University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

SCENE I.

HEROD, PHERORAS.
Pheroras.
The silent night hath pass'd her sable noon;
In mercy to your realm, regard your health,
Compose your self to sleep.

Her.
Bid the wretch sleep,
Whose limbs extended on the rack, endure
The utmost stretch of pain: I suffer more!
More, my Pheroras, more! The balm of sleep
Can ne'er refresh these eyes, 'till the pale hand
Of death shall draw their curtains, and exclude
The busy buzzing swarm of stinging thoughts.
My bed, the scene of all my blissful hours,
Of all my tender, chaste, endearing joys,
Which now have wing'd their everlasting flight,
Is grown the den of horror and despair.
O Mariamne!—With my setting sun,
Ill fortune now projects a deeper shade:
I wish I were as I had never been;
Number'd among the dead!

Phe.
Sir, let her crime
Erase the faithful characters, which love
Imprinted on your heart.

Her.
Alas! the pain
We feel, whene'er we dispossess the soul
Of that tormenting tyrant, far exceeds
The rigor of his rule.

Phe.
With reason quell
That haughty passion; treat it as your slave:
Resume the monarch!

Her.
Where's the monarch now?—
The vulgar call us gods, and fondly think
That Kings are cast in more than mortal molds:
Alas! they little know that when the mind
Is cloy'd with pomp, our taste is pall'd to joy;
But grows more sensible of grief or pain.
The stupid peasant with as quick a sense,
Enjoys the fragrance of a rose, as I;
And his rough hand is proof against the thorn,
Which rankling in my tender skin, wou'd seem
A viper's tooth. O blissful poverty!
Nature, too partial! to thy lot assigns
Health, freedom, innocence, and dowy peace,
Her real goods: and only mocks the great
With empty pageantries! Had I been born
A cottager, my homely bowl had flow'd
Secure from pois'nous drugs; but now my wife!—
Let me, good heav'n! forget that guilty name,
Or madness will ensue—

SECNE II.

[To them the High-Priest enters.]
Herod.
At this late hour,
When only discontented spectres roam
In moon-light walks; or yet more anxious men,
With pangs of agonizing passion torn,
Accuse their stars; and with their sorrows make
The midnight echoes mourn: at this late hour,
What discord breaks the virtuous harmony,
Which wont to reign within thy pious breast?

H. Pr.
O, that, my royal lord, that which will spread
O'er Palestine the blackest veil of woe,
That ever nation wore! Forgive my zeal,
Which breaks through courtly forms, to execute
The heav'nly office which my order claims.
Peace is my province; and I prostrate beg
By all your publick and domestic joys!
By the dear offspring of your royal bed!
By all that merits your regard, release
Your injur'd Queen!

Her.
Have you not heard her crime?
Shall I resume a sorceress to my breast,
Who unprovok'd, with black infernal hate
Attempted our perdition? No!—

H. Pr.
My liege!
Her gentle goodness ne'er cou'd break the band
Of nature, and the stronger ties of love—

Her.
Thirst for her husband's blood!—A lioness
Is kinder to her mate.

H. Pr.
It cannot be:
Some wretch hath sold his mercenary soul,
T' accuse her without cause.

Her.
Is all our court
Combin'd in perjury? They all condemn
Her execrable deed.

H. Pr.
Their tongues are tun'd
To what they think delights the royal ear:
In this confusion, shou'd a comet rise,
They'd cry, the Queen hath set the world o' fire!
Vouchsafe her audience, Sir; hear her defence
With cool impartial reason: error oft
Assumes the shape of truth, and the wild eye
Of passion rarely can at first discern
Th' impostor in disguise. Let not your heart,
Where late her beauteous image was inshrin'd,
Be now immur'd with marble from her pray'r!
Offended heav'n with pitying ear accepts
The sighs of penitents, and freelier grants
Access when soonest sought.

Her.
Did she request
Admittance to me?

H. Pr.
Yes; with such an air
Of grief ennobled with majestic grace;
With such undaunted fortitude of mind,
Soft'ned with pensive sweetness in her eyes,
That speaks her wrong'd: none but a soul as white
As new-born innocence, cou'd shine so clear
On the dim verge of death.—My gracious lord,
Forgive the frailties of forgetful age!
She took this ruby-bracelet from her arm,
Which on this anniverse she wont to wear;
In sweet remembrance of the nuptial morn,
When first you ty'd it on: Restore, she cry'd,
This pledge of fond affection to the King:
Tell him, howe'er unkind! I've yet deserv'd
To wear no other chain, than this of love;
Then wept a tender show'r.

[Herod takes the bracelet.
Her.
The time hath been,
I'd not have seen my Mariamne drop
One precious tear, for all the radiant mines
The womb of earth contains: but now her heart
Is chang'd, and so must mine!—Yet if she craves
To see me now, give orders; let the guard
Conduct her to me.

[Exeunt Her. and Pher.
H. Pr.
Now with speedy flight,
Descend celestial ministers of peace!
Who kindle virtuous ardors, and preside
O'er nuptial vows: aid with auspicious zeal,
The firm reunion of these royal hearts:
And never never from your charge remove,
'Till death's commission'd to divide their love.

[Exit.

SCENE III.

Enter Sohemus and Salome.
Sohemus.
Thus far with fate to friend, and greatly fir'd
With bright ambition, we've pursu'd the path
To glory; and with swift and easy steps,
Approach the summit of imperial pow'r.

Sal.
But shou'd the King's enfeebled soul relent,
And pardon Mariamne?

Soh.
She'll disdain
To re-ascend the throne, or owe her life
To low submission: for the stubborn sense
Of genuine virtue in a royal mind,
Ne'er softens with affliction; but becomes
The more obdurate, when it once hath griev'd;
As metals after melting harder grow.

SCENE IV.

[To them Sameas enters.]
Salome.
Sameas , thou best of friends! thy wish'd approach
By instinct I perceiv'd; thy influence spreads
Like rich perfumes; which, tho' invisible,
Refresh the sense.

Sam.
Madam, I hop'd my art
Had well deserv'd a jewel of your own,
T' engage my service: 'twas too politic
To feign a favour but to serve your cause,
When the nice article of proof came on.

Sal.
Contemn that worthless pebble; we're intent
On far more glorious views: whole provinces
Shall recompence thy love.

Sam.
Rather consult
Our common safety; life is all I crave.

Sal.
What may'st thou mean?

Sam.
Th' High Priest hath won the King
To see the Queen to-night.

Soh.
Impossible!

Sam.
But now I met him speeding cross the court;
Round him a rabble of her menial slaves
Ran big with joy.

Soh.
Confound his holy craft!—
Fortune at once rowls back the bounteous flow
Of hope, and leaves us gasping on the shore!—
[Salome whispers Sohemus.
I'll do it.

Sam.
What, my lord?—What must we do?—

Soh.
Why, suffer greatly, since we cannot act!
Thy part remains to persevere, tho' racks
Strain every sinew smaller than the threads
Which form a spider's web.—Ne'er hope nor grace;
'Tis vain!

Sam.
I'll risque th' event, and go—

[Sohemus stabs him.
Soh.
To hell!
To hell! poor timorous wretch, and tell the devil—

[In the struggle Sameas wrests the dagger out of Sohemus's hand; and in falling backward he strikes it into Salome's bosom, and dies.
Soh.
Princess ador'd and lov'd! Oh!—speak!

Sal.
Death! death!—
Save me, O Sohemus, from that black troop
Of grizly shapes, which in fantastic dance
Frisk round, and call me hence.—O, kind in vain!—
A fiery whirlwind bears me from thy arms
To seas of boiling sulphur; the blue waves
Receive me to their bosom.—Down! deep, deep!

[She dies.

SCENE V.

Enter Herod and Pheroras, with attendants.
Herod.
What hideous sound of shrieks and dying groans
Echo'd from hence, as if by violence
A soul had left her mansion unprepar'd.

Phe.
Horrors! our sister dead!

Soh.
That villain came
[Pointing to Sameas's body.
In all the gestures of extreme despair;
Crying she brib'd him to accuse the Queen:
And having heard Arsinoe wou'd return
To null his evidence, rage and remorse
Urg'd him to plunge the dagger in her breast,
And then he pierc'd himself.

Her.
O Salomé!
The jarring elements which compos'd thy frame,
Made thee aspiring, turbulent, and bold:
In others woe was thy supreme delight;
And most against my Queen thy malice aim'd
Her venom'd shafts: but now thy guilty blood
Will quench the flames, which thy infernal torch
Spread o'er the harvest of my nuptial joys.

Soh.
How blind, alas! to fate is the dim eye
Of dull mortality!

Her.
O Sohemus!
A thrilling horror freezeth every vein,
While I review the precipice of fate,
Where late I stood perplex'd: but one step more
Had plung'd me in th' abyss of endless woe,
A most consummate wretch!—But here she comes,
[Mariamne enters in a mourning habit.
Welcome as night with sweet refreshing shade,
And balmy dews, to the faint traveller;
Who journies o'er a waste of burning sands,
With painful steps and slow.—Remove the dead;
She hath no vengeful appetite to glut,
With such sad spectacles.

[All go out except Herod.

SCENE VI.

HEROD, MARIAMNE.
Herod.
Approach, my Queen!
Thou dearest miracle of nature's hand,
Adorn'd with all perfections!

Mar.
Dare you trust
Your murd'ress near you?

Her.
Thy soft innocence
Was form'd to kill with darts of keen desire;
I beg those pleasing wounds: approach, my fair!
Heav'ns! at the sight of that celestial face,
Each savage passion from the soul retires;
As wolves forsake the fold, when first the sun
Flames o'er the eastern hills. Oh! thus, thus, thus,
I'll clasp thee ever to my heaving breast:
Thus on thy lips in glowing rapture seal,
A firm eternal union of our souls—

Mar.
In vain!—They who dissolv'd the first, have pow'r
To cancel this.

Her.
Dismiss that groundless fear:
Sameas and Salomé are now no more;
They've punish'd their own guilt, and the last breath
Of faction spoke thy virtue greatly wrong'd.

Mar.
But the same judge survives, whose credulous ear
Drank all that perjur'd malice cou'd infuse.
You, who condemn'd me for the blackest crime,
On evidence too counterfeit and light
To cheat an idiot's eye, betray'd a will
Dispos'd to credit ev'ry feign'd report;
Whene'er malignant passion shall provoke
Other artificers of fraud, t' assault
My life or honour.

Her.
That unkind reproach
Wou'd change to soft compassion, had you felt
The stings of sorrow which transfix'd my soul,
When first you were accus'd: I wou'd not bear
Such agonies again, for all the crowns
Which e'er ambition sigh'd for.

Mar.
To your self
You owe whate'er you suffer'd; and your pain
Was but the fancied torture of a dream:
But wounds of honour bleed for ever new;
Their anguish is sincere! My fame must bear
The blast of censure, and the letter'd spleen
Of future story.

Her.
No! thy fame will shine
More bright, emerging from this short eclipse:
The marks of envy give distinguish'd grace
To virtue; as indented scars adorn
The soldier's breast.

Mar.
I wish my innocence
Wanted that mark of honour, which the tongue
Of malice will miscall the brand of guilt.

Her.
The whitest ermin on her skin may bear
An accidental spot; yet none accuse
Her native purity, but call the stain
The crime of fortune. To the doubtful world,
My edict soon will vindicate thy fame:
Lodge that, and all thy cares, within my breast;
Where every gesture, word, and look inspire
The spirit of purest love!

Mar.
For which I wear
This livery of death—It suits the day
Which gave me to your arms.

Her.
But now, disrob'd
Of those sad weeds, and every gloomy thought,
Smile like an angel breaking from a cloud.
While peace, and joy, and ever-young desire
Attend thee to my bed, each wedded pair
Shall make our bliss the measure of their vows!

Mar.
Your bed!—the tiger shall as soon perswade
The hunted deer to harbour in his den.—

Her.
Damp not my glowing passion with a thought
Of separation! Did our dates extend
To the same length the giant-race enjoy'd,
When nature yet was young, I then shou'd dread
The sad idea of our last divorce;
Tho' sure that many smiling centuries
Wou'd rowl 'twixt death and us!—O! did thy love
But equal mine, we'd each in other live
So join'd, that when fate strikes we both might fall!
I'd not survive thy doom.

Mar.
Nor can I yours!—

Her.
The words are what I wish, but ill explain'd
By that stern look and haughty voice.

Mar.
Enquire
Of that domestic oracle your heart:
If that resolves not the mysterious sense,
Ask Sohemus.—

Her.
Confusion!

Mar.
Do you start?
With sudden rays of dawning truth amaz'd!
As fiends wou'd be, shou'd the meridian sun
Blaze on their black abodes.

Her.
Can neither words,
Nor actions ought avail, but must disdain
Repay my generous passion? Is thy rage
Grown so implacable, no tender proofs
Are prevalent t' assuage it?

Mar.
'Twas a proof
Of tender love, to doom me to the sword
By such an order, as barbarian hate
Wou'd only dictate in the rage of war!
And with that engin of clandestine death
To arm the malice of my foe profest!—
On Sohemus you safely might rely,
To send me soon to mingle with your dust.

Her.
O villain! perjur'd villain! to betray
That charge on which depended all my peace!
On which his life depended!—Nothing less
Than the damn'd witchcraft of thy wicked charms,
Cou'd tempt him to the very cave of Death,
To wanton with his darts!—Tear him ye fiends!—
To that false cheek dissembling nature gave
The blush of virtue, for a veil to lust:
He breath'd that fatal secret to thy ear
In amorous murmurs, when the slave was grown
Frantic with ecstasy—

Mar.
My fame defies
Th' envenom'd breath of slander; all my hours
Have kept severest virtue for their guard.
But I presage, offended heav'n prepares
To punish that excess of virgin-love;
By which betray'd, I gave my nuptial vow,
Against the solemn sanction of our law:
And to an alien's care transferr'd the charge
Of pure religion; who, to flatter Rome,
Neglects her altars, and her faith profanes.

Her.
Guards!—Take her hence!
[Guards enter.
No foolish fond remorse
Shall now delay my vengeance!—
[The Guards lead off Mariamne.
Love farewel!—
Rather than doat on her polluted charms,
My sword shall rip the passion from my heart.
Adultery!—Ye violated heav'ns!
Dart the red light'ning wing'd with tenfold rage,
To blast th' adulteress! Why did ye forbear
To rivet closer with hot thunder-bolts,
The serpents twisted in the folds of lust!—

SCENE VII.

[Pheroras enters.]
Herod.
Pheroras , Oh!—Ten thousand rebels arm,
Grief, horror, shame, distraction!—they besiege
The poor soul, wav'ring in the fort of life,
And wishing to surrender! Thy kind sword
Might end this insurrection: dar'st thou strike?

[Points to his breast.
Pher.
Heav'n shield from violence that sacred breast!
Fear, guilt, despair, and moon-struck phrensy rush
On voluntary death: the wise and brave,
When the fierce storms of fortune round 'em roar,
Combat the billows with redoubled force:
Then, if they perish ere the port is gain'd,
They sink with decent pride; and from the deep
Honour retrieves them, bright as rising stars.
Call reason to your aid, and with your friends
Divide your care: doubt not but Sohemus—

Her.
Thou nam'st the very scorpion which hath stung
The centre of my heart.

Pher.
Then make his blood
Balm for the wound.

Her.
The wound admits no cure!
Nor reason, nor the healing hand of Time
Can bring relief: But heav'n inspire my heart,
Before it breaks, with new-devis'd revenge,
Equal to that perfidious villain's crime!—
Were his approaches frequent to the Queen,
When I was absent?

Pher.
No; he ever stood
The distant object of her hate.

Her.
With ease
They might elude your eye; but Salomé,
And Sameas sure were conscious of their crimes;
For which he murther'd both; and she prepar'd
The poisonous bowl for me. But from that slave,
Tortures shall wring the truth I dread to know.
Secure him for the rack: and let the Queen
Drink the same fatal draught she drug'd for me;
Instant, with her own deathful art destroy
Th'artificer of death!—O Mariamne!—
Why would'st thou wrong my honour, and my love,
And urge this direful doom?

[Exit Pheroras.

SCENE VIII.

[Flaminius enters to Herod.]
Herod.
My Roman friend!
Your unexpected visit finds my court
In wild disorder.

Flam.
Sir, the Queen's desire
To see the Prince, occasion'd my return
At this uncourtly hour.

Her.
Few hours have pass'd,
Since you beheld me in triumphal state:
Now, like a meteor from a summer sky,
Ingloriously I'm fall'n!

Flam.
Banish despair,
And all her gloomy train: doubt not but fate
In her large volume still for you reserves
A page, as full of glory as the past.

Her.
Glory, Flaminius!—Will an empty name,
A shining bubble, which the vulgar breath
Of thoughtless crowds can swell for whom they please;
E'er recompense the loss I must sustain?
My Queen! my wife! the jewel of my soul!

Flam.
Mercy's the brightest ornament of pow'r;
And now most needful to preserve your peace.

Her.
Justice must be my mercy: She must dye!—
She must!—

Flam.
But, Sir, 'tis safer much to sheath
The sword of justice, since the destin'd blow
Will chiefly wound your self. Without your Queen,
Your palace, though with gay retinue throng'd,
Will seem a savage desart. You must view
The mother blooming in your beauteous child,
Nor feel a father's joy! Each object here,
Will rouze the sad remembrance of the bliss
You once possess'd with her! How will you wish
For that sweet converse, when the smiling hours
Danc'd to the musick of her heav'nly voice,
And the short years were lost in dear delight!
But when her charms are silent, dismal change!
Slow sullen time on raven-wings will fly
Heavy and black! around you then you'll see
Your son, your nobles, and domesticks chang'd:
For each, as their peculiar grief shall urge,
With pensive silence will upbraid the loss
Of mother, Queen, or friend. But what's the loss
Of mother, Queen, or friend, compar'd to yours?
A wife! the best, the loveliest of her sex.
And late the best-belov'd! in the full pride
Of summer beauty, like a poisonous weed
Torn from the earth, and by her husband's hand
Unkindly cast to wither in the grave!

Her.
My fate wou'd force from Rigor's flinty eye
Ev'n tears of blood!

[He weeps.
Fla.
O Sir! reflect, if thus
The bare recital wounds your fancy now,
A yet more dreadful pain may pierce your heart!
Love may once more revive, vain hopeless love!
When the dear object of your longing soul
Lies mould'ring in the dust. If so, the wretch
Who buried in a trance returns to life,
And walks distracted o'er the ratling bones
Of his dead fathers, in the dreary vault
Less horror feels, than sad remorse will raise
Within your breast!

Her.
O Mariamne lost!
To love for ever lost! to love and me!—
I've liv'd Love's slave too long; but Jealousy,
That yellow fiend! hath dip'd the torch in gall,
And now 'twill light no more!—

Fla.
If the Queen's false,
My Wife hath been officious to her crimes,
And shares in the pollution: let her plea
Be heard; and if she fails in her defence,
I'll slay her at your feet.

[Flaminius goes out, and returns immediately with Arsinoe.

SCENE IX.

Herod
to Arsinoe.
As heav'nly peace
May sooth your anguish, when the fluttering soul
Prepares to wing her last eternal flight;
Assist my quiet, and resolve my doubts!
Was Sohemus admitted to the Queen,
Whilst I was gone to Rhodes?

Ar.
Never, my Lord!

Her.
Never?

Ar.
His name's offensive to her ear:
And for his person! no antipathy
In nature can be stronger.

Her.
So I thought;
But such fictitious arts too oft conceal
Criminal correspondence: they might write!
And doubtless did.

Ar.
That commerce cou'd not 'scape
My notice, who by constant duty bound,
Waited so near the Queen.

Her.
What if she saw?
Her interest then, and now her fear prevails
To seal the lips of truth.

Fla.
Sir, not the frown
Of majesty, nor brandish'd thunder awes
A Roman spirit, (such I hope she bears)
To make it start from the plain tracks of truth,
And deviate into falsehood.

Her.
Can the Queen
Pierce to the close recesses of the soul?
Are thoughts there visible, like children's toys
Kept in a chrystal case? Does she retain
Dæmons, to sit secure from mortal sight,
In Princes cabinets to learn the summ
Of secret counsels? Told they this decree;
If Cæsar, to revenge the sacred faith
I held with Anthony, shou'd to the sword
Sentence my head, that her's shou'd likewise fall;
Lest the proud successor who seiz'd my throne,
Shou'd triumph in my bed?—No! That resolve
A carnal fiend imparted; and she paid
His service with her honour!—

Ar.
Royal Sir!
Her honour is unblemish'd; all the blame
Transfer to my officious zeal: I told
That fatal secret.

Her.
How!—Did Sohemus
Impart that most important charge to you?

Ar.
To me his vows of love were then address'd;
Which when disdain'd, with more persuasive force
To recommend his passion, he reveal'd
The dreadful mandate left in trust; and swore
That if you perish'd by the sword of Rome
My love alone was ransom for the life
Of my dear Royal mistress.

Her.
Fly! O fly!
Swift as a cherub to preserve his charge
Reverse the doom of death.

[Exit Ar.

SCENE X.

[To them Pheroras enters.]
Herod
to Pheroras.
Is Sohemus
Secur'd for torture?

Phe.
Sir, he took th' alarm,
And fled for safety to the royal tow'r:
The portal forc'd, the soldiers found him fall'n
On his self-slaught'ring sword, stretcht on the ground
Welt'ring in blood; he speechless there expir'd.

Her.
Too far confiding in that traytor's skill
In arts of rule, he so misus'd my pow'r,
That distant story may record my reign
From year to year, by many a cruel deed;
As the wild progress of a storm is trac'd
By marks of desolation.

SCENE the Last.

[Mariamne enters supported by the High-Priest and Narbal; Arsinoe follows with the young Prince.]
Herod.
Heav'ns avert
The bodings of my soul! I fear the Queen—

H. Pr.
Oh Sir!—

Her.
Hah! say'st thou?—

H. Pr.
A few moments more
Will rank her with the dead!

Ar.
E'er I arriv'd
The deadly draught was giv'n, which soon will end
The sense of all her woes.

Her.
And all my joys!—
O call, call our physicians! now let art
Exert her saving pow'r, or ever prove
The minister of death!—

Mar.
The venom's spread
Too far for art!

Her.
O! wish to live, and heav'n
Will crown thy wish with life: heav'n will be just
To that bright innocence, which I have wrong'd!
Wrong'd with excess of love to fury wrought!—
O wretch, wretch, wretch!—

Mar.
Death's welcome, now I hear
My innocence avow'd.

Her.
I! I! whose life
Was bound with thine, by striving to secure
Thy beauties all my own, have kill'd the dove
I fondly grasp'd too close!—O see! she's pale:
Take, take, ye pow'rs! my life to lengthen hers:
Chain me, ye furies! to your burning wheel!
Whip me ten thousand years with scorpions there,
To save her life!—

Mar.
I pity and forgive
Your violence of passion, which hath wrought
The ruin of us both!

Her.
I ill deserve
Thy pardon or thy pity—Yet vouchsafe,
Thou fairest pattern of transcendent goodness!
Vouchsafe thy wretched lord a last embrace;
Whose soul is ready wing'd to wait on thine:
Oh!—bless the dying penitent with peace,
The moments which remain!—

Mar.
Good heav'n insure
[They embrace.
Eternal peace to both!

Her.
Thou shalt not dye!—
Thou art too young, too faultless, and too fair,
To fall a prey to death!—

Mar.
The thick'ning shades
O'er-spread my swimming eyes—Where is my child?
Bring him, poor babe! to take a parting kiss!—
Farewel!—I'm now at peace!—

[She dies.
H. Pr.
In that soft sigh
The gentle spirit soar'd!

Ar.
Oh! dead, dead, dead!—

Her.
Then, Death! strike on;
[He faints.
Fate, thou hast done thy worst!—

Phe.
My royal brother! Oh!—

Nar.
My gracious lord!—

H. Pr.
Good heav'n! restore to wretched Palestine
Her sole support, and grace!

Her.
What minister
[Raising himself.
Of this dark realm art thou?—If 'tis thy post
To guide the dead through this disastrous gloom;
Lead to that mournful mansion, where the ghosts
Of those abide, whom fatal beauty sent
Untimely to the shades!—See! see! she soars!—
How bright a track she leaves along the sky;
And looks with pity down!—Oh see! she rests
On the soft fleece of yonder purple cloud,
Where angels fan her with their golden plumes:
Stay, Mariamne, stay!—

[He sinks into their arms.
Phe.
O! from his face
The blush of life retires.

Nar.
His bosom heaves
With strong convulsive throws!

Fla.
Raise him, my lords.

Her.
Alas! forbear; ye but prolong the pains
Of lab'ring nature; let me sink to peace!
And may Oblivion cast her sable veil
O'er my sad story, and conceal the crimes
Of majesty mis-led! My urn, alas!
Can hope for no compassion: when the doom
Of my dear, lovely, virtuous Queen is told;
The tears will freeze on Pity's gentle cheek,
And not bedew my ashes!—To your care
[To Fla.
Receive this royal orphan, and implore
Cæsar's protection to preserve his crown.
And when mature in manhood, he receives
A consort to his throne, may every grace
And every virtue join, to make her styl'd
The Mariamne of th' admiring age!
May sweet compliance, honour, dear esteem,
And mutual faith cement their mutual joys!
But ever may he shun too fond excess!
That soft seducing impotence of mind,
By which subdu'd, his wretched father fell!
Led by imperious Love a tortur'd slave,
To the sad refuge of an early grave!

[He dies.