 | Christs Passion |  |
27
THE THIRD ACT.
JVDAS. CAIAPHAS.[JVDAS.]
You who preserve your pure integrity;
O you whose crimes transcend not credit, fly
Farre from my presence! whose invenom'd sight
Pollutes the guilty. Thou, who wrong and right
Distinctly canst discern; whose gentle brest
All faith hath not abandon'd, but art blest
With children, brothers, friends; nor hast declin'd
The sweet affections of a pious Minde;
Shut up the winding entry of thine eare,
Nor let the world of such a bargain heare.
A Sinne so horrible should be to none
Besides the desperate Contractors known.
Wher's now that mitred Chief? where that dire Train
Of Sacrificers, worthy to be slain
On their own Altars? I have found my Curse:
The Sun, except my self, sees nothing worse.
Heare, without hire; O heare the too well known:
If you seek for a witnesse; I am one
That can the truth reveal: Or would you finde
A Villain? Her's a self-accusing Minde.
That sacred Life, O most immaculate!
More then my Masters! to your deadly Hate
28
Although not of the Guilt, yet of the Prey.
Receive the gift you gave: a treachery
Second to mine, you may of others buy.
CAIAPHAS.
If thou accuse thy selfe of such a Sin
Deservedly, thou hast a Court with-in,
That will condemne thee. Thy offences be
No Crimes of ours: our consciences are free.
Nor shall the sacred Treasury receive
The price of bloud. Thee to thy Fate we leave.
JVDAS.
Is this the doctrine of your piety
To approve the Crime, yet hate the Hire? O fly,
Fly, wretch, unto the Altar, and pollute
The Temple with thy Sins accursed fruite.
Nor will I for my selfe with hopelesse praier
Solicit Heaven; lost in my owne despaire;
But Gods sterne Justice urge, that we, who were
Joyn'd in the guilt, may equall vengeance beare.
Nor shall I in my punishment proove slow:
Behold, your Leader will before you go;
'Tis fit you follow; to those silent Deepes,
Those horrid Shades, where Sorrow never sleepes.
29
Vnlesse thou idlely lookst on mens affaires,
And vainely we thy brutish Thunder feare;
Why should thy land so dire a Monster beare?
Or the Sun not retire, and yet behold?
If those thy fearefull punishments of old
Require beliefe, in one unite them all:
Let Seas in Cataracts from Meteors fall,
Afford no shore, but swallow in their Brine;
That so the Worlds first ruine may prove mine,
Let melting Stars their sulphrous surfet shed,
And all the Heavenly Fires fall on my Head.
And thou, O injur'd Earth, thy jawes extend,
That I may to th'infernall Shades descend:
Lesse cause had thy revenge, when she the five
Inrag'd Conspirators devour'd alive.
Those evils which amaz'd the former-times,
Thy fury hath consum'd on smaller Crimes.
O slow revenger of his injuries,
And he thy Son! some fearefull death devize;
Vnknowne, and horrid: Or shall I pursue
My owne offence, and act what thou shouldst doe?
You Legions of Heavens Exuls, you who take
Revenge on Mortals for the crimes you make;
Why troope you thus about me? Or what need
These terrors? Is my punishment decree'd
30
In your darke dungeons what more horrid Rome
Shall now devoure me? Must I to that Place,
Where the curs'd Father of a wicked Race
Your scourges feeles? who, when the world was new,
And but possest by foure, his brother slew.
Or where that faithlesse Prince blasphemes? then all
His Host more eminent; who lest his fall
Should honour to his enemies afford,
Made way for hated Life with his own sword.
He most affects me, who his fathers Chaire
Vsurp'd; when caught by his revenging Haire,
He lost the Earth and Life: the way he led
T'avoided Death, my willing feet shall tread.
Master, I fly to anticipate the event
Of my foule crime with equall punishment.
PONTIVS PILAT.
THE JEWS.
Horror distracts my sense: irresolute
Whether I should break silence, or sit mute.
Envy th'accus'd condemnes, whom Justice cleares.
I must confesse, perswaded by my Feares,
Lest I this State and People should insence,
I wisht they could have prov'd that great Offence.
Yet whatsoever they inforc'd of late,
No fault of his reveal'd, but their own hate.
His silence was a vanquishing reply.
Who for detecting their false piety
(Whose supercilious looks, with fasting pale,
Close avarice, and proud ambition vaile)
Is by their Arts made guilty: One that slights
The God they adore, and violates his Rites.
From hence those many-nam'd Offences spring;
And his aspiring to become their King.
Can those poore Fishers of that In-land Sea,
And women, following him from Galile,
So great a Spirit in their Leader raise;
That Rome should feare, whom all the World obayes.
Yet he avers his Kingdome is unknown,
Nor of this World; and bows to Cæsars Throne.
Prov'd by th'event: for when the Vulgar bound
His yeelding hands, they no resistance found.
But his endowments, zealous in defence
Of clouded Truth, their mortall hate incense.
Follow'd by few, who like affections beare,
And with beliefe their Masters doctrine heare.
If true, he may speak freely; nor must dye
For Ostentation, though he broach a lye.
But if distracted, that's a punishment
Even to it selfe, and Justice doth prevent.
He, whom this Annual Solemnity
Hath now invited to the Temple by
His Father built, whose Kingdome borders on
The land innobled by Agenor's Throne,
Of these stupendious acts by Rumour spred
Could fixe no faith, though in his City bred.
To laughter doom'd, his Rivall Herod scorn'd;
And sent him back, in purple robes adorn'd.
Th'implacable, now far more fiercely bent
To prosecute the twice-found innocent:
Perhaps afraid lest they their owne should loose,
Vnlesse they him of forged guilt accuse.
But when Revenge doth once the Minde ingage;
O how it raves! lost to all sense but rage!
No Lionesse, late of her whelps bereft,
With wilder fury prosecutes the Theft.
O Shame! through feare I sought to shield the Right
VVith honest Fraud, and Justice steale by slight:
As when the labouring Bark, too weak to stem
The boysterous Tide, obliquely cuts the stream.
They have an ancient Custome, if we may
Believe the Jews, derived from that Day
When the delivered Sons of Israel
Fled from those banks whose flouds in summer swel:
That ever when the Vernall Moone shall joyne
Her silver Orb, and in full lustre shine,
They should some one release, to gratifie
The People, by their Law condemn'd to die.
Now, hoping to have free'd the Innocent,
The violent Priests my Clemency prevent:
Who urge the heady Vulgar to demand
One Barrabas; a Thiefe, who had a hand
In every murther, hot with humane blood.
How little it avails us to be good!
Preposterous Favour! through the hate they beare
His guiltlesse Soule, their Votes the guilty cleare.
And now my Wifes not idle dreames perplex
My strugling thoughts, which all this night did vex
Her troubled slumbers: who conjures me by
All that is holy, all the Gods, that I
Should not the laws of Justice violate
To gratifie so undeserv'd a hate.
For this shall I the Hebrew Fathers slight,
Th'indeavours of a Nation so unite,
Committed to my charge? Shall I for One
Poore Abject, forfeit all the good I have done?
These pester'd Wals all Jewry now infold;
The Houses hardly can their Strangers hold,
Sent from all parts to this great Festivall:
What if the Vulgar to their weapons fall?
Who knows the end, if once the Storme begin?
Sure I, their Judge, egregious praise should win
By troubling of the publique Peace. Shall I
Then render him to death? Impiety!
For what offence? Is his offence not great,
Whose innovation may a warre beget?
Lest Empire suffer, they who scepters beare
Oft make a Crime, and punish what they feare.
One hope remaines: Our Souldiers the Free-borne,
And yet by our command, with whips have torne.
A sight so full of pitty may asswage
The swiftly-spreading fire of popular Rage.
Look on this Spectacle! his armes all o're
With lashes gall'd, deep dy'd in their own gore!
His sides exhausted! all the rest appeares
Like that Fictitious Scarlet which he weares!
And for a Crown, the wreathed Thornes infol'd
His bleeding browes! With griefe his griefe behold!
Whether I should break silence, or sit mute.
Envy th'accus'd condemnes, whom Justice cleares.
I must confesse, perswaded by my Feares,
Lest I this State and People should insence,
I wisht they could have prov'd that great Offence.
31
No fault of his reveal'd, but their own hate.
His silence was a vanquishing reply.
Who for detecting their false piety
(Whose supercilious looks, with fasting pale,
Close avarice, and proud ambition vaile)
Is by their Arts made guilty: One that slights
The God they adore, and violates his Rites.
From hence those many-nam'd Offences spring;
And his aspiring to become their King.
Can those poore Fishers of that In-land Sea,
And women, following him from Galile,
So great a Spirit in their Leader raise;
That Rome should feare, whom all the World obayes.
Yet he avers his Kingdome is unknown,
Nor of this World; and bows to Cæsars Throne.
Prov'd by th'event: for when the Vulgar bound
His yeelding hands, they no resistance found.
But his endowments, zealous in defence
Of clouded Truth, their mortall hate incense.
Follow'd by few, who like affections beare,
And with beliefe their Masters doctrine heare.
If true, he may speak freely; nor must dye
For Ostentation, though he broach a lye.
But if distracted, that's a punishment
Even to it selfe, and Justice doth prevent.
32
Hath now invited to the Temple by
His Father built, whose Kingdome borders on
The land innobled by Agenor's Throne,
Of these stupendious acts by Rumour spred
Could fixe no faith, though in his City bred.
To laughter doom'd, his Rivall Herod scorn'd;
And sent him back, in purple robes adorn'd.
Th'implacable, now far more fiercely bent
To prosecute the twice-found innocent:
Perhaps afraid lest they their owne should loose,
Vnlesse they him of forged guilt accuse.
But when Revenge doth once the Minde ingage;
O how it raves! lost to all sense but rage!
No Lionesse, late of her whelps bereft,
With wilder fury prosecutes the Theft.
O Shame! through feare I sought to shield the Right
VVith honest Fraud, and Justice steale by slight:
As when the labouring Bark, too weak to stem
The boysterous Tide, obliquely cuts the stream.
They have an ancient Custome, if we may
Believe the Jews, derived from that Day
When the delivered Sons of Israel
Fled from those banks whose flouds in summer swel:
That ever when the Vernall Moone shall joyne
Her silver Orb, and in full lustre shine,
33
The People, by their Law condemn'd to die.
Now, hoping to have free'd the Innocent,
The violent Priests my Clemency prevent:
Who urge the heady Vulgar to demand
One Barrabas; a Thiefe, who had a hand
In every murther, hot with humane blood.
How little it avails us to be good!
Preposterous Favour! through the hate they beare
His guiltlesse Soule, their Votes the guilty cleare.
And now my Wifes not idle dreames perplex
My strugling thoughts, which all this night did vex
Her troubled slumbers: who conjures me by
All that is holy, all the Gods, that I
Should not the laws of Justice violate
To gratifie so undeserv'd a hate.
For this shall I the Hebrew Fathers slight,
Th'indeavours of a Nation so unite,
Committed to my charge? Shall I for One
Poore Abject, forfeit all the good I have done?
These pester'd Wals all Jewry now infold;
The Houses hardly can their Strangers hold,
Sent from all parts to this great Festivall:
What if the Vulgar to their weapons fall?
Who knows the end, if once the Storme begin?
Sure I, their Judge, egregious praise should win
34
Then render him to death? Impiety!
For what offence? Is his offence not great,
Whose innovation may a warre beget?
Lest Empire suffer, they who scepters beare
Oft make a Crime, and punish what they feare.
One hope remaines: Our Souldiers the Free-borne,
And yet by our command, with whips have torne.
A sight so full of pitty may asswage
The swiftly-spreading fire of popular Rage.
Look on this Spectacle! his armes all o're
With lashes gall'd, deep dy'd in their own gore!
His sides exhausted! all the rest appeares
Like that Fictitious Scarlet which he weares!
And for a Crown, the wreathed Thornes infol'd
His bleeding browes! With griefe his griefe behold!
JEWES.
Away with him: from this Contagion free
Th'infected Earth, and naile him on a Tree.
PILAT.
What, crucifie your King?
JEWES.
Dominion can
No Rivall brook. His rule, a Law to Man,
35
And will admit of none but Cæsars Sway.
He Cæsars right usurps, who hopes to ascend
The Hebrew Throne. Thy own affairs intend.
Dost thou discharge thy Masters trust, if in
Thy government a president begin
So full of danger, tending to the rape
Of Majesty? Shall treason thus escape?
PILAT.
The Tumult swels: the Vulgar and the Great,
Joyne in their Votes with contributed heat.
Whose whisperings such a change of murmur raise
As when the rising Windes first Fury strayes
'Mong wave-beat Rocks; when gathering Clouds deforme
The face of Heaven, whose Wrath begets a Storme:
The fearefull Pilot then distrusts the Skies;
And to the neerest Port for refuge flies.
To these rude Clamours they mine eares inure:
Such sharpe diseases crave a sudden cure.
You my Attendants, hither quickly bring
Spot-purging Water from the living Spring.
Thou liquid Chrystall, from pollution cleare;
And you my innocent hands like record beare,
On whom these cleansing streames so purely runne;
I voluntarily have nothing done.
36
Yours is the Crime; his Blood upon you lie.
JEWES.
Rest thou secure. If his destruction shall
Draw down celestiall Vengeance, let it fall
Thick on our heads, in punishment renew:
And ever our dispersed Race pursue.
PILAT.
Then I, from this Tribunall, mounted on
Imbellish'd Marble, Judgements awfull Throne,
Thus censure: Lead him to the Crosse; and by
A servil death let Judahs King there dye.
CHORVS OF JEWISH WOMEN.
JESVS.
VVe all deplore thy miseries;
For Thee we beat our brests; our eyes
In bitter teares their moysture shed:
If thou be he by Ravens fed,
Aloft on flaming Charriot born;
Yet wouldst to cruell Lords return:
Or that sad Bard, believ'd too late,
Who sung his Countreys servil Fate;
Now come to sigh her destiny,
A like unhappy; twice to dye:
Or he, long nourish'd in the Wood,
Who late in Jordans cleansing Flood
So many wash'd; that durst reprove
A King for his incestious love;
Slain for a Dancer. If the same,
Or other of an elder fame,
Sent back to Earth, in vices drown'd,
To raise it from that dark Profound;
'Tis sure thy Sanctitie exceeds,
Blaz'd by thy Vertue and thy Deeds.
O never more, ring'd with a Throng
Of Followers, shall thy sacred tongue
Informe our Actions; nor the way
To Heaven, and heavenly joyes, display!
The Blind, who now the unknown light
Beholds, scarce trusting his own sight,
Thy gift, shall not the Giver see.
Those maladies, subdu'd by thee,
Which powerfull Art and Hearbs defie,
No more thy soveraign Touch shall fly.
Nor Loaves, so tacidly increast,
Againe so many thousands feast.
Thou Rule of Lifes Perfection,
By Practice, as by Precept, shown,
Late hemb'd with Auditors, whose store
Incumbred the too-narrow Shore,
The Mountains cover'd with their Preasse,
The Mountains then their People lesse;
For whom our Youths their garments strew,
Victorious Boughs before thee threw,
While thou in Triumph rid'ft along,
Saluted with a joyfull Song:
Now, see what change from Fortune springs!
O dire Vicissitude of Things!
Betray'd, abandon'd by thy owne;
Drag'd by thy Foes, oppos'd by none.
Thou hope of our afflicted state,
Thou Balme of Life, and Lord of Fate;
Not erst to such unworthy bands
Did'st thou submit thy powerfull Hands.
Lo, he who gave the dumbe a tongue,
With patient silence bears his wrong!
The Souldier, ah! renews his blows;
The whip new-op'ned furrows shows,
Which now in angry tumors swel:
To us their wrath the Romans sel.
Lo, how his members flow! the smart
Confin'd to no particular part:
His stripes, which make all but one sore,
Run in confused streames of gore.
Art thou the Slave of thy owne Fate,
To beare thy torments cursed waight?
What Arab, though he wildly stray
In wandring Tents, and live by prey;
Or Cyclop, who no pitty knowes,
Would such a cruel task impose?
O that the fatall pressure might
Sinke thee to Earth, nor weigh more light
Then Death upon thee; that thy weake
Vntwisted thread of life might breake!
It were a blessing so to dye:
But O for how great cruelty
Art thou reserv'd! the Crosse thou now
Support'st, must with thy burden bow.
For Thee we beat our brests; our eyes
In bitter teares their moysture shed:
If thou be he by Ravens fed,
Aloft on flaming Charriot born;
Yet wouldst to cruell Lords return:
Or that sad Bard, believ'd too late,
Who sung his Countreys servil Fate;
37
A like unhappy; twice to dye:
Or he, long nourish'd in the Wood,
Who late in Jordans cleansing Flood
So many wash'd; that durst reprove
A King for his incestious love;
Slain for a Dancer. If the same,
Or other of an elder fame,
Sent back to Earth, in vices drown'd,
To raise it from that dark Profound;
'Tis sure thy Sanctitie exceeds,
Blaz'd by thy Vertue and thy Deeds.
O never more, ring'd with a Throng
Of Followers, shall thy sacred tongue
Informe our Actions; nor the way
To Heaven, and heavenly joyes, display!
The Blind, who now the unknown light
Beholds, scarce trusting his own sight,
Thy gift, shall not the Giver see.
Those maladies, subdu'd by thee,
Which powerfull Art and Hearbs defie,
No more thy soveraign Touch shall fly.
Nor Loaves, so tacidly increast,
Againe so many thousands feast.
Thou Rule of Lifes Perfection,
By Practice, as by Precept, shown,
38
Incumbred the too-narrow Shore,
The Mountains cover'd with their Preasse,
The Mountains then their People lesse;
For whom our Youths their garments strew,
Victorious Boughs before thee threw,
While thou in Triumph rid'ft along,
Saluted with a joyfull Song:
Now, see what change from Fortune springs!
O dire Vicissitude of Things!
Betray'd, abandon'd by thy owne;
Drag'd by thy Foes, oppos'd by none.
Thou hope of our afflicted state,
Thou Balme of Life, and Lord of Fate;
Not erst to such unworthy bands
Did'st thou submit thy powerfull Hands.
Lo, he who gave the dumbe a tongue,
With patient silence bears his wrong!
The Souldier, ah! renews his blows;
The whip new-op'ned furrows shows,
Which now in angry tumors swel:
To us their wrath the Romans sel.
Lo, how his members flow! the smart
Confin'd to no particular part:
His stripes, which make all but one sore,
Run in confused streames of gore.
39
To beare thy torments cursed waight?
What Arab, though he wildly stray
In wandring Tents, and live by prey;
Or Cyclop, who no pitty knowes,
Would such a cruel task impose?
O that the fatall pressure might
Sinke thee to Earth, nor weigh more light
Then Death upon thee; that thy weake
Vntwisted thread of life might breake!
It were a blessing so to dye:
But O for how great cruelty
Art thou reserv'd! the Crosse thou now
Support'st, must with thy burden bow.
JESVS.
Daughters of Solyma, no more
My wrongs thus passionately deplore.
These teares for future sorrows keep:
Wives, for your selves and children weep.
That horrid day will shortly come,
When you shall blesse the barren Wombe,
And Brest that never infant fed:
Then shall you wish the mountains head
Would from his trembling basis slide,
And all in tomb's of ruins hide.
40
Alas! thou spotlesse Sacrifice
To greedy Death! no more our eyes
Shall see thy Face! ah, never more
Shalt thou return from Deaths dark shore.
Though Lazarus, late at thy call,
Brake through the barrs of Funerall;
Rais'd from that Prison to review
The World which then he hardly knew:
Who forth-with former sense regains;
The bloud sprung in his heated Veins;
His sinews supple grew, yet were
Again almost conjeal'd with feare.
Thy followers, Sadock, now may know
Their Error from the Shades below.
A Few, belov'd by the Most High,
Through Vertue of the Deitie,
To others rarely rendred breath:
None ever rais'd himselfe from death.
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