SCENE II.[47

_The Place of Execution. A scaffold, block, &c._

_Enter_ ANTONINUS, _supported by_ MACRINUS, _and Servants_.

_Anton._ Is this the place, where virtue is to suffer, And heavenly beauty, leaving this base earth, To make a glad return from whence it came? Is it, Macrinus?

_Mac._ By this preparation, You well may rest assured that Dorothea This hour is to die here.

_Anton._ Then with her dies The abstract of all sweetness that's in woman! Set me down, friend, that, ere the iron hand Of death close up mine eyes, they may at once Take my last leave both of this light and her: For, she being gone, the glorious sun himself To me's Cimmerian darkness.

_Mac._ Strange affection[48]! Cupid once more hath changed his shafts with Death, And kills, instead of giving life.

_Anton._ Nay, weep not; Though tears of friendship be a sovereign balm, On me they're cast away. It is decreed That I must die with her; our clue of life Was spun together.

_Mac._ Yet, sir, 'tis my wonder, That you, who, hearing only what she suffers, Partake of all her tortures, yet will be, To add to your calamity, an eyewitness Of her last tragic scene, which must pierce deeper, And make the wound more desperate.

_Anton._ Oh, Macrinus! 'Twould linger out my torments else, not kill me, Which is the end I aim at: being to die too, What instrument more glorious can I wish for, Than what is made sharp by my constant love And true affection? It may be, the duty And loyal service, with which I pursued her, And seal'd it with my death, will be remember'd Among her blessed actions; and what honour Can I desire beyond it?

_Enter a Guard bringing in_ DOROTHEA, _a Headsman before her; followed by_ THEOPHILUS, SAPRITIUS, _and_ HARPAX.

See, she comes; How sweet her innocence appears! more like To heaven itself, than any sacrifice That can be offer'd to it. By my hopes Of joys hereafter, the sight makes me doubtful In my belief; nor can I think our gods Are good, or to be served, that take delight In offerings of this kind: that, to maintain Their power, deface the master-piece of nature, Which they themselves come short of. She ascends, And every step raises her nearer heaven.

_Sap._ You are to blame To let him come abroad.

_Mac._ It was his will; And we were left to serve him, not command him.

_Anton._ Good sir, be not offended; nor deny My last of pleasures in this happy object, That I shall e'er be blest with.

_Theoph._ Now, proud contemner Of us, and of our gods, tremble to think, It is not in the Power thou serv'st to save thee. Not all the riches of the sea, increased By violent shipwrecks, nor the unsearch'd mines, (Mammon's unknown exchequer), shall redeem thee: And, therefore, having first with horror weigh'd What 'tis to die, and to die young; to part with All pleasures and delights; lastly, to go Where all antipathies to comfort dwell, Furies behind, about thee, and before thee; And, to add to affliction, the remembrance Of the Elysian joys thou might'st have tasted, Hadst thou not turn'd apostata[49] to those gods That so reward their servants; let despair Prevent the hangman's sword, and on this scaffold Make thy first entrance into hell.

_Anton._ She smiles, Unmoved, by Mars! as if she were assured Death, looking on her constancy, would forget The use of his inevitable hand.

_Theoph._ Derided too! despatch, I say.

_Dor._ Thou fool! That gloriest in having power to ravish A trifle from me I am weary of, What is this life to me? not worth a thought; Or, if it be esteem'd, 'tis that I lose it To win a better: even thy malice serves To me but as a ladder to mount up To such a height of happiness, where I shall Look down with scorn on thee, and on the world; Where, circled with true pleasures, placed above The reach of death or time, 'twill be my glory To think at what an easy price I bought it. There's a perpetual spring, perpetual youth: No joint-benumbing cold, or scorching heat, Famine, nor age, have any being there. Forget, for shame, your Tempe; bury in Oblivion your feign'd Hesperian orchards:-- The golden fruit, kept by the watchful dragon, Which did require a Hercules to get[50] it, Compared with what grows in all plenty there, Deserves not to be named. The Power I serve Laughs at your happy Araby, or the Elysian shades; for he hath made his bowers Better in deed, than you can fancy yours.

_Anton._ O, take me thither with you!

_Dor._ Trace my steps, And be assured you shall.

_Sap._ With my own hands I'll rather stop that little breath is left thee, And rob thy killing fever.

_Theoph._ By no means; Let him go with her: do, seduced young man, And wait upon thy saint in death; do, do: And, when you come to that imagined place, That place of all delights--pray you, observe me, And meet those cursed things I once call'd Daughters, Whom I have sent as harbingers before you; If there be any truth in your religion, In thankfulness to me, that with care hasten Your journey thither, pray you send me some Small pittance of that curious fruit you boast of.

_Anton._ Grant that I may go with her, and I will.

_Sap._ Wilt thou in thy last minute damn thyself?

_Theoph._ The gates to hell are open.

_Dor._ Know, thou tyrant, Thou agent for the devil, thy great master, Though thou art most unworthy to taste of it, I can, and will.

_Enter_ ANGELO, _in the Angel's habit_[51].

_Harp._ Oh! mountains fall upon me, Or hide me in the bottom of the deep, Where light may never find me!

_Theoph._ What's the matter?

_Sap._ This is prodigious, and confirms her witchcraft.

_Theoph._ Harpax, my Harpax, speak!

_Harp._ I dare not stay: Should I but hear her once more, I were lost. Some whirlwind snatch me from this cursed place, To which compared, (and with what now I suffer,) Hell's torments are sweet slumbers! [_Exit._

_Sap._ Follow him.

_Theoph._ He is distracted, and I must not lose him. Thy charms upon my servant, cursed witch, Give thee a short reprieve. Let her not die, Till my return. [_Exeunt_ SAP. _and_ THEOPH.

_Anton._ She minds him not; what object Is her eye fix'd on?

_Mac._ I see nothing.

_Anton._ Mark her.

_Dor._ Thou glorious minister of the Power I serve! (For thou art more than mortal,) is 't for me, Poor sinner, thou art pleased awhile to leave Thy heavenly habitation, and vouchsafest, Though glorified, to take my servant's habit?-- For, put off thy divinity, so look'd My lovely Angelo.

_Ang._ Know, I am the same; And still the servant to your piety. Your zealous prayers and pious deeds first won me (But 'twas by His command to whom you sent them) To guide your steps. I tried your charity, When in a beggar's shape you took me up, And clothed my naked limbs, and after fed, As you believed, my famish'd mouth. Learn all, By your example, to look on the poor With gentle eyes! for in such habits, often, Angels desire an alms[52]. I never left you, Nor will I now; for I am sent to carry Your pure and innocent soul to joys eternal, Your martyrdom once suffer'd; and before it, Ask any thing from me, and rest assured, You shall obtain it.

_Dor._ I am largely paid For all my torments. Since I find such grace, Grant that the love of this young man to me, In which he languisheth to death, may be Changed to the love of heaven.

_Ang._ I will perform it; And in that instant when the sword sets free Your happy soul, his shall have liberty. Is there aught else?

_Dor._ For proof that I forgive My persecutor, who in scorn desired To taste of that most sacred fruit I go to; After my death, as sent from me, be pleased To give him of it.

_Ang._ Willingly, dear mistress.

_Mac._ I am amazed.

_Anton._ I feel a holy fire, That yields a comfortable heat within me; I am quite alter'd from the thing I was. See! I can stand, and go alone; thus kneel To heavenly Dorothea, touch her hand With a religious kiss. [_Kneels._

_Re-enter_ SAPRITIUS _and_ THEOPHILUS.

_Sap._ He is well now, But will not be drawn back.

_Theoph._ It matters not, We can discharge this work without his help. But see your son.

_Sap._ Villain!

_Anton._ Sir, I beseech you, Being so near our ends, divorce us not.

_Theoph._ I'll quickly make a separation of them: Hast thou aught else to say?

_Dor._ Nothing, but to blame Thy tardiness in sending me to rest; My peace is made with heaven, to which my soul Begins to take her flight: strike, O! strike quickly; And, though you are unmoved to see my death, Hereafter, when my story shall be read, As they were present now, the hearers shall Say this of Dorothea, with wet eyes, "She lived a virgin, and a virgin dies." [_Her head is struck off._

_Anton._ O, take my soul along, to wait on thine!

_Mac._ Your son sinks too. [_Antoninus falls._

_Sap._ Already dead!

_Theoph._ Die all That are, or favour this accursed sect: I triumph in their ends, and will raise up A hill of their dead carcasses, to o'erlook The Pyrenean hills, but I'll root out These superstitious fools, and leave the world No name of Christian. [_Loud music: Exit_ ANGELO, _having first laid his hand upon the mouths of_ ANTON. _and_ DOR.

_Sap._ Ha! heavenly music!

_Mac._ 'Tis in the air.

_Theoph._ Illusions of the devil, Wrought by some witch of her religion, That fain would make her death a miracle; It frights not me. Because he is your son, Let him have burial; but let her body Be cast forth with contempt in some highway, And be to vultures and to dogs a prey. [_Exeunt._

THEOPHILUS _discovered sitting in his Study: books about him_[53].

_Theoph._ Is 't holiday, O Cæsar, that thy servant, Thy provost, to see execution done On these base Christians in Cæsarea, Should now want work? Sleep these idolaters, That none are stirring?--As a curious painter, When he has made some honourable piece, Stands off, and with a searching eye examines Each colour, how 'tis sweeten'd; and then hugs Himself for his rare workmanship--so here, Will I my drolleries, and bloody landscapes, Long past wrapt up, unfold, to make me merry With shadows, now I want the substances. My muster-book of hell-hounds. Were the Christians, Whose names stand here, alive and arm'd, not Rome Could move upon her hinges. What I've done, Or shall hereafter, is not out of hate To poor tormented wretches[54]; no, I'm carried With violence of zeal, and streams of service I owe our Roman gods. This Christian maid was well,

_Enter_ ANGELO _with a basket filled with fruit and flowers_.

A pretty one; but let such horror follow The next I feed with torments, that when Rome Shall hear it, her foundation at the sound May feel an earthquake. How now? [_Music._

_Ang._ Are you amazed, sir? So great a Roman spirit--and doth it tremble!

_Theoph._ How cam'st thou in? to whom thy business?

_Ang._ To you: I had a mistress, late sent hence by you Upon a bloody errand; you entreated, That, when she came into that blessed garden Whither she knew she went, and where, now happy, She feeds upon all joy, she would send to you Some of that garden fruit and flowers; which here, To have her promise saved, are brought by me.

_Theoph._ Cannot I see this garden?

_Ang._ Yes, if the master Will give you entrance. [_He vanishes._

_Theoph._ 'Tis a tempting fruit, And the most bright-cheek'd child I ever view'd; Sweet smelling, goodly fruit. What flowers are these? In Dioclesian's gardens, the most beauteous, Compared with these, are weeds: is it not February, The second day she died? frost, ice, and snow, Hang on the beard of winter: where's the sun That gilds this summer? pretty, sweet boy, say, In what country shall a man find this garden?-- My delicate boy,--gone! vanish'd! within there, Julianus! Geta!--

_Enter_ JULIANUS _and_ GETA.

_Both._ My lord.

_Theoph._ Are my gates shut?

_Geta._ And guarded.

_Theoph._ Saw you not A boy?

_Jul._ Where?

_Theoph._ Here he enter'd; a young lad; A thousand blessings danced upon his eyes: A smoothfaced, glorious thing, that brought this basket.

_Geta._ No, sir!

_Theoph._ Away--but be in reach, if my voice calls you. [_Exeunt_ JUL. _and_ GETA. No!--vanish'd, and not seen!--Be thou a spirit, Sent from that witch to mock me, I am sure This is essential, and, howe'er it grows, Will taste it. [_Eats of the fruit._

_Harp._ [_within._] Ha, ha, ha, ha!

_Theoph._ So good I'll have some more, sure.

_Harp._ Ha, ha, ha, ha! great liquorish fool!

_Theoph._ What art thou?

_Harp._ A fisherman.

_Theoph._ What dost thou catch?

_Harp._ Souls, souls; a fish call'd souls.

_Theoph._ Geta!

_Re-enter_ GETA.

_Geta._ My lord.

_Harp._ [_within._] Ha, ha, ha, ha!

_Theoph._ What insolent slave is this, dares laugh at me? Or what is 't the dog grins at so?

_Geta._ I neither know, my lord, at what, nor whom; for there is none without, but my fellow Julianus, and he is making a garland for Jupiter.

_Theoph._ Jupiter! all within me is not well; And yet not sick.

_Harp._ [_within._] Ha, ha, ha, ha!

_Theoph._ What's thy name, slave?

_Harp._ [_at one end of the room._] Go look.

_Geta._ 'Tis Harpax' voice.

_Theoph._ Harpax! go, drag the caitiff to my foot, That I may stamp upon him.

_Harp._ [_at the other end._] Fool, thou liest!

_Geta._ He's yonder, now, my lord.

_Theoph._ Watch thou that end, Whilst I make good this.

_Harp._ [_in the middle._] Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!

_Theoph._ Search for him. [_Exit_ GETA.] All this ground, methinks, is bloody, And paved with thousands of those Christians' eyes Whom I have tortured; and they stare upon me. What was this apparition? sure it had A shape angelical. Mine eyes, though dazzled, And daunted at first sight, tell me, it wore A pair of glorious wings; yes, they were wings; And hence he flew:----'tis vanish'd! Jupiter, For all my sacrifices done to him, Never once gave me smile.--How can stone smile? Or wooden image laugh? [_music._] Ha! I remember, Such music gave a welcome to mine ear, When the fair youth came to me:--'tis in the air, Or from some better place; a Power divine, Through my dark ignorance, on my soul does shine, And makes me see a conscience all stain'd o'er, Nay, drown'd and damn'd for ever in Christian gore.

_Harp._ [_within._] Ha, ha, ha!

_Theoph._ Again!--What dainty relish on my tongue This fruit hath left! some angel hath me fed: If so toothful, I will be banqueted. [_Eats again._

_Enter_ HARPAX, _in a fearful shape, fire flashing out of the Study_.

_Harp._ Hold!

_Theoph._ Not for Cæsar.

_Harp._ But for me thou shalt.

_Theoph._ Thou art no twin to him that last was here. Ye Powers, whom my soul bids me reverence, guard me! What art thou?

_Harp._ I am thy master.

_Theoph._ Mine!

_Harp._ And thou my everlasting slave: that Harpax, Who hand in hand hath led thee to thy hell, Am I.

_Theoph._ Avaunt!

_Harp._ I will not; cast thou down That basket with the things in 't, and fetch up What thou hast swallow'd, and then take a drink, Which I shall give thee, and I'm gone.

_Theoph._ My fruit! Does this offend thee? see! [_Eats again._

_Harp._ Spit it to the earth, And tread upon it, or I'll piecemeal tear thee.

_Theoph._ Art thou with this affrighted? see, here's more. [_Pulls out a handful of flowers._

_Harp._ Fling them away, I'll take thee else, and hang thee In a contorted chain of icicles, In the frigid zone: down with them!

_Theoph._ At the bottom One thing I found not yet. See! [_Holds up a cross of flowers._

_Harp._ Oh! I am tortured.

_Theoph._ Can this do 't? hence, thou fiend infernal, hence!

_Harp._ Clasp Jupiter's image, and away with that.

_Theoph._ At thee I'll fling that Jupiter; for, methinks, I serve a better master: he now checks me For murdering my two daughters, put on[55] by thee. By thy damn'd rhetoric did I hunt the life Of Dorothea, the holy virgin-martyr. She is not angry with the axe, nor me, But sends these presents to me; and I'll travel O'er worlds to find her, and from her white hand Beg a forgiveness.

_Harp._ No; I'll bind thee here.

_Theoph._ I serve a strength above thine; this small weapon[56], Methinks, is armour hard enough.

_Harp._ Keep from me. [_Sinks a little._

_Theoph._ Art posting to thy centre? down, hell-hound! down! Me thou hast lost. That arm, which hurls thee hence, [_Harpax disappears._ Save me, and set me up, the strong defence In the fair Christian quarrel!

_Enter_ ANGELO.

_Ang._ Fix thy foot there, Nor be thou shaken with a Cæsar's voice, Though thousand deaths were in it; and I then Will bring thee to a river, that shall wash Thy bloody hands clean and more white than snow; And to that garden where these blest things grow, And to that martyr'd virgin, who hath sent That heavenly token to thee: spread this brave wing, And serve, than Cæsar, a far greater king. [_Exit._

_Theoph._ It is, it is, some angel. Vanish'd again! Oh, come back, ravishing boy! bright messenger! Thou hast, by these mine eyes fix'd on thy beauty, Illumined all my soul. Now look I back On my black tyrannies, which, as they did Outdare the bloodiest, thou, blest spirit, that lead'st me, Teach me what I must do, and, to do well, That my last act the best may parallel[57]. [_Exit._

FOOTNOTES:

[47] Speaking of the remainder of this act, Gifford says, "there may be (and probably are) finer passages in our dramatic poets, but I am not acquainted with them."

[48] Mac. _Strange affection! Cupid once more hath changed his shafts with Death, And kills, instead of giving life._] This is a beautiful allusion to a little poem among the _Elegies_ of Secundus. Cupid and Death unite in the destruction of a lover, and in endeavouring to recover their weapons from the body of the victim, commit a mutual mistake, each plucking out the "shafts" of the other. The consequences of this are prettily described:

_Missa peregrinis sparguntur vulnera nervis, Et manus ignoto sævit utrinque malo. Irrita Mors arcus validi molimina damnat, Plorat Amor teneras tam valuisse manus; Foedabant juvenes primus in pulvere malas Oscula quas, heu, ad blanda vocabat Amor. Canicies vernis florebat multa corollis Persephone crinem vulserat unde sibi. Quid facerent? falsas procul abjecere sagittas, De pharetra jaculum prompsit uterque novum. Res bona! sed virus pueri penetravit in arcum; Ex illo miseros tot dedit ille neci._ Lib. ii. Eleg. 6.

The fable, however, is very ancient.--GIFFORD.

[49] _Apostata._] Our old writers usually said, _apostata, statua_, &c. where we now say, _apostate, statue_.

[50] _Which did require a Hercules to get it._] This beautiful description of Elysium, as Mr. Gilchrist observes to me, has been imitated by Nabbes, in that very poetic rhapsody, _Microcosmus_: some of the lines may be given:

"Cold there compels no use of rugged furs, Nor makes the mountains barren; there's no dog To rage, and scorch the land. Spring's always there, And paints the valleys; whilst a temperate air Sweeps their embroider'd face with his curl'd gales, And breathes perfumes:--there night doth never spread Her ebon wings: but daylight's always there, And one blest season crowns the eternal year." GIFFORD.

[51] _Enter_ ANGELO, _in the Angel's_ habit, &c.] It appears that Angelo was not meant to be seen or heard by any of the people present, but Dorothea. In the inventory of the Lord Admiral's properties, given by Mr. Malone, is, "a roobe for to goe invisibell." It was probably of a light gauzy texture, and afforded a sufficient hint to our ancestors, not to see the person invested with it; or rather, to understand that some of the characters on the stage were not to see him.--GIFFORD.

[52] ------------_Learn all, By your example_, &c.] "Be not forgetful to entertain strangers; for thereby some have entertained angels unawares." Heb. c. xiii. v. 2. Here is also a beautiful allusion to the parting speech of the "sociable archangel," to Tobit and his son.--GIFFORD.

[53] The whole of this scene Gifford ascribes to Decker.

[54] ------------_is not out of hate To poor tormented wretches_, &c.] This is said to distinguish his character from that of Sapritius, whose zeal is influenced by motives of interest, and by many other considerations, which appear to weigh nothing with Theophilus.--GIFFORD.

[55] _Put on_,] i. e. _instigated_.

[56] ----_this small weapon._] Meaning the "cross of flowers," which he had just found. The language and ideas of this play are purely catholic.--GIFFORD.

[57] _That my last act the best may parallel._] Thus far Decker; what follows, I apprehend, was written by Massinger. In pathos, strength, and harmony, it is not surpassed by any passage of equal length in the English language.--GIFFORD.