 | Herod |  |
9
ACT I
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Scene.—The great hall of audience in the Palace of Herod at Jerusalem, festooned with garlands and harvest offerings for the Feast of Tabernacles. Through the colonnade at back is seen the sacred Hill of Jerusalem, with the Temple courts and Castle of Antonia, separated from the Palace by the Tyropœon valley. On the r. a flight of stairs ascends to a gallery, leading to the royal apartments. At the top of this, guarding a bronze door, stands Sohemus. Gadias sits reading documents at foot of throne. As the Curtain rises, a faint
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Enter hurriedly three Messengers.
First M.
Is the king risen? From Samaria we,
Breathless, and with a burning tale to tell.
Soh.
My place is here: to sentinel this door.
Second M.
But these are tidings—
Soh.
Here I stand and stir not.
Third M.
Believe it, sir—look on this dust and haste.
Soh.
I am a soldier, and obey.
First M.
But, sir—
'Tis Herod's throne—his life perhaps—this news—
Soh.
Must wait.
First M.
When is there hope of audience?
Soh.
The king is taking now his noon-day sleep,
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To greet Aristobulus, the queen's brother,
Who from the Feast of Tabernacles comes,
Newly anoint High-Priest.
Second M.
Aristobulus?
First M.
Why, 'tis of him we come to speak.
Third M.
'Tis he
Whom the fanatics of Samaria
Would throne—
Soh.
And then, the king will sit in Council.
First M.
Well, sirs—we must await the king: come then.
[Messengers retire into background. Sohemus resumes his guard. Enter below Salome in agitation.
Salome.
Is the king waked?
Soh.
Princess, I stand on guard.
He hath commanded, and I know no more.
Salome.
Rouse him.
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'Tis not in my direction. Then—
Salome.
Give way to me.
Soh.
I stir not.
Salome.
I will pass.
Soh.
Princess, not while I live.
Salome.
The king shall hear me.
Her arrogance, her stillness and her stare—
Soh.
The king will hear no tale against the queen.
Salome.
Why, in the streets, along the public ways,
Are pointing figures, and a running taunt,
‘See Herod's low-born sister!’ And the children
Are lifted upon shoulders to behold
‘The Idumean woman—’ Now give way.
Soh.
The king will hear no tale against the queen.
Salome.
O, 'tis a madness, but it shall be cured
Now—and by me.
Soh.
Princess, there is no passing.
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I am refused then. Am refused redress.
[She turns and perceives Gadias.
Ah there, Gadias! Witness you this thing?
Witness—I am denied by my own brother.
Where is the king, then?
Gadias.
Well, he rests, no doubt.
All night he wanders through Jerusalem,
And listens in disguise the public talk,
And he resorts with priest and Pharisee,
With smithy gossips, bearers at the well,
With travellers and with feasters in the booths.
Little their talk will please him—
[A cry of acclamation.
Salome.
Whence that cry?
Gadias.
The multitude acclaims Aristobulus.
Salome.
Ah!
Gadias.
Well—
Salome.
I'll bear no more with Mariamne,
Although the blood of all the Maccabees
Runs in her veins, and we are alien,
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That still superb unrealising stare,
Or deeper and diviner disregard,
And silence full of arrows and of tongues?
And he shall hear me yet.
[Exit.
Gadias.
A woman's quarrel
And nothing more? Well—
[To Sohemus.]
Is the king awake?
Soh.
I know not, sir; here were three fellows, hot
Out of Samaria, and there too they scheme
To enthrone Aristobulus.
Gadias.
Still—and still
Aristobulus!
Enter Pheroras.
Is the guard, Pheroras,
Safe? To be leaned on?
Pher.
To the uttermost.
Gadias.
We shall have need of them.
Pher.
And on the instant?
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Gadias.
In Samaria they plot
To crown Aristobulus.
Pher.
Is the king
'Ware of all this?
Gadias.
He is 'ware of all things—but—
Pher.
Why then?
Gadias.
The woman.
Pher.
Who?
Gadias.
Always the woman.
Pher.
But how?
Gadias.
The boy Aristobulus bears
Some likeness to his sister the loved queen,
Some mole at the back of his neck or—
Pher.
Come, Gadias.
Gadias.
Your pardon—he is like to Mariamne,
Therefore, although he may hurl Herod down,
We may not touch him—he may grasp the throne;
Well—he is like to Mariamne—or
He may kill Herod; well, he is most like
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He is made high-priest: Herod, to please the queen,
Must raise himself a rival in this boy.
[During this speech various Councillors, etc., have come leisurely in. Another cry of acclamation is heard.
First Coun.
Gadias, there is peril in that cry.
Second Coun.
For young Aristobulus is the shout.
Third Coun.
The darling of the multitude.
First Coun.
And sprung
Of the old blood.
Young Coun.
And all behind him is
A sense of something coming on the world,
A crying of dead prophets from their tombs,
A singing of dead poets from their graves.
Gadias.
I ever dread the young: well, as you know,
Herod is our sole stay.
Second Coun.
Our brain—our arm.
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He, he alone postpones the Roman doom.
Third Coun.
If Herod then by mutiny should fall—
First Capt.
That moment swoop the yelling eagles down.
Second Capt.
Have those two eagles with the world for prey
Yet closed to talon reach?
Pher.
I know not, sir.
Coun.
Octavius Cæsar and Marc Antony.
Gadias.
Herod is fast bound unto Antony.
First Capt.
If Cæsar then should triumph—
Gadias.
Then 'twere ill
For friends of Antony.
Coun.
Herod—and us.
Second Capt.
But Antony's the elder soldier—
Gadias.
Well—
Pher.
Octavius is a lad—
Gadias.
The lad fights free,
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Enter Servant down gallery stairs.
Serv.
[To Gadias.]
The king, sir, will descend with ceremony
To greet the new High-Priest Aristobulus.
Gadias.
And in what mood?
Serv.
He hath said nothing, sir.
[Another cry of acclamation.
Listen, that cry. It was not for the king.
[Music is heard from without, and grows louder as the procession of people from the Feast of Tabernacles comes in dancing and carrying wreaths of fruit and flowers, with boughs of palm, willow, and citron. Following them walk Cypros and Salome, and lastly Mariamne, leading Aristobulus by the hand. As these take place by the foot of the throne, the door of the private apartments opens, and Herod, ceremonially dressed, comes down the stairs and seats himself on the throne. There is a loud acclamation for
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Mar.
[Leading Aristobulus before Herod, who seats her on throne beside him.]
Herod, before all these I here would thank you
For honouring thus the Asmonæan House,
And making thus my brother the high-priest.
Since his ancestral office he resumes,
We three are bound unto each other more:
With him the rites of peace, with thee the sword,
With me a reconciling love for both.
Ch. Priest.
O people, lo the anointed of the Lord;
May God send down on him His glory of old,
And for his sake forbear to bend the bow,
In the day of ire and darkness, in that day.
Lo, the High Priest of God—Aristobulus.
[A vast shout of acclamation, taken up by the throng; Mariamne in sudden delight leaves Herod's side, and embraces Aristobulus.
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Brother, I glow all o'er to hear your name
Cried and cried out. O thou art holy, child;
About thee is the sound of rushing wings
And a breathing as of angels thro' thy hair.
Yet, brother, even now forget me not.
Aris.
O Mariamne, tell me not: I am tired.
Mar.
Even in this hour remember still faint dawns
When you and I together slipp'd away
To the dark fields, and cried out to each other
At each new flower we found.
Aris.
I am a man
Now, and must put such softnesses away.
Mar.
Was ever brother loved as thou art loved?
Aris.
I am deaf with praises, and all dazed with flowers;
Cling any to me yet?
Mar.
Yes, here and here.
Aris.
Give me that palm leaf, I will wear it so.
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[Advancing from the crowd.]
O holy, wilt thou suffer these my children
To touch thy garment hem?
Aris.
O, yes.
[The Children are brought forward and touch his robe.
Old Man.
And me
To kiss thy hands.
Aris.
My hands are worn with kisses.
Old Man.
O thou of the old Asmonæan blood,
Remember those dead priests that yet were kings.
[A general shout. Herod's brow darkens.
Aris.
Their blood is thrilling in me.
[Another shout.
Mar.
Beautiful,
Thy face did dim the gold of the Temple—yet—
Aris.
Well, sister.
Mar.
O, let it not lure thee, child.
[She again puts her arm round his neck.
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Ah, sister. Kiss me not. I am tired.
Mar.
Still
Remember me. I am so wrapped in thee;
My love hath hovered round thee since thy birth;
I have suffered like a mother in my dreams
For thee.
Aris.
But O, the raining of the blooms;
The cymbals and the roarings and the roses!
I seemed to drink bright wine and run on flowers.
Nay, Mariamne, how should I forget thee?
Mar.
Child, I would be with thee to hold thee close.
Aris.
No, lean henceforth on my protecting arm.
Mar.
Almost I could laugh at you—but 'tis laughter
That dies off sudden.
Ch. Priest.
To the closing feast
Depart, O people, now, with song and dance.
[Exeunt all but Herod and Gadias.
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A child! Gadias, wandering night by night
Among the people of Jerusalem,
I hear a whispering of some new king,
A child that is to sit where I am sitting;
The general boding hath ta'en hold of me.
If this thing has been fated from the first—
Gadias.
It is the fault of dreamers to fear fate.
Herod.
[Dreamily.]
And he shall charm and soothe, and breathe and bless,
The roaring of war shall cease upon the air,
Falling of tears and all the voices of sorrow.
And he shall take the terror from the grave—
Gadias.
The malady is too old and too long rooted.
The earth ailed from the first; war, pestilence,
Madness and death are not as ills that she
Contracted, but are in her bones and blood.
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And he shall still that old sob of the sea,
And heal the unhappy fancies of the wind,
And turn the moon from all that hopeless quest;
Trees without care shall blossom, and all the fields
Shall without labour unto harvest come.
Gadias.
Dangerous—labourers thrown from work rebel.
Herod.
A gentle sovereign. Ah, might there not be
Some power in gentleness we dream not of?
Gadias.
The gentle are tame birds that feed the hawk.
Herod.
To overcome by other ways than steel—
Gadias.
A somewhat sudden change of policy.
It has not been our way; and was not when
You murdered the whole Sanhedrin; nor when
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Or bribed Mark Antony to slay—
Herod.
Ah, no—
Tis not for us. A momentary thought
Like a strange breeze in darkness on the cheek.
Still must we trample, crush, corrupt, and kill.
And he shall be king of the Jews—
Gadias.
Perhaps Aristobulus, then?
Herod.
Wild is the time;
Abroad, Octavius and Mark Antony,
Like rival thunders from opposèd poles,
Are rushing to that shock which splits the world.
Now Antony is grappled to my side,
And on his victory this realm depends.
Enter in haste three Messengers followed by various Councillors and Captains.
First M.
Lo, out of Egypt we—breathless, O king.
Herod.
Well—well?
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O king—disaster.
Herod.
Speak then, speak.
Second M.
O king, the demi-emperor of the world—
Herod.
Say—say.
Second M.
O king—Mark Antony is dead.
[General consternation.
Herod.
Antony dead? Antony dead? How slain?
Third M.
Off Actium his fleet from Cæsar fled.
He, with dishonour mad, fell on his sword.
Herod.
Antony dead?
Gadias.
Now trembles all Judæa.
Herod.
My sole friend of the world, grasping whose hand,
I feared not Cæsar nor the roar of Rome.
Can ye not hear the legions on the wind?
Now, now—
[Several Captains rush in.
Capt.
Arm—arm—and without pause.
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Equip
Ships on the instant.
Coun.
Make submission straight.
Pher.
Retire to the inner fort.
Another.
To Antonia.
Gadias.
Bribe Cleopatra with the balsam groves
Of Jericho to hold young Cæsar fast
With kisses, till the stabber find his way.
Herod.
I will do none of these. I'll go and meet
Octavius Cæsar.
Gadias.
Madness.
Herod.
If 'twere thou.
First M.
He makes for Syria, and must touch at Rhodes.
Herod.
To Rhodes I go then.
[General surprise.
And I go to-night.
[Various Councillors approach Herod with dissuading gestures.
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To-night! You are dismissed. To you, Pheroras,
My legions on all frontiers or within
The walls: to you, Gadias, all the strings
Of policy I leave: whom to corrupt
And whom to kill, and whom to magnify:
To you, Sohemus, I commend the queen.
Away! Gadias, stay.
[Exeunt Sohemus and Pheroras.
And yet to leave
Behind—
Gadias.
Ah—there my point is.
Herod.
Mariamne.
Gadias.
O Herod, others must you leave behind.
Aristobulus—
Herod.
Ah—
Gadias.
You go, and leave him.
Brain of the east; by you we stand or fall;
You are Judæa, and in this large thought
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This morn three fellows from Samaria—
A plot to crown him, and to have your life.
Herod.
What messenger can tell me a new thing?
Gadias.
And knowing this, you leave that seed of peril—
Herod.
But Mariamne loves him so.
Gadias.
Most plain
To all—indeed it seemed that—pardon.
Herod.
Cease.
And he is like to her about the brow—
I strike at Mariamne, striking him,
Perhaps even at myself; perhaps myself.
Gadias.
Then if because he hath her face, her voice—
Herod.
Ah, hath he not?
Gadias.
A trick, perhaps.
Herod.
A trick!
One could not get by heart that sweetness, not
From noon-foam of the Mediterranean
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To lone Abanah under Syrian stars.
Gadias.
If for this likeness you postpone the realm,
'Twere wiser not to go.
Herod.
I go—
Gadias.
And then
Aristobulus—
Herod.
I have said it.
Gadias.
But
Aristobulus?
Herod.
I will flatter Cæsar—
Gadias.
Aristobulus then?
Enter Sohemus in haste.
Soh.
The city is up;
The multitude about the temple roars
‘Aristobulus,’ and ‘Herod the Upstart’;
And blind Syllæus hails him as that king
That is to come.
Gadias.
You have no need of me,
You know my mind—and here are younger men.
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‘Still must we trample, crush, corrupt, and kill?’
[Exit Gadias. Murmurs outside.
Herod.
Sohemus, in the midst of this I go
And leave behind Aristobulus—well,
I have preferred you, lifted you on high.
Soh.
Herod, I am your slave, your dog.
Herod.
Well then,
If I should have a need of you. But how?
When I shall put this ring upon your finger,
Then one must be removed for the State's welfare.
Enter Servant.
Serv.
O king! the Prince Aristobulus asks
To say farewell to you.
Enter Aristobulus.
Aris.
Brother, I come
To say farewell to you. I go to cool me
Outside the walls, and feared you should be gone
When I returned.
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[Going to touch his head, but cannot.]
Farewell, Aristobulus.
Aris.
[Lightly.]
And, sir, you leave the city in strong hands.
I have grown up in a day. Did you not hear
The acclamations as I waded hither
Knee-deep in flowers? You go then with less fear—
And Mariamne—
Herod.
Cease. Then whither go you?
Aris.
To bathe.
Herod.
To bathe?
[Looks at Sohemus, who starts.]
Aris.
Yonder in the great pool.
Herod.
And are you to deep waters used?
Aris.
O, yes.
Herod.
You know the pool well?
Aris.
O, from side to side.
Herod.
Yet are there no entangling reeds that drag
Downward?
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I fear them not. Ah, for the plunge,
The upward burst, and the long dart through waters.
Herod.
Go you alone?
Aris.
O, yes.
Herod.
Were it not well
Some other went with you—Sohemus here?
Aris.
I shall be glad of him.
Herod.
Stay not too long.
Aris.
Farewell then, Herod.
Herod.
I have said it.
Aris.
So?
It may be that I shall return in time.
But I so love the waters, I may linger
Floating upon my back thus, and my face
Skyward, and you depart not seeing me;
So now farewell!
Will you not look at me?
Herod.
Farewell again.
[Exit Aristobulus, slowly. Sohemus
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Soh.
O king!
[Herod points meaningly to Sohemus to follow Aris.
[Exit Sohemus.
Herod.
He hath her eyes.
Thou art too like to Mariamne—ah!
Enter Attendant from back.
Attend.
O king! the queen would have you go to her.
Herod.
The queen? Ah, no. Not yet—not on the instant.
Say I will come at dusking, ere I go.
No, no; I cannot look on thee so soon.
I have struck him down, and fear is come on me;
Yet I ne'er feared before; not when I slew
The assembled Sanhedrin. Why do I tremble?
Not that I have contrived this murder, this
Unshunnable and necessary act.
Then why this apprehension mystical,
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Dimly I dread lest having struck this blow
Of my free-will, I by this very act
Have signed and pledged me to a second blow
Against my will. What if the powers permit
The doing of that deed which serves us now;
Then of that very deed do make a spur
To drive us to some act that we abhor?
The first step is with us; then all the road,
The long road is with Fate. O horrible!
If he being dead demand another death.
[Walks backwards into Mariamne's arms, she having entered softly behind him.
Mar.
You are in some peril, Herod?
Herod.
I? No—no.
Mar.
But see, great drops have gathered on your brow.
Herod.
I am well now.
Mar.
Then come—for the first time
You have deferred me—come—you go to-night,
Our love is at its noon—then be with me.
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Herod.
I have a thing to do, and on the instant.
Mar.
[Putting her arm about him.]
'Tis not of such import.
Herod.
The pool!
Mar.
Come, come.
[They go off together. Music. Pause. The sky darkens.
[Various Women and Bathsheba come slowly on in the gallery above. A tinkling sound rises up from the city. First a Woman enters, fanning herself.
Bath.
A breeze, a breeze. Did you not feel it?
Woman.
Yes.
But when again?
Another.
I droop.
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I faint.
Another.
O, when?
Another.
Stand from me. Air is coming—ah!
Another.
At last.
Another.
Delicious.
Another.
There is mercy from the West.
Bath.
Slowly it lifts my hair.
Another.
Listen, the trees.
Woman.
The low long ‘Ah’ of foliage.
Another.
And a star.
Bath.
O breathing of balsam and of citron groves
A moment!
Another.
Myrtle then.
Another.
And then a waft
Of cassia—
Another.
And a wandering cedar scent.
Another.
Now one can breathe. Come out into the cool.
[Music. Exeunt all but Bathsheba.
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Above, star after star; in the city beneath
Lamp after lamp. Oh! would I were down there?
Now strings are touched, and they begin to dance.
Oh, would I were down there? How sweet the night!
[Exit.
Enter Cypros and Salome.
Salome.
No; I'll not stay.
Cypros.
A little patience, child.
Salome.
I hate her, mother.
Cypros.
Do I love her?
Salome.
Time
Hath taken the sting from you.
Cypros.
I do not waste it,
And when I dart it forth I kill, not prick.
Salome.
If you can patiently support—
Cypros.
I can,
And patiently prepare revenge.
Salome.
But how?
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Child, I foresee, though dimly, a great vengeance.
Salome.
If I saw that—
Cypros.
Remember Herod's love—
That madness, easy to be worked upon—
For Mariamne. Then her love, how deep
For young Aristobulus.
Salome.
Yet how, how?
Cypros.
Still clearer then? Remember
Herod's rage
At acclamations on her brother heaped;
Remember the set teeth and veilèd glare.
Salome.
Oh—I begin to see.
Cypros.
No more is ripe.
I keep this phial here close to my heart.
Did not the great astrologer foretell
‘Herod shall famous be o'er all the world,
But he shall kill that thing which most he loves.’
I feared then; but not now.
Salome.
No—we are safe.
Cypros.
Then will you leave the palace?
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No; I'll stay
Upon the chance; yet would I tear her beauty
Thus with my nails.
Cypros.
You speak as might a girl,
But I will have—
Salome.
What—what?
Cypros.
Her life; no less;
I'll send her to that democratic doom;
Down to the levelling grave; and she shall die—
Not at our hands.
Salome.
Who then shall do this thing?
Speak; who?
Cypros.
Wait: wait, I say, and watch.
[Exeunt Cypros and Salome.
Herod.
That star is languorous with divine excess!
Mar.
O world of wearied passion dimly bright!
Herod.
Now the armed man doth lay his armour by,
And now the husband hasteth to the wife.
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The brother to the sister maketh home.
Herod.
Now cometh the old lion from the pool.
Mar.
And the young lion having drunk enough—
But, Herod, you are going into peril.
Herod.
The peril hath a glitter for thy sake.
[Comes down steps.
Mar.
Ah—must you go?
Herod.
To match myself with Rome.
Great difficulties bring delight to me.
Mar.
And most for this I love you, and have loved,
That when you wooed, behind you cities crashed;
Those eyes that dimmed for me flamed in the breach,
And you were scorched and scarred and dressed in spoils,
Magnificent in livery of ruin.
You swept denial off and all delay,
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Thou who didst never fear, Herod, my Herod,
Now clasp me close as thou didst clasp me then,
When like a hundred lightnings brands upsprung
In the night sudden. Then did you laugh out
And whirled me like a god through the dark away.
Herod.
How shall I go now?
Mar.
I'd not have you stay.
For could you stay you were no more my Herod.
How bright the towered world!
Herod.
The towered world;
And we, we two will grasp it, we will burst
Out of the East unto the setting sun.
Mar.
Thou art a man—
Herod.
With thee will be a god;
Now stand we on the hill in red sunrise.
Mar.
Now hand in hand into the morning.
45
Ever
Upward and upward—ever hand in hand;
Shall nothing stay thy love, Mariamne, nothing?
Nothing shall stay it—nothing?
Mar.
No—unless—
Herod.
What—what?
Mar.
I cannot say—but—
Herod.
Mariamne,
Tell me that nothing—
Mar.
Nothing from outside—
Herod.
How then?
Mar.
Why speak of what shall never be?
Pull back my head, and look down in my eyes,
Herod, my Herod, such a love as grows
For you within me, it could never die.
Herod.
Ah!
Mar.
And I take a kind of maiden pleasure
In hushing what I feel will be so wild,
In staying what I know shall be so swift;
This love could never fade.
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O eyes of dew!
Mar.
Not time, absence, or age ever could touch it.
Herod.
O liquid language of Eternity!
Mar.
Only—
Herod.
You start up and you lay both hands
Thus on my shoulder, and your eyes are full.
Close to my heart!
Mar.
No—stand so far from me.
Herod.
Utter what is behind.
Mar.
Yet might you kill it.
Herod.
Say—
Mar.
In a night murder it—in a moment;
It is so brave you would not hear a cry,
But—
Herod.
If I did such murder then—
Mar.
O, then
You'd stoop and lift a dead face up to you,
And pull me out from reeds like one just drowned,
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Go here and there, and words would fall from me.
But, ah—you'd touch but an embalmèd thing.
Do nothing, Herod, that shall hurt my soul.
[A faint sound of wailing is heard in the distance.
Listen!
Herod.
O Mariamne!
Mar.
Listen!
Herod.
What?
Mar.
Be still; did you not hear it? Nearer now.
Herod.
What—what?
Mar.
A wailing! And again you start
As once this noontide.
Herod.
Mariamne, say
That nothing ever shall divide us two.
Mar.
Again! What hath been found?
Herod.
Ah; close to me.
48
I cannot hear, I am all blind and dumb;
They are bringing what is found toward us, Herod.
Herod.
This cannot touch us.
Mar.
And they bring it slowly.
They wail not for the old as these are wailing.
Steps now—
Herod.
A knocking. Ere they shall come in
Say, Mariamne, nothing shall divide us.
Mar.
Let them come in.
Herod.
Bring in your burden, then.
[Enter Bearers with a litter on which lies a body covered over. Wailing women walk before and after.
Mar.
A moment stay, sirs. Now disclose the face.
[Reels back with a cry.
Soh.
The queen falls.
Herod.
[Catching her in his arms.]
Mariamne, die not.
49
O!
[Recovers herself slowly and with effort, then speaks as in stony bewilderment.
Sirs, set the litter here. I'll sit by it.
And leave me, all of you.
Herod.
But I?
Mar.
O, you;
You are my husband, stay.
[Exeunt all but Herod and Mariamne.
Herod.
Mariamne, there's no help—we can but give
Honour, and he in such magnificence
Shall lie—Mariamne, hear you?—that his tomb
Shall with its golden glory lure strange sails.
Will you not turn ever so little? There
Aloe and cinnamon and cassia balm
Shall breathe, and mighty poets in his praise
Shall make their verse in funeral thunders roll,
Or wail as women or wind out of the sea.
A word now—but a whisper.
Re-enter Sohemus.
50
All things wait.
Night rushes on us.
Herod.
Now into your hands
I do commend the queen. Mariamne, I
Am going into peril—say farewell.
Mar.
[Rising.]
I stand between the living and the dead.
[Moving away.
Herod.
For the last time—your lips for the last time.
Mar.
Oh, take them, Herod, but—
Herod.
What have I done?
If she—
[A trumpet.
Soh.
Away, O king, the trumpet calls.
Herod.
My bugle from the hill shall say farewell.
Hither from that dead body. Hither. I grow
Even jealous of the dead. Hither! Ah, no;
Farewell, farewell—for Rhodes.
51
Mar.
This morn all flushed with music and with roses,
This eve all silent and so lily-pale,
O swift and sudden change—
[Pause: then with the dawn of a gradual terrible suspicion.
Aha! and perhaps
That very brightness brought about this gloom.
I must not think—imagine it: and yet
Twice Herod started, and his brow was damp:
‘Mariamne, say that nothing shall divide us,
Nothing:’ O was it this thing that he feared?
Re-enter Sohemus. Mariamne, still kneeling, turns and gazes piercingly on him.
Soh.
[To himself.]
She overcomes me like that starry arch
52
And paused with poisèd javelin in the moonbeams.
[To Mariamne.
O queen, why are your eyes so fixed on me?
What is it I shall do? Shall I fetch hither
Bathsheba? Still your eyes between the candles
Burn through me. What then would you have me do?
Mar.
Come hither and stand near to me, Sohemus.
[Sohemus comes to her side.
And he was a strong swimmer yet was drowned.
Soh.
The entangling reeds.
Mar.
Lay upon mine your hand.
Soh.
O queen, I tremble at your touch.
Mar.
This morn
The people cried out that he should be king.
Soh.
It was a madness.
Mar.
Look into my eyes.
Will you not? Kings have gazed in them.
53
O queen!
I am dazed; thy beauty takes away my life
And being.
Mar.
Herod goes and leaves behind—
Soh.
'Tis very still.
Mar.
You have been true to Herod?
Soh.
O until death.
Mar.
Yes, unto death. Sohemus,
Start not away.
Soh.
O queen, I cannot stir.
I am held as in a dream.
Mar.
Sohemus, stay.
Was not this dying fortunate for Herod?
Came it not just upon the time? O speak,
And fear not—kings must not be lightly blamed,
No, nor king's instruments. Now, in your ear,
Was not this drowning fortunate for Herod?
Soh.
O, kill me, but command me not to speak.
Mar.
A necessary death then. Was it so?
54
What shall I say?
Mar.
The truth. I know it now.
This child was murdered.
Soh.
Murdered?
Mar.
They came round
And held him under, and great bubbles rose.
Now by this beauty can you answer No?
Soh.
I—I—I cannot.
Mar.
Go.
[Exit Sohemus.
[Mariamne turns again to the litter. At this moment the faint sound of a bugle is heard far off, and in the distance the torches of Herod's retinue are seen moving over a hill. Mariamne turns.
Ah, Herod, Herod!
| Herod | |