd again. Phaenicia has no answer to bring back. In••gateful Titus will not hear her speak: But hides himself and from my fury flyes: Nor will have sense, though Berenice dies.

[Enter Phaenice.

Phaenice, Well, my Titus hast thou seen? What will he come and make me live again?

Phae.

Madam▪ the Emperor I alone did find; And saw in his the trouble of your mind; I saw the tears he would have hid run down.

Ber.

But was he not asham'd they should be shown▪ Look't he not as he th••ught his Love disgrace? And was not all the E••p••r••r in hi•• face?

Phae.

Doubt it not, Madam, he will soon be her••, But wherefore will you this disorder wear? Your rifl'd dress let me in order place, And these dishevel'd lo••••s that hide your fac••.

Ber.

Forbear, Phaenice, let it all alone▪ No, he shall see the triumph 〈◊〉〈◊〉 has w••n; How vain those foolish ornam••n••s 〈◊〉〈◊〉 p••ove▪

If neither faith nor tears nor means can move!

Enter Antiochus, Arsaces.

Oh, my unruly sorrows! Oh, my fears! Who's here?

Antio.

Arsaces, Berenice in tears;

Ber.

Antiochus! Phaenice, let's away, To let him see my torments I'le not stay.

[Ex.

Anti••.

Now whither's all my resolutions gone?

Arsaces,

who could se••'t and be his own? I said I••d never see her sace again: But come and ••ind my boastings all were vain; Seeing her sufferings, all her scorn forget, And lose at on••e my vengeance and my hate. VVretched Antiochus! with how much care And labours, my own mischiefs I prepare! How poorly all my injuries have born! Hopeless, undo••e and to my self a scorn, Leave me alone unhappy as I am: I would not have a witness of my shame.

Enter Titus Attended.

Tit.

'Twas cruel not to see her, Oh my heart! And now I go to see her, but to part. ••utilius, fly and sooth the Queens despair, And for our meeting Ber••nice prepare.

Antio.

What have you done, Sir? Berenice will dye I saw her hence with hair dishevel'd fly. 'Tis only you her fury can surcease. When e're you ••re nam'd she's instantly at peace. Her eyes still bent to your apartment were, And every moment seem'd to wish you near.

Tit.

Antiochus, assist me what to do. I'm not prepar'd, for the sad Interview. I have not yet consulted well my heart, And doubt it is no•• strong enough to part. Since first I took possession of the Throne, What is it for my honour I have done? My love and folly only I've disclos'd,

And nothing but my weaknesses expos'd. The golden days where are they to be found, So much expected, when this head was Crown'd? Whose tears have I dry'd up? or in what face Can I the fruits of any good act trace? Know I what years Heaven has for me decreed? And of these few, how few are to succeed? And yet how many have I spent in wast! But now to honor I'le make greater hast. Alas! 'tis but one blow and all is past.

Enter Berenice, pressing from Rut. and Paul.

Ber.

Let me alone, your counsels all are weak. See him I must, he's here, and I will speak. Has Titus then forsook me? is it true? Must we too part, does he command it too?

Tit.

Oh! stop the deluge, which so fiercely flows; This is no time t' allay each others woes. Enough I feel my own afflictions smart, And need not those dear tears to damp my heart. But if we neither can our griefs command, Yet with such honour let 'em be sustain'd. As the whole World to hear it told shall smart; For dearest Berenice we must part. And now I would not a dispute maintain, Whether I lov'd, but whether I must Reign.

Ber.

Reign (Cruel) then and satisfie your pride, And for your Cruelties be deifi'd. I'le ne'r dispute it farther, I but stay'd Till Titus who so many vows had made, Of such a Love as nothing could impair. Should come himself and tell how false they were, Now I believ't, enough I've heard you tell, And I am gone—eternally farewell, Eternally—Ah, Sir, con••ider now, How harsh that word is and how dreadful too. Consider, Oh the Miseries they bear, That are for ever rob'd of all that••s dear. From this sad Moment never more to meet,

Is it for day to dawn▪ and day to set, In which I must not find my hopes still ••oung, Nor yet once see my Titus all day long? Heav••••s how I wildly rave—to lose my pains O•• him ungra••eful that my tears d••sdains! Of all those days of absence I shall count, With him, the number will to nothing mount.

Tit.

Doubt it not, Madam, there will be no need To count the days that shall your loss suceed. I hope e••re long that you will hear from ••ame, How very wretched and how just I am. My heart bleeds now, I feel the drops run down▪ Nor can it be long dying when you 're gone.

Ber.

Ah why, Sir, must we part if this be true? My cl••ims to Marriage I'le no more renew. Will ••ome accept of nothing but my death? Or why d' ye envy▪ me the air you breath?

Tit.

M••dam, you are too powerful every way▪ Shall I withstand it? no, for ever stay. Then I from bliss must always be debarr'd, And on my heart for ever keep a guard. With fears through all my cours•• of Glory move, L••st e••re aware I lose my self and Love. Ev'n ••ow my heart is from my bosom stray'd, And a••l its swellings on a sudden laid. Bent thus to you by all Loves softest pow'rs, And only this remembers that 'tis yours.

Ber▪

O Titus, whilst this charming tale you tell▪ D'ye see the Romans ready to reb••l?

Tit.

How they will look on the affront who knows, If on•••• they ••urmur and then fall to blows: Must I in Battel j••stifie my Ca••se; Or if they should submit and set their Laws; How must I be expos'd another day; And for their Patience too, how▪ largely pay! With Grievances and wild Demands still c••••st, Shall I dare plead th•• Laws that break '••m first?

Ber.

How much you are an Empe••or now I find, ••Tis plain in your unsteady anxious mind▪ You weigh your Peoples Rights to your own ••ears▪

But never value Berenices tears?

Tit.

Not value 'em▪ Why are you so unjust? Now by the honour of my Father's dust, By Heav'n and all the gods that govern there, If to me any thing be half so dear; May I be as a Slave, depos'd and serve, Or else forlorn in some wild Desart starve, Till I'm as wretched as my ills deserve.

Ber.

Laws you may change, why will you for their sake, Into your brest eternal sorrows take? Rome has her Priviledges, have not you Your Int'rests, your Rights as sacred too? Say, speak.

Tit.

Alas! how do you rend my brest! I know indeed I never can have rest; And yet the Laws of Rome I cannot change, Do, break my heart and take your full Revenge.

Ber.

How weak a Guard does now your Honor keep! You are an Emperor, and yet you weep▪

Tit.

I grant it, I am sensible I do, I weep, alas! I sigh and tremble too. For when to Empire first I did attain, Rome made me swear I would her Rights maintain. I did, and must perform what I then vow'd, Others before me to the Yoke have bow'd: And 'tis their Honor: yet in leaving you; All their Austerest Laws I shall out-do. And an Example leave so brave and great, As none shall ever after imitate.

Ber.

To your Barbarity there's nothing hard, Go on, and Infamy be your reward. Long since my fears your falshood had displ••y'd; Nor would I at your Sute have 〈◊〉〈◊〉 stay'd. Would I the base Indignities had born, Of a rude People, publick Hate and Scorn? No, to this breach I would have spurr'd you on, And I am pleas'd it is already don••.

No longer shall the fear of me prevail; Alas! you must not think to hear me rail▪ Or Heav'n invoke, its vengeance to prepare; No, for if Heav'n vouchsafe to hear my Pray'r, I beg no memory may there remain, Of either your Injustice, or my Pain.

[Kneel••.

But the sad Berenice before she dies, Is sure to have Revenge if you have eyes. Nor, Titus, need I go to find it far, No further than that heart, I have it there:

[Points to his brest.

Within your sel•• shall rise your dreadfull'st foe; My past Integrities, my Torments now; VVhich you, ungrateful perjur'd Man, have bred, My blood which in your Palace I shall shed. Sufficient terrors to your Soul shall give, And '••is to them that my Revenge I'll leave.

[Exit furio••sly

Paul.

Thus, Sir, at least the Conquest you have won, The Q••een you see's contented to be gone.

Tit.

Curse on thy Roman Rudeness, that canst see Such tears, unmov'd, and mock such Misery! Oh! I am lost, and 'tis in vain to strive, If Berenice dies, I cannot live. Fly and prevent that Fate to which she's gone. Bid her but live, tell her the World's her own.

[Exit Rut.

Paul.

Sir, if I might advise, you should not send, Rather command her women to attend; They better can her Melancholy chear: The worst is past, and now 'tis mean to fear. I saw your melting Pity when she wept, And my rough heart but very hardly scap'd. Yet look a little farther and you•••• find That spite of all your fortune yet is kind. What triumphs the whole VVorld prepares, you'll see, And then hereafter think how great you'll be.

Tit.

VVho for Barbarity would be ador'd! I hate my self, Nero so much abhor'd, That bloody Tyrant, whom I b••ush to name; VVas never half so cruel as I am.

No, I'll pursue the Queen, she loves me still, VVill pardon me when at her feet I kneel: Let's go, and let proud Rome say what it will.

Paul.

How Sir?

Tit.

By Heav'n I know not what I say: Excess of Sorrow drives my mind astray.

Paul.

O follow where your full Renown does lead, Your last adieus Report abroad has spread. Rome that did mourn, does now new triumphs frame, The Temples fume with Offerings to your name: The people wild in the applause y'have won With Laurel Wreaths to crown, your Statues run.

Tit.

By that their Salvage natures they betray, For so wild beasts roar o'r their murder'd prey. VVho would have sense the sweets of power to prize! Since most in danger when we highest rise: For who by Greatness e'r did happy grow? None but the heavy Slave is truly so. VVho travels all his life in one dull road, And drudging on in quiet, loves his load. Seeking no farther than the needs of Life, Knows what's his own, and so exempt from strife, And cherishes his homely careful wife. Lives by the Clod, and thinks of nothing higher; Has all, because he cannot much desire. Had I been born so low, I had been blest Of what I love, without controul possest. Never had Honour or Ambition known, Nor ever to be Great, had been undone.

[Shout within.

Paul.

The Tribunes, Sir, and Senate with their state, I'th' name of all the Empire for you wait, They'r follow'd too by an impatient throng, VVho seem to murmur, you delay so long.

Tit.

Toyle me no more, disperse that clamorous Rout: Tell 'em they shall no more have cause to doubt; The Queens departure they'll to morrow see, And me as wretched as they'd have me be. Take this Paulinus: bear it to the Queen,

[Writes on a Tablet.

For ••hould we meet, I must relapse again; I h've bid her here eternally adieu, Stay while she reads it, and her troubles view, And bring me faithful word, as thou art true. Hold! oh my Heart! yet go, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 it must be done, For what's necessity, we cannot shun. Would I had never known what 'tis to live, Or a new Being to my self could give. Som•• monstrous and unheard of Shape now find, As S••lvage, and as Barbarous as my mind. Anti••chus!

Enter Antiochus, Attendants, Arsaces.

Ant.

My last Adieu to pay, I come, and dare in Rome no longer stay. My griefs, and my afflictions, grow so high; If not by absence slacken'd, I must dye.

Tit.

What reason have the happy to repine? Now Berenice for ever will be thine. VVith all her charms receive her to thy brest, And be of all I ever lov'd, possest.

Ant.

It is beneath you, Sir, to mock my pain: I ever kneel to Berenice again! No, ••h••uld I stay to see you when you part, Tho I am sure the sight would break my heart, Yet ••he, as still my prayers have been deny'd, Tho I but beg'd one blessing ere I dy'd, Even then ••ith scorn would throw me from her side.

Tit.

Oh Heaven! she's entring, from her Charms lets fly, I know my weakness; if I stay, I dye.

Meet, and prevent her—

[Ex. Titus.

Enter Berenice, &c.

Ber.

How h•• hasts away! Ingrateful! Dearest Perjur'd Titus, stay.

[kneels.

Afflictions catch him, great as those I bear. My Lord, at last I have receiv'd my Doom: 'Tis seal'd; but ere I part from you and Rome, I ask, and I your pardon would receive: Can you the wrongs which I have done, forgive?

Ant.

I never any Injuries did find; No, Berenice has always been too kind. With one soft word, how suddenly I'm lost, And have no sense of my disgraces past! But must I then for ever lose you so? I am no Roman, nor was ere your foe. No, rather here continue, and be Great, Whilst I live ever hopeless at your feet.

Ber.

Should I stay here and my wrongs tamely bear From him that shuns, and flies me every where? I have a nobler mind, and you shall see I can disdain and scorn as much as he: For tho 'tis true, I never can be yours; Both Rome and him my heart this hour abjures.

Ant.

To banish him your heart, whilst you prepare, VVhat will you do with all the Love that's there? There's no one Mortal can deserve it all, And sure a little to my share might fall.

Ber.

Oh of that killing Subject, talk no more, I would have lov'd you, if I could, before. Love for another struck me with his Dart, And 'tis not in my power to force my heart.

Ant.

When first my Passion was disdain'd for him, You kept me yet alive with your esteem. But now at last his breach of Faith you see, And bear it nobly too: how can it be T' your self so Just, and yet so hard to me?

Ber.

What cruel storms, and fierce assaults you make, To batter down a heart you cannot take! Till you have broke it. Will you not give o'r? No, rather let me go, and hear no more.

Antio.

O stay, since of the Victory you are secure, Pitty the pains and anguish I endure;

[Kneels

In wounds which you and none but you can cure. Look back, whilst at your feet my self I cast, And think the sigh that's coming is my last. My heart it's ••ad eternal farewell takes: Be but so kind to see me when it breaks.

Ber.

Rise, rise my Lord. The Emperor's return'd. Conduct me hence, let me not more be scorn'd.

Enter Titus.

Tit.

How am I lost! resolve on what I will, Spite of my self I wander this way still. Why would you Berenice my presence shun?

Ber.

No! I'le hear nothing, I've resolv'd on flight, And will be gone. Why come you in my sight? Why come you thus t'exasperate my despair? Are you yet not content? I know you are.

Tit.

If ever yet my heart was dear to yours; By all our plighted vows, those softest hours In which for ever to be true I swore, I beg that you••d afford me yet one more.

Ber.

I till to morrow had your leave to stay; But my resolves are to be gone to day. And I depart.

Tit.

No journey must you take. Would you poor Titus in his griefs forsake? No! Stay—

Ber.

I stay! Ungrateful as you are. For what? a Peoples rude affronts to bear. That with the sound of my misfortune rend The Clouds, and shouts to Heaven in Vollys send? Does not their cruel joy yet reach your ears, Whilst I alone Torment my self in tears? By what offence or crime are they thus mov'd? Alas! what have I done, but too much Lov'd?

Tit.

D'you mind the voice of an outragious throng? I ever thought your constancy more strong. Never believ'd your heart so weak could be, Whose powerful charms had captivated me.

Ber.

All that I see distraction does create, These rich Apartments and this Pompous State. These Places where I spent my happiest hours, And plighted all my Vows, false Man, to yours. All, as most vile Impostors I detest, How strangely, Titus, might we have been blest!

Tit.

This art to torture souls where did you learn? Or was it in your nature with you born? Oh Berenice! how you destroy me! Atendants, bring your Chair nearer.

Ber.

No, Return and to your famous Senate go; That for your cruelties applaud you so. Have you not honour to your full delight? Have you not promis'd to forget me quite? What more in expiation can you do? Have you not ever sworn to hate me too?

Tit.

Can you do any thing to make me hate? Or can I ever Berenice forget? This hard suspition was unjustly urg'd, 'Gainst a poor heart too much before surcharg'd▪ Oh Madam! know me better, and recall The wrong, since first I at your feet did fall. Count all the single days and minutes past, Where in my vows and my desires I prest. And at this time your greatest Conquest know, For you were never so belov'd as now. Nor ever—

Ber.

Still your Love you'd have me own, Yet you your self command me to be gone. Is my despair so charming to your view? D' you think the tears I shed are all too few? Of such a heart, a vain return you make, No never call those dear Idea's back. But suffer me in this belief to rest; That secretly, long since exil'd your breast,

I only from a faithless wretch depart, And one that never lays the loss to heart. If you had Lov••d me, this had nere been sent, Here you have commanded me to banishment.

[Opens the Tablets

What wondrous Love you bear me this doth show. Read, read, ungrateful, read and let me go.

[Gives him the 〈◊〉〈◊〉

Tit.

You shall not go, I have not given consent, Nor will I ever to your banishment. Your cruel resolution I descry, To be reveng'd of me you seek to dye. And then of all I love, except the pain, Nought but the sad remembrance will remain. Antiochus! be thou a witness here

Ber. sinks down in a Chair.

Of all my misery and my despair.

Antio.

D••sp••ir's a Theam I only understand; You, if you will, your wishes may command. Such Beauty ready for possession see, And leave that ugly hag Despair, to me.

Antio.

Behold those eyes how dull and dark they grow! Madam, when at your feet I fall thus low,

[Kneels.

Vouchsafe my sad afflictions to believe, Alas! '••is all the ease I'm like to have. When first the dreadful minute I beheld; That by my duty and the Laws compel'd, I found it forc'd that you must hence depart. Though nothing e're can banish you my heart. 'Twas then m•• soul had first a sense of fears, Foreseeing your reproaches and your tears. I then expected, Madam, all the weight Of woes that can on worst misfortunes light. But whatsoever fears opprest my heart, I find I but foresaw the lesser part. I thought my vertue not so apt to bow; 〈◊〉〈◊〉 am asham••d 'tis thus intangled now.

Ber.

Let me alone and vex my soul no more, You of your vertue talk't enough before. Urge it not still to agg••avate my shame. VVhen Crown'd with conquest from the wars you came, I know you brought me but to fill your state; For els•• the triumph had not been ••omplete.

Tit.

Since you have then resolv'd: It s••all be so. And judg by this if y'are belov'd or no. No longer Torments on my soul shall prey, Since I to freedom see so brave a way; A way by more than one great Roman shown, Who, when their Misery's had prest 'em down, Propt from within, shook off with life, the weight,

Offers to stab himself

And thus fell nobly grapling with their fate.

Ber.

Oh stay! to wrong me more what way dy'e take? Would Titus die for Berenices sake? I see the blow you cruelly prepare To wound that breast where I, you say, have share. To hurt what's mine would be unjustly done▪ No, rather strike this heart, that's all your own.

Tit.

Best of thy sex! and dearest, now I see. How poor is Empire when compar'd to thee. Hence ye, perplexing Cares, that clog a brain, Whilst struck with extasie▪ I here fall down.

[Kneels

Thus at your feet a happy prostrate laid, I'm much more blest than if the world I swaid.

Ber.

Now the blest Berenice enough has seen:

[Kneels

I thought your Love had quite extinguisht been: But 'twas my error, for you still are true. Your heart is troubled, and your tears I view. Ev'n my worst sufferings much o'repaid I see, Nor shall th' unhappy world be curst for me, Nothing since first 'twas yours, my love would shake, So absolute a Conquest did you make. But now I'le bring it to the utmost test, And with one fucal Act crown all the rest.

Tit.

Hah! tell me Berenice what will you do?

Ber.

Far from your sight and Rome for ever go: I have resolv'd on't, and it shall be so.

Tit.

Antiochus! I'm born to be undone; When I the greatest conquest thought t'have won: Ev'n in my noblest race I am out-run. But thou wer't always gen'rous, always kind; Your inlarg'd Kingdom shall to hers be joyn'd. And now how much you are my faithful friend;

In being so to her, you'l best expres.

Falling on his neck.

Never forsake her in sad distress. Where e're she goes, for ever with her be. And sometimes in my absence sigh for me.

Antio.

Arsaces! on thy bosome let me lye, VVhilst I but take one last dear look, and die.

Ber.

No live: and by a generous strife out-do Us both, and of your self be conqu'rour too. Farewel. Let us all three a rare example prove: Of a most tender though unhappy love. Thus, Sir, your Peace and Empire I restore. Farewell and reign, I'le never see you more.

[Ex. Ber.

Antio.

Oh Heaven!

Tit.

She's gone and al•• I valu'd lost: Now Friend, let Rome, of her great Emp'ror boast. Since they themselves first taught me cruelty, I'le try how much a Tyrant I can be. Henceforth all thoughts of pitty I'le disown, And with my arms the Universe ore-run. Rob'd of my Love, through ruins purchase ••ame, And mak•• the world's as wretched as I am.

[Exeunt Omnes.