University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

A Room in the Tower.
Enter John, Eleazar, Pharisees, &c.
Eleaz.
How, for these several hours in Council sate?

John.
Close in a Tower with Guards at every Gate:
All their Designs they hide; but it is said,
Some tender Lambs must be to slaughter laid.

1 Phar.
With blood of Saints he stains the holy Chair,
He is a Tyrant and Idolater.

John.
I fear through frailty he too much inclines,
And am in doubt some impious thing designs;
Nay am assur'd—Nay, since it must be known,
The horrid Villany's already done!—
Vespasian is our Soveraign Lord declar'd,
And Crowns of Gold are for his head prepar'd.
Nay, at an hour when all in sleep lay drown'd,
A Guard in secret brought an Image Crown'd:
His head a guilded wreath of Laurel wore,
His face Vespasian's proud resemblance bore.
'Tis in the Palace hid, but they design
At his approach it shall in publick shine;
Stand in the Temple, and our Laws defie,
And all that will not bow to it shall dye.

Eleaz.
Oh horrid! horrid! well, oh stormy Air!
For Divine Vengeance may'st thou Troops prepare.

2. Phar.
It is a Plot I plainly understand,
To murder all the Zealous of the Land.

John.
Heav'n knows with grief I stain his Mitred Hairs:
Who lays me near him as the Robes he wears.
But in my Soul it did impatience breed,
To think the Sheep should by the Shepheard bleed;
To see the Temple by the Priest defil'd:
Nay more, to see the Father kill the Child.
And if my self unfaithful I proclaim,
In saving it, I'le glory in my shame.

Eleaz.
Appease your Soul, if this can Treason be,
'Tis holy falshood, pious treachery.

John.
But yet all falshood has the face of ill.

1. Phar.
In a good Cause 'tis but Religious Skill.

John.
Nay to preserve the Choice Ones of the Land,
I'd be the Earth on which their Tower should stand:
For though our Lights by various Names we call,
Like Jewels still there's Beauty in us all.
And though like Brethren 'mongst our selves we fight,
'Gainst Foster-Fathers we can all unite.

Eleaz.
No more! we'll have his blood, the Tyrant dyes,
The Priest shall be the Morning Sacrifice.

2. Phar.
He does the Priestly Diadem defile,
And we'll revenge the consecrated Oyl.

John.
Nay, since your Zeal's inflam'd, I'le lead you on,
And with my aid my former guilt attone;
For friendship's sake I did the Cause betray,
But now I will the heavenly Call obey.
A Brazen Image stands before my eyes;
Revenge! revenge! a Voice within me cries,
Kill, kill these curst Apostates, who design
To set Hell's Standard 'midst the Camp Divine.
Spare not a man who in his List is found,
Who spares a Traytor does Religion wound.

Eleaz.
I'm thirsty for their blood.

1. Phar.
And I.

2. Phar.
And I.

3. Phar.
To eat their flesh were holy gluttony.

John.
It were! and Heaven no doubt would bless the Meal,
Such unclean Beasts we might devour with zeal.
But their foul flesh shall not be so preferr'd;
In Craws and Paunches it shall be interr'd.
They have no right to any other Tomb,
Nor shall defile Jerusalem's sacred Womb.

Eleaz.
Their Souls renounce the Gardens of the just,
Nor shall their Bodies here pollute their dust.

1. Phar.
But when shall we attempt this blessed deed!
How many Swords! what Forces do we need?

2. Phar.
For they are strong, and keep an hourly guard.
And our poor Idamean Friends, debarr'd
From aiding us, under their Bucklers lye,
Besieg'd by all the fury of the Skye.

John.
Ask you for aid when you Heav'ns service do?
We are too strong, th'Idolaters too few.
We have our Cause, our Innocence, and Prayer.
Nay, we have Armies mustering in the Air!
And are to Arms invited from above,
The Winds are join'd to represent our Love.
Troops rendezvous'd in Clouds to shew from whence,
In our distress, we may expect defence.
A fire shone round the Temple to declare,
Pure Reformation is enkindled there.
The Brazen Gates untouch'd were seen to move,
To let us know the Gates of Divine Love
Were opening to us, if we'll enter in.
And now Jerusalem's glory does begin.

Eleaz.
Oh! blessed hour! and yet more blessed we,
Who in this work the Instruments shall be.

1. Phar.
We are too few the sweet rewards to share.

2. Phar.
They will be more than humane strength can bear.

Eleaz.
Nay, we to farther aid have no pretence,
But yet our Friends that come for our defence,
May, of our mighty deeds, Spectators be.

John.
They shall admittance have in Charity.
Not that in such a Cause their Swords we need.
A Cause that will reward each drop we bleed.
Sinners who dye in it, may at the price
Of a few Traytors heads, buy Paradise.
Has any here—
Defil'd a Sister, or a Father slain,
A Traytor's blood will wash away the stain.
And if to Sinners such Rewards accrew,
What Joys what Pleasures will be showr'd on you,
Who are all Saints?

Omn.
All, all.

Eleaz.
I am in pain!
My breast cannot my furious zeal contain.

John.
And now, my Friends, when Providence shall deal
Rewards and Blessings to your faithful zeal;
And you shall make division as you please,
O'th'hoorded wealth of richest Palaces;
Oh do not cast a hot and lustful eye
Upon the Temple, if she naked lye,
And her bright Gold should on your fingers smile;
Take heed—for that will all the rest defile.

1. Phar.
Oh doubt us not!

John.
Still barring all Constraint;
For nothing is so sacred as a Saint.
And in our own defence we may make bold,
Serving our Master, with our Master's Gold.
[One Enter
But see the Spye we at the Palace plac'd,
To watch the Sanhedrim, returns in haste.

Mess.
O, Sirs! to Arms! a Voice from Heaven calls!
From foggy Clouds a sleepy Unguent falls:
And some good Angel round the Palace flyes,
And with it has annointed all their Eyes;
But to the Priests does double Portions give,
That nothing in the Palace seems to live;
But a few pining Lamps, that burn so dim,
They seem as drousie as the Sanhedrim.

John.
'Tis plain, Heav'n aids our holy Cause, and sends
A Spirit to bind their hands, and help his Friends.

2. Phar.
If we with speed these Traytors not destroy,
Angels will do't, and rob us of the joy.

3. Phar.
Haste, haste, let us go fire the Palace straight.

John.
No—first assist our Friends without the Gate.
Both shelter and revenge will now be good.

Eleaz.
Yes—let them warm themselves with Traytors blood.

3. Phar.
But will not the strong Gate despise our pains?
'Tis clad in Iron, and girded round with Chains?

John.
Fear not, I can the sacred Tools produce,
Kept in the Tower for the Temple's use.
And they can force it open in a trice,
With as much ease as Prayer does Paradise.

Eleaz.
Haste, haste, the Cocks have thrice alarm'd the dawn,
And Night's black Chariot, as by Whirle-winds drawn,
Drives on to its last Stage in solemn state,
Whilst raging Storms on her Retinue wait.
Now whilst the Tempest rocks the drowsie Town,
Oh! let the heavenly work with speed be done.

2. Phar.
Now is the time, their Souls, like Flocks of Sheep,
Are kept for Sacrifice in Folds of sleep.

1. Phar.
The talking Ecchoes can conveigh no noise,
The busie Tempest all the air employs.

[Enter one with Iron Bars and Tools.
John.
See! see! the blessed Instruments are come!
Now Sinners hastens your eternal doom.
Hell will be crowded with the numerous flight
Of unclean Birds we shall unpearch to night.
To Arms!

All.
To Arms, to Arms!

John.
But first let's swear,
That each shall equally the danger share.
By Jerusalem.

[All lift up their hands.
All.
By Jerusalem.

John.
By the Temple.

All.
By the Temple.

John.
By the Altar.

All.
By the Altar.

John.
By the most binding Oath which we can swear,
By Corban, the Divine Oblation there.

All.
By Corban.

John.
Now let each draw his consecrated Sword,
Corban's the Oath, and Liberty the Word.
So if I now succeed in this design,
[Aside.
One more Religious Lye, the Mitre's mine.

[Exeunt.
[A noise of breaking Locks and forcing Gates.
The Scene is drawn, and Matthias, Sagan, Phineas, and the whole Sanhedrim are represented sitting asleep, Lamps burning, and the Guards asleep at the Gate.
The Ghost of Herod arises.
Ghost.
Cries, shrieks, and groans from a lamenting Crowd,
Th'air fill'd with wandring Souls, the Streets with blood!
In Seas of Fire the falling Buildings drown'd;
In Chains of sleep the Priests for slaughter bound,
Fit pleasure for a Tyrant's Ghost, like me:—
Worthy my Pilgrimage from Hell to see.
Sleep on, you damn'd Tormentors of Mankind,
That humane Souls in aiery Fetters bind,
And all their little pleasures dearly sell,
And will not let 'em go in peace to Hell.
And thou, proud Town, who stil'st thy self Divine,
Queen of the world, Heav'ns earthly Concubine,
Who all his favour to thy self hast gain'd,
Art at th'expence of Miracles maintain'd,
And fill'st the gazing world with pannick fears,—
Tremble—for see within thy Walls appears,
The brightest Vision of this threatning Night,
The Ghost of Herod the great Edomite:
Greatest of all abandon'd Esau's Line,
Who in thy Throne once Royally did shine,
Ravish thy Beauty and thy Lord disgrace,
And took his Mistress to my own embrace;
And not contented to defile his Bed,
His Altars rob'd, and on his Victims fed;
Revell'd in blood, and did his power despise,
And in contempt of all his Prophesies,
Plac'd Esau's Chains of slavery on Thee,
And soundly scourg'd old Jacob's Treachery:
Then with mock penitence for all my guilt,
To my own glory I thy Temple built:
Now all the Ills in life I could not do,
I a malicious tortur'd Ghost pursue.
Lash me, ye Furies, blow th'infernal fire!—
Fill me with rage, that I may now inspire
My Nation with the Spirit on't refin'd,
And pour it scalding into every mind.
And (you gull'd Priests) invoke no more Heav'ns aid,
He has you all into my power betray'd;
And I'le go whet the Idumean Swords,
And nobly banquet the infernal Birds.
They flock about, and heaps of Carrion smell,
I'le make to night a Jubilee in Hell.

[Exit.
The Ghost goes out, and noise of clashing of Swords shrieking and knocking at the Gate is heard, at which they all awake.
Matth.
In what dark Cave has all our Souls been bound?

Phin.
Or in what drousie Labyrinth wandring round?

Sag.
Rather to what infernal Dungeon lead,
Guarded with Fiends, and haunted with the Dead;
For I have been with droves of Souls pursu'd,
Chac'd hot, and reeking from warm Flesh and Blood.

Phin.
I nothing dream'd but was securely laid,
As void of sense as e're my Soul was made;
Yet as my dawning Soul began to rise,
Methoughts I knocking heard, and distant cries:
And from the Ground a sulph'rous Vapour broke,
That form'd it self into a shape, and spoke.

Matth.
A Guard of Spirits walk'd to night the round,
And all our Souls in sleepy-fetters bound,
Benum'd with fatal slumbers by degrees,
We seem'd like an old Grove of Sapless-Trees,
Whose Vegetative Souls in Winter creep
To their warm Roots, and there securely sleep.
[A noise within.
But hark! a Martial noise begins to rise!

Phin.
Loud knockings at the Gate.

They all as amaz'd look out several ways, and return.
Sag.
And horrid cries!
Arm! Arm! The Court's beset; a furious Tide
Of fighting Crowds beat up on every side.

Phin.
The Streets with glittering Spears are planted round,
And Bloody Rivers water all the ground.

Math.
And see where Esau's Son's proud Banners fly,
And from the Temple Walls the Town defie.

Sag.
We are betray'd, and the Angelick Pow'rs
Forsook their guard to night about these Towers.
What shall be done in a distress so great?

Phin.
What else, but fly with speed to some retreat?

Matth.
How? shall I fear of these vile Rebels shew?
Rather to meet their impious rage I'le go.

Sag.
Alas! they seek your Life, nor can y'oblige
Men, whose Devotion lies in Sacriledge.

Matth.
Heav'ns Will be done! But better I were slain,
Than I my self my Diadem prophane;
Whose Glory should I stain with sordid fears,
My Sacriledge wou'd be as great as theirs.

Phin.
I see no cause why we should vainly fight,
To guard those Sacred things Heav'n seems to slight.

Math.
If Heav'n 's pleas'd t'abandon their defence,
I'le guard them in the room of Providence.

John, Eleazar, and their party now break into the Room with drawn Swords, and chace Matthias, &c. oft the Stage, who retreat fighting as into some other Rooms of the Palace, and shut the door to hinder John's pursuit.
Matth.
My Guards!

[Exit Matth. Sag. Phin. &c.
Omnes.
Pursue.

Job.
So quick retreat have found.

Eleaz.
Fire this accursed Building to the ground:
This filthy Nest that does all lewdness hide,
Ambition, Avarice, hot Lust, and Pride,
The Earth no longer shall this burden bear.

Joh.
And greater Lewdnesses are harbour'd here;
Vespasian's Image, and his Goddess both,
Queen Berenice, that Romish-Ashtaroth.
That fair Abomination, to whose eyes
The Tyrant offers Daily-sacrifice.

Eleaz.
Burn 'em together, let their dust repair
To play and dally in the wanton Air.

1. Phar.
Fire it; our time let us no longer lose.

2. Phar.
And see, his traytrous head the Tyrant shews.

Matth. Sag. Phi. appear in the Balcony.
Matth.
You, Impious Rebels all, which here I see,
Sons of Confusion, Blood and Cruelty;
Born for our Nations and Religion's shame,
That would extirpate your own Tribe and Name,
Have wrought such ills, that even the Rising Sun
Startles to see the villanies y'have done:
What Cruel Devil does your hearts inspire
To all these ills? what is it you desire?

Eleaz.
Traytor! Our Countreys Freedom and thy Blood.

1. Phar.
And Cæsar's Image here, thy Molten-god.

Matth.
What Molten-god?—what Image?

Phin.
This is plain,
The cursed Image of some lying Brain.

Eleaz.
This pious Man can all your doubts remove,
And, Tyrant, to thy face thy Treasons prove.

Matth.
Villain, more false than Hell,—Dost thou at last
Add this bold Lye to all thy Treasons past?

[To John.
John.
Oh, dares this man thus confidently plead?
Merciful Heav'n that will not strike him dead?

Eleaz.
Boldly reply.

[To John.
John.
Now impudence thy aid.
[Aside.
And are you not (bad man!) of Heav'n afraid?
Do you not every hour expect at least
Heav'n with your Tribe the hungry Earth shou'd feast?
Its qualmish stomach with cold meat is cloy'd,
Not one warm Meal since Corah's time enjoy'd.
But now a Dish is drest, and I should fear,
But for these holy men, to stand so near.
Into my Soul what great Disorders creep!
Zeal makes me rage, and Pity makes me weep.
An aged man, a Priest, and once my Friend;
But in Truth's Cause all these distinctions end.

Matth.
And dar'st thou with so little fear or shame
Thy Predecessor Rebel Corah name?
And not expect his fate should be thy own,
Whose Treasons are so much by thine out-done.
Oh, hungry Earth! to thy repast with speed!
But spare your tears, and to your proofs proceed.

John.
Then did not I in several persons sight,
In the first Month, on the third Watch of night?
But was it I? that I should e're descend
To so much frailty to oblige a Friend?
To my own goodness I am made a Prey;
I am too meek, too ready to obey!
But did not I, to all the Guards unknown,
Conveigh by night an Image into Town?
And when I wept, and did the thing oppose,
You smil'd, and said, let us delude our Foes,
And play with that Leviathan a while,
We by these Arts shall all his Pow'r beguile.
But shall not we deceive our selves, said I?
No strength or wisdom like integrity!—
Then weeping, you reply'd, Alas! 'tis true:
But yet the Foe is strong; what shall we do?
Good Heav'n I hope will no advantage take,
If we should sin a little for his sake;
Then as I trembling stood, and wept and pray'd,
You are too tender, humble John, you said.
But ah said I again!—

Matth.
No more, no more!—
In pity to thy injur'd Soul give o're;—
Thy shameless Lyes has Manhood so defam'd,
Of humane Nature I am almost asham'd;
And did not some the port of it maintain,
We might conceive Mankind were made in vain.
Nay even admire why Heaven such pains shou'd take,
Mischievous Tools of dirty Clay to make.
But to thy impudent unmanly Lye,
My Guards and Javelins shall with speed reply.

Matthias, &c. go out of the Balcony, and John, &c. break open the door, after which a noise of fighting is heard; then Enter Phraartes and Monobazus as disturb'd with the noise, and newly waked.
Phra.
What fierce and horrid sounds thus early fill
My deafned Ears? or am I dreaming still?
For snatch'd by sleep into an Ambuscade,
I've all this night with Charms and Visions plaid.

Monob.
And mighty Weights my Soul a Pris'ner kept,
As if beneath some Mountain I had slept.

Phra.
This is some Magick place, where Spirits flye,
Where every night the Trees all blasted dye;
And men like Watches are in pieces tane,
And set together in the morn again.
Well might the almost immortal Natives here
Preserve their vigour to the thousandth year;
Since every night their Bodies were not worn,
But gently lapt and folded up till morn.
But what bold Spirits durst so sawcy be,
To try these damn'd Experiments on me?
But hark! a Noise within, like clash of Arms!

Monob.
Palace and City fill'd with strange Alarms.
[Monobazus looks within.
What Vision's that presented to my Eyes,
The Court with bleeding Bodies cover'd lyes!
The brave High-Priest amidst a Guard does stand,
Offering Victims up with his own hand
To this fair Palace's offended Gods,
By impious Slaves disturb'd in their abodes.

Phra.
They are some warlike shapes in Masquerade.

Monob.
Now toward the Temple they retreat have made.

Phra.
Fortune my Sword's fair Concubine does prove
As false to me as Juno does to Jove!
Entice with sleepy Charms my sense away,
Whilst she with others does the Strumpet play.
So Jove on Ida charm'd, the Trojan's fled,
But when the God rose from his flowry bed,
And look'd abroad out of his Golden Tent,
The Greeks their saucy Valour did repent:
The wanton Sorceress, now I am awake,
Shall to my injur'd Sword again give back
The stoln favours she to every Slave,
During the Minutes of my slumb'ring gave.

[Exit.
Monob.
Yes, Fortune shall repent her Clownish pride,
In scorn of Princes thus with Slaves to side.

[Exit.
They go off, and after a little fighting without, Enter in their Night-Gowns, as in a fright, Queen Berenice, Clarona, Semandra, and Phedra.
Q. Beren.
Must I be murder'd then without delay?
And do the Slaves my kindness thus repay?
Did I, like some good Angel from above,
Come from the Heav'n of Glory and of Love,
To help these Wretches in their deep despair,
And do the envious Fiends such malice bear?
They rather trebly will augment their pain,
Than I shall see my Paradise again.

Clar.
My Father to his Foes by Heav'n resign'd;
This to contending Nature seems unkind:
But I'le not dare to pass too harsh a sense
On any ways of Divine Providence,
So many Crowns our Sufferings here attend,
None for such interest wou'd refuse to lend.
But See! the Sagan and Prince Phineas here!
But oh, distractions in their looks appear.

Enter discoursing, and in great haste, as escap'd from the Fight, Sagan and Phineas.
Sag.
Ah, Madam! all is lost! the sacred man,
By Heav'n deserted, is a Pris'ner tane.
Inspir'd with a devout and glorious pride
To guard that Heav'n, who him its aid deny'd.
A brave retreat he to the Temple made,
To conquer there, or perish in its aid.
A living Rampire for a while he stood,
And moted round the sacred place with blood:
The Temple trembl'd, and the Lamps burnt dim,
Shook with the dangers that assaulted him;
Whilst unconcern'd he on his Guard did wait,
More fixt and stedfast than the Brazen Gate;
Enduring thus a hot and furious Siege,
And even sham'd the Heav'n he did oblige:
But e're the King, who like a whirlewind flew,
Tearing down Groves of the seditious Crue,
Through thick and stubborn Crowds cou'd make his way,
The Rebels had secur'd the Noble Prey.

Clar.
A fall like to his life renown'd and great,
And does the story of his Fame compleat.

Q. Beren.
Then we are lost, this cursed hour will prove
The fatal period of my life and love.

Clar.
What I divin'd! now all my hopes are gone,
And my great Father's glorious race is run.
How fares the King?

Phin.
A Sea of armed Foes
That Monarch like a flaming Isle inclose.

Sag.
Waste no more pretious time complaining here,
But to our Friends our quick assistance bear.

[Ex. Phin. Sag.
Q. Beren.
And am I thrown into the Rebels power,
And must I never see Vespasian more?
It cannot be decreed! I rave, I rave!
Nature no warning at our parting gave!
The Air wou'd sure have sigh'd, the Caves have mourn'd,
The Clouds have wept, the hollow Mountains groan'd;
All Friends of love wou'd have exprest their fear
Of two so kind, so constant, and so dear:
Nature wou'd then have had convulsive pains,
And blood have startled out from both our Veins.

Clar.
Alas! too little care you did express
Of so much love, and so much happiness.
Why wou'd you thrust your self into a Den
Of Beasts, who only have the shapes of Men?

Q. Beren.
I came not here to offer you a Peace,
The Roman power and glory to increase;
To adde to Empire was not my design,
Though I may hope one day it will be mine;
All my ambitions do no higher rise,
Than at a Smile from my Vespasian's Eyes:
But 'twas from him all danger to remove,
Danger, the mighty Rival to my love:
Danger, that does enjoy him more than I,
To whom from me he every hour does flye;
Leaps to her arms, and I'm afraid one day
The Harpy will devour the glorious Prey.

Clar.
Heaven's special Providence will watch to save,
For universal good, a man so brave.

Q. Beren.
You are a Stranger to a Lover's fears,
They dangers spye whose shadow scarce appears.
In Camp how do I pass the day in frights,
In horrid dreams and broken sleep the nights?
With my own cryes my self I often wake,
And waking, joy to find out my mistake:
Then in a sound and pleasing sleep I fall;
But in the morning for my Lord I call:
How does my Lord, to every one I cry,
If any look with a dejected eye,
But sad or pale, for no reply I stay,
Conclude my Lord is slain, and saint away.

Clar.
If such vain terrours so much torment breed,
What wou'd you do, if he were hurt indeed?

Q. Beren.
What do the wounded and the dying do?
Love joins in one, what are in Nature two:
The breasts of Lovers but one Soul contain,
Which equally imparts delight or pain.
Once he on danger did too strongly press;
(For he has all great Vertues in excess;
In gallant things endures no mean degree,
But loves and fights still in extremity)
When, oh! he wounded did return from fight,
You may conceive th'effect of such a sight.
My sorrows violence no tongue can tell,
Thrice in my Womens arms all cold I fell;
And only was to wretched life again
Tormented, by the throbbing of his pain.
Hourly I watch'd by him both night and day,
And never mov'd, but when I swoon'd away.
My eye for ever fixt on him I kept,
Nor lost the sight of him, but when I wept:
In all his pains I groan'd, his Fevers burn'd,
Nor found I health or ease till his return'd.

Clar.
Are these the sympathies that kindness prove?
I fear then I have the disease of love.
At the brave King the Darts and Javelins flye,
But it is I am hurt, and I that dye.

Q. Beren.
And has Victorious Love, so long supprest,
Obtain'd at length Dominion in your breast?

Clar.
If Pity can be Love, then I confess
I love that valiant Monarch to excess.

Q. Beren.
Under Compassion you wou'd Love disguise,
There is no hiding Love from Lovers Eyes.

Clar.
Perhaps I love, I scarce the difference know,
But Pity's all that I shall ever show.

Q. Beren.
Your Father's Fate requires so great a share
Of grief and pity, you have none to spare.

Clar.
I rather triumph in my Father's Fate,
Since Heavenly Glories on his Sufferings wait:
But the poor King has no one to repay
The Royal life for me he throws away.

Q. Beren.
Oh! did he know you lov'd, he could not dye,
No more than those who enter heavenly joy.

Clar.
Know it he may, enjoy it never can;
'Twixt my embraces and that glorious man,
Religious Vows have wider distance made,
Than if there were whole worlds betwixt us laid.

Q. Beren.
Were worlds betwixt you, bigger all than this,
Love o're 'em all would mount, to flye to bliss.
Millions of Leagues that Hawk his aiery spies,
And wheresoe're you perch him, home he flyes.

Clar.
He must not flye within Religion's Grounds.

Q. Beren.
Nor ought Religion to invade his Bounds.
Come, to some Tower let's our selves betake,
Where each of us a brave defence will make,
Less for her own, than for her Lover's sake.

[Ex. Omnes.