University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE I.

A Court before the Palace of David.
Enter JOAB disguised.
[JOAB]
What do I see and hear? I left one siege
It seems, to stand another! Rabbah's streets
Were I this moment hem'd by hostile spears
Were not more dangerous to my hunted life
Than Salem's sacred squares.—I heard my name
In execrations sent from lip to lip
As if it breath'd infection! I would find
As many hands to end my hated life
As if the sons of Ammon dog'd my heels
Were I but known among them! soon I'll learn
The drift of this commotion, and, perhaps
Discharge it on my foes.—'Tis true, the people
Have been aggriev'd, and, should their curses light
As they are meant, there lives not one whose life
Is more obnoxious! But I much admire
Why David hides his head, and lets the storm
Roll on resistless, like th'unbridled winds!
Great was his ancient influence—great the love
His people bore him, else my blood, long since,
Had paid the public hatred, but I hung
On him, like clasping ivy on the oak,
And while the vigorous root supply'd his stem,
My branches flourish'd green. But who are these,
Who toward the palace move in solemn pomp?—
By all my fears, the delegates of Israel.
What can it mean? I'll mingle with the crowd,
And learn their destination! Could I trust
The rumour of the day, they threaten me!
I'll follow with the stream, but find, perhaps,
A way at length to fix a lasting mound
Before the fury of the people's power.

AMOZ, HELKIAH, with the other Delegates of the People, approach the Palace.
To them, ACHITOPHEL.
[ACHITOPHEL]
The king has sent me—(so I must pretend)
—[Aside].
From you to learn the purport of your claims,
Ye might have staid, till from the conquer'd foe,
Our general came triumphant, and laid down
His crested pride, to join in sage debate.
We then confirm your laws.

Hilk.
The general's voice
Is futile here; in his own cause, no man
Is judge and advocate! The law we come
Now to propose regards himself the first.

Ach.
If it be wrong to judge the meanest man
Unheard, and unimpeach'd, then judge not him!

Hilk.
On him we lay no blame; nor derogate
From his illustrious rank, and kindred ties
To Jesse's royal stem; but this, (with him)
Respects a public cause!

Ach.
Declare your grievance.

Hilk.
It has been oft declar'd, but still in vain.
But pent up waters, though deep mounds oppose,
Will find their way at last. It is more fit
To form a regular channel for its rage,
Than to confine its fury, lest it rise
In dread rebellion, and convulse the globe.—
Why does the flower of Israel waste its prime
In foreign fields, while years on years revolve,
And sees our bounds extend, our people fade.
The soldier's glossy raven locks assume.
The griesly hue, beneath the batter'd helm.
At home the hind out-toils the travel'd sun,
And sees the harvest of his labour, swept
Away, to feed the famine of the war.
And, worse (if worse can be) to waste at home
The soul infections of an haughty court!

Ach.
Whence this new insolence?

Hilk.
Achitophel,
You much mistake, or wilfully misname
Our privilege; this insolence is old,
Old as the days of Aaron. Then the voice
Of the assembled tribes was law and truth,
Tho' now it sounds in some fastidious ears
Like treason!

Ach.
What you gave, ye would resume.
When, all unable to defend yourselves
Against the numerous foes, that hem'd you round
On every hand, and held in manacles
Your martial ardour; then you claim'd a king
(Such as the nations boast) to lead you on
To conquest and to glory, now, averse
To your own choice (a choice confirm'd above)
Ye would undo your work, and grudge to bear
That easy load ye laid upon yourselves.
But this, were this allow'd, by sudden change
Would quite unhinge all government, and break
The settled course of things; as if the moon
Of bleak December should assert her right
O'er July's sultry calm, and freeze his dews
In her cold crystal urn.

Amoz.
Those arguments
Your royal master needs not to support
His state, for in his subjects hearts he reigns:
Nor needs the claims of tyranny, to guard
His firm, establish'd throne; it is to give
His power a better basis we propose
These laws. Our loyal meaning is to give
Our King a surer title to our loves,
And counsel him to trust his sacred cause
To those we can confide in. This we claim—
We wish to see old Judah's line restor'd
To its first honours, and we must have way.—

Ach.
Ye know not whom ye toil for, if ye did
Ye were more culpable, but now, no more
Ye know the hand that turns your headlong rage
To his own factious purpose, than the mass
Which from its flaming gorge the mountain flings
Knows, why it falls in ruin on the swains
And lays their harvest low!

Hil.
We need not blush
To name the man, whose virtues long have won
A nation's confidence, and given them trust
In all his days to come!

Ach.
Produce the man
Whose merit soars above the common pitch
Of statesmen and of heroes!

Amoz.
Who can doubt
The man, or who has borne so mean a lot
In Israel's tribes, as never to have heard
Uriah's name?

Ach.
His virtues are allow'd
By all, nor can that age be quite corrupt
When such men are esteem'd! But should the King
Allow such ready monitors at will
To win their way by clamour, and besiege
His throne, on every petty discontent
What would become of majesty and awe
What would become of Israel, still the prey
Of every popular gust? yet mean I not
To slight your grave proposal, when I find
The sanction of the senate join your claims,
But these are sudden measures and require
Deliberation. To degrade the man
Whom years have crown'd with glory, seems a step
That leads to danger.

Amoz.
For ourselves, we scorn
The danger, and we know the general host
Abhors their leader's view; nor aught supports
Obedience in the camp but David's name
Remove that column, and the general sinks
With all his martial fame.

Ach.
Of this I own
Some symptoms have appear'd, the people's voice
Demands respect—but, for this day, the King
Requests a respite, till to-morrow's dawn
Matures his counsels, some domestic cares
At present have engross'd the royal mind
To these he dedicates his present hours!
To-morrow is the peoples!

[After a short conference with the rest.
Amoz.
We depend
Upon his wisdom, and with joint assent
Postpone our message, till he claims our presence

[Exeunt Delegates.
Ach.
The man who watches not the turning tide
Nor weighs his anchor, when the current serves
Must leave his vessel stranded on the beach
And mourn the moments lost! I did not rise
To this uncertain height to stem the blast
Of popular favour. He, that holds the helm
Of state should learn to veer with every wind
And have a harbour still secure and safe
On whatsoever coast the shifting gale
Blows from all quarters under heaven—I saw
This tempest in the cradle, nor despis'd
Its infant frowns, nor, when it grew at last
To giant size, it found me unprepar'd
To ride the wild waves in my steady barque!—
Let Joab and them, who scorn'd to shun the flaw
Beneath its fury sink!—for me, I scorn
To share the sounding fall of wilful men.—
Another crew may man the toiling ship
Tho', by themselves undone, the mariners
Were all swept overboard. Uriah then
Is Israel's favourite, and too well I know
The guilty reason why the conscious King
Would wish to raise him!—He has one way left
To calm the people's and the husband's rage
At once; I see the former chief's decline
And this new favourite's rise—whate'er I owe
The general, to myself a larger debt
Is due, nor will I break the ancient law
Of self-defence, to aid a desperate cause—
But who comes here?—

Enter a MESSENGER.
Mess.
My lord! a stranger sues
For audience.

Ach.
Let him come

Mess.
He shuns the view
Of public eyes.

Ach.
Let him declare to you
His business.

Mess.
He refuses to disclose
To any ear but yours', whate'er he claims!

Ach.
What means this mystic semblance? does he seem
A foreigner or native, one of rank
Plebeian, or above the common herd?

Mess.
His habit speaks the soldier! but he seems
A man, that on himself alone depends
Scorning the sun-shine and the storms of life
Not us'd to tremble at a despot's nod
But daring to confront him; as the time
And his disguise allow'd me, in his mein
And port, I this could learn.

Ach.
I hazard not
An interview with strangers—I have foes
That seek my life! before I see this man
He must with cautious hand be scrutiniz'd
For private arms.

Mess.
Already that is done
He of himself unfolded all his robe
And bade me search him round!

Ach.
Then let him wait
My coming at the secret place of audience.

Scene changes to a Closet in the Palace.
ACHITOPHEL, A STRANGER.
Ach.
[Joab discovering himself.

Joab.
Yes—I watch
While you securely sleep, nor seem to mind
The pent-up storm that seems to rage beneath
And threats to blow you to the moon! for me
I heard its voice afar, I mark'd its rage
Even from the camp, till under Salem's towers
It threatens dread explosion!

Ach.
For what end
I know not, but for some important end
The noble chief forsakes his watchful post
By Rabbah's towers, in those more dangerous walls
To face his unseen foes, that brew a storm
Which menaces more near.

Joab.
Ideal horrours
Of popular commotion! Let it rage
I've weather'd many worse! but this appears
A reptile, noxious vapour, carrying plagues
Deep in its bosom, which it sows around
And drizzles death, where'er it sweeps along,
Already has it poison'd half the camp
And now it sails away, and threats the city.

Ach.
Be calmer! and by certain signs describe
Your secret foe.

Joab.
His name at once declar'd
Discovers all—Uriah.

Ach.
Whence your dread
Of him?

Joab.
Are you to learn his guileful arts
His serpent fraud, that hisses as it stings
His whisper'd faction thro' the tribes of Israel—
It must be he—for since he join'd our bands
They hate the track of glory, and begin
To sigh for home—there was a time, of late
When honour was a soldier's sole religion—
But now, by yonder heaven, they talk of right
The rights of men and citizens, nor think
That fields, manur'd with blood, and leaguer'd walls
And thund'ring battlements (to swell the fame
Of conquerors and Kings), and laureate wreaths
To the survivors, pay the sighs and groans
Of a few mournful widows!

Ach.
What or who
Has taught them this new doctrine? have the murmurs
Of this seditious city reach'd the camp?—
Or is there one among themselves who sows
Those cockles in their minds?

Joab.
I tell thee, statesman
Uriah must be he!

Ach.
Uriah's name!
Say, is it sounded with more dread than yours?
Does he command the camp, conduct the siege?
Are you the rebel's master or his slave?—
What dread enchains your tongue, or what prevents
Your sentence on your substitute?

Joab.
His art
Baffles my rage, nor does he leave a mark
Even for the shafts of slander to insix
Its venom'd point. In loyalty's close mask
He veils the soulness of his deep designs
In darkness and in doubt! the common camp
Adores his name!—with more than wizard spell
Still as the factious clamour swells to Heaven
His balmy elocution sooths the storm
Like lenient oil on turbid waters pour'd—
Thus voluble and artful as the snake
That poisons with a kiss, he slips the hold
And baffles the pursuer!

Ach.
Curse his virtues!
Worse than the red plague, and the hidden fire
That wins its fearful way against the wind
His fame infects even here! the noisy crowd
That haunt our streets return his hated name
In echo to the camp, the storm you fear'd
Has crost another whirlwind in its way
And sweeps the forest with redoubled rage!

Joab.
And thou and I will in the whirlwind fall
Unless we foil its fury! Fate or chance
That led me here, I thank thee! else my hand
Perhaps had never drawn th'imperial sword!
—Canst thou conjecture yet the King's intent
With what new honours he designs to load
His favourite?

Ach.
But, that I know the King
Bound to his friends by more than kindred tyes
For loyalty, and long-try'd services
I would have thought he meant to raise him high
Or in the civil or the martial line.

Joab.
It was not then for nought the soldiers seem'd
To hail his name at parting, with the sound
Of many a hearty farewell, and the strain
Of public benedictions mixt with tears!—
I see the deadly birth of many a moon
Begin its dreadful progress in the clouds
And fall at length in horror on my head
We must return the poison to his lips
Or learn to drain the venom'd bowl ourselves.—

Ach.
Depend upon the King!

Joab.
The ties of blood!
My hapless hand has cut the holy knot
Long since—my loyalty is like his love!—
By a far different tenure I possess
My lofty post, I flourish in his fears
He dreads me, like a phantom of the night—
Whene'er he dares to turn a steady eye
Upon the dark and formidable shape
The shape is gone!—Achitophel! to thee
This is no mystery! since I clear'd my way
To military honours thro' the breast
Of Abner!—to my thought, I read my doom
Too plain, in David's alienated eye:
And did he know, that when he gave the word
For slaughter, echo would repeat the doom
From many a factious voice in Israel's camp
He would not linger long! This to thine ear
I trust with safety, for I know thy doom
Is link'd with mine, and thou wilt lend thine aid
To ward the coming ill.

Ach.
aside.
To Joab.

Joab.
Ha! statesman!—is it thus? have I upheld
Your pride and rais'd you from the dust to spurn
Your patron! but I come not here, on thee
Dependent, for I know thee! other arms
And arts are mine, than puny statesmens skill
I came no suppliant, with a gentle shower
Of woman's tears to court thy slender aid
But tell thee, in a voice of thunder, tell thee
Thou must dispatch this rival or resolve
To sink beneath his influence! he detests
Thine arts and thee—the watch-day to the wolf
Bears not more mortal enmity than he
To thee! and doest thou hope to live, when he
Rules paramount? as well the shadowy ghost
Might dare the sun's full beam, he dies, or thou
Must fall!

Ach.
aside.
I now must soothe him, till I point
My dart at leisure for a surer blow! To Joab.

Thou hast convinc'd me! but in David's love
If he has found protection, who shall dare
To snatch him thence?

Joab.
The law of self-protection!
Shall clear thee to thyself! nor have I shar'd
With thee so long the chace of common foes
To doubt thy skill to circumvent or snare
Thine enemies at will! thou hast the ear
Of David!—thro' that organ pour the bane
That taints the mind, thou strik'st as sure a blow
As if the murtherer's dagger arm'd thy hand!—
It was no trivial errand call'd me here
From Ammon's leaguer'd walls! I could confide
The secret to no bosom but my own
And thine—reflect, tho' numerous are my foes
Yet far more numerous are my friends—they spread,
From Tadmor's eastern bounds to Jordan's flood!—
Remember this, and let me ne'er behold
His hated face again, if thou wouldst wish
To see thy friend in peace!—I must away
And join my followers, ere the rosy morn
Blush for my seeming negligence! adieu.

[Ex. Joab.
Ach.
To-morrow's dawn shall see thee linger here
Or I am not Achitophel!—Am I
A man to be insulted, menac'd, plung'd
In ruin! selfish man! he nought regards
My cause, my life, my honour! so I lead
His hated rival to the dark abyss
He cares not, tho' I drown along! but they
Who guide the helm of state, are not to leave
The rudder at each hot-brain'd fools' command
That mutinies for sway! It seems a trifle
For you to leave your camp, in mean disguise
To leave the cause of nations on the point
And hazard of a moment, to pursue
Your guiltless foe, and from your Sovereign's heart
Tear the new favourite, and again secure
Your station with a second Abner's fall!
But I have felt your tyranny too long—
I help'd you! but the trade of blood has taught
The gratitude of wolves! But now, behold!
Thy savage fury drives thee to a snare
Thou little dream'st of! (If the King but dares
To be that heroe which he was of old
And 'venge a peoples wrongs.)—Let him do this,—
Sedition's fangs are drawn, and Faction hides
Her glaring orbs, that (like the comet's beam
Menac'd the state,) in everlasting sleep!—
Two savages at once are in my snare
If one escapes, he rends me—so perhaps
The other may,—but gratitude would bind
Uriah's noble nature to repay
Life for his life, and thanks for dignity—
The other's disposition nought secures
But adamant, and Hell's eternal chains.—
This is no time to falter, or delay
My purpose—who attends there? Bid the guard
Secure the outward gate! A spy is caught
From Rabbah sent! But see, the King himself;
This even exceeds my most exalted hopes!

Enter DAVID.
David.
What means this outcry! these unsual signs
Of trepidation which your visage tells
As if some terrible conspiracy
Was found?

Ach.
My Lord! if still you think me leagued
With the proud general to secure my sway
By his audacious aid, vouchsafe to hear
And judge my candour, loyalty, and truth
By what I now disclose!—in hot pursuit
Of brave Uriah's guiltless blood, the chief
This military star, the lasting dread
Of Ammon, leaves his post in mean disguise
And dares, beneath the glance of majesty
Beneath the double frown of you and Heaven
To dictate murther to me!

David.
Why, and how?
Amazement! can it be? would Joab forsake
His station? fling aside the general's staff
To seize th'assassin's dagger? we must be
Convinc'd of this by more than vague report
Belief is tardy to such 'scapes as these,
Prodigious, far beyond the reach of faith!

Ach.
Your own sight shall convince you! for, by this
He is secur'd, and now, if e'er you dar'd
Or when Goliah or his brother fell
Put on the warriour! strike the rebel down
With that awaken'd thunder, which (he says,)
You fear to wield, and start, even at the flash
Of your own bolt! His partizans are gone
His faction distant! Here the serpent's head
By its own fury and revenge impell'd
Has found its way, a single blow decides
Its doom, and then, its spires, and deadly sting
Will cease to threat!

David.
How will he meet my eyes?

Ach.
Oh think no more on that! but crush him now
Draw the knot hard that stifles him, or soon
The furies from thy hand will snatch the cord
And change it to Rebellion's scourge, to drive
Thy friends to fill Sedition's deadly files!
His fall will soothe their rage! the powers above
Have given another cast for royalty!
Seize it with noble daring, or you're lost!

David.
We must not be precipitate! the bent
Of Israel's mind would scarcely bear it now!

Ach.
Think on their hatred for his crime, the theme
Of general detestation thro' the tribes!

David.
Think how his name's ador'd in Israel's host!

Ach.
'Tis worth the tryal—you may trust too far!—
Resolve to vindicate your name, or go—
Go to the wilds again, and stray forlorn
In Paran's woods, or in her gloomy caves
Conceal your menac'd head! you must not look
For Heaven's protection now, as when you fled
From Saul!—that was your fate, but this your fault.
That was a test of holy confidence
But this, distrust in Heaven—resolve, and strike
The blow!

David,
Is he secur'd?

Ach.
He is, but yet
Feels not the pressure of the viewless snare
That waves its meshes o'er his sentenc'd head
Not to be broken, if your fiat seals
His doom, at once!—I go, to give the sign
But must not now be seen!

David.
Go, and return
Even with the expedition of a thought—
Each moment labours with the births of fate!—
His actions speak presumption, next to madness—
They call for punishment, or wild misrule
Will break subordination, and the child
Unborn, may live to curse the nerveless hand
Of Israel's King, who let the ruin spread [Exit. Achitophel.

Since first I sheath'd the sword that ought to blush
With penal blood for the lamented fall
Of Abner, still above my guilty head
The blade of heavenly justice seems to wave!
And is there then no second cause—no more
Let me extend the veil of others crimes
To hide my own abasement!—Hence, avaunt—
Say, whence and what art thou, insidious fiend
That strivest with opiate draught to lull the sense
Of Inward shame, and point'st another's sin
As if the blood of Abner could efface
The stain of David! but perhaps the doom
Of Joab may break one chain, and give the means
Of reparation to that injur'd man
Who well deserves, and well can fill the post
Of this audacious rebel! He is just,
And loves his King, tho' by the crowd rever'd;
His name the tumult of the streets resounds
His name the awful organ of the state
That speaks in Israel's delegated band
Exalts, and claims for him the martial wreath
'Tis Heaven itself the welcome choice inspires
'Tis Heaven, that bids the tempest lift its voice
And from the deep and stagnant gulf of air
Sweeps the contagion of the settled calm
Away!—I will obey the awful sign
And lull the storm by some great sacrifice
Before the whirlwind lays my honour low,
And spreads them in the dust—the voice of blood
Cries for revenge, and strikes the vault of Heaven.

Exit David.
Scene—A Prison.
Joab.
The statesman's art at last has gain'd the day
And I must fall, the victim of my pride
And folly!—I have heard of miracles
But never knew a lion snar'd before
In such a vile envenom'd spider's web.—
My blood must pay the purchase of his guile—
But force I dread not—David would not risque
The stroke of public justice. But the steel
Of the assassin, or the well-drug'd bowl
Will do the deed, and Abner's fall atone.—
Blood will have blood—and is there such a charm
In dying groans, that they can pierce the clouds
And wake the sleeping thunder?—When I feel
The bolt, I will believe it. But my heart
Still keeps its wonted measure—I may live
(For so my mind presages) to repay
My enemies, with grateful recompense.—
But who comes here? he does not bear the stamp
Of an assassin! royalty and youth
Blend in his aspect their united charms
—'Tis Absalom—he has not yet forgot
His ancient friends, altho' in faithless courts
Long educated; well I know his mind
Fearless and prompt as light'ning, yet as dark
As gathering tempests wrapt in midnight gloom
Altho' a beauteous surface hides that heart—
—What may this visit bode?

To him ABSALOM.
Abs.
What have we here
An eagle in a cage?

Joab.
True, royal youth! the kites
And daws have won the day!

Abs.
But who could dream
To see thee here! Is this thy generalship
To leave the siege?

Joab.
A little time had told
The purpose of this step, a slender space
Had shown, it was thy cause as much as mine!—
The common claim of royalty, the safety
Of David's house, as much as my command
That led me from the camp in this disguise
For one impending peril threatens both.

Abs.
This artful involution of your cause
With ours, were calculated well to gain
Our favour, were it true.

Joab.
By nobler arts
In happier times I thought I gain'd your love
And, low as I am now reduc'd, I scorn
By adulation's little arts to gloss
A bad cause over!—What I say, I'll prove.—
There is no room for hope, and if there were
I scorn by falsehood to obtain the boon.

Abs.
I came not here to offer hope, or try
With empty promises of useless aid
To soothe your dying moments—yet, if duty
The interest of my father, and the state
Permitted me to use my power, thy life
Were safe as mine!

Joab.
I know thy influence well
And well you know that I could pay, the price
Of thy protection, were I once again
In freedom to collect my numerous friends:
But let me fall, by vulgar arts o'erthrown,
Ere I expose the life of David's son
To danger by my flight!

Abs.
aside.
I know thy love—
(Rather thy interest—) and could well depend
Upon thy loyalty: but other bars
Divide my cause and thine—my name upholds
The people's privilege! I swell the breath
Of opposition; you support the power
Of new prerogative extended far
Beyond its ancient bounds!—

Joab.
aside.
(I see his views!—)
And wouldst thou wish the people's privilege
Extended equal to their haughty claims?
Wouldst thou desire to see Uriah rule
The banded powers of Israel? trust me, Prince!
That stern republican would lift his crest
Above the fading glories of the crown
And with its gems, purloin the public voice
To sanctify the robbery! those brave youths
Who eastward far in conquest spread the name
Of David, soon would see their mould'ring bands
Sink like the files of Lebanon before
The woodman's stroke! disbanded, or confin'd
Tamely in garrisons to waste their prime
And on our castled frontiers, face the foe
As lordly lions from their range confin'd
And chain'd, like shepherds dogs! would this become
The throne of Judah? You might see the time
When thou wouldst mourn the change, and weep to view
The martial fire of Israel thus confin'd
To fume away like smother'd lamps, at home!
How would the Arab, and the Ammonite
Rejoice to see the torrent of our rage
That swept their sandy plains, repose at last
In dull stagnation?

Abs.
Tho' I seem to blame
The bloody trophies from our neighbours won
And fill the cry of faction, to preserve
The interest of our family alive
And raise an artificial mound, to stem
The sinking torrent of the people's love
That fleets from David's name so fast away;
Yet, were this head ordain'd to sill the crown
I would not wish it had a hold so slight
As to be puff'd away, by every breath
Of popular discontent, I would not chuse
A bulrush for my sceptre, to be bent
By every breeze that blows!

Joab.
And wouldst thou wish
Like a state-captive, to implore thy guards
For liberty—to leave the palace dungeon
And breathe the liberal air? wouldst thou submit
To have thy progress bounded by the stream
Of Cedron's brook, nor ever from the brow
Of Olivet to see thy subject vales
Wave with their plenteous harvest? this must be
The fate of David! he has lost the people,
By the same cause that lost his own esteem.
And when this head lies low, as soon it must,
Be this my consolation, that those eyes
Shall not behold my Monarch's low disgrace,
Condemn'd at stated holidays to show
The gaudy pageant of fallen royalty
Led in the rabbles triumph!—

Abs.
This the sun
Shall never see, if I survive to fill
The throne of Judah!

Joab.
How canst thou avoid
This doom, if David shows the crowd the way
To domineer above the falling crown
How wilt thou stem the torrent when it roars
When that vile bird, that pecks the royal image
Grows to an eagle size, with all her brood
Of feather'd imps about her, long enur'd
To prey on kingly power? then, who will dare
To clip their wings, or lure them from the scent
Of palace plunder? not the boasted wand
Of Moses, which dismist the living cloud
Of locusts to the Erythrean main!

Abs.
There still are hopes, for yet this vulture's nest
Is callow, and a little art can rule
The unfledg'd family!

Joab.
Yes—would the King
Resign to thee the sceptre, or admit thee
The partner of his throne, he then might rule
O'er all the hearts in Israel.

Abs.
Would that awe
Due to my father, to my faltering voice
Give its full compass, I could claim my share
Of royalty, in thunder's deepest note!

Joab.
I praise thy piety, that deigns to wait
For thy legitimate boon, till sage Uriah
A proselyte to loyalty and order
Allows the sapient measure, founded deep
In wisdom, and permits thy greener boughs
To climb the withering stem of royalty
And clothe it with new blossoms!

Abs.
Deep I feel,
The keen edge of thy censure! Jesse's stem
Was never doom'd to bend and sue for grace
To this new favourite, by a female hand
Rais'd to the pitch of greatness!

Joab.
On that theme
Silence befits us best. The mind may see
What our eyes wink at!—

Abs.
Yet a thought occurs!
I am not deeply read in Israel's story
But say—was Saul, the royal Benjamite
Chosen by the voice of Heaven, or of the people!

Joab.
Nam'd by the prophet, but the common vote
Confirm'd it!

Abs.
Then the people in their tribes
Pronounc'd the will of Heaven!—another question!—
Was not this Benjamite, (altho' by Heaven
Propos'd, and by the people's voice confirm'd—)
Yet by a righteous mandate set aside
Hurl'd from his throne, altho' the sentence hung
In short suspence; did he not wear the crown
And royal mantle like a victim drest
For hallow'd butchery, before he fell
In Gilboa's fatal field?

Joab.
Your sire possess'd
The sanction of the prophet—long before
The death of Saul. His hatred rose from hence—
Hence rose his persecution of thy father.

Abs.
The people's voice at Hebron chose my father,
Their acclamations rais'd him to the stars,
But now the buoyance of their breath subsides,
And down he sinks!

Joab.
Thy words forerun my thoughts,
And give that breath, which I had scarce presum'd
To picture in my mind! Nay, do not start!
The low declining cause of royalty
(Tho' by unusual methods) must be prop'd;
The public is our first concern, whate'er
Becomes of private ties.

Abs.
'Tis piety
To save a father, plunging in the stream,
Tho' at th'expence of half his cumbrous robes,
Which hinders his exertion. It were sacrilege
To strip a parent, were it not to save
His life.

Joab.
Were but those hands unchain'd,
My voice could call ten thousand warlike hands
To aid thy claim!

Abs.
I have the people's voice—
Yet such a great and arduous enterprize
Throbbs at my heart in ominous presage!—
I dread the hazard of a precious life.
My father will not tamely share his crown,
Tho' all the tribes demand it! He has still
His band of heroes to support his claim,
Uriah at their head!

Joab.
Had David fled
The prophet's holy unction, he had kept
The flocks of Bethlehem still, and never grasp'd
The rod of royalty. But thou, perhaps,
Hast doubts of me!—Uriah may be found
To suit thy purpose better.

Abs.
Thou betray'st
The father! can the son confide in thee?

Joab.
'Tis by the son's advancement I preserve
The father, for unless with thee he shares
The steerage of the state, the barque is lost.—
Heaven smite this head with all its choicest plagues
If e'er I lost my loyalty to him!—
Yet you perceive how he rewards my truth!—
Consider, prince, my voice could oft have rais'd
A tempest, that had shook his blasted boughs
Ere yet he fixt his fibres in the soil!—
'Twas in his cause I rais'd my hasty hand
'Gainst Abner's life, and risqu'd the people's hate.
I graft you on his stock to save the stem,
To save you from the storm that threatens both!

Abs.
Should I procure you liberty and life,
What pledge could you afford me of your faith,
And pure intention to support my claim
With all your means?

Joab.
If I forget my faith
And promise pledg'd, you still can reach my life,
At least my fame, and at my armies' head
Thy voice can blast my fortunes, tho' my flag
Stream'd on the walls of Rabbah, and you know
My hatred to Uriah! I must leave
My deadly rival basking in the beam
Of royal favour, and your voice to him
(If I deceive you) can at once secure
The rule of Israel's bands!

Abs.
The dye is cast—
I free thy body to secure thy mind—
But with the strong and viewless bond of souls
I first must bind you fast. I go to find
The means of your enfranchisement.

[Exit.
Joab.
Why go!—
I like thy soaring spirit! but, alas!
How shallow to suppose, my schemes possess
As little reach as thine! Shall I employ
My master-engine, form'd with patient art,
To play for children's bidding, to disturb
The settled elements, and almost disjoint
Both worlds, to mount a bubble on the breeze
For fools to laugh at? No—presumptuous boy!
Thou didst not feel the still and subtle breath
That blew thy flame to such a raging height.—
My lungs deny their office, and thy blaze
Goes out! The stubble is consum'd that fed
The conflagration. Go—Convene thy tribes,
Hollow sedition in the general ear,
And bid the trumpet of rebellion sound,
Emblaze the streaming flag of proud revolt
With gorgeous colours of necessity,
And exigence of state! I'll aid the king.
My loyal trump shall blow a blast so loud,
As soon shall drown thy factious minstrelsie,
And stun sedition's bands. A fair pretext
Thy riot shall afford, to weed the land
Of all those rash and fiery volunteers
That spend their mouths and bark at royalty
This this shall found again my tottering power
On adamantine base! the King shall reign
My delegate, and I his earthly God—
Hark—to the jarring music of yon gate
Hail! glorious freedom! hail! unbounded sway!—