PS /35t> Copy£ • ^t^wWiw, S-w "' '" ? • ■ ^.PSizsA PRESENTED BY . THE Roman Martyrs A TRAGEDY Henry Codman « the Eoman Martyrs A TRAGEDY IN THREE ACTS. HENRY CODMAN. moVlDENCE: S I D N E V 8 . I ; II > I I ; . 1879. 1} & GUt Miss M. C. Codman Marcla 1914 DRAMATIS PERSONS. MEN. Maxextius. An old Patrician; rich, and a Christian. Livius, son of Max. Also a Christian; a young Roman officer. Dkasus. A gay young Roman noble, a Pagan until the closing part of the play. Valerius. A General of the Army, a Pagan, a Patrician, and betrothed to Paulina. Pollio. High Priest of Jupiter; a favorite of Nero. Froxto. An Assistant Priest of Jupiter. Four male servants of Max. Steward of Art. Two Jailers. Other priests and soothsayers. Praefect of Rome and a troop of soldiers, etc , etc. WOMEN. Paulina. Only daughter of Max. Young, lovely, and a Christian. Axtoxia. Step-mother of Max. An old Roman lady — a bigoted Pagan. Medoka. A young Greek girl — a Pagan ; maid to Paulina. PROVIDENCE ri'.ESS COMPANY, PRINTERS. ROMAN MARTYRS. ACT I.— Scene 1st. [Interior of the Temple of Jupiter— Pollio kneeling at the Altar. Time, early morning. Pollio rises, comes forward and speaks.] Pol. None here ! — deserted is the Temple now! Time was, I well remember, e'en at this early hour these courts were thronged by adoring crowds ! And, now — now forsooth, so few do come, that the early morning sacrifice to a later hour's delayed ! Shades of my fathers ! 'tis too much! But too well I trace the cause! This vile Nazarine faith ! Methinks that fearful headway now 'tis making ! Gods of Olympus ! from thy thrones look down! Call back all wandering hearts ! thy pristine glory now re- vive ! Thunderer ! great Jove ! may my prayers ascend to thee ! (Turns away and kneels at the altar.) Hail ! great King of Gods and men ! deign 6 ROMAN MARTYRS. list thy servant's prayer ! From thine ivory throne bend to hear my cry! Is't Thy will, oh mighty one, thy rites forsaken now shall be \ Disperse the darkness, that as 'twere Night's curtain, hangs around thy will ! — To us the faithful remnant, who, to our ancient creed allegiance still do vow, in pity to our wilder'd minds, and sadly anxious hearts, kind intimation give of what shall now be done, far from Rome's walls to drive this foul taint of heresy ! Father ! hear! blast us not with Thy frown! But oh hear! hear! and answer. (Rises and walks down the centre; is met near the entrance by another and younger priest.) Pol. Ah, Fronto ! dost seek me? Fron. My lord, the hour for sacrifice draws near. Pol. I know it and shameful 'tis that still we have to wait the lingering steps of those who in untold multitudes these courts should tread — at yon altar kneel ! Fron. My lord, they come — a larger band than here have gathered for many a day ; the court are entering now ! And foremost presses A TRAGEDY. one, whose well-known form ne'er long is absent from our holy rites ! — the noble Antonia ! Pol. Ha ! we doubt it not — yet ever faith- ful is she found ! I go to seek her — let the rites await my return ! — where is she, did'st thou say % Fron. My lord, she comes. (Enter Antonia.) Pol. (To Fron.) Leave us! (Exit Fron.) Daughter! the blessing of the gods, be on thee — Ay ! both now and ever ! Ant. And on thee, my lord ! Pol. Lady ! methinks thy voice has slower grown, — thine eye lost its wonted fire! We trust thou hast not sicken'd ! Ant. Honored man, fear not for me ! Still am I well — but my heart has saddend grown. Alas ! on evil days I deem Home 's lighted now Pol. Indeed, thou well may'st say it ! They are dark and evil days — would all, like thee, were true ! (A pause.) 'Mongst the crowd thou hast left, did thine eye note certain akin to thee 1 8 ROMAN MARTYRS. Ant. None! what means my lord? Pol. I grieve to hear it ! a fortnight's time has passed, since here in prayer I've seen thy noble son, Maxentius ! Ant. Ha ! Pol. Nay! I pray thee be not chafed — ill may he not be ? Ant. No ! I would he were ! — he's well. Last eve I saw him ! Olympian gods ! I dread to see a cloud arise ! from thy daughters head avert disgrace ! (A pause.) Ant. to Pol. Thou'st sure, my noble lord, that within this shrine, in the time thou say'st, Maxentius has not been 1 Pol. Too sure — I know it! and (looking steadily on her) I must tell thee all — what's more, his children neither ! Ant. Can it be? — but I recall now — 'tis only three days, my lord, since young Livius, from the bands in Gaul returned — Pol. Ah ! it may be — but the others ! can'st account for them ? Ant. Oh that I could ! This fearful mystery shall be looked into, rest thou sure ! A TRAGEDY. V Pol. Well, thou wilt do thy part ! Antonia, I doubt thee not ! Ant. (Proudly.) Praise to the gods ! thou can'st not ! — thou hast no cause ! Thou never will ! Pol. Admirable woman ! Ant. Call me not thus ! But fitting 'tis I should do all I can, as should the high-born matronage of seven-hill'd Rome, to stem the tide of irreligion, in some — and worse, a thousand- fold, in others, the devotion to this later creed — the Nazarene, that, as a flood, sweeps o'er our far-extended empire! curse it! down with it! The gods of Latium are enough for me ! I seek for — I wish to know — no others ! Pol. Oh did all resemble thee, lady, Rome ne'er had seen this day ! Ant. Pollio ! the honor of the gods, to thee 's committed ! and wilt thou fail them in this lowering day ? Prove thou art what men call thee! Show thyself not in vain Nero's favorite ! Rouse thyself to deeds, not words alone ! Down with the Nazarenes ! Bare thy sinewy arm, and fight for the gods of Rome ! 10 ROMAN MARTYRS. Ay ! fight on ! till thy last sigh 's heaved — thy latest blood-drop yielded up ! Pollio ! I pray thee list my words ! I tell thee did I but know the Immortals wished for sacrifice, this heart (she strikes her heart) with untrembling hand, from my breast I'd tear it, and, bleeding, cast it on their altars ! I would, and gladly ! Pol. (Aside.) Is she a woman? 'the spirit of the Furys breathes in her ev 'ry word ! Ant. Priest of Jupiter, why stand we thus loitering here ? On thy holy duties I should no more intrude. I leave thee, at Juno's shrine to kneel ! (Exit.) Pol. Lady, farewell — so ! she's gone ! What was 't she said ? — " deeds " ? I will do them — his "favorite"! — and "not in vain"! Ay ! I know I am his favorite — would I were something more ! 'tis not enou' to rule the mas- ter of the world ! Methinks this head's bet- ter fitted to wear his crown, than this paltry golden vitta. Ambition ! thou 'rt my god ! (His eye rests on a statue of Jupiter in the distance.) Cold marble ! more of faith I should place on him thou dost represent, if my heart's unutter'd A TRAGEDY. 1 1 prayer should e'er come true ! who knows \ Sway I have o'er many a bosom within our city's walls — and the royal purse I hold! The time may come! (Exit slowly and proudly.) Scene Second. [A room in the palace of Maxentius ; he is alone, and slowly pacing the floor. He Bpeaks.] Max. Yes ! I do see it should and must be done! Theophilus is right — in this, at least. Such near connection — the closest that can be — indeed I feel should ne'er exist 'tween a Chris- tian maiden, and one who incense burns, and vows blasphemous pays to "Rome's thousand Idols ! And if 't should also prove, Theophilus' conjecture true, that him she does not love, her gentle heart full many a pang 'twill spare, the contract to annul ! I have mistrust, as now on it I think, that here also, the good father's rightly judged. (Seats himself.) For recall I 12 ROMAN MARTYRS. cannot, once the time I've seen upon her cheek imprinted, Nature's own sign of girlhood's bash- fulness and timid preference, as at her side he's stood ! But ere to him I write, her I must see. Unwonted work for me — her heart's depths to probe ! With gentlest hand let me endeavor her secret mind to know ! Claps his hand. {Enter a slave.) Deodatus ! pray thee, thy young mis- tress hither call. With her I'd speak. [Exit slave.) Alas! Claudia, wert thou living, this work should be thy suiting task. She died in her young beauty's prime — and me, heart- wea- ried left ! — to rear — ah ! for the giddy round of folly, and the word she thought, the sole sur- viving two, Death's hand to us had spared. Why — why from me was she reft, ere the Truth to her was known 1 parted and forever ! Oh woe untold, and not to be expressed. Eternal ! grant me strength, this weight of woe to bear ! (Clasps his hands, and bows his head upon them.) (Pauline enters and stauds in the doorway.) Pau. (Aside.) In prayer] to heaven is his pure heart lifted I or sad is he % Perchance of his children's changing fortunes, he sadly thinks. A TRAGEDY. 13 Discovery ! well I know it soon must come ! From it I will not shrink ! It can but end in death ! — and then — oh ! then, all will be peace — this heart's tortures will be o'er ! But let me share his every grief, while still I can! (Crosses the room and kneels to her father.) Dear father, art thou sad? Let me cheer thee! shall I sing to thee ; or would'st rather I should read from the holy roll Theophilus to thee did give? Alas ! to Paulina thou wilt not speak ? Has she then lost the power once thou said'st she had, to sooth e'en thy saddest hour \ Max. (Looking up, and kissing her brow ) My child! of thy mother I did think. Pau. (Takes his hand.) Still thou mourncst her? (Aside.) Oh mighty human Love ! (Aloud.) Oh, my parent, canst thou not yet bow an entire submitted heart to the Will Supreme, that call'd her from thee ? .Max. No ! but, my heart's flower, I pray thee, mistake me not ! Tis not so much her death, agony as 'twas, as the full fraught anguish of the thought, that ne'er, not alone on Earth, but in the unseen World, shall we meet again ! 14 ROMAN MARTYRS. Beloved one ! believe Love's pangs are e'en too sweet — while here on Earth we tread — but oh ! never ! never may'st thou know the blended rapture, and desolation 'tis thy heart's treasures forth to pour, on one whom in the Holier sphere thou canst not hope to clasp ! Patj. (Aside.) Oh heaven! Will he break my heart? do I not know it — oh! all too fear- fully ! Max. My child — daughter — speak to me! The dark hour is on me ! with gathering doubts and fears, my soul is sore perplexed ! From thee, oh comfort of my heart, I fain would hear some words of heaven-born trust, and faith ! Bethink thee what thou art ! Young deaconess of a persecuted faith, thou'st stood at many a couch, — and the way thro' the dark valley pointed to the brighter, eternal Land ; and joy- fully embracing Death, with a smile on pallid features, from the way-worn Scenes of Time, have thy listeners hence departed ! Speak to thy father now. Reprove, exhort, as thou would'st one of those children, each noon-tide hour around thy knee, thou gatherest, thy teach- ings meek to hear. A TRAGEDY. 15 Pau. (Abruptly.) Was not my mother to that Claudius sister, who on Baeae's sea-washed coast, that temple to Mars did rear, which insecurely built, soon fell, and in its ruins crush'd three hundred human souls { Max. She was. Pau. Canst tell — oh ! oft I've heard the fearful story ! what did and said he, when to him, news of the slaughter, the sad waste of life, was brought? Max. (Looking clown.) Ah ! why ask me ? He jeer'd ! with shocking laughter, through his banquet-hall, he roared — and said 'twas well they died. The battle-god lov'd blood and death ! Pau. He was of the Claudian line. Skern as thou know'st, and faithful to their Idol-rites have they ever been. Father! it may be, had our mother liv'd, her childhood's creed she had not forsaken — and then — oh horrid! but of it to think ! variance, dissension, might have filled thy home ! Perchance one, or both of us, in her faith she'd have trained. Better, oh ! better far to part — while love, peace, still bound thy hearts! But few things of deeper misery, can I 16 ROMAN MARTYRS. conceive, than two to be united, whose faiths, and therefore hopes and aims, dissimilar, unsuited are ! Max. (Aside.) Thinks she of herself? Strange! how aptly lead her words to that for which I sent, to talk with her ! (Aloud.) Pau- lina ! thou art a Christian. Pau. I strive and pray to be one ! Max. I know thou dost ! (A pause.) Dear one, thou just hast owned that a Christian thou dost wish and supplicate to be — and yet ! thou art betrothed to a Pagan ! Pau. Ah ! Max. Paulina, confide, I beg thee, in thy sole parent's love — canst thou, wilt thou, after what thou hast just said, plight thy hand to him 1 Sweet daughter, pray thee answer me. Dost thou love Valerius \ Pau. No ! but as a brother. Nothing more. Noon advances — shall I go \ (Looks hurriedly around the room.) Max. (Sadly.) Paulina ! you wish to leave me 1 (Aside.) I do wonder she loves him not. A fine person ! distinguished in court and camp ! and to her most devoted ! But her heart to us, A TRAGEDY. 17 and heaven, I trust, is only given! (Aloud.) Rightly did I hear — and so I thought. This day to Valerius I will send — the truth to him must be revealed — but oh! the issue, what it may be. I tremble — dare not look forward ! Ah ! (Sadly smiles.) Paulina ! for thee and thy brother I am a coward ! Pau. Then, my father, do not look onward. For the present, trust — confide in that Provi- dence, who, thro' the air the fleet bird guides aright, the wild bee supplies with food ! Let us trust on ! Max. And hope through all ! Pau. Expect you Livius home this eve % Max. Surely. He talked of bringing home with him, to sup, the young lord, Drusus. Pau. (Aside.) Ah! that name! (Tarns aside and presses her heart.) (Aloud.) Father ! I now must go. I pray thee excuse me. (Exit quickly. ) Max. (Sadly.) What! Too well I see! 'Tis him she loves ! poor girl ! I mark'd the silent agony she vainly tried to hide, as I spoke of parting forever — and but now she press'd 18 ROMAN MARTYRS. her heart, as if its throbs she'd stifle ! Paulina ! Heaven have pity ! [Exit.) Scene Third. [Banquet hall in Maxentius' palace — Paulina, Maxentius, Livius, Valerius, Drusus, are seen, rising from table.] Val. Brightly shines the moon. (To Pau- lina.) Lady, will you not forth with me and taste this balmy evening air \ This golden light is bathing each tree and flower, in hues more soft and tender far, than e'er in Day's rude beam they wear ! (Aside.) Oh ! let high heaven grant, this eve I can reach her heart ! Troubled does she seem. Her wonted look of vestal calm, and statue-like purity, now seems exchanged for a mood more kindred to us grosser mortals ! (Aloud.) Lady, thy answer I await ! (Looks at her father, then says to Valerius :) Pau. Valerius, sir, I will out with you. (They pass through a glass door out into a spacious garden.) A TRAGEDY. 19 Max. (Aside.) Ah ! my heart throbs ! I would that Paulina upon herself had not taken this disclosure ! In vain I pray'd her. ltesolute she was ! Ditu. (Aside.) Well ! what's now to be done % Alike rapt in thought are both my host, and Livius, too! The gloomiest supper, by Pol- lux, I was ever at! Now, hence the only lady of our'number 's gone, there's nothing more to look on ! And, if it had not been of my fair Greek I deem'd a glance I'd get, at the amphi- theatre to-night I would have been. Ill looks the old man; my new-bought tunic would I give, the trouble in this house to know — something is the matter ! (Aloud to Livius.) Pale is the worthy Maxentius ! Liv. (Stepping hastily to his father.) Sir, I fear me thou art ill ! Max. Nay, my son, but I am an old man now, and slight things harass me. I would speak with thee in my library. Lord Drusus will pardon that for a brief while I take thee away. 20 ROMAN MARTYRS. Dru. Oh ! pray you, mention it not. I'll take a garden stroll ! Liv. (To Drusus.) I leave thee, but will soon return. (ExitLivius and his father one way, and Drusus another.) Scene Fourth. [A retired walk in the garden of Maxentius. Faulina seated on a bench — behind her a statue of Venus — Valerius is standing before her.] Val. The hour has come when I must speak — my heart must and shall know all ! Paulina, long to one another have we promised been ; and by our contract's words, thy father's oath, the day, the hour approaches, to make thee all my own. Paulina, speak ! tell me how will that day seem to thee ] Joy will it bring ; the quick, gushing sense of the full content pervading every nerve, of happiness too great to be ex- pressed ; or wilt not rather be, perchance 'tis now, the dull, yet heavy pain ; the deep gnaw- A TRAGEDY. 21 ing at the heart, of an o'er-tasked spirit 1 Dost not thou watch each sun's fresh beam, as't paints the eastern sky ; gaze on the moon's pale spirit-light, with the shuddering horror of the ever-present thought, " nearer and nearer comes my hated bridal I " (Paulina seems about to speak, lie interrupts her and contin- ues speaking slowly, mournfully, changing at last into a tone of passionate feeling.) Lady, thou lov'st me not ! thou canst not say thou dost ! — This hour 's but into certainty ma- tured, the dread of a long sad year ! thy coming bridal to thee is " hated." Oh, I know it fear- fully well ! E'en thy very silence thy veiled heart shows ! Go ! be happy — thy hand I do resign ! ne'er will Valerius his detested love urge on thee more — I would not wish thee in my halls to pine. Valerius seeks not a joyless, loveless bride ; yet think thou not for this I blame thee — never! thou 'st tried — thou canst not love me ! The gods Valerius have not made a woman's love to win ! They smiled' not on my birth ! sole pledge I was, of a union where neither lov'd ! and neither one loved me ! 22 ROMAN MARTYRS. With the first sweet food of infancy, I drew contention in. From all claim I do release thee ; and to Maxentius and the kinsmen few, Time — Death — to me have left, I'll say 'twas / first sought release — thy sire, he shall not chide ! Thou art free ! yet e'er thou goest, I pray thee let me tell how this heart has loved, will love thee, forever ! Naught hut a soldier, rude and unused to woo, not so vain am I, as to deem I can move thy heart ! Born on a field of war, lull'd to mine infant rest, 'mid the noises of a camp, oft' dandled in the arms of steel-clad men ; and (save a few brief years in childhood's glad- some time ; some hurried visits e'er youth had gone, and this last year) nurtured 'mid the thousand scenes of war, methinks most uncul- tured, rude, must I ever seem to thee, oh being, almost divine ! thou, who in this palace-home, wert rear'd most gently, and with fond, unceas- ing love ! From this heart (poor heart !) will never fade the mem'ry of that day, when, dear maiden, first these eyes beheld thee. To this home I first had come, since Maxentius had my guardian been. With all a stripling's pride, my A TRAGEDY. 23 maiden sword I wore. Held in thy nurse's arms, a fair and gentle bud, of but two summers' bloom, with pretty childish terror, thou at my sword unsheathed, did shriek. Hushed sudden- ly thy cries, to me you tried to come ; I took and held thee ; thine arms lock'd round my neck — smiles, tears, contending, mingling with rainbow grace — thy fond and clinging grasp, I felt it all the day ! Thy beauty's dawn pass'd in- to the morning bright, of thy fairest holy child- hood. Each successive visit to thy halls I paid, still found I thee, as ever, gentle, kind ; — thy quiet sports, thy roamings o'er these garden paths, thy sonsjs, e'en the wild and frolic- mirth of Livius, (a gay boy then,) thou would'st leave, with pretty mimickry mine hostess feign thyself, and proffer me, a thoughtful, wearied boy, a draught of wine — oh, 'twas welcome from thy dear hand ! what madness 'twas to dream, to dare to think, thy sister love could ever change to love resembling that I felt for thee ! Years passed away ; — a girl thou wert, Paulina, of years eleven, when by my duties called, I left thee for a long, long journey. When once more 24 ROMAN MARTYRS. on thy face serene I look'd, something me- thought I miss'd, that once was there ; the un- dimm'd joyousness, the child's fresh, unthinking glee was gone fore'er ! on thy brow rested the still shadow of too early womanhood, young maid of fourteen years ! That shade fell on my heart, as, embrowned by three years 'neath the burning sun of Africa, again at thy side I stood, as betrothal vows we utter'd ! The loss of childhood's joy ; was't the only change I mark'd'? Not so ! Oh, Paulina ! why, why did I not then boldly face the truth X Should not thy hand, colder than ice, when held in mine, thine eyes cast down — no longer raised to me with the true welcoming I once read there, have dis- pelled the veil I icould not raise ; whispered the truth, I would not listen, " she loves thee not?" Fool, weak, crazed fool I was ! Alas ! I called it (strove to think it) young, girlish fear ; woman's pride, who, her heart's most sacred feeling, hides the most. To my heart I whis- per'd hope and courage ; said thou would'st learn to love, when my fond, adoring love, by thee was known — that when, by thinking on thy A TRAGEDY. 25 blessed name, I nerved this arm to new deeds of valor, and from thy dear Italy, thy household gods warded off the spoiler's tramp, I should win thy love at last! Cheered by this hope, (sweet while it lasted — oh ! ne'er mays't thou know what 'tis, in agony to know — to feel — the death of Hope ! to know no hope, save that soon death may come !) thy worshipp'd image in my heart I shrined. Thy name, Paulina, 'twas the spell, 'mid battle's din, with tenfold strength, mine arm to nerve, in the thickest rank, to dis- pel the foe, and fight for thee and country ; to keep from scenes of vice, one whose blood, by nature flowed too strong and hot — for thee I wish'd pure to be ! A year in Rome have I now been — thou 'rt still in all, the same four years ago thou wert ! — a twelve-month since I noted — I see it now — if possible a greater coldness. Thine avoidance of my presence — the marble cheek that never reddens at my gaze — thy quiet, cold " Valerius, art thou well ?" and " Fare thee well, my lord," when thee I meet or leave, scarce does it seem to evince e'en a sisters love ! In mercy take not that from my desolate path ! 3 26 ROMAN MARTYRS. Since you cannot love, oh,, hate me not ! Thee will I annoy — oh ! never more ! Let me dream on, that when far away (as soon I shall be — the gods grant never to return !) from thee and Italy's templed cities, and vine-clad, sunny plains, there is yet, of me, kindly thinking, one woman-heart! [He kneels at her feet.) Oh, when years have rolled, .to thee, brightly, swiftly away — and in thy bower thou sitt'st — the Celestials grant, a wife beloved ! — and little ones, — thy children play round thy knee ! oh, think — and genlly, kindly — of one whose bones may then be whitening in some far-distant land — who for thee wished to live ; gladly for thee would die ! We shall not meet again alone — once, ere I leave, in presence of thy household band, a calm, feigned cold farewell to thee I'll utter. Live beloved and happy ! The Immortals hear my prayer, and rain blessings on thy precious head ! Farewell ! and oh ! alas ! forever ! (About to go. Paulina calls him back.) Pau. Valerius, brother, stay ! Val. " Brother !" thou dost not hate me, A TRAGEDY. 27 then ; 'tis much to thank heaven for ! I bless thee ! Pau. Valerius, truly thou hast said 'tis the hour when all must be revealed — it shall ! Friend, believe me thou 'It one day joy I'm not the partner of thy home ! Val. Never! oh, never will that be ! " Joy." Bather 'twill be the one long agony of life ! The dwellers of Olympus bless thee ever ! and if there be a Power, — as in Socratic love we 're taught there is, — and at times I've dreamed there is, — all other gods above, — to Him I pray thy steps to guard, thy heart to cheer, through life, — and in death ! Pau. He will ! Oh, Valerius, trust in — pray to Him alone, — as I do. Val. What, what mean you 1 I'd fain hope thou 'rt jesting ! No, it cannot be ! No smile wreathes thy lip — no laughter sparkles in thine eye! Speak! What fearful meaning do thy words conceal ! Thou dost not, canst not mean, the gods of thy country — Pau. To me are naught but frightful lies ' 28 ROMAN MARTYRS. I kneel at a holier altar, — I worship a purer faith ! Val. I would I were dead ! thou art not — Pau. Tis even so ! One of that despised, widely-scattered band, — the persecuted Naz- arenes ! Val. Oh, prithee hush ! Have pity on thy- self; breathe not this dread secret to the winds of night ! In thine own bosom lock it ! share it with none ; why dids't thou breathe it aloud ? Fearest thou not betrayal 1 Pau. Never from thee ! Val. Lady, 'tis but justice you do me. Pau. Unshrinking would I trust my life in thy hands. Val. Ah ! thanks ; but prithee lower thy voice ! thou 'rt rash ; remember some of thy slaves may o'erhear, and betray thy words ! Pau. I fear it not ! know, Valerius thou 'rt in a Christian household ! They, who duteous wait on us, and nearly all of whom were born this roof beneath, share the same faith with us — ! Val. Is 't possible ! what, all ? A TRAGEDY. 29 Pau. I should have said all, with but one exception ; my woman, Medora — she 's waver- ing, I grieve to say, 'tween the idols of her fair and classic land, and the Holy Truth I would she'd embrace — a Greek she is ! Val. Alas ! what shall — can I say, thy faith to shake \ Pau. Nothing ! Val. Art sure % bethink thee. Dost know that now in these most fearful, bloody days, such torture as thou canst not dream, and oft' e'en death itself awaits all who 'tis found hold the Nazarene faith \ Oh, listen — on the star- gemmed sky thou 'rt gazing, and dost not hear my words ! Pau. Dear friend — true friend — brother of happier days — all this full well I know, and do regard it not ! I am the bride of death ! Fast comes the hour, when part we must, for- ever. Oh, prithee listen now my words. Thou dost well deserve this poor heart should all un- veiled be, before thy pitying gaze ! Thou 'st asked me not to hate. That did I never, and never will, or can ! Thou hast e'er been, and 30 ROMAN MARTYRS. always, e'en in death's last hour, thou shalt be to Paulina, a brother beloved and cherished ! (Aside.) How can I tell my shame ! (Aloud.) Oh, pity ! forgive ! when, yielding to a fond parent's will, a child of but fourteen summers,- 1 plighted thee my hand, scarce knew I the dawning pas- sion that was rising e'en then upon my soul ! Val. What have I lived to hear ! Pau. A bitter cup has been given me to drink ! When, ere that betrothal hour, thou wast in Afric's land, when first thou went, know 'twas my evil hap, another face to see — with baneful gaze upon my girlish path it rose — (wildly) — upon my soul 'twill shine — alas ! until I die! Val. Alas ! all is over ! Pau. Thou say'st true ! all for me is over ! Led by a brother's hand, a stranger youth min- gled in our common sports. The chosen friend of Livius, 'twas natural he should oft' frequent our palace, and that I should meet him. His kindness, unlike the other youths whom Livius knew, to me, a timid girl, first made me think of him. Time passed away, in its flight, each A TRAGEDY. 31 month disclosing a mind so various, a heart so full of moods and fancies strange, I could not choose but think of him. One hour you 'd deem him a pale devotee, vowed in service to the gods — anon with warlike mien and martial step, proudly our halls he'd tread, with crimson'd cheek and flashing e)e, descanting Rome's con- quests on distant fields, vowing, when few more summers o'er his brow had roll'd, a soldier brave he'd be. But the last scion of a noble line, the darling of an aged grandsire's heart, to the army he ne'er was sent — the old man could not bear from him to part — and while in life, he kept him in Rome ! Val. (Aside.) Who is he? I do begin now to conjecture ! Pau. How can I tell you all his fantasies? One hour sullen, his brow darken'd with gloom, — indeed without a cause — shunning all, the grove's darkest path he'd trace — the next at the banquet I've seen him, the life, the joy of all ! One hour the kind, gentle friend, the gifted scholar, the glowing poet of words that made me weep and breathe a purer air, and tread, 3 "2 ROMAN MARTYRS. it seemed, a higher, better life — the next, the young, favor' d gallant, in the saloons of our city's gayest dames ! Unlike to all I had e'er seen, you far away, and unknowing my father's wishes, plans for me, I could not banish, in truth I did not try, from my heart the memory and thought of him who thus, perchance, e'en more for his very faults, was endear'd to me ! Val. (Aside.) Will she ne'er have done? A livino- death is this ! Pau. Child that I was, I knew not — oh ! I dream'd not 'twas love's dawning that I felt ! Could I tell on the volcano's brink I stood — on the lava cover'd pit, that soon — too soon — would ope, to engulph my all of happiness — of peace ! Alas ! I knew it not ! Val. (In a low and broken tone.) And he — he loved thee well, doubtless? Pau. (Dreamily.) Why ask? oh, I know not — once it seemed, — to this hour I cannot tell ! (She falls into thought.) Val. Wilt please thee go on ? Pau. (Starting.) True — I'm tired — oh ! very tired ! A TRAGEDY. 33 Val. (Aside.) And I ! Pau. Time brought, at length, the spring before the summer thou wast expected home. Life's shadow did rest upon rny brow ! But a short time before, l'hebe, — my nurse — dost re- member her? — had died, and dying, did to me con- fide she was a Christian — and her last breath pass'd in begging me her course to follow. In my hand the holy books of the Nazarenes she placed, — implored me them to read, received with joyful tears my promise, and — calmly died ! I read, I thought and pondered much ! began to doubt my father's creed ! Just when my soul was tossed — shaken by these doubts — he sicken'd ; O ! very sick was he ! Then first I with dread began to doubt — to fear I loved him — ay ! more than all else on earth ! 'Twas an- guish to think of that mass of golden hair, those long curls, streaming o'er his bed — the regal brow, all fever-flushed — and that eye of darkest blue, soon it might be, to be quenched in death ! Thou earnest. Oh, thou wert as ever good, and kind. But for thee, I did not — could not feel 34 ROMAN MARTYRS. as for him, and too, then I began too see — to fear thon did'st love me other than as a sister ! Val. Ah, me ! Pau. I thought to check thee by coldness ; and when, after but a brief stay, thou return'dst to thy distant battle-field, I was relieved ! But, friend, I weary thee ; I had far better cease. Val. Ah, no ! I pray thee, continue ! Pau. There came at length, the spring be- fore thou wast expected back, and of thy suit, his wish, my sire did tell — and I — oh, nearly I died ! But, yielded at length my cold assent to Maxentius' wish. What else could I do ? No sign he had e'er given could cause me deem my- self beloved. O'er- wearied, sadly doubtful of my fitting course of duty, I plighted thee my faith. Thou wert right in judging me changed — life's shadow did rest on my young brow ! It was at that time he sickened, as I told thee. Of a truth, it seemed to me that wave on wave of trouble roll'd o'er my head ! Val. Better I had died ! Pau. Alas ! say not thus ! At length came the eve, and hour of our betrothal. He, ere A TRAGEDY. 35 then, had much recovered and was present 'mong our guests at that evening's revel. Val. (Eagerly.) Didst thou speak with him ? Pau. Alas! yes! Was 't wrong? Val. What said he ? Pau. Cruel ! Why recall the memory of that hour ? Val. I pray thee tell me ! Pau. Low in mine ear he breathed : " Lady, thou 'rt betrothed — and I — would mother earth but ope and in her bosom hide me, peace I'd there find!" Val. (Moodily.) Ah ! a truce there was at length to thy long doubt. Thou wast loved ! Thou didst feel joyous then ! Pau. (Sadly.) Valerius! Thou didst speak of my "joy"; ah, me ! if any I felt, 'twas soon gone, as if 'twere a lightning flash ! From me he turned, and his laugh, gleeful as ever, rang on my ear ! Val. Ah ! he could not have loved ! Pau. No ! 'tis impossible ! He did not love; 36 ROMAN MARTYRS. and but his giddy impulse prompted him those words to utter ! (A long pause, which Paulina is the first to break.) My friend, wilt thou not believe I have tried to wrench this wild love from my heart % Val. Lady, I do believe it ! Pau. In all sad truth, I have tried — but vain is ev'ry struggle. Tis blent with my life ; and only in death — if then — can I cease to love ! [Hides her face.) Val. Oh, 'tis misery to see thee weep ! Pau. [Looking up.) Noble heart ! Oh, Valerius, become one of us, a Nazarene ! Val. I would I were ! Pau. And why that wish ? Val. Because then I might die with thee ; perchance at the same time, the same death of torture ! And thus to die were sweet ! Pau. [Aside.) Did man ever thus love before 1 [Aloud.) Alas ! dear friend, must I reprove thee I Indeed thou should'st not thus love — 'tis idolatry. I entreat thee, subdue this love, too fond ! Cast it from thee by the force of man's strong will ! Choose some other, more A TRAGEDY. 37 worthy, far, than Paulina could e'er become ! And oh, in after years — when to thee, I am but as a fond remember'd dream — in some hap- pier land, where liberty is not a vision, may'st thou live beloved and happy ! Thy life, so lonely now, be gilded with the sweet earth- tendrils of home affections ! Val. (Striking his hand on his brow.) Alas ! Paulina ! thou should'st not give me this counsel ! Oh, thou 'rt not kind ! Thou say'st thou hast no power from thy heart to tear the love thou 'st felt for only four years ! and yet thou art in thy beauty's prime ! And canst thou deem that I, in whose hair, once raven black, there 's now many a silver lock ; whose love for these fifteen years has been my life, can now change ? Adored one, I tell thee — no ! (He turns away and weeps.) Pau. (Aside.) His agony, his tenderness, wring my very soul ! I fear me he will die ! (Aloud.) In mercy cease to weep ! Val. Thou wilt pardon, I well believe, these last tears. But see ! among the trees, at a distance — a light — it nears this way — methinks from 4 38 ROMAN MARTYRS. the palace it doth come — ah, must we then part % Pau. Yes! (She kisses him.) Receive a sister's kiss ! May we meet in Heaven at last ! (Aside, as she goes away.) Oft' have I heard, but ne'er believed till now, that strange is a woman's heart. Val. (Aside.) I feel an old man now ! (Exit.) Scene Fifth. [Same scene. As Valerius is lost to sight, Drusus comes from behind the statue —he advances to front of stage— he looks amazed.] Dru. What have I heard? Little did I think, when in the mirthful spirit of the hour, to hear the grave Valerius utter forth his love, I hid behind the goddess' statue, what was to meet my ear ! Alas ! this is an hour of deep sadness and fearful joy ! Hardly my senses can A TRAGEDY. 39 I believe, yet what have I but just heard her lips avow ? She loves me ! has loved me — deep- ly, truly — amid the changes of long years ! and I — 1 too, love her ! Back on me, as a tor- rent's power, I feel the rushing force of the love that made me utter those words on her espousal night, she hath so long remembered ! How fair she is ! how pure ! With what courage meek she listen'd as of tortures Val- erius spoke ! and he — well doth he love her ; he's nobler far than I! but she loves me! Oh, Drusus, see to it that thou liv'st, henceforth, a better life. Her I ever lov'd — and vainly tried with fires of many another altar, to love again ! Vainly I bow'd 'fore the shrines of the superb Flavia, the gay Lucille, the pensive Helena, and last this passion-soul, Medora ! child of the sun ! she, alas ! loves me so, I dread it! What am I, gay, thoughtless flatterer, through life's stern duties, the love of two such women to receive \ Drusus ! hitherto to but little pur- pose hast thou liv'd ! This night's secrets most carefully will I keep ! Sure, in the faith that thro' unimagined horrors, and renouncement of 40 ROMAN MARTYRS. all, can render Paulina thus calm, there must be a wond'rous power ! Into their doctrines let me examine ; home I had better go. Medora I wish not to see this night ! Oh, I scorn, loathe my- self, that I e'er listened her whispered breathings 'gainst Paulina ! Vile she must be, or sure her mistress gentle she 'd love. Beautiful she is, but 'tis a beauty all of earth and passion born! From my eyes the scales have fallen ! I no more love, detest her rather ! I will away — in truth I'm much disordered ! Will she not rage ? How longer can I bear her jealousies, repinings, pride and vain persistence that I should wed her 1 I fear me she may come ere I the street can reach ! (Turns to go, and suddenly Medora enters.) [Aside.) Ah, wo! too late I am ; she's here! (Medora walks straight up to him, and placing her hand on his shoulder, looks fixedly in his eyes) Med. [Aside.) He does not speak ! Nor, this night, are his eyes love-lighted ! Last eve 'twas not thus ! Suspicion, what pangs thou plantest in my heart ! Ah ! what I ever dreaded, has it now befallen me ! I'll prove him ! A TRAGEDY. 41 Dru. (Aside.) This silence bodes no good! Med. (Aloud, and still keeping her eyes fastened on him.) My Lord, thy pardon I crave, for thus detaining thee, but the lady Paulina I have been assisting to her couch — she is not well ! Dru. (Starting.) Ah ! (Aside.) Down fears ! 'tis but a lie of hers ! am I not taught ne'er to believe a word she says ? I'll feign as if I heard not ! (Looks up to the sky.) Med. (In a tone of imitation.) Didst thou not hear, my Lord 1 Dru. (Lightly.) Oh, fairest of damsels, what said you ? Med. (Aside.) What am I to think ! He did start, but was it at her name] (Aloud.) I said, my lord, here I could not meet thee sooner, as lady Paulina has been ill — Dru. Seem'd the time long to you? Med. Why ask me % heartless one, thou dost know it but too well — well thou know- est that to be with thee, are the sweetest — and oh, woe is me, the saddest moments of my menial life. Immortal ones, what 's my crime or what my father's, that I, sprung from a 42 ROMAN MARTYRS. royal line, should here pass my wearied life in — Dru. (Aside.) I can no more ; too much I've heard. Will she goad me to rage, now will I taunt her, if for it I die. (Aloud.) I prithee be not chafed, loveliest of waiting maids — Med. Base and cruel ! thou would'st then add insult to coldness ! Dru. (Affecting to yawn.) Ah ! ah ! pray thee don't indulge, child, in too long an exulta- tion. The night air groweth somewhat cold, and methinks I will retire to bed ! Med. (Aside.) This passes all. (Aloud.) I go, and well I know why from me thou dost wish to fly. Why thou would'st escape my just anger and sight of the tempest thou hast raised, the cause is clearly seen ! Paulina here has been and 'tis her thou lovest ! Dru. Medora, 'tis thou art cruel, rash ; wilt thou ever raise the pale and lowering phantom of jealousy 'tween our hearts'? Med. No more, I wish not again to hear thy A TRAGEDY. 43 once lov'd voice. Thou needst not lie any more for me ! Ditu. Lie ! Med. I ! 'tis so, I repeat it — a lie ! all a lie ! Thou canst not deceive me ! I am loved no more ! What say I ? " no more " ; perchance I never was ! Go ! art thou a rock, that all un- moved thou canst stand to gaze on my tears, my woe ? If thou hast a heart leave me ! (Weeps.) But I loathe myself that I weep — and for thee, liar! traitor! perjurer! Ditu. (Gently.) Medora, I pray thee — Med. Said I not I would hear no more % Gods ! I wonder earth opens not to hide thee from my sight ! Oh, what am I, that I stand to list' thy words I (In a softer voice.) Here end this wretched life ! raise thy sword and plunge it in my heart ! and may my flowing blood quench thy hate ! (Sifiks on a bench.) Dru. (Aside.) Each moment wilder grows her frenzy — how can I soothe \ (Approaches her.) Medora! (A pause .and no answer.) Me- dora ! ( Very gently.) 44 ROMAN MARTYRS. Med. Leave me to die ! [Hides her face and iveeps.) Dru. (Bending over her.) Oh, misery ! Me- dora, is 't possible thou canst think I wish thy death 1 oh, never ! thee, thee only, do I love ! (Aside.) Jove forgive this lie ! (Aloud.) In pity, Medora, look up ! thy swan's neck raise — look, and see these eyes beaming with love for thee ! Fairest, thou may'st, but I ne'er can my- self forgive, that by my rash folly, thou hast suffered this night. Pardon ! 'tis Venus knows thee only do I love. Med. (Aside.) Gods of my country how lies this man ! for an instant's space I'll feign I do believe him — then cast him from me! (Aloud, and kneeling to him.) Say once again the life-sustaining word, thou lovest me. Dru. (Raising and embracing her.) Only thee ! Med. (Pretending to sob.) Was it not cruel, thine own heart ask, thus with feigned coldness, to torture her, thou knowest did love thee ? Dru. Alas ! most base, cowardly it was — for well I knew thy love ! A TRAGEDY. 45 Med. (Raising her head and looking sternly at him.) Aye, thou didst know how I can love ! Thou canst not know how I can, do hate. The just God strike me dead if henceforth my life I do not devote to thy destruction, and her who yonder sleeps ! No mercy will I show or feel if, as my heart forbodes, thy love is returned. I go to prove her ! Her secret I know ! And if 'tis thou she loves, Pollio, I swear, shall know it ! (Exit.) Dru. (Striking his hand on his forehead.) What have I done? (Calls.) Medora ! Me- dora ! (Rushes frantically after her, and curtain falls.) 4 ACT II.— Scene 1st. [Bed-chamber of Paulina — she asleep on her bed — a night-lamp burning — enter by a door, at some distance from the bed, Medora; she grasps a dagger, and stands looking across the room at the sleeper.] Med. There she lays, — his minion! dreaming, mayhap, of him, or perchance gloating o'er the beauty, that brought him to her feet ! ay ! sleep on while you can ! art dreaming of his long curls ] ha ! ha ! and he — gods ! may be dreaming of thee ! Ha ! ha ! I would ye were both dead ! Paulina, thou little dream'st the haunting fury of thy life stands near thy bed ! How soon with this {brandishing the dagger) could I pour thy life stream forth ! and thee send far beyond lover, or parent's care ! but no ! no ! another death shall be thine ! perchance, mistress, thou 'It not find it a rose-strewn couch, that wafts thee to the blessed fields ! Not quite ! oh, not quite ! I sicken ! 'tis black around — I cannot breathe ! Pluto ! let me not pass beyond the unending shade that time's scenes veils from our gaze, A TRAGEDY. 41 ere my work is done ! Dread sisters ! hear my prayer! (Paulina moves and murmurs words.) What ! methought I heard words — I'll nearer draw, and list' what 'tis she will utter, for oft' in sleep the heart itself betrays ! (Crosses the room ami stands at Paulina's bed.) Now speak, and let me soon know my misery's full extent ! (Paulina moves, moans and speaks.) Pau. Ah ! look not so wildly upon me ! dost not remember \ see ! 'tis Paulina — ill \ yes ; indeed my poor girl thou hast been, oh ! very ill — the burning fever in thy veins raged these nine days — yes ! now with heaven's blessing, thou 'It soon be well, my poor Medora ! Let me thy hot hand and brow in these cooling, per- fumed waters bathe ! Now thou wilt rest, and I to thee a hymn will sing, of love and thanks to Him, who to life has brought thee back — nay ! I pray thee try to rest ! Med. I shall hear no more ! Too much I've heard if now pity is stealing into my outraged heart! Back thoughts! Shame! I did not think myself so weak! I curse thee! oh, bet- ter 't would be, if thou hadst, unpitied, let me 48 ROMAM MARTYRS. die when the fever held me ! (Bends over the sleeper.) Once will I look at thy hated beauty! Yes, she's very fair! Ha! what's this tablet in her hand, thus clasped, she holds? What! is there writing on it ? I must — will see ! ( Takes, cautiously, a small ivory tablet from Paulinas hand, carries it to the light, and bends over the flame to read it.) Ah! oh! now have I certainty ! this name; 'tis " Drusus," " Drusus " ! naught but " Drusus '' ! and in her own hand also ! Ah, girl ! no better deed didst thou e'er do, than teach me the written character to decipher ! thanks ! for this I do thank thee ! thou canst not call me hasty ! More proof I'll have ! (She drops the tablet, and springing to the window, leans out, and feigns to scream.) Oh ! oh ! alas ! help ! Pau. (Waking.) Who calls ? heard I not a voice ? ah, the night air blows coldly round me ! my casement open, and a form leans from it ! I tremble ! Who is 't X who 's there ? Med. (From the windoiv.) Madam, 'tis I ! Pau. Is riot the hour late? methought all in the house did sleep. What do you there, Me- dora % A TRAGEDY. 49 Med. (Still at the window.) Fearful ! all is over ! borne home ! the poor young lord ! alas ! the torch's glare was cast full on his pallid face, and on the pool of blood slow welling from his side ! Thankful in sooth I am, his grandsire liv'd not this night of woe to see ! Pau. (Rising from the bed, and aside.) Oh, heaven ! what do I hear ? " young lord " ! *' grandsire " ! (Aloud.) What mean you, Medora ? is any one hurt \ Med. (Turning and looking at her.) Madam ! the lord Drusus, desperately wounded in a night brawl with senator Dolabella, they now bear home ! 'Tis feared he will not live at dawn ! (Paulina faints away.) Med. Lay there and die, if so it please you ! (Exit.) 50 ROMAN MARTYRS. Scene Second. [A long street of the city— time, early dawn; enter at one end, a young Greek man, a favorite slave of Maxentius; he speaks, as he walks rapidly down the street.] I like it not, this illness so sudden of our master ! 'tis as if poison with it something had to do ! The noble Maxentius holds so marked a place 'mong the disciples of our faith, that were it known, his change, their advantage it would be for him to die ! Nor see I, but dis- covery soon must come. Bravely may we all meet it, to heaven I pray — and faithful follow to the eud, the tottering fortunes of this noble house ! Strange, of Medora this night I dream'd when e'er in fitful slumber mine eyes I closed ! Her I distrust, but wherefore — cannot tell ! List', I hear a footstep — who is \1 'tis a woman's, as I live ! (Enter hastily Medora ) (Aside.) Ha ! what ! she here, and the hour so early ! in sober earnest, I like it not ! (Aloud.) Ha, Medora! I prithee what thus early calls thee forth? (Aside.) How pale and wild she looks ! A TRAGEDY. 51 Med. (Aside.) Ah! I would we bad not met! (Aloud.) Of thee, Deodatus, the same question I might seek to know ! Deo. (Aside) She answers not ! I fear her ! (Aloud.) A sad cause brings me here. For the leech I go — ill is our noble master ! Med. (Aside.) Ill 1 and may 't not lead to death, and me spare necessity all to — but no ! On, heart, on ! no faltering now ! Deo. (Aside.) Her look is haggard ! (Aloud.) Medora, 1 pray thee with me in prayer unite, that death, (looks keenly on her) or ma) hap, ruin itself, from Maxentius far distant be ! Med. ( Wildly.) I — " death " ! " ruin " ! wna t — w hat \ why breathe them % ill-omen'd words are they ! Deo. Thou 'rt strangely moved ! Whither art going, Medora 1 Med. (Haughtily.) Slave, question me not ! (She goes out; Deodatus stands looking after her, and shak- ing his head musingly; enter the steward of Antonia.) Stew. (Holding a scroll.) Hark 'ee, fellow, thou 'it Maxentius' slave \ Deo. Even so. 52 ROMAN MARTYRS. Stew. If home thou 'rt returning, I prithee bear this scroll to thy fellow-servant, Medora — from my noble lady it comes. Deo. E'en thine own message, do thyself! (Pointing.) Down the street her behold of whom you spoke ! Stew. What ! Medora ? Deo. Herself. Stew. The gods be praised ! (Exit hurriedly.) Deo. (Aside.) Tis mystery all ! Methinks mine errand I will do — then this to Livius tell. I like it not ! (Exit.) Scene Third. [Small saloon in the palace of Antonia; time, early morning; Antonia and Pollio seated.] Pol. And, lady, for my stratagem I have thine entire forgivness ? I tell thee, the draught was potent, only sickness, not death, to cause ! A TRAGEDY. 53 Ant. Naught have I to pardon — thy scheme is good, but previously — however, it matters not! Pol. What would 'st thou say ? prithee go on ! Ant. My lord, I have not slept the night that 's past — and, unknowing of thy design, a brief while since, for one did send, who, and she will, can them betray, if aught there is concealed. Pol. The just ones aid thee, lady ! I prithee who is 't? Ant. A damsel — a Grecian, who has these three years, maiden been to Paulina. These walls she quitted for Maxentius' roof ! Pol. And think you — Ant Sure I am. I can mould her to my will ! in my hand she '11 be as wax ! Pol. To thy plan adhere ! send for and question her. But, lady, if unwilling she doth prove to reveal the truth ? Then, say I, how wilt thou do \ Ant. Tortures ! Pol Daughter, thy zeal is great ! What call'd vou her name ? 54 ROMAN MARTYRS. Ant. Medora. Pol. Medora ? ah — ay ! we recall it now. Lady, I can point thee a better way her stub- born will to move. Ant. Declare it ! (Pollio whispers in her ear; she grimly smiles.) Ant. Tis well ! I scarce deem it can fail — doubt not, I will try it. But if, my lord, $ie wench should prove to all persuasion deaf — Pol. Then will I tame the wild dove ! Ha ! ha ! (Enter the steward.) Ant. Pardon me a moment, my lord! (To steward.) Didst see her? Stew. Madam, in the street ; returned with me she has, and thy pleasure waits ! Ant. Ah! is 't so? (To Pol.) Then, my lord, will it please you wait? (He nods.) To another apartment, I will lead you. (To stew- ard.) Here bring the girl — soon I will return? (Exeunt Ant. and Pol.) Stew. A curse on her ! my cheek — it tingles yet ! A murrain on her pride ! (Exit, and re- turns with Medora.) Here wait my lady's return ! (Exit.) A TRAGEDY. 55 Med. (Haughtily.) Thankful I am of him to be rid ! What vile impudence ! and to mc, a descendant from great Agamemnon ! Antoniaof it shall know ! stern she is, but just. (Enter Antonia ; Medora lowl}" bows.) Ant. Medora, thou canst sit, — but how is this ? anger flashes in thine eye ! Girl, what a troubled spirit is thine ! Med. Is 't the noble Antonia's pleasure [ should be insulted, and by one of her menial train ] Ant. What mean you? Thy complaint I'll hear, when thou hast learned the cause for which thou 'rt here. Full well I know pride — how degrading, crushing are to thee, thy duties near the person of thy — Paulina. Would'st from them be free, and dominion have o'er others, as they did o'er thee % Tell thy mind ! a wedded mate I offer thee, who, by thy will imperious, and charms so great, would be a slave to thee ! Med. Who is 'U Ant. Medora, slowly but surely, the powers of life are from me waning, and fast comes old 56 ROMAN MARTYRS. age on. I need, who from me the charge of my female train can take, my orders give, and me of all care relieve ; of all outward matters, of other estates, my steward, Milo, has the charge. He needs a wife, and with favor looks on thee — no words ! hear me to the end. The man 's a dolt compared to thee, and thou coulds't lead him by a thread ! Trust my counsel, girl! him wed — apartments spacious beneath my roof will I assign thee — and dresses, ornaments fitting thy new post. Once wedded, trust me, freer thou would'st be, than if single all thy days. Milo a jealous husband would not prove ! Med. [With irony.) Truly an inducement! a marriage so desirable ! Ant. (Aside.) I like not her tone ! Med. Madam, I prithee accept my thanks — to be so near thy person, 'tis what I 'd choose, could I take it without the spouse you offer — but he, — oh, that is quite another thing ! faugh ! Of him let us not speak ! Ant. Wherefore not ? Med. (With prudery.) Lady, I like not men! A TRAGEDY. 57 Ant. Beware! thy lies, minion, I will not listen! Me, thou canst not deceive! Un- mask'd thou rt standing before me ! The veil of secrecy is raised, that once hid thy life, — so loose ! Wretched one ! dare no more say to me, that men you like not. Bethink thee, once thou didst like them all too well ! Med. Lady, I crave thy meaning ! Ant. Silence ! In two words I reveal it. Girl, thy buried shame I know ! Med. Mine! oh, horror! what mean you] Dreadful are thy words ! Ant. But more dreadful thy deed ! ay ! Mother of the murder'd dead, thou seest I know all ! Thy life is in my hand, I can betray thee, and I can save ! Med. Then save the innocent ! Ant. Innocent ! Med. I am ! oh, believe it. I call the Im- mortals to witness ! All else but this am I — but oh, not this ! turn not away ! Listen — pity ! Proud lady, I swear to thee, deceived thou hast been ! Ant. Ha ! deem not I heed thy lies ! 58 ROMAN MARTYRS. Med. (Aside.) They are avenged ! (Aloud.) Madam, in thy power I feel I am, and yet the same tale only can I repeat — and, oh ! alas! to a cold heart, and ears unheeding ! I am inno- cent of this crime so foul ! Ant. Thou sayest it! I believe thee not! Med. (With violence.) Hag! (Then aside.) And must I to entreaties descend ? (Alond.) Oh, is there naught I can say — do — will belief, conviction bring to thee that guiltless am I \ Nay ! turn not away ! listen my sad prayer — if thine own girlhood, thou dost recall, grant me — not pity — I scorn it ; not pardon — thee I never wronged — but belief that thou hast been deceived, and I, oh ! basely slandered ! Ah ! hear ! you shall ! alas ! can nothing force thee my word to credit % Ant. Why care if I yield belief to it, when from detection, betrayal, I guard thee ? and that I will do, if all my bidding thou wilt swear to do— Med. What? surely, thou 'st told me all ! Ant. No ! A TRAGEDY. 59 Med. What say you ? " No " ! Thy mean- ing plainly tell ! Ant. Tell me — thou must know — from thee how could they hide it ? are not Maxentius — his children, also — recreants to their honor — the honor of our proud house ? are not they Naza- renes \ Med. (Aside.) What shall I answer] what! what am I about to do] who spoke? who hissed in mine ear the whisper, " Paulina saved thy life " \ Ant. Speak ! dost fear? once methought that was a word thou didst not know ? By one word pronounce their doom ! Then come — and here, safe, adored, shalt thou reign o'er hearts — and, as Milo's — Med. No more ! why ever bait me with his name ! I'll not bear to listen ! In sooth, a tender, gentle grandame art thou ! Oh, a most virtuous lady ! Ant. [Shaking her.) Minion ! Med. (Pushing her off.) Dost name thyself? Pray you mark my words. Virtuous lady — seek another thy vile behest to do ! and know of 60 ROMAN MARTYRS. Milo — his spouse I will be — never ! Hence, from my side depart ! (In a lower tone and half to herself.) Paulina do I hate — yet thee, now, more, nor will be a puppet in thy hand, to pan- der to thy spiteful hate ! away ! ( Waves her hand.) Ne'er will I do thy bidding — oh ! I tell thee, never ! Ant. Is 't so 1 One comes will force thee tell! (Exit Antonia ; Medora restlessly paces the floor — stops and falls into deep thought — a panel in the wall opens, and Pollio enters, unheard by her.) Pol. (In a stem voice.) Murderess ! Med. (Trembling, kneels to him.) Oh, Juno! my lord ! prithee how didst thou enter ! Pol. Through the ceiling ! but methinkest, girl, thou art very bold thus to question me ! art trembliug at thy guilt ! Oh, most unnatural mother ! Med. (Still on her knees.) Hast thou heard, and dost believe, this foulest wrong 'gainst me I Oh, believe, believe me ! (Proudly.) My lord, I am not that ! oh, never that ! Pol. (Slowly, and looking fully at her.) I know it! A TRAGEDY. (>1 Med. (Starting up.) Oh, bless thee — bless thee for those words ! Pol. Fool ! canst tell me what good they will prove to thee \ Perchance none ! When the dark shadow of a blighted name hangs over thy every path — and rumor, thousand-tongued, loudly proclaims thy shame — when, both feigned and real virtue, turn from thy step away : — when the hard crust of cold charity and the tear of a bursting heart are the food and drink of thy lonely hours — when he, thou a menial, hast pre- sumptuous, wildly dared to love, from thy sad gaze, coldly turns, and his toga, as 'twere a thing defiled, from thy pleading grasp doth wrench, then, in scalding tears thou wilt repent that ever thou darest my plans to thwart ! Med. (Aside.) This man is my fate ! I feel it ! (Aloud.) But oh ! who, who would prove so stony-hearted, as thus my fame to crush X Pol. Would'st know, girl 1 I would ; I will unless — Med. Speak while I can hear ! Pol. Declare what the lady Antonia sought, c 62 ROMAN MARTYRS. but now, to learn, and thou as a cherished daughter shalt to Pollio be, and so great, empress-like, thy dower shall prove, that gay, needy Drusus gladly shall thee wed ! Refuse — and ruin shall be thine! Med. (Her hand on her brow) Hold !' I can no more ! what ! he ! my own ! what said'st thou % I ! what would'st thou have me do ] Oh ! my head ! thy promise ! oh, do it ! They all — the old man ; the piece of wax, Paulina ; and Livius, cling to — delight in — the Nazarene faith ! Oh ! 'tis dark ! Drusus ! ( She faints.) Pol. {Bending over her.) In truth, 'tis a dainty piece of flesh and blood ! In my bower, I'll shelter this wearied bird ! ha ! ha ! (Claps his hands ; enter four slaves bearing the litter. At a signal from Pollio, they place Medora in it and depart.) Pol. (Solus.) Ah, ha! 'tis well done! now to the temple I will haste ; instructions brief to Pronto give, and then rejoin my just-caged she- eagle. Ah ! very good ! (Exit, and curtain falls.) A TRAGEDY. 63 Scene Fourth. [Library in Maxentius* palace — Livius alone — he speaks as he walks uneasily about the room.] Strange ! why feel I thus anxious, thus loaded, as 'twere with care, on this bright morning. So gay is all around, 'tis as if nature laughed at my sad heart ! No sufficient reason can I assign why Deodatus' tale should thus disturb my mind ! Let me hope the mes- senger will find, and she return with him ! (Enter gravely Deodatus ) Deodatus, say, did Claudia speed forth on his mission 1 Deo. Noble sir, he did, and — Liv. Well, proceed ! Deo. He is now returned, but Medora could not be found — Liv. (Thoughtfully.) Most singular ! Deo. (Aside.) I do believe all is not right ! (Exit.) (Euter hastily Paulina.) 64 ROMAN MARTYRS. Pau. Oh, brother ! what ! (Looking around.) Not here! nor in his chamber! (Claps her hands ; enter Deoclatus.) Where is thy young master ? canst tell % Deo. Lady, I know not ! but a moment since I left him here ! Pau. I pray thee in his room to look — and of thy mates inquire ! (Deoclatus bows and exit.) Pau. (Seating herself.) Here let me rest — sit — as in all sad truth, I cannot well stand ! Hours I must have laid on that cold floor — Ah ! I freeze ! (Wraps her mantle around her.) He dead ! Alas ! Life's chain enfolds me ! Is the wish a sin that full soon it might snap off ! Desolate I am ! oh, Parent of All, in mercy take me home ! I feel as if near were our earthly downfall ! Medora too hath vanished ! But one thought is all too much ! Thou dead ! and in a midnight fight ! (Enter Maxcntius supported by two servants, and dressed in a long, loose robe. He is very pale.) Max. Alas! in truth, I'm very tired! I prithee place me in my wonted seat. (They sea t h im . ) Thanks! A TRAGEDY. 65 Pau. Sir, my father, art thou better] Max. Dear one, with thee I wish to speak ; (to the servants) leave us! (Exeunt servants.) My child, 'tis fitting thou should'st know, a scroll from Valerius I have had but a few moments since, in which all claim to thy hand he doth renounce ! Pau. (Sadly.) How doth he write X Max. With naught of anger, or of scorn, but with such deep sadness, it doth much move my pity ! Pau. {Aside.) Heaven sustain him ! Max. (Suddenly.) Thou art pale! Ah ! my dove, am I to see thee fading before mine eyes ! Pau. My father, think not of me! or rather think of, and pray for me, that 'mid the fast- gathering clouds that bode the tempest's wrath, thy child to her solemn vows and lofty hopes, may ever faithful be ! My father, in the blessed land to which we look, where I seek to anchor my trembling heart, — there all is an eternal peace ! (Maxentius clasps his hands— a loud knocking is heard at the outer gate of the palace.) 66 ROMAN MARTYRS. Max. What means this portentious sound ! Pau. (Aside.) Methinks, 'tis the herald of oar doom ! (Enter, pale and terrified, the porter of Maxentius.) Max. (To him.) How now, Philip 1 Porter. Alas! good sir, what shall we do] A band of soldiers, headed by an officer, waiteth at the gate — and in the emperor's name, de- mandeth instant admission! Max. Know you the leader? . Porter. Sir, 'tis the young lord Ascanius, of the Pra?torian guard ! Ah ! In sooth, on no good mission can they come, thus early in the day ! Alack ! alack ! oh, wo ! wo ! Max. Peace ! know you not by the same Hand the storm is ordered, that sends the light 1 Instantly throw open the gate, and see with all due state, the lord Ascanius is ushered to our presence. Go ! (Exit porter, beating his breast ; Paulina takes her father's hand.) Max. My blessed child ! (Enter, in state, the officer.) A TRAGEDY. 67 Max. Sir, I trust thou 'It pardon, at the threshold I could not meet thee. Disabled by sickness I have been, and yet am but weak. Officer. Noble sir, fair lady — 'tis rather I should your pardon crave, for this sudden visit, but great Nero's mandate must be obeyed — and I am bidden give thee this ! {Placing a sealed writing in Maxentius' ha nil.) Max The imperial seal! (Opens, reads, and turns to Paulina.) 'Tis the royal will we go, as prisoners to — (Sinks back.) Ah! can I tell thee — my home ! my almost orphan'd children ! Officer. Cheer thee, my lord? Pau. (To him.) Sir, wilt tell me the empe- ror's will ? Officer. Lady, all that to me is known — mv liege decrees thou, the noble Maxentius, and thy brother, shalt, under my guarded escort, seek Jupiter's fane, there, as I think, on his altar to burn incense ! Pau. The summons we obey — but he — {looking at Maxentius) is old and doubly feeble 68 ROMAN MARTYRS. now — and the distance long, on foot, he cannot bear it ! Officer. Lady, fear thou not — on foot he shall not go — a litter* waits ! Pau. Thanks ! Come, my father, let us go ! Let us bow to his will. (Exeunt.) ACT III.— Scene 1st. [Temple of Jupiter-priest, augurs, etc., kneeling around the principal altar- beyond, a crowd of people kneeling— curtains of purple and gold veil the entrance to the interior part of the temple. A flourish of trumpets; the curtains are drawn back, and enter, in full pontificals, magnificently at- tended. Pollio. Trumpets sound, priests chant. Pollio then advances to front Of stage, attended by Fronto, who speaks.] Peon. Lords of Augustus^ court! Citizens of Rome! list' the words of Pollio, the commis- sioned servant of the will of mighty Jove! Through him shall your petitions ascend ! See to it they pure and faithful be ! Pol. (Kneeling at the altar.) We thank thee, Olympus' king, that in dreams, sent from thy side to thy servant thou hast vouchsafed the knowledge of thy will! Our hearts inspire with deeper zeal for thee, and abhorrence of all who from thy shrines turn away ! In ac- cordance with thy will, here we swear, unless they change, quickly to lop off the highest 70 ROMAN MARTYRS. branches of this cursed tree of heresy — and if need be to spare none ! (Uuder-priests, augurs, and Fronto respond:) To spare none ! Pol. (Rising and speaking to people.) Ro- mans ! 'tis my sad duty, yet most binding on me, to declare to ye, thro' mighty Jove's revealings the name of a house most honorable and lofty in this empire, ay ! in this city, who now have recreants proved to our ancient, holy faith! The Maxentii are Christians now ! (Groans and hisses in the crowd.) Soon they will enter here — for great Nero with his wonted clemency, anxious their lives to spare, has decreed, if they will offer homage, and recant, by burning incense to the gods, to pardon all ! (Enter officer and others, guarding Maxentius and Paulina. She is veiled.) Pol. (Aside.) Here's not all! (Aloud to officer.) Sir, how 's this ? of thy captives, thou hast not brought all. There should be three! what means this ? Officer. Great Pollio, the young Livius could not be found — his palace had he left ere A TRAGEDY. ~i\ I arrived ! a band of soldiers are now seeking for him ! Pol. Tis well. (To Maxentius.) Doth the lord Maxentius know for what he is summoned here * Max. I do ! Pol. (Looking at Paulina.) And the maid- en] Pau. Too well ! Pol. Ye are known to be apostates from the faith of Rome ! Accused, and 'tis proved true ! Can ye deny it ? Max. No! Pol. Old man, think of thy children — would'st them in ruin plunge? and thy last breath yield 'mid tortures or in a prison's gloom ! Think — pause > ! and not thus madly rush on death ! Yet is there time, and a way to escape ! Pronto ! (Frouto hands a censer to Pollio— he takes it.) Life, full pardon and greater honors than yet thou 'st known, Maxentius, shall be thine, our sovereign lord decrees, if e'en now, thou wilt retract, and to Jupiter homage give ! (Offers the 72 ROMAN MARTYRS. censer to Maxentius.) Take it, and on yonder altar incense burn ! Max. (Aside.) Father of all ! be with me in this dreadful moment ! (Aloud and slightly pushing back Pollios hand.) I will not do it ! will not because I cannot in worship bow, or conviction yield to thy false gods, oh, deluded Roman ! Pol. Then on thine own head be the ruin thou has wrought ! Lost one, the gods grant thy child shall wiser be! (To Paulina.) Wilt not thou, oh, maiden, by tears and prayers thy father persuade ? (Paulina shakes her head.) Pol. No ! thou wilt not ! Wilt thou too reject the proffered mercy'? Lady, I adjure thee — throw not away the boon of life ! In sooth too fair, too young art thou to die — Max. I can no more ! kill me, but her life save ! (He swoons.) Pol. (To Paulina.) He must die, but his death hours 'twould soothe, to know thou in safety wert ! Cold at thy feet he lies ! Would'st destroy thy father? Ah! we entreat A TRAGEDY. 73 thee yield ! Kneel at the altar, and as the smoke of thy censer rises to this gorgeous dome, so lady, rest thou sure, to Jove's throne shall our prayers ascend, for blessings rich on thee, and pardon of thy parent's crime ! [Offers her the censer.) Pau. (Aside, and retiring a step.) Ah ! will he tempt me beyond my strength ! (Aloud.) No ! no ! away ! (She comes forward, and bends over Maxentins' prostrate form.) Beloved father ! we know that each for the other, could it avail, would gladly die, but thou would'st not have me, for a brief life here, peril eternity ! Pol. (Placing the censer in her hand.) Maiden ! art thou frantic ? Oh, be persuaded ! Pau. (Throwing it on the floor.) Pagan! 'tis vain ! thy words are fruitless all ! Think not at your altar I will kneel, or pray to one who ne'er existed ! Pol. Blasphemy ! Pau. Know that in the faith I seek to live — 7 74 ROMAN MARTYRS. in that faith pray to die — of One who from a Cross, His sacred brow girded with thorns, pass'd to a Throne of Glory, eternal, unending ! We love him ! And He, ye call the crucified Nazarene, but we the Lord and King of gods and men, the only Creator of the world, aids me now, and doubt not, us will sustain in the last dread conflict ! As that old man, so do I now, the emperor's gift of life reject. Bear us to the dungeon ! Pol. ( With violence.) Romans ! didst hear her blaspheme] Hence ! away with them ! (Ascanius raises Maxentius, and he and Paulina are about to be led away, when a movement in the crowd takes place, voices cry "Room! make way"! and enter through the crowd, the Praefect of Rome, attended by guards, and a train of Christian captives, among whom is seen Drusus.) Pol. (Aside.) Drusus ! Oh, joyful day ! now will she be mine ! Prefect. Great priest of Jupiter, these did my soldiers find but an hour hence, engaged in their erring rites! and with them in sooth, my lord, for it, thou wilt grieve, (stand forth !) one whom we did ne'er think 'mong them to see ! the last of noble line, the lord Drusus ! A TRAGEDY. 75 Pol. Tis impossible ! Ditu. {Advancing to front of the captives.) I am here ! Pol. Declare if 'twas rash curiosity, or what motive brought thee there ! Dru. Curiosity in part, and deep, fond inter- est in a Christian household first thither drew me ! To me the words I heard were blessed ! Pau. (Aside.) Ah ! his voice, his face ! 'tis not delusion, but he lives and Medora lied ! Pol. How % " blest " ! wretch ! Dru. Ah ! again I say it ! blessed ! Oh, I would, Pollio, both thou, and all who hear me, were blessed as I — for mine eyes are opened. Not many years have been mine, but long enou', thro' mercy, have I liv'd, to find, embrace, the holy truth ! Pollio ! I am a Christian ! Pol. (To Prafect.) Prithee, my lord, bid thy guards bear him to dungeon! (To Ascan- ius.) Hence the Maxentii take. Dru. {Aside.) What! Pol. (Still to Ascanius.) Bear them away ! to the same prison ! Not yet decided is their 76 ROMAN MARTYRS. time of death ! [To Drusus.) Two days hence, thou diest ! (A •woman's shriek is heard in the interior part of the tem- ple. The Christians are borne away, the pries-ts chanting as they go; when they are lost to sight the people leave.) Scene Second. [Garden of Maxentius— deserted palace— a retired walk terminating in a clump of trees, among which is placed a seat. Time, morn, two days after the last scene. Enter Medora; she is very pale, and has a wild look; she sinks on the grass, resting her head on the bench, and speaks.] Med. Ah ! 'tis all before me now ! The crowd of fiends around — he on the ground — held, bound down! and the rope pulled, oh ! drawn tighter — tighter — till — oh ! that I say it and live! all — all was over! and he — his wealth of golden hair, trailing on the damp earth, his eye-balls starting with agony, lay dead ! and I — oh, I could not say " forgive " ! Drusus! Drusus! beloved from the first hour A TRAGEDY. - 11 we met, e'en till now, that without thee I can- not live ! Didst know the poor Medora tried alas ! oh, vainly, to save thy precious life ! Dear, he said, oh ! by all, I thought he dared not break, he swore that my ruin should be thy safety's price ! and thus his word is kept ! Oh, these pangs ! Conscience ! no peace thou giv'st me ! Ever I hear thee whisper, ;i Paulina saved thy life " ! Ha ! she did! she did ! Ly- ing gods are ye ! to thy shrines once more I turned ! and ye take him from my side ! They, who through long years sheltered, and kindly bore with my wayward youth, I betrayed, all ! the old man, in decrepid age, she, who by un- wearied care, won me back to life, and he, son and brother, in the prime of young manhood — I denounced them all ! and my sin recoils on my own head ! Immortals, ye have well done ! Drusus ! come back ! back once, once more, to hear me say " forgive" ! Ha ! what ! Paulina! off irom me take thy dark eyes' mournful gaze ! Oh, this fever dries up my blood ! My soul's be- loved ! from the Christian's heaven, if thou canst hear, forgive ! Here, when first he 78 ROMAN MARTYRS. breathed, " I love thee" ! 'tis meet I too should pass away ! Drusus ! thou didst not know I loved thee well! Could'st thou have read my love, looked into this burning heart, meth'inks from me thou would'st not have turned ! Gods of hades ! the traitress comes ! Oh ! is not this death ! It grows dark ! Drusus ! Drusus ! (She dies.) Scene Third. [A prison-cell — Paulina sleeping on a rude bed ; Maxentius sitting near, read- ing a scroll. Time : two days after Drusus' death.] Max. {Looking up.) Oh, soothing words ! I need to buoy up my fearful heart, by recalling that " weight of glory," promised to him who shall overcome at the last ! Why is 't, I do not, as a long desired friend, welcome, joy, in my fast-coming death \ Life, what hast thou now for me, that still I shrink from death's cold A TRAGEDY. 79 waves, and yet cling to thee 1 Earth, thy near- est ties ail either ruptured or daily fleeting Tore my straining gaze. Claudia dead, my first-born, alas ! a fugitive I know not where ; parents, brothers, sisters, long since called away, and she yonder, my pure, my sainted child, not long, oh, earth, wilt thou call her thine. Strange infatuation! oh, hard and wicked heart! that, albeit 'tis so, the disciple should not long to enter the home, where the Master 's gone ! Love! Faith! inflame this heart! Young Drusus, a sinner once — a bright angel now, who, saved by Eternal Mercy, laid down this world's luxury, the meed thou hast received of an an- gelic crown. lie thy example mine ; and oh, so far as thou tread'st in our Master's steps, thus far may I tread in thine ! (Kneels in prayer — after a few minutes, he rises, and leans over Paulina.) Sleep on, my dear one ! (Paulina smiles as if in rapture, stretches out her hands as though she would embrace some unseeu object, and awakes.) Pau. "Where art Thou ? alas! 'tis gone ! oh, most blessed vision ! (Clasps her hands and gazes upwards. ) 80 ROMAN MARTYRS. Max. ( With nice.) What was 't, my child ? Pau. (Rising.) My father, I'll tell thee, and oh ! may it cheer thee, as 't has my heart ! Methought I was on the spot where He died — how there I came, I dream'd not — and, as my sad heart brooded o'er the spot — looking down- ward, rather, where lay the body mouldering, than upwaid, where soaied the enfranchised spirit. Methought there floated down to me, a rose-hued cloud. Op'ning, within was revealed to my tranced gaze, a Form than the fairest, moie lovely. A robe of Tyrian dye enfolded its sacred limbs. A Holy Hand spread as to bless me, of the cruel nail still bore the mark — and wond'rous — a tiara of burning thorns en- circled that Blessed Head. From those eyes, glistening with love, deeper, purer — oh, more fond than earth can ever feel, there beamed on me a smile — oh ! I feel it yet ! And a Voice, that with love-dissolving rapture thrilled e'en my very soul, bore to mine ear the words ; " Arise ! oh, daughter weary, oh, heavy-laden ! Come unto me and rest ! On this breast that pierced was, and bled, come and lean thy A TRAGEDY. 81 wearied head ! Safe in my father's home, I pre- pare for thee a place, thou, who thro' much tribu- lation, art pressing on to Glory ! E'en while round me sainted ones gather, in thy bondage and sadness I pine ! The breathing of thy voiceless prayer, the passion of thy woe, all, all to me are known, oh, lonely heart and sad ! In the coming hour, when the chill waves of the last foe shall gather o'er thy feet, with thee and mine aged servant, know I will surely be," and all was over ! the vision left my side, I woke! Oh, the hour is coming fast! My father, is 't not a cheering thought'? In thine eye, the lustre gone, thy daily lessening strength ; in this frail body's weakness, I read soon all will be o'er, and 'mid the glories of heaven's day, will be lost the memory of earth's twilight ! (In the excitement of the moment and her speech, she stands up before her father.) How is 't, dear father, thou 'rt very pale ! oh ! cometh the Messenger for thee ! Max. Dearest! [ prithee aid me to lay down ! I am faint ! is 't night ? Thy hand ! With me 'tis well ! {Lays down.) 82 ROMAN MARTYRS. Pau. My father, thou trustest — Max. In One alone — in the Precious Blood — 'tis not hard to go ! Fondly — lov'd, farewell ! He is with me ! (Dies.) Pau. (Closing his eyes ) Rest thou, oh, aged victor ! Thou 'it gone in peace ! (Enter two jailors.) First Jailer. Is all well here I Pau. Doubt it not — oh, exceeding well! Second Jailor. (Seeing the body.) Now, on my faith, I'm glad he 's spared the torture ! This must be told ! First Jailor. Thou sayest true — let us go ! A hateful post is ours ! (A knock at the door — Second Jailor goes and returns with a filled goblet in his hand, sets it down on the floor and turns away.) First Jailor. I prithee what is 't ? Speak ! Second Jailor. Ask me not ! Pau. ( Taking up the goblet.) Joy ! I know ! Second Jailor. Stay ! Lady, what doest thou \ First Jailor. Is 't — Second Jailor. Her death ! A TRAGEDY. S3 Pau. Kind heaven, I thank thee ! I thought that so it was ! Ilest, thou 'rt nearly come ! a moment ! (She kneels in prayer, then rises and says :) I pray thee, friend, is this potion slow or quick \ Secomd Jailor. Madam, I cannot tell! Pau. (To them.) Let me take thy hands! thanks for kindness ! (Shakes their hands ; drinks.) Oh, excellent potion ! In one Death I trust ! joy ! joy ! (She falls and dies.) (Exeunt weeping, jailors, and curtain falls.) Tue Enl>. y < LBS'14