_Max._ It shall; and fifty doctors of our laws Be added to you, to maintain the cause. _Enter_ BERENICE, _the Empress_; VALERIA, _daughter to the Emperor, and_ EROTION. _Plac._ The empress and your daughter, sir, are here. _Por._ What dangers in those charming eyes appear! [_Looking on the Empress._ How my old wounds are opened at this view, And in my murderer's presence bleed anew! _Max._ I did expect your coming, to partake [_To the Ladies._ The general gladness which my triumphs make. You did Porphyrius as a courtier know; But as a conqueror behold him now. _Ber._ You know (I read it in your blushing face), [_To_ POR. To merit, better than receive a grace: And I know better silently to own, Than with vain words to pay your service done. _Por._ Princes, like gods, reward ere we deserve; [_Kneeling to kiss her hand._ And pay us, in permitting us to serve. O might I still grow here, and never move! [_Lower._ _Ber._ How dangerous are these ecstacies of love! He shews his passion to a thousand eyes; He cannot stir, nor can I bid him rise. That word my heart refuses to my tongue! [_Aside._ _Max._ Madam, you let the general kneel too long. _Por._ Too long! as if eternity were so. [_Aside._ _Ber._ Rise, good Porphyrius--since it must be so. [_Aside._ _Por._ Like hermits from a vision I retire, [_Rising._ With eyes too weak to see what I admire. [_Aside._ _Val._ The empress knows your worth; but, sir, there be [_To_ PORPHYRIUS, _who kisses her hand_. Those who can value it as high as she. And 'tis but just (since in my father's cause You fought) your valour should have my applause. _Plac._ O jealousy, how art thou eagle-eyed! She loves; and would her love in praises hide: How am I bound this rival to pursue, Who ravishes my love and fortune too! [_Aside._ [_A dead march within, and trumpets._ _Max._ Somewhat of mournful, sure, my ears does wound; Like the hoarse murmurs of a trumpet's sound, And drums unbraced, with soldiers' broken cries. _Enter_ ALBINUS. Albinus, whence proceeds this dismal noise? _Alb._ Too soon you'll know what I want words to tell. _Max._ How fares my son? Is my Charinus well? Not answer me! Oh my prophetic fear!