_Ber._ But was not good in him. You see the Gods adjudged it parricide, By dooming the event on Cæsar's side. 'Tis virtue not to be obliged at all; Or not conspire our benefactor's fall. _Por._ You doom me then to suffer all this ill, And yet I doom myself to love you still. _Ber._ Dare not Porphyrius suffer then with me, Since what for him, I for myself decree? _Por._ How can I bear those griefs you disapprove? _Ber._ To ease them, I'll permit you still to love. _Por._ That will but haste my death, if you think fit Not to reward, but barely to permit. Love without hope does like a torture wound, Which makes me reach in pain, to touch the ground. _Ber._ If hope, then, to your life so needful be, Hope still. _Por._ Blest news! _Ber._ But hope in heaven, not me. _Por._ Love is too noble such deceits to use: Referring me to heaven, your gift I lose. So princes cheaply may our wants supply, When they give that, their treasurers deny. _Ber._ Love blinds my virtue:--If I longer stay It will grow dark, and I shall lose my way. _Por._ One kiss from this fair hand can be no sin;-- ask not that you gave to Maximin. In full reward of all the pains I've past, Give me but one. _Ber._ Then let it be your last. _Por._ 'Tis gone! Like soldiers prodigal of their arrears, One minute spends the pay of many years. Let but one more be added to the sum, And pay at once for all my pains to come. _Ber._ Unthrifts will starve, if we beforehand give: [_Pulling back her hand._ I'll see you shall have just enough to live. _Enter_ EROTION. _Ero._ Madam, the emperor is drawing near; And comes, they say, to seek Porphyrius here. _Ber._ Alas! _Por._ I will not ask what he intends; My life, or death, alone on you depends. _Ber._ I must withdraw; but must not let him know [_Aside._ How hard the precepts of my virtue grow! But whate'er fortune is for me designed, Sweet heaven, be still to brave Porphyrius kind! [_Exit with_ EROTION. _Por._ She's gone unkindly, and refused to cast One glance to feed me for so long a fast. _Enter_ MAXIMIN, PLACIDIUS, _and guards_. _Max._ Porphyrius, since the Gods have ravished one, I come in you to seek another son. Succeed him then in my imperial states; Succeed in all, but his untimely fate. If I adopt you with no better grace, Pardon a father's tears upon my face, And give them to Charinus' memory: May they not prove as ominous to thee! _Por._ With what misfortunes heaven torments me still! Why must I be obliged to one so ill? [_Aside._ _Max._ Those offers which I made you, sir, were such, No private man should need to balance much.