_Por._ Refused it!--like a miser, midst his store, Who grasps and grasps, till he can hold no more; And when his strength is wanting to his mind, Looks back, and sighs on what he left behind. _Val._ No, I resume that heart thou didst possess; My father shall my injuries redress: With me thou losest his imperial crown, And speedy death attends upon his frown. _Por._ You may revenge your wrongs a nobler way; Command my death, and I will soon obey. _Val._ No, live! for, on thy life my cure depends: In debtors' deaths all obligation ends: 'Twill be some ease ungrateful thee to call; And, bankrupt-like, say, trusting him lost all. _Por._ Upbraided thus, what generous man would live! But fortune will revenge what you forgive. When I refuse, (as in few hours I must) This offered grace, your father will be just. _Val._ Be just! say rather he will cruel prove, To kill that only person I can love. Yet so it is!---- Your interest in the army is so high, That he must make you his, or you must die. It is resolved! whoe'er my rival be, [_Aside, after a pause._ I'll show that I deserve him more than she; And if, at last, he does ungrateful prove, My constancy itself rewards my love. [_Exit._ _Por._ She's gone, and, gazing round about, I see Nothing but death, or glorious misery; Here empire stands, if I could love displace; There, hopeless love, with more imperial grace; Thus, as a sinking hero, compassed round. Beckons his bravest foe for his last wound, And him into his part of fame does call, I'll turn my face to love, and there I'll fall. _To him_ BERENICE, _and_ EROTION. _Ber._ I come, Porphyrius, to congratulate This happy change of your exalted fate: You to the empire are, I hear, designed; And fair Valeria must the alliance bind. _Por._ Would heaven had my succession so decreed, That I in all might Maximin succeed! He offers me the imperial crown, 'tis true: I would succeed him, but it is in you. _Ber._ In me! I never did accept your love: But you, I see, would handsomely remove; And I can give you leave, without a frown: I always thought you merited a crown. _Por._ I never sought that crown but on your brow; But you with such indifference would allow My change, that you have killed me with that breath; I feel your scorn cold as the hand of death. _Ber._ You'll come to life in your Valeria's arms. 'Tis true, I cannot boast of equal charms; Or, if I could, I never did admit Your love to me, but only suffered it. I am a wife, and can make no return; And 'twere but vain in hopeless fires to burn.