University of Virginia Library

Scœna 4.

Herod.
VVhat hast thou here?

Bu.
A drinke procuring loue,
The Queene desir'd me to deliuer it.

Mar.
Did I: some hatefull practise this will proue,
Yet can it be no worse then Heauens permit.

Herod.
Confesse the truth thou wicked instrument,
To her outragious will, tis passion sure:
Tell true, and thou shalt scape the punishment,
Which if thou doe conceale thou shalt endure.

Bu.
I know not, but I doubt it be no lesse,
Long since the hate of you her heart did cease.

Herod.
Know'st thou the cause thereof?

Bu.
My Lord I gesse,
Sohemus told the tale that did displease.

Herod.
Oh Heauen! Sohemus false! Goe let him die,
Stay not to suffer him to speake a word:
Oh damned villaine, did he falsifie
The oath he swore eu'n of his owne accord?
Now doe I know thy falshood, painted Diuill
Thou white Inchantres. Oh thou art so foule,
That Ysop cannot clense thee worst of euill.
A beautious body hides a loathsome soule,
Your loue Sohemus mou'd by his affection,
Though he haue euer heretofore bene true:
Did blab forsooth, that I did giue direction,
If we were put to death to slaughter you.
And you in blacke reuenge attended now
To adde a murther to your breach of vow.

Mar.
Is this a dream?

Her.
Oh Heauen, that t'were no more,
Ile giue my Realme to who can proue it so:
I would I were like any begger poore,
So I for false my Mariam did not know.
Foule pith contain'd in the fairest rinde,
That euer grac'd a Cædar. Oh thine eye
Is pure as heauen, but impure thy minde,
And for impuritie shall Mariam die.
Why didst thou loue Sohemus?

Mar:
they can tell
That say I lou'd him, Mariam saies not so.

Herod.
Oh cannot impudence the coales expell,
That for thy loue in Herods bosome glowe:
It is as plaine as water, and deniall
Makes of thy falsehood but a greater triall.
Hast thou beheld thy selfe, and couldst thou staine
So rare perfection: euen for loue of thee
I doe profoundly hate thee. Wert thou plaine,
Thou shoul'dst the wonder of Iudea bee.
But oh thou art not. Hell it selfe lies hid
Beneath thy heauenly show. Yet neuer wert thou chast:
Thou might'st exalt, pull downe, command, forbid,
And be aboue the wheele of fortune plast.
Hadst thou complotted Herods massacre,
That so thy sonne a Monarch might be stilde,
Not halfe so grieuous such an action were,
As once to thinke, that Mariam is defilde.
Bright workmanship of nature sulli'd ore,
With pitched darknes now thine end shall bee:
Thou shalt not liue faire fiend to cozen more,
With heauy semblance, as thou cousnedst mee.
Yet must I loue thee in despight of death,
And thou shalt die in the dispight of loue:
For neither shall my loue prolong thy breath,
Nor shall thy losse of breath my loue remoue.
I might haue seene thy falsehood in thy face,
Where coul'dst thou get thy stares that seru'd for eyes?
Except by theft, and theft is foule disgrace:
This had appear'd before were Herod wise,
But I'me a sot, a very sot, no better:
My wisedome long agoe a wandring fell,
Thy face incountring it, my wit did fetter,
And made me for delight my freedome sell.
Giue me my heart false creature, tis a wrong,
My guliltles heart should now with thine be slaine:
Thou hadst no right to locke it vp so long,
And with vsurpers name I Mariam staine.

Enter Bu:
He:
Haue you design'd Sohemus to his end?

Bu:
I haue my Lord Herod: Then call our royall guard
To doe as much for Mariam, they offend
Leaue ill vnblam'd, or good without reward.
Here take her to her death Come backe, come backe,
What ment I to depriue the world of light:
To muffle Iury in the foulest blacke,
That euer was an opposite to white.
Why whither would you carrie her:

Sould:
you bad
We should conduct her to her death my Lord.

Hero:
Wie sure I did not, Herod was not mad,
Why should she feele the furie of the sword?
Oh now the griefe returnes into my heart,
And pulles me peecemeale: loue and hate doe fight:
And now hath boue acquir'd the greater part,
Yet now hath hate, affection conquer'd quite.
And therefore beare her hence: and Hebrew why
Seaze you with Lyons pawes the fairest lam
Of all the flocke? she must not, shall not, die,
Without her I most miserable am.
And with her more then most, away, away,
But beare her but to prison not to death:
And is she gon indeed, stay villaines stay,
Her lookes alone preseru'd your Soueraignes breath.
Well let her goe, but yet she shall not die,
I cannot thinke she ment to poison me:
But certaine tis she liu'd too wantonly,
And therefore shall she neuer more be free.