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Show Tyrannic^ Love, Or, ;6z P^r"There is one more---- ^^ Your Daughter, Sr,Lc thai^y wfe Command her to ^y-Love^ S Cath. I come not now as Captive to your Pow'r, Tobeg* but as high Heav'ns Ambaflador, The Laws of m y Religion to fulfil, Heav'n fends me to return you Good for 111. Your Emprefs to your Love would reftore, And to vour Mind the Peace it had before. A 1 L A w h i l e in another's N a n . you Peace declare, Princefs you in your own proclaim a War. YourtooLat Pow'r does your Defign oppofe, You n K o f e Breaches which you ftrive to clofe, S S ? That little Beauty which too much you prize. Seeks not to move your Heart, or draw your Eyes: Your Love to Berenice is due alone: _ I o v e like that Pow'r which I Adore, is one. When iixt to one, it fafe at Anchor rides And dares the fury of the Winds and Tides: But lofing once that hold, to the wide Ocean bom, It drives away at Will, to every W a v e a Scorn. Max. If to new Perfons I m y Love apply, The Stars and Nature are in fault, not I, M v Loves are like m y old Prttorian Bands, Whofe Arbitrary Pow'r their Prince Commands, I can no more make Paffion come or go, Than you can bid your Nilus Ebb or How. T s lawlefs, and will Love, and where it lift : And that's no Sin, which no Man can refift : ,fe who impute it to me as a Crime, ,'ould make a God of me before m y time. 5. Cath. A God, indeed, after the Roman Stile, An Eagle mounting from a kindled Pile. But you may make your felf a God below : For Kings who Rule their own Defires are fo. You roam about, and never are at Reft, By new Defires, that is, new Torments, ftill pofieft. Qualmiui and loathing all you had before: Yet with a fickly Appetite to more. As in a Fev'rilh Dream you ftill Drink on, And wonder why your Thirft is never gone. Love, like a Ghoftly Vifion, haunts your Mind, 'lis ftill before you, what you left behind. Max. How can I help thofe Faults which Nature made? M y Appetite is fickly, and decay'd, And you forbid me change (the tick Man's Eafe ) W h o cannot Cure, muft"Humour his Difeafe. S. Cath. Your Mind fhould firft the Remedy begin , You feek without, the Cure that is within. The vain Experiments you make each Day, To find Content, ftill finding it decay, Tbe Royal Martyr. ' ^ 6 Without attempting more fhould Jet you fee That you have fought it where it ne'er could be. But when you place your foys on things above,' You fix the wandring Planet of your Love : Thence you may See Poor Humane kind all Daz'd in open Day, Err after Blifs, and blindly mifs their way': The greateft Happinefs a Prince can know Is to love Heav'n above, do good below. ' [ To the* Berenice and Attendants, Ber. That Happinefs may Berenice find, Leaving thefe empty Joys of Earth behind i And this frail Being, where fo fhort a while Th' Unfortunate Lament, and Profp'rous Smile. Yet a few days, and thofe which how appear In Youth and Beauty like the blooming Year, In Life's fweet Scene fhall change, and Cares fhall come In heavy Age, and Death's relentlefs Doom. S. Cath. Yet Man by Pleafures feeks that Fate which he could fhuri j And fuck'd in by the Stream, does to the Whirlpool run. Max. How Madam, are you to new ways inclin'd ? f To Ben I fear the Chriftian Sect perverts your Mind. Ber. Yes, Tyrant, know that I their Faith embrace, And o i : in the midft of m y Difgrace. That 1 ich Abject as it feems to thee, Is Nobler hy Purple Pageantry, A Faith, which ftill with Nature is at ftrife, And looks beyond it to a future Life. A Faith which vicious Souls abhor and fear, Becaufe it fhews Eternity too near, And therefore every one With feeming fcorn of it the reft deceives: All joining not to o w n What each believes. S. Cath. O Happy Queen! whom Pow'r leads not aftray, Nor Youth's more powerful Banifhmcnts betray. Ber. Your Arguments m y Reafon firft inclin'd, And then your bright Example fix'd m y Mind. Max. W;ith what a Holy Emprefs am I Bleft ! Wha t fcorn of Earth dwells in her Heav'nly Breaft ! M y Crown's too mean , but he w h o m you Adore, Has one more bright of Martyrdom in ftore. She Dies, and I am from the Envy freed : [Afide. She has, I thank her, her own Death decreed. N o Soldier, now, will in her refcue ftir , Her Death is but in complaifance to her. I'll hafte to gratifie her Holy Wiil , Heav'n grant her Zeal may but continue ftill. [To Val.] Tribune, a Guard to feize the Emprefs ftrait, Secure her Perfon Pris'ner to the State. [ Exit Maxim. Vn\. [going to her.~] Madam, believe 'tis with Regret I come To execute m y angry Princes doom. Enter Porphyrius. Por. W h a t is it I behold! Tribune from whence Proceeds this more than barbarous Infolence? Val. Sir, I perform the Emperour's Commands. Por. Villain, hold off thy Sacrilegious Hands, Or by the Gods retire without Reply : And, if he asks who bid thee, fay 'twas I. [ Valerius retires te a diftarcc. Ber. Too generoufly your fafety you expofe To fave one moment her w h o m yrou muft lofe* Por. Twixt you and Death Ten Thoufand Lives there ftand, Have Courage, Madam, the Praetorian Band Will all oppofe your Tyrant's Cruelty. S. Cath. And I have Heav'n implor'd fhe may not die. A a 2 As |