 | Herod And Mariamne |  |
Scene the First
a Castle.Enter Tyridates, Pheroras, Alexas, Polites, and Arsanes, Guards, Trumpets sound.
Phero.
Led on by your Example and Command,
No Force could the Indæan Armes withstand;
This Victory is to your Valour due;
Your Conqu'ring Arme th'Arabian Powers or'e-threw.
You the Kings Brother at his feet laid Dead;
A Homage to a King severely paid.
Tyrid.
Your great Examples made my Duty bold;
None could a Coward be, and You behold:
Nor is there any thing more Triumph draws
Then Loyalty link't to a Monarch's Cause.
Alex.
Well Valiant Conqu'rors, cease this gen'rous strife:
The Justice of our Cause gave us all life.
Whilst thus our selves we Conquer, and thus Knit;
They embrace.
The fierce Arabians to our Swords submit.
2
Lead to Jerusalem! the King I'le meet,
And lay my Wreaths at my great Masters feet.
Manent Pol. & Arsa. Exeunt Tyrid. Alex. Phero. cum suis.
Pol.
Not all the Laurels Tyridates wears,
Nor Honours growing faster than his years;
Nor Fame that swells a young Mans Spirit high
Do yet clear up my Princes Cloudy Eye:
A misty Melancholly on his brow
Does some more deep, and silent Sorrow show:
Can you Arsanes guess the Cause?
Arsa.
So little, that in all the search I make,
The more I judge, the farther I mistake.
All the Disasters which his House befell,
Did never past a Moderation swell;
His juster Griefs, and those so well-known Woes,
He with a manly Courage did oppose.
Pol.
How then are now his sorrows greater grown?
Can Herod's Interest move more than his own?
Arsan.
That grief which inward burns must needs consume,—
But 'twill more Airy grow by vent and roome.
You then his Governour may better move,
[to Polytes.
To know the Cause: He cannot disapprove
That Care in you, nor will your love neglect;
For he has always born you great respect.
Pol.
On all occasions then we must lay hold,
Love prompted by necessity grows bold.
[Exeunt.
Enter Tyridates.
Tyr.
I find it is not Bus'ness can reclaime
My lab'ring thoughts from an invading flame;
Nor can the great Employment of the War,
Intruding Loves more fierce assaults deter:
3
The Image of his Queen Kills me at Home.
Not all Phraates Cruelties did move
So much my Breast, as does this Tyrant, Love.
Nor all the Knowledge, which I gain'd at Rome
From Stoicks, this one Passion can or'ecome.
How little I a Gen'rals name respect,
Whilst I my Office, and my Fame neglect.
Oh Gods, who now an Heretick can be
Against the power of gentle Love or Thee.
My panting heart, I hold no longer dear
Than whilst I find Mariamne's Image here.
It is my glory nothing could subdue
That Heart (not force of Gods or Men) but You.
Enter Polites and Arsanes.
Polit.
Sir, 'tis our Love which makes us thus intrude,
With busie Care upon your Solitude.
Arsa.
In Melancholly Characters we read
Some gloomy mist has your great Heart o're-spread.
Your Aire, and Meine, and Looks more Cloudy grown,
Though you take care to Hide it, make it Known.
Polit.
We hitherto have shar'd your woes and bliss,
And shall we now both Strangers be to this?
Are we mistrusted now?—
Tyr.
Polites, hold—
To you, and only you, I dare unsold
That Secret which I here lockt up till now;
And did disclose to none, no not to you;
Because 'tis what your Councel can't remove:
'Tis—O that I live to tell it—Sir, 'tis Love!—
Look not so strange, you'l be surpriz'd much more
When you shall see her shadow I adore.
[Shews a Picture.
Pol.
Oh Gods! What see I here?—It cannot be!
Tyr.
Is Homage strange to such Divinity?
4
Sir, Then 'tis Herods Queen whom you adore.
Tyrid.
You tell me what I Knew too well before:
I through your Eyes Polites see your fear;
And 'tis but just those Dubious thoughts I clear.
You fear that Noble Vertue is Betrayd
Which rul'd my Actions whilst your Precepts swa'yd:
But though I Love, 'tis with so pure a flame,
As will not Innocence, nor Vertue shame!
To say, I Love her more than Life, is poor,
But I love Mine, and Her bright Honour more.
Pol.
In Love you to rewards of Love pretend.
Tyrid.
No, no: My Love has neither Hopes nor End;
She is a Vertue that no Mortal dares
Pretend to Love; unless he Vertue wears.
Could I transform to any shape; yet she
Cannot be tempted by a Deity.
Lock up this Secret closely in your Breast.
Arsa.
Without your Leave it ne're shall be exprest.
Pol.
But Sir, does Mariamne know your flame?
Tyrid.
My Tongue as yet durst never giv't a name.
Pol.
Sir, since I doubt, it were in vain to try
To reason you into a remedy:
That which I can't remove, I will defend:
Yet many dangers may your Love attend.
Herod, a Man is of that Temper known,
As Jealous of his Wife as of his Crown.
He spares no blood, that He may this secure,
Think not in Love, a Rival Hee'l endure.
Tyrid.
You can't say more than Tyridates knows,
But for her sake I will my life expose.
Arsa.
And we with you will the same Hazard share.
Tyrid.
But in discourse I do my Joys defer.
'Tis the highest Tryumph that my Armes obtain,
Ending the War to see the Queen again.
[Exeunt.
| Herod And Mariamne | |