 | Mariamne |  |
57
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,
58
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
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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.
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