Chapter V: Act III: Scene I

_A Room in_ DOROTHEA'_s House_.

_Enter_ SAPRITIUS, THEOPHILUS, _Priest_, CALISTA, _and_ CHRISTETA.

_Sap._ Sick to the death, I fear.

_Theoph_. I meet your sorrow,
With my true feeling of it.

_Sap._ She's a witch,
A sorceress, Theophilus; my son
Is charm'd by her enchanting eyes; and, like
An image made of wax, her beams of beauty
Melt him to nothing: all my hopes in him,
And all his gotten honours, find their grave
In his strange dotage on her. Would, when first
He saw and loved her, that the earth had open'd,
And swallow'd both alive!

_Theoph._ There's hope left yet.

_Sap._ Not any: though the princess were appeased,
All title in her love surrender'd up;
Yet this coy Christian is so transported
With her religion, that unless my son
(But let him perish first!) drink the same potion,
And be of her belief, she'll not vouchsafe
To be his lawful wife.

_Priest._ But, once removed
From her opinion, as I rest assured
The reasons of these holy maids will win her,
You'll find her tractable to any thing,
For your content or his.

_Theoph._ If she refuse it,
The Stygian damps, breeding infectious airs,
The mandrake's shrieks, the basilisk's killing eye,
The dreadful lightning that does crush the bones,
And never singe the skin, shall not appear
Less fatal to her, than my zeal made hot
With love unto my gods. I have deferr'd it,
In hopes to draw back this apostata,
Which will be greater honour than her death,
Unto her father's faith; and, to that end,
Have brought my daughters hither.

_Cal._ And we doubt not
To do what you desire.

_Sap._ Let her be sent for.
Prosper in your good work; and were I not
To attend the princess, I would see and hear
How you succeed.

_Theoph._ I am commanded too,
I'll bear you company.

_Sap._ Give them your ring,
To lead her as in triumph, if they win her,
Before her highness. [_Exit._

_Theoph._ Spare no promises,
Persuasions, or threats, I do conjure you:
If you prevail, 'tis the most glorious work
You ever undertook.

_Enter_ DOROTHEA _and_ ANGELO.

_Priest._ She comes.

_Theoph._ We leave you;
Be constant, and be careful.
[_Exeunt_ THEOPH. _and Priest_.

_Cal._ We are sorry
To meet you under guard.

_Dor._ But I more grieved
You are at liberty. So well I love you,
That I could wish, for such a cause as mine,
You were my fellow-prisoners: Prithee, Angelo,
Reach us some chairs. Please you sit----

_Cal._ We thank you:
Our visit is for love, love to your safety.

_Christ._ Our conference must be private; pray you, therefore,
Command your boy to leave us.

_Dor._ You may trust him
With any secret that concerns my life;
Falsehood and he are strangers: had you, ladies,
Been bless'd with such a servant, you had never
Forsook that way, your journey even half ended,
That leads to joys eternal. In the place
Of loose lascivious mirth, he would have stirr'd you
To holy meditations; and so far
He is from flattery, that he would have told you,
Your pride being at the height, how miserable
And wretched things you were, that, for an hour
Of pleasure here, have made a desperate sale
Of all your right in happiness hereafter.
He must not leave me; without him I fall:
In this life he's my servant, in the other
A wish'd companion.

_Ang._ 'Tis not in the devil,
Nor all his wicked arts, to shake such goodness.

_Dor._ But you were speaking, lady.

_Cal._ As a friend
And lover of your safety, and I pray you
So to receive it; and, if you remember
How near in love our parents were, that we,
Even from the cradle, were brought up together,
Our amity increasing with our years,
We cannot stand suspected.

_Dor._ To the purpose.

_Cal._ We come, then, as good angels, Dorothea,
To make you happy; and the means so easy,
That, be not you an enemy to yourself,
Already you enjoy it.

_Christ._ Look on us,
Ruin'd as you are, once, and brought unto it,
By your persuasion.

_Cal._ But what follow'd, lady?
Leaving those blessings which our gods gave freely,
And shower'd upon us with a prodigal hand,
As to be noble born, youth, beauty, wealth,
And the free use of these without control,
Check, curb, or stop, such is our law's indulgence!
All happiness forsook us; bonds and fetters,
For amorous twines; the rack and hangman's whips,
In place of choice delights; our parents' curses
Instead of blessings; scorn, neglect, contempt,
Fell thick upon us.

_Christ._ This consider'd wisely,
We made a fair retreat; and reconciled
To our forsaken gods, we live again
In all prosperity.

_Cal._ By our example,
Bequeathing misery to such as love it,
Learn to be happy. The Christian yoke's too heavy
For such a dainty neck; it was framed rather
To be the shrine of Venus, or a pillar,
More precious than crystal, to support
Our Cupid's image: our religion, lady,
Is but a varied pleasure; yours a toil
Slaves would shrink under.

_Dor._ Have you not cloven feet? are you not devils?
Dare any say so much, or dare I hear it
Without a virtuous and religious anger?
Now to put on a virgin modesty,
Or maiden silence, when His power is question'd
That is omnipotent, were a greater crime,
Than in a bad cause to be impudent.
Your gods! your temples! brothel-houses rather,
Or wicked actions of the worst of men,
Pursued and practised. Your religious rites!
Oh! call them rather juggling mysteries,
The baits and nets of hell: your souls the prey
For which the devil angles; your false pleasures
A steep descent, by which you headlong fall
Into eternal torments.

_Cal._ Do not tempt
Our powerful gods.

_Dor._ Which of your powerful gods?
Your gold, your silver, brass, or wooden ones,
That can nor do me hurt, nor protect you?
Most pitied women! will you sacrifice
To such,--or call them gods or goddesses,
Your parents would disdain to be the same,
Or you yourselves? O blinded ignorance!
Tell me, Calista, by thy truth, I charge you,
Or any thing you hold more dear, would you,
To have him deified to posterity,
Desire your father an adulterer,
A ravisher, almost a parricide,
A vile incestuous wretch?

_Cal._ That, piety
And duty answer for me.

_Dor._ Or you, Christeta,
To be hereafter register'd a goddess,
Give your chaste body up to the embraces
Of wicked passion? have it writ on your forehead,
"This is the mistress in the art of sin.
Knows every trick, and labyrinth of desires
That are immodest?"

_Christ._ You judge better of me,
Or my affection is ill placed on you.
Shall I turn wanton?

_Dor._ No, I think you would not.
Yet, such was Venus, whom you worship; such
Flora, the foundress of the public stews,
And has, for that, her sacrifice; your Jupiter,
A loose adulterer:--read ye but those
That have canonized them, you'll find them worse
Than, in chaste language, I can speak them to you.
Are they immortal, then, that did partake
Of human weakness, and had ample share
In men's most base affections; subject to
Unchaste loves, anger, bondage, wounds, as men are?
Here, Jupiter, to serve his lust, turn'd bull,
The shape, indeed, in which he stole Europa;
Neptune, for gain, builds up the walls of Troy,
As a day-labourer; Apollo keeps
Admetus' sheep for bread; the Lemnian smith
Sweats at the forge for hire; Prometheus here,
With his still-growing liver, feeds the vulture;
Saturn bound fast in hell with adamant chains;
And thousands more, on whom abused error
Bestows a deity. Will you then, dear sisters,
For I would have you such, pay your devotions
To things of less power than yourselves?

_Cal._ We worship
Their good deeds in their images.

_Dor._ By whom fashion'd?
By sinful men. I'll tell you a short tale[44],
Nor can you but confess it is a true one:
A king of Egypt, being to erect
The image of Osiris, whom they honour,
Took from the matrons' necks the richest jewels,
And purest gold, as the materials
To finish up his work; which perfected,
With all solemnity he set it up,
To be adored, and served himself his idol;
Desiring it to give him victory
Against his enemies: but, being overthrown,
Enraged against his god, (these are fine gods,
Subject to human fury!) he took down
The senseless thing, and melting it again,
He made a bason, in which eunuchs wash'd
His concubine's feet; and for this sordid use,
Some months it served: his mistress proving false,
As most indeed do so, and grace concluded
Between him and the priests, of the same bason
He made his god again!--Think, think, of this,
And then consider, if all worldly honours,
Or pleasures that do leave sharp stings behind them,
Have power to win such as have reasonable souls,
To put their trust in dross.

_Cal._ Oh, that I had been born
Without a father!

_Christ._ Piety to him
Hath ruin'd us for ever.

_Dor._ Think not so;
You may repair all yet: the attribute
That speaks his Godhead most, is merciful:
Revenge is proper to the fiends you worship,
Yet cannot strike without his leave.--You weep,--
Oh, 'tis a heavenly shower! celestial balm
To cure your wounded conscience! let it fall,
Fall thick upon it; and, when that is spent,
I'll help it with another of my tears:
And may your true repentance prove the child
Of my true sorrow, never mother had
A birth so happy!

_Cal._ We are caught ourselves,
That came to take you; and, assured of conquest,
We are your captives.

_Dor._ And in that you triumph:
Your victory had been eternal loss,
And this your loss immortal gain. Fix here,
And you shall feel yourselves inwardly arm'd
'Gainst tortures, death, and hell:--but, take heed, sisters,
That, or through weakness, threats, or mild persuasions,
Though of a father, you fall not into
A second and a worse apostasy.

_Cal._ Never, oh never! steel'd by your example,
We dare the worst of tyranny.

_Christ._ Here's our warrant,
You shall along and witness it.

_Dor._ Be confirm'd then;
And rest assured, the more you suffer here,
The more your glory, you to heaven more dear.
[_Exeunt._

FOOTNOTE:

[44] ----_I'll tell you a_ short tale, &c.] I once thought that I had
read this _short tale_ in Arnobius, from whom, and from Augustin,
much of the preceding speech is taken; but, upon looking him over
again, I can scarcely find a trace of it. Herodotus has, indeed,
a story of a king of Egypt (Amasis), which bears a distant
resemblance to it; but the application is altogether
different:--there is a _bason of gold_ in which he and his guests
were accustomed to spit, _wash their feet_, &c. which is formed
_into a god_; but whether this furnished the poet with any hints I
cannot undertake to say.--GIFFORD.

SCENE II.

_The_ GOVERNOR'S _Palace_.

_Enter_ ARTEMIA, SAPRITIUS, THEOPHILUS, _and_ HARPAX.

_Artem._ Sapritius, though your son deserve no pity,
We grieve his sickness: his contempt of us
We cast behind us, and look back upon
His service done to Cæsar, that weighs down
Our just displeasure. If his malady
Have growth from his restraint, or that you think
His liberty can cure him, let him have it:
Say, we forgive him freely.

_Sap._ Your grace binds us
Ever your humblest vassals.

_Artem._ Use all means
For his recovery; though yet I love him,
I will not force affection. If the Christian,
Whose beauty hath out-rivall'd me, be won
To be of our belief, then let him wed her;
That all may know, when the cause wills, I can
Command my own affections.

_Theoph._ Be happy then,
My lord Sapritius: I am confident,
Such eloquence and sweet persuasion dwell
Upon my daughters' tongues, that they will work her
To any thing they please.

_Sap._ I wish they may!
Yet 'tis no easy task to undertake,
To alter a perverse and obstinate woman.
[_A shout within: loud music._

_Artem._ What means this shout?

_Sap._ It is seconded with music,
Triumphant music.--Ha!

_Enter_ SEMPRONIUS.

_Semp._ My lord, your daughters,
The pillars of our faith[45], having converted,
For so report gives out, the Christian lady,
The image of great Jupiter born before them,
Sue for access.

_Theoph._ My soul divined as much.
Blest be the time when first they saw this light!
Their mother, when she bore them to support
My feeble age, fill'd not my longing heart
With so much joy, as they in this good work
Have thrown upon me.

_Enter priest with the Image of Jupiter, incense and censers: followed by_ CALISTA _and_ CHRISTETA, _leading_ DOROTHEA.

Welcome, oh, thrice welcome,
Daughters, both of my body and my mind!
Let me embrace in you my bliss, my comfort;
And, Dorothea, now more welcome too,
Than if you never had fallen off! I am ravish'd
With the excess of joy:--speak, happy daughters,
The blest event.

_Cal._ We never gain'd so much
By any undertaking.

_Theoph._ O my dear girl,
Our gods reward thee!

_Dor._ Nor was ever time,
On my part, better spent.

_Christ._ We are all now
Of one opinion.

_Theoph._ My best Christeta!
Madam, if ever you did grace to worth,
Vouchsafe your princely hands.

_Artem._ Most willingly----
Do you refuse it?

_Cal._ Let us first deserve it.

_Theoph._ My own child still! here set our god; prepare
The incense quickly: Come, fair Dorothea,
I will myself support you;--now kneel down,
And pay your vows to Jupiter.

_Dor._ I shall do it
Better by their example.

_Theoph._ They shall guide you;
They are familiar with the sacrifice.
Forward, my twins of comfort, and, to teach her,
Make a joint offering.

_Christ._ Thus---- [_they both spit at the image._

_Cal._ And thus---- [_throw it down, and spurn it._

_Harp._ Profane,
And impious! stand you now like a statue?
Are you the champion of the gods? where is
Your holy zeal, your anger?

_Theoph._ I am blasted;
And, as my feet were rooted here, I find
I have no motion; I would I had no sight too!
Or if my eyes can serve to any use,
Give me, thou injured power! a sea of tears,
To expiate this madness in my daughters;
For, being themselves, they would have trembled at
So blasphemous a deed in any other:----
For my sake, hold awhile thy dreadful thunder,
And give me patience to demand a reason
For this accursed act.

_Dor._ 'Twas bravely done.

_Theoph._ Peace, damn'd enchantress, peace!--I should look on you
With eyes made red with fury, and my hand,
That shakes with rage, should much outstrip my tongue,
And seal my vengeance on your hearts;--but nature,
To you that have fallen once, bids me again
To be a father. Oh! how durst you tempt
The anger of great Jove?

_Dor._ Alack, poor Jove!
He is no swaggerer; how still he stands!
He'll take a kick, or any thing.

_Sap._ Stop her mouth.

_Dor._ It is the patient'st godling! do not fear him;
He would not hurt the thief that stole away
Two of his golden locks; indeed he could not:
And still 'tis the same quiet thing.

_Theoph._ Blasphemer!
Ingenious cruelty shall punish this:
Thou art past hope: but for you yet, dear daughters,
Again bewitch'd, the dew of mild forgiveness
May gently fall, provided you deserve it,
With true contrition: be yourselves again;
Sue to the offended deity.

_Christ._ Not to be
The mistress of the earth.

_Cal._ I will not offer
A grain of incense to it, much less kneel,
Nor look on it but with contempt and scorn,
To have a thousand years conferr'd upon me
Of worldly blessings. We profess ourselves
To be, like Dorothea, Christians;
And owe her for that happiness.

_Theoph._ My ears
Receive, in hearing this, all deadly charms,
Powerful to make man wretched.

_Artem._ Are these they
You bragg'd could convert others!

_Sap._ That want strength
To stand themselves!

_Harp._ Your honour is engaged,
The credit of your cause depends upon it;
Something you must do suddenly.

_Theoph._ And I will.

_Harp._ They merit death; but, falling by your hand,
'Twill be recorded for a just revenge,
And holy fury in you.

_Theoph._ Do not blow
The furnace of a wrath thrice hot already;
Ætna is in my breast, wildfire burns here,
Which only blood must quench. Incensed Power!
Which from my infancy I have adored,
Look down with favourable beams upon
The sacrifice, though not allow'd thy priest,
Which I will offer to thee; and be pleased,
My fiery zeal inciting me to act,
To call that justice others may style murder.
Come, you accursed, thus by the hair I drag you
Before this holy altar; thus look on you,
Less pitiful than tigers to their prey:
And thus, with mine own hand, I take that life
Which I gave to you. [_Kills them._

_Dor._ O most cruel butcher!

_Theoph._ My anger ends not here: hell's dreadful porter,
Receive into thy ever-open gates
Their damned souls, and let the Furies' whips
On them alone be wasted; and, when death
Closes these eyes, 'twill be Elysium to me
To hear their shrieks and howlings. Make me, Pluto,
Thy instrument to furnish thee with souls
Of that accursed sect; nor let me fall,
Till my fell vengeance hath consumed them all.
[_Exit, with_ HARPAX.

_Artem._ 'Tis a brave zeal.

_Enter_ ANGELO, _smiling_.

_Dor._ Oh, call him back again,
Call back your hangman! here's one prisoner left
To be the subject of his knife.

_Artem._ Not so;
We are not so near reconciled unto thee;
Thou shalt not perish such an easy way.
Be she your charge, Sapritius, now; and suffer
None to come near her, till we have found out
Some torments worthy of her.

_Ang._ Courage, mistress;
These martyrs but prepare your glorious fate:
You shall exceed them, and not imitate. [_Exeunt._

FOOTNOTE:

[45] _The pillars of our_ faith, &c.] Here, as in many other places,
the language of Christianity and paganism is confounded: _faith_
was always the distinctive term for the former, in opposition to
heathenism.--GIFFORD.