SCENE II.

DIOCLESIAN'_s Palace_.

_Enter_ DIOCLESIAN, MAXIMINUS, _the Kings of Epire, Pontus, and Macedon, meeting_ ARTEMIA; _Attendants_.

_Artem._ Glory and conquest still attend upon Triumphant Cæsar!

_Diocle._ Let thy wish, fair daughter, Be equally divided; and hereafter Learn thou to know and reverence Maximinus, Whose power, with mine united, makes one Cæsar.

_Max._ But that I fear 'twould be held flattery, The bonds consider'd in which we stand tied, As love and empire, I should say, till now I ne'er had seen a lady I thought worthy To be my mistress.

_Artem._ Sir, you show yourself Both courtier and soldier; but take heed, Take heed, my lord, though my dull-pointed beauty, Stain'd by a harsh refusal in my servant, Cannot dart forth such beams as may inflame you, You may encounter such a powerful one, That with a pleasing heat will thaw your heart, Though bound in ribs of ice. Love still is Love; His bow and arrows are the same: Great Julius, That to his successors left the name of Cæsar, Whom war could never tame, that with dry eyes Beheld the large plains of Pharsalia cover'd With the dead carcases of senators, And citizens of Rome; when the world knew No other lord but him, struck deep in years too, (And men gray-hair'd forget the loves of youth,) After all this, meeting fair Cleopatra, A suppliant too, the magic of her eye, Even in his pride of conquest, took him captive: Nor are you more secure.

_Max._ Were you deform'd, (But, by the gods, you are most excellent,) Your gravity and discretion would o'ercome me; And I should be more proud in being prisoner To your fair virtues, than of all the honours, Wealth, title, empire, that my sword hath purchased.

_Diocle._ This meets my wishes. Welcome it, Artemia, With outstretch'd arms, and study to forget That Antoninus ever was: thy fate Reserved thee for this better choice; embrace it.

_Max._ This happy match brings new nerves to give strength To our continued league.

_Diocle._ Hymen himself Will bless this marriage, which we'll solemnize In the presence of these kings.

_K. of Pontus._ Who rest most happy, To be eye-witnesses of a match that brings Peace to the empire.

Diocle. We much thank your loves: But where's Sapritius, our governor, And our most zealous provost, good Theophilus? If ever prince were blest in a true servant, Or could the gods be debtors to a man, Both they and we stand far engaged to cherish His piety and service.

_Artem._ Sir, the governor Brooks sadly his son's loss, although he turn'd Apostata in death; but bold Theophilus, Who for the same cause, in my presence, seal'd His holy anger on his daughters' hearts; Having with tortures first tried to convert her, Dragg'd the bewitching Christian to the scaffold, And saw her lose her head.

_Diocle._ He is all worthy: And from his own mouth I would gladly hear The manner how she suffer'd.

_Artem._ 'Twill be deliver'd With such contempt and scorn, (I know his nature,) That rather 'twill beget your highness' laughter, Than the least pity.

_Diocle._ To that end I would hear it.

_Enter_ THEOPHILUS, SAPRITIUS, _and_ MACRINUS.

_Artem._ He comes; with him the governor.

_Diocle._ O, Sapritius, I am to chide you for your tenderness; But yet, remembering that you are a father, I will forget it. Good Theophilus, I'll speak with you anon.--Nearer, your ear. [_To_ SAPRITIUS.

_Theoph._ [_aside to_ MACRINUS.] By Antoninus' soul, I do conjure you, And though not for religion, for his friendship, Without demanding what's the cause that moves me, Receive my signet:--By the power of this, Go to my prisons, and release all Christians, That are in fetters there by my command.

_Mac._ But what shall follow?

_Theoph._ Haste then to the port; You there shall find two tall ships ready rigg'd, In which embark the poor distressed souls, And bear them from the reach of tyranny. Enquire not whither you are bound: the Deity That they adore will give you prosperous winds, And make your voyage such, and largely pay for Your hazard, and your travail. Leave me here; There is a scene that I must act alone: Haste, good Macrinus; and the great God guide you!

_Mac._ I'll undertake 't; there's something prompts me to it; 'Tis to save innocent blood, a saint-like act: And to be merciful has never been By moral men themselves esteem'd a sin. [_Exit._

_Diocle._ You know your charge?

_Sap._ And will with care observe it.

_Diocle._ For I profess he is not Cæsar's friend, That sheds a tear for any torture that A Christian suffers. Welcome, my best servant, My careful, zealous provost! thou hast toil'd To satisfy my will, though in extremes: I love thee for 't; thou art firm rock, no changeling. Prithee deliver, and for my sake do it, Without excess of bitterness, or scoffs, Before my brother and these kings, how took The Christian her death?

_Theoph._ And such a presence, Though every private head in this large room Were circled round with an imperial crown, Her story will deserve, it is so full Of excellence and wonder.

_Diocle._ Ha! how is this?

_Theoph._ O! mark it, therefore, and with that attention, As you would hear an embassy from heaven By a wing'd legate; for the truth deliver'd, Both how, and what, this blessed virgin suffer'd, And Dorothea but hereafter named, You will rise up with reverence, and no more, As things unworthy of your thoughts, remember What the canonized Spartan ladies were, Which lying Greece so boasts of. Your own matrons, Your Roman dames, whose figures you yet keep As holy relics, in her history Will find a second urn: Gracchus' Cornelia, Paulina, that in death desired to follow Her husband Seneca, nor Brutus' Portia, That swallow'd burning coals to overtake him, Though all their several worths were given to one, With this is to be mention'd.

_Max._ Is he mad?

_Diocle._ Why, they did die, Theophilus, and boldly; This did no more.

_Theoph._ They, out of desperation, Or for vain glory of an after-name, Parted with life: this had not mutinous sons, As the rash Gracchi were; nor was this saint A doting mother, as Cornelia was. This lost no husband, in whose overthrow Her wealth and honour sunk; no fear of want Did make her being tedious; but, aiming At an immortal crown, and in His cause Who only can bestow it; who sent down Legions of ministering angels to bear up Her spotless soul to heaven, who entertain'd it With choice celestial music, equal to The motion of the spheres; she, uncompell'd, Changed this life for a better. My lord Sapritius, You were present at her death; did you e'er hear Such ravishing sounds?

_Sap._ Yet you said then 'twas witchcraft, And devilish illusions.

_Theoph._ I then heard it With sinful ears, and belch'd out blasphemous words Against his Deity, which then I knew not, Nor did believe in him.

_Diocle._ Why, dost thou now? Or dar'st thou, in our hearing----

_Theoph._ Were my voice As loud as is His thunder, to be heard Through all the world, all potentates on earth Ready to burst with rage, should they but hear it; Though hell, to aid their malice, lent her furies, Yet I would speak, and speak again, and boldly: I am a Christian; and the Powers you worship, But dreams of fools and madmen.

_Max._ Lay hands on him.

_Diocle._ Thou twice a child! for doting age so makes thee, Thou couldst not else, thy pilgrimage of life Being almost past through, in this last moment Destroy whate'er thou hast done good or great-- Thy youth did promise much; and, grown a man, Thou mad'st it good, and, with increase of years, Thy actions still better'd: as the sun, Thou didst rise gloriously, kept'st a constant course In all thy journey; and now, in the evening, When thou shouldst pass with honour to thy rest, Wilt thou fall like a meteor?

_Sap._ Yet confess That thou art mad, and that thy tongue and heart Had no agreement.

_Max._ Do; no way is left, else, To save thy life, Theophilus.

_Diocle._ But, refuse it, Destruction as horrid, and as sudden, Shall fall upon thee, as if hell stood open, And thou wert sinking thither.

_Theoph._ Hear me, yet; Hear, for my service past.

_Artem._ What will he say?

_Theoph._ As ever I deserved your favour, hear me, And grant one boon; 'tis not for life I sue for; Nor is it fit that I, that ne'er knew pity To any Christian, being one myself, Should look for any; no, I rather beg The utmost of your cruelty. I stand Accomptable for thousand Christians' deaths; And, were it possible that I could die A day for every one, then live again To be again tormented, 'twere to me An easy penance, and I should pass through A gentle cleansing fire; but, that denied me, It being beyond the strength of feeble nature, My suit is, you would have no pity on me. In mine own house there are a thousand engines Of studied cruelty, which I did prepare For miserable Christians; let me feel, As the Sicilian did his brazen bull[58], The horrid'st you can find; and I will say, In death, that you are merciful.

_Diocle._ Despair not; In this thou shalt prevail. Go fetch them hither: [_Exit some of the Guard._ Death shall put on a thousand shapes at once, And so appear before thee; racks, and whips!---- Thy flesh, with burning pincers torn, shall feed The fire that heats them; and what's wanting to The torture of thy body, I'll supply In punishing thy mind. Fetch all the Christians That are in hold; and here, before his face, Cut them in pieces.

_Theoph._ 'Tis not in thy power: It was the first good deed I ever did. They are removed out of thy reach; howe'er, I was determined for my sins to die, I first took order for their liberty; And still I dare thy worst.

_Re-enter Guard with racks and other instruments of torture._

_Diocle._ Bind him, I say; Make every artery and sinew crack: The slave that makes him give the loudest shriek, Shall have ten thousand drachmas: wretch! I'll force thee To curse the Power thou worship'st.

_Theoph._ Never, never: No breath of mine shall e'er be spent on Him, [_They torment him._ But what shall speak His majesty or mercy. I'm honour'd in my sufferings. Weak tormentors, More tortures, more:--alas! you are unskilful-- For heaven's sake more; my breast is yet untorn: Here purchase the reward that was propounded. The irons cool,--here are arms yet, and thighs; Spare no part of me.

_Max._ He endures beyond The sufferance of a man.

_Sap._ No sigh nor groan, To witness he hath feeling.

_Diocle._ Harder, villains!

_Enter_ HARPAX.

_Harp._ Unless that he blaspheme, he's lost for ever. If torments ever could bring forth despair, Let these compel him to it:--Oh me! My ancient enemies again! [_Falls down._

_Enter_ DOROTHEA _in a white robe, a crown upon her head, led in by_ ANGELO; ANTONINUS, CALISTA, _and_ CHRISTETA _following, all in white, but less glorious_; ANGELO _holds out a crown to_ THEOPHILUS.

_Theoph._ Most glorious vision!-- Did e'er so hard a bed yield man a dream So heavenly as this? I am confirm'd, Confirm'd, you blessed spirits, and make haste To take that crown of immortality You offer to me. Death! till this blest minute, I never thought thee slow-paced; nor would I Hasten thee now, for any pain I suffer, But that thou keep'st me from a glorious wreath, Which through this stormy way I would creep to, And, humbly kneeling, with humility wear it. Oh! now I feel thee:--blessed spirits! I come; And, witness for me all these wounds and scars, I die a soldier in the Christian wars. [_Dies._

_Sap._ I have seen thousands tortured, but ne'er yet A constancy like this.

_Harp._ I am twice damn'd.

_Ang._ Haste to thy place appointed, cursed fiend! [HARPAX _sinks with thunder and lightning_. In spite of hell, this soldier's not thy prey; 'Tis I have won, thou that hast lost the day. [_Exit with_ DOR. _&c._

_Diocle._ I think the centre of the earth be crack'd-- Yet I stand still unmoved, and will go on: The persecution that is here begun, Through all the world with violence shall run. [_Flourish. Exeunt._

FOOTNOTE:

[58] _As the Sicilian did his brazen bull._] The brazen bull, an ingenious instrument of torture, invented by Perillus, and presented to Phalaris, the tyrant of Agrigentum, was fatal both to its author and its owner. Phalaris made the first experiment of its powers upon Perillus; and when the people, exasperated by his cruelties, eventually rose against him, the tyrant suffered death by its means himself.

THE GREAT DUKE OF FLORENCE.

THE GREAT DUKE OF FLORENCE.] This play, under the title of The Great Duke, was licensed by Sir Henry Herbert, July 5th, 1627. The plot is raised on those slight materials afforded by our old chroniclers in the life of Edgar, which Mason has since worked up into the beautiful drama of Elfrida.

The first edition of this play was published 1636, when it was preceded by two commendatory copies of verses by G. Donne and J. Ford. Though highly and most deservedly popular, it was not reprinted. This may be attributed, in some measure, to the growing discontent of the times, which perversely turned aside from scenes like these, to dwell with fearful anxiety on those of turbulence and blood.--It is impossible not to be charmed with the manner in which this play is written. The style is worthy of the most polished stage. An easy elevation and a mild dignity are preserved throughout, which afford an excellent model for the transaction of dramatic business between persons of high rank and refined education. As to the subject, it is of itself of no great importance; but this is somewhat compensated by the interest the principal characters take in it, and the connexion of love with the views of state.--The scenes between Giovanni and Lidia present a most beautiful picture of artless attachment, and of that unreserved innocence and tender simplicity which Massinger describes in so eminently happy a manner. Were it not for the scene of low buffoonery in the fourth act, where Petronella assumes the dress and character of her mistress, The Great Duke of Florence would have been a perfect and unrivalled production.

TO

THE TRULY HONOURED, AND MY NOBLE FAVOURER,

SIR ROBERT WISEMAN, KNT.[59]

OF THORRELL'S HALL, IN ESSEX.

SIR,

As I dare not be ungrateful for the many benefits you have heretofore conferred upon me, so I have just reason to fear that my attempting this way to make satisfaction (in some measure) for so due a debt, will further engage me. However, examples encourage me. The most able in my poor quality have made use of dedications in this nature, to make the world take notice (as far as in them lay) who and what they were that gave supportment and protection to their studies; being more willing to publish the doer, than receive a benefit in a corner. For myself, I will freely, and with a zealous thankfulness, acknowledge, that for many years I had but faintly subsisted, if I had not often tasted of your bounty. But it is above my strength and faculties to celebrate to the desert your noble inclination, and that made actual, to raise up, or, to speak more properly, to rebuild the ruins of demolished poesie. But that is a work reserved, and will be, no doubt, undertaken, and finished, by one that can to the life express it. Accept, I beseech you, the tender of my service; and in the list of those you have obliged to you, contemn not the name of

Your true and faithful honourer, PHILIP MASSINGER.

FOOTNOTE:

[59] Sir Robert Wiseman was the eldest son of Richard Wiseman, a merchant of London, who, having acquired an ample fortune, retired into Essex, in which county he possessed considerable estates, where he died in 1618, and was succeeded by Sir Robert. The friend of Massinger was the oldest of fourteen children, and a man of an amiable character. He died unmarried the 11th May, 1641, in his sixty-fifth year.--GILCHRIST.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

COZIMO, _Duke of Florence_. GIOVANNI, _nephew to the duke_. SANAZARRO, _the duke's favourite_. CAROLO CHAROMONTE, GIOVANNI'_s tutor_. CONTARINO, _secretary to the duke_. ALPHONSO, } HIPPOLITO, } _counsellors of state_. HIERONIMO, } CALANDRINO, _a merry fellow, servant to_ GIOVANNI. BERNARDO, } CAPONI, } _servants to_ CHAROMONTE. PETRUCHIO, } _A Gentleman._

FIORINDA, _Duchess of Urbin_. LIDIA, _daughter to_ CHAROMONTE. CALAMINTA, _servant to_ FIORINDA. PETRONELLA, _a foolish servant to_ LIDIA.

_Attendants, Servants, &c._

SCENE, partly in Florence, and partly at the residence of CHAROMONTE in the country.

THE GREAT DUKE OF FLORENCE.