_Alb._ How can I speak, or how, sir, can you hear? Imagine that which you would most deplore, And that, which I would speak, is it, or more. _Max._ Thy mournful message in thy looks I read: Is he (oh that I live to ask it!) dead? _Alb._ Sir-- _Max._ Stay; if thou speak'st that word, thou speak'st thy last: Some God now, if he dares, relate what's past: Say but he's dead, that God shall mortal be. _Alb._ Then, what I dare not speak, look back and see. [CHARINUS _borne in dead by soldiers_. _Max._ See nothing, eyes, henceforth, but death and woe; You've done me the worst office you can do. You've shewn me destiny's preposterous crime; An unripe fate, disclosed ere nature's time. _Plac._ Assuage, great prince, your passion, lest you shew There's somewhat in your soul which fate can bow. _Por._ Fortune should by your greatness be controuled: Arm your great mind, and let her take no hold. _Max._ To tame philosophers teach constancy; There is no farther use of it in me. Gods!--but why name I you! All that was worth a prayer to you is gone;-- I ask not back my virtue, but my son. _Alb._ His too great thirst of fame his ruin brought; Though, sir, beyond all human force he fought. _Plac._ This was my vision of this fatal day! _Alb._ With a fierce haste he led our troops the way, While fiery showers of sulphur on him rained; Nor left he, till the battlements he gained: There with a forest of their darts he strove, And stood, like Capaneus defying Jove; With his broad sword the boldest beating down, While fate grew pale lest he should win the town; And turned the iron leaves of its dark book, To make new dooms, or mend what it mistook; Till, sought by many deaths, he sunk, though late, And by his fall asserted doubtful fate. _Val._ Oh my dear brother! whom heaven let us see, And would not longer suffer him to be! _Max._ And didst not thou a death with honour chuse, [_To_ ALB. But impudently liv'st to bring this news? After his loss how did'st thou dare to breathe? But thy base ghost shall follow him in death. A decimation I will strictly make Of all, who my Charinus did forsake; And of each legion, each centurion Shall die:--Placidius, see my pleasure done. _Por._ Sir, you will lose, by this severity, Your soldiers' hearts. _Max._ Why, they take pay to die. _Por._ Then spare Albinus only. _Max._ I consent To leave his life to be his punishment. Discharged from trust, branded with infamy, Let him live on, till he ask leave to die. _Ber._ Let me petition for him. _Max._ I have said; And will not be intreated, but obeyed. But, empress, whence does your compassion grow? _Ber._ You need not ask it, since my birth you know. The race of Antonines was named the good: I draw my pity from my royal blood.