by Thomas Otway
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 serv’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 from 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 temper’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 Paulines 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 Just a Sorrow in her face was shown,
It seemed 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.
Rome of my purposes uncertain yet,
Expects 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 a
ll 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 gentle 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.
After 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 must 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 have met Antiochus, and here
All I e’re loved 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 hounds of Palestine enlarg’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 constancy,
Yet in my heart if doubts already rise,
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! give me more content, and less of state.
Give me a word, a sigh, a look at least,
In those the 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 perpetual and sincere,
But ’tis with a strange coldness that you swear.
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!
Be
r.
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 Vespasian 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 find no relief.
But in your presence only take delight,
I, who shall dye, is but debarr’d your sight.
Tit.
Madam, what is it that your griefs declare?
What time d’ you choose? For pitty’s fake forbear.
Your Bounties my Ingratitude proclaim.
Ber.
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.
