University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

SCENE I.

PHERORAS, NARBAL, SOHEMUS.
Pheroras.
The Morning in her richest purple rob'd,
Smiles with auspicious lustre on the day,
Which brings my royal brother back from Rhodes;
Confirm'd in empire by the general voice
Of Cæsar and the senate.

Narb.
This blest day
In latest annals shall distinguish'd shine,
Sacred to majesty, and dear to love:
The same which saw the royal lovers march
In nuptial pomp, revolving now restores
Herod to Mariamne and his crown.

Soh.
Fortune at length to merit grows a friend;
Or fate ordain'd the happiest stars to shed
Their influence on his birth; or sure since Rome,
With civil discord rent, so oft hath chang'd
Her own great lords, as bleeding conquest rais'd
Or sunk the doubtful balance, we had shar'd
The same vicissitudes of restless pow'r.

Narb.
Herod avow'd the dear respect he bore
To Anthony, and drop'd a generous tear
To grace his ruins.

Pher.
Yes, and Cæsar sat
Pensive and silent; in his anxious breast
Perhaps revolving that of all his train,
Who proudly wanton in his mounted rays,
Gay flutt'ring insects of a summer-noon,
How few wou'd bear the wintry storms of fate!
At length he smiling rose, receiv'd the crown
From Herod's hand, and plac'd it on his brow,
Crying, Shine there! for Cæsar cannot find
A worthier head to wear thee.

Soh.
From the grace
Of such a victor to receive a crown,
With such peculiar attributes of fame,
Confers more glory than a chronicle
Of scepter'd ancestors.

Pher.
Narbal, your care
Will see due honours to the day discharg'd.
Let the shrill trumpet's cheerful note injoin
A general feast, and joy with loud acclaim
Through all the streets of Solyma resound.
Let steams of grateful incense cloud the sky,
Till the rich fragrance reach the utmost bounds
Of Herod's empire: let each smiling brow
Wear peaceful olive, whilst the virgin-choirs
Warbling his praise, his paths with flow'rs perfume,
Who guards Judæa with the shield of Rome.

[Exit Nar.

SCENE II.

PHERORAS, SOHEMUS.
Sohemus.
My Lord, the province you've assign'd agrees
With Narbal's talents; none is better form'd
To gild the pageant of a gawdy day:
He's nobly born, and popularly vain;
Rare tinsel-stuff t'adorn a room of state!
But in the council, where the publick care—

Pher.
In that high sphere you, Sohemus, alone
Must ever shine; and may your wisdom raise
Your master's fortune, to divide the globe
With this new Cæsar; and no longer sway
A short precarious sceptre, which must shake
With each tempestuous gust that blows from Rome.

Soh.
With blushes I must hear you call me, wise,
When one impassion'd woman can destroy
My surest plans, and with a sigh blow down
The firmest fabrick of deliberate thought.
Heav'ns! that a King consummate for a throne,
So wise in council, and so great in arms;
Shou'd after nine long years, remain a slave
Because his wife is fair! What art thou, Beauty,
Whose charm makes sense and valour grow as tame,
As a blind turtle?

Pher.
Is thy wisdom proof
Against the blandishments of warm desire?
It ill defends thee from Arsinoe's charms:
The sullen sweetness of a down-cast eye,
A feign'd unkindness, or a just reproach,
Breath'd in a sigh, and soften'd with a tear,
Wou'd make thy rigid marble melt, like snow
On the warm bosom of the youthful spring.

Soh.
In thoughtless youth, gay nature gives the rein
To Love, and bids him urge the full career:
But Herod should restrain his head-strong course,
Now reason is mature.

Pher.
He never can;
For Mariamne with superior charms
Triumphs o'er reason; in her look she bears
A paradise of ever-blooming sweets:
Fair as the first idea beauty prints
On the young lover's soul: a winning grace
Guides every gesture, and obsequious Love
Attends on all her steps; for, majesty
Streams from her eye to each beholder's heart,
And checks the transport which her charms inspire:
Who wou'd not live her slave!—Nor is her mind
Form'd with inferior elegance!—By her,
So absolute in every grace, we guess
What essence angels have.

Soh.
Who can admire
The brightest angel when his hand unsheaths
The vengeful sword, or with dire pestilence
Unpeoples nations? If Death sits inthron'd
In the soft dimple of a damask cheek,
He thence can aim his silent dart as sure,
As from the wrinkle of a tyrant's frown;
And that's our case! Yet with a lover's eye
You view the gay malignance, that will blast
Both you and all your friends.

Pher.
We sure may praise
The snake that glitters in her summer pride,
And yet beware the sting.

Soh.
But low in dust
Crush the crown'd basilisk, or else she kills
Whate'er her eye commands.—You need, my lord,
No clearer light than this, by which to read
The purpose of my soul.

Pher.
Tho' 'tis obscure,
It strikes like lightning that with fear confounds
The pale night-wanderer, whilst it shews the path.
You, Sohemus, have cause to think the Queen
Charges the taking of her uncle's head
To your advice; and gladly wou'd attone
Her kindred blood with yours: revenge still glow,
Though hid in treacherous embers, and you'll feel
The dire effect, whene'er occasion breathes
A gale to waken and foment the flame.
But I, unpractis'd in th'intrigues of courts
And disciplin'd in camps, will not supply
Increase of fuel to these home-bred jars:
I hope the King will see them soon supprest;
Or care succeeding care will ever tread
The circle of his crown.

Soh.
If to persue
The safest measures to secure his throne,
Shall irritate the Queen to make me fall
A victim to her rage, the conscious pride
Of having acted what the King ordain'd,
Enter a Messenger with a Letter to Pheroras.
Will yet support me. 'Tis not worth my care,
Whether the trembling hand of age must shake
From the frail glass my last remaining sand;
Or fortune break the phial, ere the sum
Of half my life is told.

Pher.
'Tis from the King:
A most unpleasing message for the Queen.

Soh.
May I, my lord, partake?

Pher.
The infant Prince
Must live an hostage of the league at Rome:
Cæsar hath sent a minister of trust,
With guards to wait him. This perhaps the King
Hath kept conceal'd, that his return might calm
Th'afflicted Queen, and soften the surprize.

Soh.
Names he, my lord, the General to whose care
The Prince must be consign'd?

Pher.
Rome cou'd not chuse
For that high charge a nobler delegate,
Than my Flaminius; for, a bolder hand
Ne'er flew her conquering eagles at their prey.
We in the Parthian wars together learn'd
The rudiments of arms; the summer sun
Hath seen our marches measur'd by his own:
In battle so intrepid, that he shew'd
An appetite of danger; oft I've heard
The weary veterans resting on their spears,
Swear by the gods and majesty of Rome,
They blush'd with indignation, to behold
The garland of the war, by partial fate
Transferr'd from theirs, to grace a stripling's brow—
But I with Narbal will prevail, t'impart
This most ungrateful order to the Queen.
[Exit Pher.

SCENE III.

Salome enters to Sohemus.
Salome.
I hope, my lord, young Hazeroth's affront
Will not pass unresented.

Soh.
I've dispatch'd
A message to the King: th'account I gave,
Imported nothing but severest truth;
Yet wittiest malice scarce cou'd feign a roll
Of keener calumnies.

Sal.
He mention'd me!

Soh.
Traduc'd you basely, by th'opprobrious name
Of Idumæan spinster, in degree
The third descendant of an heathen slave,
Who kept Apollo's temple.

Sal.
The King's veins
Hold the same blood, whatever is the source;
And if the wretch survives that vile reproach,
The King's a slave indeed. What was your crime?

Soh.
He said by my sole counsels were destroy'd,
All of the royal Asmonæan race,
Whom justice made the victims of the state:
Whose injur'd discontented ghosts too long
Had cry'd, revenge! but should not cry in vain:
Then half unsheath'd his sabre.

Sal.
That vain boy
Believes his near relation to the Queen,
Exempts his haughty youth from all restraint.
He's Mariamne's echo, and repeats
But half her menaces.

Soh.
What time more fit
To put her threats in act, than when the King
Flies with redoubled ardor to her arms?
Passion improves with absence, and his heart
So soft, and passive to the pow'r of love,
Will then be vacant only to his Queen.
Fortune of late a glorious scene disclos'd,
But soon snatch'd back the visionary joy!
The blissful hour is past—Curst, doubly curst
Be this boy-emperor, who tamely spar'd
The warmest friend that Anthony could boast.
Had Herod perish'd by his vengeful sword,
I soon had sent (for so he left in charge)
His Queen, the worship'd idol of his soul,
T'attend him to the shades.—Clouds of despair
Now terminate our view!

Sal.
Can you discern
No glimmering hope? Though dim, the distant ray
May serve to steer our course.

Soh.
The King will send
His son for hostage to reside in Rome.

Sal.
Were triple thunder vollied at the Queen,
It cou'd not rend her bleeding bosom more
Than such a message.

Soh.
At this little spark,
Discord may light her ever-burning torch:
Th' imperious Queen perhaps will edge her tongue,
With keen resentments for her ruin'd race:
For 'tis th' infirmity of noblest minds,
When ruffled with an unexpected woe,
To speak what settled prudence wou'd conceal:
As the vex'd ocean working in a storm,
Oft brings to light the wrecks which long lay calm,
In the dark bosom of the secret deep.
From such reproach, his promis'd joy may change
To coldness and distrust, perhaps to hate;
And their high souls that now, like friendly stars,
Mingling their beams in mutual ardor shine,
In fiercest opposition then will thwart
Each others influence, and divide the court:
Then, Mischief, to thy work!—

Sal.
In me you'll find
A sure assistant: Shall Pheroras join?

Soh.
I'd fly him at the quarry, but I fear
He'd check if other game shou'd cross the flight:
He scorns dissimulation, nor perceives
That nature never meant simplicity
A grace to charm in courts: he serves the crown
With such a blind disinterested zeal,
He's even proud t' obey.

Sal.
Let him enjoy
His cold-complexion'd principles, and fall
A traitor to himself.

Soh.
O Princess, born
To bless the world with a long progeny
Of future heroes, and renew the strain
Of valour, which the softness of your sex
Unspirited at first! so great a soul
Deserves, and sure is destin'd to a throne!
But hark!

Sal.
The Queen's approaching; she repairs
To sacrifice.

Soh.
'Tis best we both retire.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

MARIAMNE, ARSINOE.
Mariamne.
The Princess and her friend were unprepar'd
To pay the decencies the day requires:
The most unpractis'd in the courtier's art,
And they who hate us most, might sure vouchsafe
A smooth unmeaning compliment at least.
But night-born treason is too tender ey'd,
To bear the blaze of dazzling majesty,
And seeks the guilty shade.

Ar.
They're both depriv'd
Of your propitious smile; so dire a loss
Wou'd cloud the most serene.

Mar.
That sullen gloom
Proceeds not from a conscience of their crimes,
Which sues by penitence for royal grace;
But argues high contempt: their brows display
A banner of defiance, and avow
Their trait'rous combination: but I'll quell
The tow'ring crest of their presumptuous hate,
Or perish in th' attempt. Henceforth forbear
All commerce with the Princess, and her train
For fear th' infection of example taint
Your sound allegiance.

Ar.
If a single thought
Were tinctur'd with disloyalty, this hand
Shou'd pierce my heart to drive the rebel out.
Your strict command with pleasure I obey;
For at the sight of Salomé, my breast
Shivers with chilling horror, and revolves
The destiny which a Chaldæan seer
Of late foretold: The pious sage had pass'd
Full sixty winters in a private cell;
His locks were silver'd o'er with reverend white;
And on his cheeks appear'd the pale effect
Of studious abstinence: His custom was
In his small hermitage t' outwatch the moon,
To marshal in his schemes the host of heav'n;
And from their ruling influence at the birth,
Form'd his predictions. As the Princess pass'd,
I ask'd him if his foresight cou'd discern
The colour of her fate: he answer'd, black!
'Tis black checquer'd with blood! deep in her breast
I see the dagger doom'd by heav'ns decree
To cut her half-spun thread.

Mar.
What pow'rful cause
Urg'd you to hear a vain diviner tell
His waking dreams? Perhaps you went to know
What happy star presided o'er the love,
Which Sohemus I hear address'd to you:
If so, I'll be your oracle; forbear
T' enquire the doubtful omens of the sky,
And fix your faith on this unerring truth:
If your ill-judging choice mis-lead your heart,
To meet his passion with an equal flame;
Henceforth for ever banish'd from my sight,
In exile you shall end an odious life;
Attended only in that friendless state
By black remorse, which step by step pursues
Th' ingrateful and the false.

Ar.
I long have felt
Th' afflicting hand of heav'n, without the guilt
Of murmur or complaint; but to be thought
False and ingrateful, is too much to bear.
Chase that suspicion from your royal mind;
Nor cast my blameless innocence a prey
To those, who envy your distinguish'd grace,
With which I've long been honour'd.

Mar.
To receive
Private addresses from my deadliest foe,
A wretch, whose dark infernal arts have wrought
The ruin of my race, but ill repays
My condescending favour, which vouchsaf'd
To lose the stile of subject and of Queen,
In friendship's softer name.

Ar.
While thus I kneel,
Imploring heav'n t' attest my spotless faith,
May I be fix'd a dreadful monument
Of perjur'd guilt, if e'er my bosom gave
Reception to his suit! Were he possess'd
Of all the sun surveys, and form'd to please
With every grace that captivates the soul;
And your command concurrent with his love,
Shou'd urge me to comply; that hard command,
And that alone, I dare to disobey.—
No, my dear Roman! nothing can deface
Thy image from thy virgin-widow's breast;
Th' inviolable band of strong desire
Shall ever join our souls!

Mar.
Dismiss your fears,
And let them with my vanish'd doubt expire:
But, whence this transport of reviving woe?
Recite the series of your fate at large.

Ar.
When Anthony and Cæsar found the globe
Too narrow, to suffice the boundless views
Of two such mighty spirits, my virgin-vow
Was plighted to a brave Patrician youth,
The friend of Cæsar: Anthony proscrib'd
The chiefs who sided with his potent foe;
And foremost in the tablet my lov'd lord
Was doom'd to slaughter: whilst with nuptial joy
His palace rung, crowded with friends who came
T' attend the bride's arrival, through the gates
A troop of cut-throats rushing in, surpriz'd
And dragg'd him to his fate!—

Mar.
In that distress
What cou'd you do, and whither did you fly?

Ar.
At Alexandria then the fatal cause
Of Anthony engag'd my father's sword;
Thither I fled, and was receiv'd with grace
To Cleopatra's train: with her I came
To Palestine, where the detested sight
Of Anthony so rack'd me, and reviv'd
The sad remembrance of my murther'd lord,
I begg'd to be dismiss'd. You then receiv'd
The fugitive, whom fortune's rage hath made
Wretched indeed, but hath not pow'r to make
False or ingrateful.

Mar.
Poor Arsinoe!
My favours shall deface the memory
Of past afflictions: on a soul secure
In native innocence, or grief or joy
Shou'd make no deeper prints than air retains;
Where fleet alike the vulture and the dove,
And leave no trace. Blind fortune that bestows
The perishable toys of wealth and pow'r,
At random oft resumes them, pleas'd to make
An hurricane of life: but the firm mind
Safe on exalted virtue reigns sedate,
Superior to the giddy whirls of fate.

[Exeunt.