University of Virginia Library

Actus quartus

Scœna prima.

Enter Herod and his attendants.
Herod.
Haile happie citie, happie in thy store,
And happy that thy buildings such we see:
More happie in the Temple where w'adore,
But most of all that Mariam liues in thee.
Art thou return'd? how fares my Mariam?

Enter Nutio.
Nutio.
She's well my Lord, and will anon be here
As you commanded.

Her:
Muffle vp thy browe
Thou daies darke taper. Mariam will appeare.
And where she shines, we need not thy dimme light,
Oh hast thy steps rare creature, speed thy pace:
And let thy presence make the day more bright,
And cheere the heart of Herod with thy face.
It is an age since I from Mariam went,
Me thinkes our parting was in Dauids daies:
The houres are so increast by discontent,
Deepe sorrow, Iosua like the season staies:
But when I am with Mariam, time runnes on,
Her sight, can make months, minutes, daies of weekes
An hower is then no sooner come then gon.
When in her face mine eye for wonders seekes.
You world commanding citie, Europes grace,
Twice hath my curious eye your streets suruai'd,
And I haue seene the statue filled place,
That once if not for griefe had bene betrai'd.
I all your Roman beauties haue beheld,
And seene the showes your Ediles did prepare,
I saw the sum of what in you exceld,
Yet saw no miracle like Mariam rare.
The faire and famous Liuia, Cæsars loue,
The worlds commaunding Mistresse did I see:
Whose beauties both the world and Rome approue,
Yet Mariam: Liuia is not like to thee.
Be patient but a little, while mine eyes
Within your compast limits be contain'd:
That obiect straight shall your desires suffice,
From which you were so long a while restrain'd.
How wisely Mariam doth the time delay,
Least suddaine ioy my sence should suffocate:
I am prepar'd, thou needst no longer stay:
Whose there, my Mariam, more then happie fate?
Oh no, it is Pheroras, welcome Brother,
Now for a while, I must my passion smother.

Scœna secunda.

Herod. Pheroras.
Pheroras.
All health and safetie waite vpon my Lord,
And may you long in prosperous fortunes liue
With Rome commanding Cæsar; at accord,
And haue all honors that the world can giue.

Herod.
Oh brother, now thou speakst not from thy hart,
No, thou hast strooke a blow at Herods loue:
That cannot quickly from my memory part,
Though Salome did me to pardon moue.
Valiant Phasaelus, now to thee farewell,
Thou wert my kinde and honorable brother:
Oh haples houre, when you selfe striken fell,
Thou fathers Image, glory of thy mother.
Had I desir'd a greater sute of thee,
Then to withhold thee from a harlots bed,
Thou wouldst haue granted it: but now I see
All are not like that in a wombe are bred.
Thou wouldst not, hadst thou heard of Herods death,
Haue made his buriall time, thy bridall houre:
Thou wouldst with clamours, not with ioyfull breath,
Haue show'd the newes to be not sweet but soure.

Phero.
Phasaelus great worth I know did staine
Pheroras petty valour: but they lie
(Excepting you your selfe) that dare maintaine,
That he did honor Herod more then I.
For what I showd, loues power constraind me show,
And pardon louing faults for Mariams sake.

Herod.
Mariam, where is she?

Phero.
Nay, I do not know,
But absent vse of her faire name I make:
You haue forgiuen greater faults then this,
For Constabarus that against you will
Preseru'd the sonnes of Baba, liues in blisse,
Though you commanded him the youths to kill.

Herod.
Goe, take a present order for his death,
And let those traytors feele the worst of feares:
Now Salome will whine to begge his breath,
But Ile be deafe to prayers: and blind to teares.

Phero.
He is my Lord from Salom diuorst,
Though her affection did to leaue him grieue:
Yet was she by her loue to you inforst,
To leaue the man that would your foes relieue.

Herod.
Then haste them to their death. I will requite
Thee gentle Mariam.

Salom.
I meane
The thought of Mariam doth so steale my spirit,
My mouth from speech of her I cannot weane.

Exit.

Scœna 3.

Herod. Mariam.
Herod.
And heere she comes indeed: happily met
My best, and deerest halfe: what ailes my deare?
Thou doest the difference certainly forget
Twixt Duskey habits, and a time so cleare.

Mar.
My Lord, I suit my garment to my minde,
And there no cheerfull colours can I finde.

Herod.
Is this my welcome? haue I longd so much
To see my dearest Mariam discontent?
What ist that is the cause thy heart to touch?
Oh speake, that I thy sorrow may preuent.
Art thou not Iuries Queene, and Herods too?
Be my Commandres, by my Soueraigne guide:
To be by thee directed I will woo,
For in thy pleasure lies my highest pride.
Or if thou thinke Iudæas narrow bound,
Too strict a limit for thy great command:
Thou shalt be Empresse of Arabia crownd,
For thou shalt rule, and I will winne the Land.
Ile robbe the holy Dauids Sepulcher
To giue thee wealth, if thou for wealth do care:
Thou shalt haue all, they did with him inter,
And I for thee will make the Temple bare.

Mar.
I neither haue of power nor riches want,
I haue enough, nor doe I wish for more:
Your offers to my heart no ease can grant,
Except they could my brothers life restore.
No, had you wisht the wretched Mariam glad,
Or had your loue to her bene truly tide:
Nay, had you not desir'd to make her sad,
My brother nor my Grandsyre had not dide.

Her.
Wilt thou beleeue no oathes to cleere thy Lord?
How oft haue I with execration sworne:
Thou art by me belou'd, by me ador'd,
Yet are my protestations heard with scorne.
Hercarius plotted to depriue my head
Of this long setled honor that I weare:
And therefore I did iustly doome him dead,
To rid the Realme from perill, me from feare.
Yet I sor Mariams sake doe so repent
The death of one: whose blood she did inherit:
I wish I had a Kingdomes treasure spent,
So I had nere expeld Hercanus spirit.
As I affected that same noble youth,
In lasting infamie my name inrole:
If I not mournd his death with heartie truth.
Did I not shew to him my earnest loue,
When I to him the Priesthood did restore?
And did for him a liuing Priest remoue,
Which neuer had bene done but once before.

Mariam.
I know that mou'd by importunitie,
You made him Priest, and shortly after die.

Herod.
I will not speake, vnles to be beleeu'd,
This froward humor will not doe you good:
It hath too much already Herod grieu'd,
To thinke that you on termes of hate haue stood.
Yet smile my dearest Mariam, doe but smile,
And I will all vnkind conceits exile.

Mari.
I cannot frame disguise, nor neuer taught
My face a looke dissenting from my thought.

Herod.
By heau'n you vexe me, build not on my loue.

Mari.
I wil not build on so vnstable ground.

Herod.
Nought is so fixt, but peeuishnes may moue.

Mar.
Tis better sleightest cause then none were foūd.

Herod.
Be iudge your selfe, if euer Herod sought
Or would be mou'd a cause of change to finde:
Yet let your looke declare a milder thought,
My heart againe you shall to Mariam binde.
How oft did I for you my Mother chide,
Reuile my Sister, and my brother rate:
And tell them all my Mariam they belide,
Distrust me still, if these be signes of hate.

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.

Scœna 5.

Bu.
Foule villaine, can thy pitchie coloured soule
Permit thine eare to heare her caules doome?
And not inforce thy tongue that tale controule,
That must vniustly bring her to her toome.
Oh Salome thou hast thy selfe repaid,
For all the benefits that thou hast done:
Thou art the cause I haue the queene betraid,
Thou hast my hart to darkest false-hood wonne.
I am condemn'd, heau'n gaue me not my tongue
To slander innocents, to lie, deceiue:
To be the hatefull instrument to wrong,
The earth of greatest glory to bereaue.
My sinne ascends and doth to heau'n crie,
It is the blackest deed that euer was:
And there doth sit an Angell notarie,
That doth record it downe, in leaues of brasse.
Oh how my heart doth quake: Achitophel,
Thou founds a meanes thy selfe from shame to free:
And sure my soule approues thou didst not well,
All follow some, and I will follow thee.

Scœna 6.

Constabarus, Babus Sonnes, and their guard.
Const:
Now here we step our last, the way to death,
We must not tread this way a second time:
Yet let vs resolutely yeeld our breath,
Death is the onely ladder, Heau'n to clime.

Babus 1. Sonne.
With willing mind I could my selfe resigne,
But yet it grieues me with a griefe vntold:
Our death should be accompani'd with thine,
Our friendship we to thee haue dearely sold.

Const.
Still wilt thou wrong the sacred name of friend?
Then should'st thou neuer stile it friendship more:
But base mechanicke traffique that doth lend,
Yet will be sure they shall the debt restore.
I could with needlesse complement returne,
Tis for thy ceremonie I could say:
Tis I that made the fire your house to burne,
For but for me she would not you betray.
Had not the damned woman sought mine end,
You had not bene the subiect of her hate:
You neuer did her hatefull minde offend,
Nor could your deaths haue freed your nuptiall fate.
Therefore faire friends, though you were still vnborne,
Some other subtiltie deuisde should bee:
Were by my life, though guiltles should be torne,
Thus haue I prou'd, tis you that die for mee.
And therefore should I weakely now lament,
You haue but done your duties, friends should die:
Alone their friends disaster to preuent,
Though not compeld by strong necessitie.
But now farewell faire citie, neuer more
Shall I behold your beautie shining bright:
Farewell of Iewish men the worthy store,
But no farewell to any female wight.
You wauering crue: my curse to you I leaue,
You had but one to giue you any grace:
And you your selues will Mariams life bereaue,
Your common-wealth doth innocencie chase.
You creatures made to be the humane curse,
You Tygers, Lyonesses, hungry Beares,
Teare massacring Hienas: nay far worse,
For they for pray doe shed their fained teares.
But you will weepe, (you creatures crosse to good)
For your vnquenched thirst of humane blood:
You were the Angels cast from heaue'n for pride,
And still doe keepe your Angels outward show,
But none of you are inly beautifide,
For still your heau'n depriuing pride doth grow.
Did not the sinnes of many require ascourge,
Your place on earth had bene by this withstood:
But since a flood no more the world must purge,
You staid in office of a second flood.
You giddy creatures, sowers of debate,
You'll loue to day, and for no other cause,
But for you yesterday did deply hate,
You are the wreake of order, breach of lawes.
You best, are foolish, froward, wanton, vaine,
Your worst adulterous, murderous, cunning, prouds
And Salome attends the latter traine,
Or rather he their leader is allowd.
I do the sottishnesse of men bewaile,
That doe with following you inhance your pride:
T'were better that the humane race should faile,
Then be by such a mischiefe multiplide.
Chams seruile curse to all your sexe was giuen,
Because in Paradise you did offend:
Then doe we not resist the will of Heauen,
When on your willes like seruants we attend?
You are to nothing constant but to ill,
You are with nought but wickednesse indude:
Your loues are set on nothing but your will,
And thus my censure I of you conclude.
You are the least of goods, the worst of euils,
Your best are worse then men: your worst then diuels.

Babus second sonne.
Come let vs to our death: are we not blest?
Our death will freedome from these creatures giue:
Those trouble quiet sowers of vnrest,
And this I vow that had I leaue to liue,
I would for euer leade a single life,
And neuer venter on a diuellish wife.

Scœna 7.

Herod and Salome.
Herod.
Nay, she shall die. Die quoth you, that she shalls
But for the meanes. The meanes I Me thinks tis hard
To finde a meanes-to murther her withall,
Therefore I am resolu'd the shall be spar'd.

Salom.
Why? let her be beheaded.

Her.
That were well,
Thinke you that swords are miracles like you:
Her skinne will eu'ry Gurtlax edge refell,
And then your enterprise you well may rue.
What if the fierce Arabian notice take,
Of this your wretched weaponlesse estate:
They answere when we bid resistance make,
That Mariams skinne their fanchions did rebate.
Beware of this, you make a goodly hand,
If you of weapons doe depriue our Land.

Sal.
Why drowne her then.

Herod.
Indeed a sweet deuice,
Why? woul'd not eu'ry Riuer turne her course
Rather then doe her beautie preiudice?
And be reuerted to the proper sourse.
So not a drop of water should be found
In all Iudeas quondam firtill ground.

Sal.
Then let the fire deuoure her.

Her.
T'will not bee:
Flame is from her deriu'd into my heart:
Thou nursest flame, flame will not murther thee,
My fairest Mariam, fullest of desert.

Salom.
Then let her liue for me.

Herod.
Nay, she shall die:
But can you liue without her?

Sal.
doubt you that?

Herod.
I'me sure, I cannot, I beseech you trie:
I haue experience but I know not what.

Salom.
How should I try?

Her.
Why let my loue be slaine,
But if we cannot liue without her sight
Youle finde the meanes to make her breathe againe,
Or else you will bereaue my comfort quite.

Sal.
Oh I: I warrant you.

Herod.
What is she gone?
And gone to bid the world be ouerthrowne:
What? is her hearts composure hardest stone?
To what a passe are cruell women growne?
She is return'd already: haue you done?
Ist possible you can command so soone?
A creatures heart to quench the flaming Sunne,
Or from the skie to wipe away the Moone.

Salo.
If Mariam be the Sunne and Moone, it is:
For I already haue commanded this.

Her.
But haue you seene her cheek?

Sal.
A thousand times.

Herod.
But did you marke it too?

Sal.
I very well.

Herod.
What ist?

Sal.
A Crimson bush, that euer limes
The soule whose foresight doth not much excell.

Herod.
Send word she shall not dye. Her cheek a bush,
Nay, then I see indeed you markt it not.

Sal.
Tis very faire, but yet will neuer blush,
Though soule dishonors do her forehead blot.

Herod.
Then let her die, tis very true indeed,
And for this fault alone shall Mariam bleed.

Sal.
What fault my Lord?

Herod.
What fault ist? you that aske:
If you be ignorant I know of none,
To call her backe from death shall be your taske,
I'm glad that she for innocent is knowne.
For on the brow of Mariam hangs a Fleece,
Whose slenderest twine is strong enough to binde
The hearts of Kings, the pride and shame of Greece,
Troy flaming Helens not so fairely shinde.

Salom.
Tis true indeed, she layes them out for nets,
To catch the hearts that doe not shune a baite:
Tis time to speake: for Herod sure forgets
That Mariams very tresses hide deceit.

Her.
Oh doe they so? nay, then you doe but well,
Insooth I thought it had beene haire:
Nets call you them? Lord, how they doe excell,
I neuer saw a net that show'd so faire.
But haue you heard her speake?

Sal.
You know I haue.

Her:
And were you not amaz'd?

Sal.
No, not a whit.

Her.
Then t'was not her you heard, her life Ile saue,
For Mariam hath a world amazing wit.

Salo.
She speaks a beautious language, but within
Her heart is false as powder: and her tongue
Doth but allure the auditors to sinne,
And is the instrument to doe you wrong.

Herod.
It may be so: nay, tis so: shee's vnchaste,
Her mouth will ope to eu'ry strangers eare:
Then let the executioner make haste,
Lest the inchant him, if her words he heare.
Let him be deafe, lest she do him surprise
That shall to free her spirit be assignde:
Yet what boots deafenes if he haue his eyes,
Her murtherer must be both deafe and blinde.
For if he see, he needs must see the starres
That shine on eyther side of Mariams face:
Whose sweet aspect will terminate the warres,
Where with he should a soule so precious chase.
Her eyes can speake, and in their speaking moue,
Oft did my heart with reuerence receiue
The worlds mandates. Pretty tales of loue
They vtter, which can humane bondage weaue.
But shall I let this heauens modell dye?
Which for a small selfe-portraiture she drew:
Her eyes like starres, her forehead like the skie,
She is like Heauen, and must be heauenly true.

Salom.
Your thoughts do raue with doating on the Queen,
Her eyes are chon hewde, and you'll confesse:
A sable starre hath beene but seldome seene,
Then speake of reason more, of Mariam lesse.

Herod.
Your selfe are held a goodly creature heere,
Yet so vnlike my Mariams in your shape:
That when to her you haue approached neere,
My selfe hath often and you for an Ape.
And yet you prate of beautie: goe your waies,
You are to her a Sun burnt Blackamore:
Your paintings cannot equall Mariams praise,
Her nature is so rich, you are so poore.
Let her be staide from death, for if she die,
We do we know not what to stop her breath:
A world cannot another Mariam buy,
Why stay you lingring? countermaund her death.

Salo.
Then youle no more remember what hath past,
Sohemus loue, and hers shall be forgot:
Tis well in truth: that fault may be her last,
And she may mend, though yet she loue you not.

Her:
Oh God: tis true.

Sohemus:
earth and heau'n,
Why did you both conspire to make me curst:
In cousning me with showes, and proofes vneu'n?
She show'd the best, and yet did proue the worst.
Her show was such, as had our singing king
The holy Dauid, Mariams beautie seene:
The Hittits had then felt no deadly sting,
Nor Bethsabe had neuer bene a Queene.
Or had his sonne the wisest man of men,
Whose fond delight did most consist in change.
Beheld her face, he had bene staid agen,
No creature hauing her, own wish to range.
Had Asuerus seene my Mariams brow,
The humble Iewe, she might haue walkt alone:
Her beautious vertue should haue staid below,
Whiles Mariam mounted to the Persian throne.
But what auailes it all: for in the waight
She is deceitfull, light as vanitie:
Oh she was made for nothing but a bait,
To traine some haples man to miserie.
I am the haples man that haue bene trainde,
To endles bondage, I will see her yet:
Me thinkes I should discerne her if she fainde,
Can humane eyes be dazde by womans wit?
Once more these eyes of mine with hers shall meet,
Before the headsman doe her life bereaue:
Shall I for euer part from thee my sweet?
Without the taking of my latest leaue.

Salo:
You had as good resolue to saue her now,
Ile stay her death, tis well determined:
For sure she neuer more will breake her vow,
Sohemus and Iosephus both are dead.

Herod.
She shall not liue, nor will I see her face,
A long heald wound, a second time doth bleed:
With Ioseph I remember her disgrace,
A shamefull end ensues a shamefull deed.
Oh that I had not cald to minde anew,
The discontent of Mariams wauering hurt:
Twas you: you foule mouth'd Ate, none but you,
That did the thought hereof to me impart.
Hence from my sight, my blacke tormenter hence,
For hadst not thou made Herod vnsecure:
I had not doubted Mariams innocence,
But still had held her in my heart for pure.

Salo:
Ile leaue you to your passion: tis no time
To purge me now, though of a guiltles crime.

(Exit.
Herod.
Destruction take thee: thou hast made my hart
As heauie as reuenge, I am so dull,
Me thinkes I am not sensible of smart,
Though hiddious horrors at my bosome pull.
My head waies downwards: therefore will I goe
To try if I can sleepe away my woe.

Scœna. 8.

Mariam.
Am I the Mariam that presum'd so much,
And deem'd my face must needes preserue my breath?
I, I it was that thought my beautie such,
At it alone could countermaund my death.
Now death will teach me, he can pale aswell
A cheeks of roses, as a cheeke lesse bright:
And dim an eye whose shine doth most excell,
Assoone as one that casts a meaner light.
Had not my selfe against my selfe conspirde,
No plot: no aduersarie from without
Could Herods loue from Mariam haue retirde,
Or from his heart haue thrust my semblance out.
The wanton Queene that neuer lou'd for loue,
False Cleopatra, wholly set on gaine:
With all her slights did proue: yet vainly proue,
For her the loue of Herod to obtaine.
Yet her allurements, all her courtly guile,
Her smiles, her fauours, and her smooth deceite
Could not my face from Herods minde exile,
But were with him of lesse then little weight.
That face and person that in Asia late
For beauties Goddesse Paphos Queene was tane:
That face that did captiue great Iulius fate,
That very face that was Anthonius bane.
That face that to be Egipts pride was borne,
That face that all the world esteem'd so rare:
Did Herod hate, despise, neglect, and scorne,
When with the same, he Mariams did compare.
This made that I improuidently wrought,
And on the wager euen my life did pawne:
Because I thought, and yet but truly thought,
That Herods loue could not from me be drawne.
But now though out of time, I plainly see
It could be drawne, though neuer drawne from me:
Had I but with humilitie bene grac'te,
As well as faire I might haue prou'd me wise:
But I did thinke because I knew me chaste,
One vertue for a woman, might suffice.
That mind for glory of our sexe might stand,
Wherein humilitie and chastitie
Doth march with equall paces hand in hand,
But one if single seene, who setteth by?
And I had singly ore, but tis my ioy,
That I was euer innocent, though sower:
And therefore can they but my life destroy,
My Soule is free from aduersaries power.)
Enter Doris.
You Princes great in power, and high in birth,
Be great and high, I enuy not your hap:
Your birth must be from dust: your power on earth,
In heau'n shall Mariam sit in Saraes lap.

Doris.
I heau'n, your beautie cannot bring you thither,
Your soule is blacke and spotted, full of sinne:
You in adultry liu'd nine yeare together,
And heau'n will neuer let adultry in.

Mar:
What art thou that dost poore Mariam pursue?
Some spirit sent to driue me to dispaire:
Who sees for truth that Mariam is vntrue,
If faire she be, she is as chaste as faire.

Doris.
I am that Doris that was once belou'd,
Belou'd by Herod: Herods lawfull wise:
Twas you that Doris from his side remou'd,
And rob'd from me the glory of my life.

Mar:
Was that adultry: did not Moses say,
That he that being matcht did deadly hate:
Might by permission put his wife away,
And take a more belou'd to be his mate?

Doris.
What did he hate me for: for simple truth?
For bringing beautious babes for loue to him:
For riches: noble birth, or tender youth,
Or for no staine did Doris honour dim?
Oh tell me Mariam, tell me if you knowe,
Which fault of these made Herod Doris foe.
These thrice three yeares haue I with hands held vp,
And bowed knees fast nailed to the ground:
Be sought for thee the dreggs of that same cup,
That cup of wrath that is for sinners found
And now thou art to drinke it: Doris curse,
Vpon thy selfe did all this while attend,
But now it shall pursue thy children worse.

Mar:
Oh Doris now to thee my knees I bend,
That hart that neuer bow'd to thee doth bow:
Curse not mine infants, let it thee suffice,
That Heau'n doth punishment to me allow.
Thy curse is cause that guiltles Mariam dies.

Doris.
Had I ten thousand tongues, and eu'ry tongue
Inflam'd with poisons power and steepe in gall:
My curses would not answere for my wrong,
Though I in cursing thee imployd them all.
Heare thou that didst mount Geratim command,
To be a place whereon with cause to curse:
Stretch thy reuenging arme: thrust forth thy hand,
And plague the mother much: the children worse.
Throw flaming fire vpon the baseborne heads
That were begotten in vnlawfull beds.
But let them liue till they haue sence to know
What tis to be in miserable state:
Then be their neerest friends their ouerthrow,
Attended be they by suspitious hate.
And Mariam, I doe hope this boy of mine
Shall one day come to be the death of thine.

Exit.
Mariam.
Oh! Heauen forbid. I hope the world shall see,
This curse of thine shall be return'd on thee:
Now earth farewell, though I be yet but yong,
Yet I, me thinks, haue knowne thee too too long.

Exit.
Chorus.