University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

SOHEMUS, SALOME.
Sohemus.
Restrain this flood of unavailing tears!
For if they flow for pity or remorse,
They flow in vain. In distant ages past
Pity dy'd young; of grief, they say, to see
An eagle wreak his malice on a wren.
If she were yet on earth, where cou'd she find
A nobler palace than a brother's breast?
But there you found her not; the more's the shame!
Since pity's fled to heav'n, we'll send remorse
To howl in hell; it has no business here!—
But if these tears flow from the nobler source
Of indignation, and the generous shame
Of injur'd merit; if they relish strong
The bitterness of soul from which they stream;
O, let increasing fury swell the tide,
Ev'n whilst we put in act our great revenge!
So weeps the storm, while the devouring waves
Close o'er the wrecks it made.

Sal.
Had I not seen
His cheek discolour'd, when his passion foam'd;
And heard him thunder threats of instant death
To me, and all whose generous spirits scorn
To bear th' oppression of his haughty Queen;
I never had believ'd my self so lost
To his affection.

Soh.
Lost! he lov'd you not;
Ambition is the mistress of his soul;
The Queen herself holds but the second place:
To please that mistress, he condemn'd to die
All the wife's kindred; now, to please the wife,
His own must bleed: greatness hath made him deaf
To nature's voice, ev'n while she pleads for you.

Sal.
The wretch who in an earthquake sees the ground
Heave like a swelling wave, before it gapes
To sink him to the centre, stands as safe,
As I so near the tyrant!

Soh.
In his court,
On these sad terms at best you but enjoy
A prison of state. When rival princes laid
Their sceptres at your feet, the Queen prevail'd
To have each honourable suit refus'd.

Sal.
Revenge no more shall grovel in the dark,
But fan with dragon-wings the face of day;
Oppose her course who can! It is resolv'd—

Soh.
Once Mariamne was the destin'd prey;
But since her charms enthrall the King as fast,
As in the freshness of her bridal love,
They both shall die.

Sal.
Yes, both; and all their friends
At once descending crowd the gates of night:
For self-defence will sanctify the deed:
And fame, th'officious herald of success,
Will blazon our renown; and though we fail,
'Tis great to dare.

Soh.
When those proud cedars fall,
Their spreading ruin will destroy the shrubs
Which flourish in their shade.—And lo, the man!
Whom fate selects t' atchieve her high decree.