University of Virginia Library

The First Act.

Scene the First

a Castle.
Enter Tyridates, Pheroras, Alexas, Polites, and Arsanes, Guards, Trumpets sound.
Phero.
Led on by your Example and Command,
No Force could the Indæan Armes withstand;
This Victory is to your Valour due;
Your Conqu'ring Arme th'Arabian Powers or'e-threw.
You the Kings Brother at his feet laid Dead;
A Homage to a King severely paid.

Tyrid.
Your great Examples made my Duty bold;
None could a Coward be, and You behold:
Nor is there any thing more Triumph draws
Then Loyalty link't to a Monarch's Cause.

Alex.
Well Valiant Conqu'rors, cease this gen'rous strife:
The Justice of our Cause gave us all life.
Whilst thus our selves we Conquer, and thus Knit;
They embrace.
The fierce Arabians to our Swords submit.

Tyrid.
Lead to Jerusalem! the King I'le meet,
And lay my Wreaths at my great Masters feet.

Manent Pol. & Arsa. Exeunt Tyrid. Alex. Phero. cum suis.
Pol.
Not all the Laurels Tyridates wears,
Nor Honours growing faster than his years;
Nor Fame that swells a young Mans Spirit high
Do yet clear up my Princes Cloudy Eye:
A misty Melancholly on his brow
Does some more deep, and silent Sorrow show:
Can you Arsanes guess the Cause?

Arsa.
So little, that in all the search I make,
The more I judge, the farther I mistake.
All the Disasters which his House befell,
Did never past a Moderation swell;
His juster Griefs, and those so well-known Woes,
He with a manly Courage did oppose.

Pol.
How then are now his sorrows greater grown?
Can Herod's Interest move more than his own?

Arsan.
That grief which inward burns must needs consume,—
But 'twill more Airy grow by vent and roome.
You then his Governour may better move,
[to Polytes.
To know the Cause: He cannot disapprove
That Care in you, nor will your love neglect;
For he has always born you great respect.

Pol.
On all occasions then we must lay hold,
Love prompted by necessity grows bold.

[Exeunt.
Enter Tyridates.
Tyr.
I find it is not Bus'ness can reclaime
My lab'ring thoughts from an invading flame;
Nor can the great Employment of the War,
Intruding Loves more fierce assaults deter:
Whilst I for Herod with my Sword o'recome,
The Image of his Queen Kills me at Home.
Not all Phraates Cruelties did move
So much my Breast, as does this Tyrant, Love.
Nor all the Knowledge, which I gain'd at Rome
From Stoicks, this one Passion can or'ecome.
How little I a Gen'rals name respect,
Whilst I my Office, and my Fame neglect.
Oh Gods, who now an Heretick can be
Against the power of gentle Love or Thee.
My panting heart, I hold no longer dear
Than whilst I find Mariamne's Image here.
It is my glory nothing could subdue
That Heart (not force of Gods or Men) but You.

Enter Polites and Arsanes.
Polit.
Sir, 'tis our Love which makes us thus intrude,
With busie Care upon your Solitude.

Arsa.
In Melancholly Characters we read
Some gloomy mist has your great Heart o're-spread.
Your Aire, and Meine, and Looks more Cloudy grown,
Though you take care to Hide it, make it Known.

Polit.
We hitherto have shar'd your woes and bliss,
And shall we now both Strangers be to this?
Are we mistrusted now?—

Tyr.
Polites, hold—
To you, and only you, I dare unsold
That Secret which I here lockt up till now;
And did disclose to none, no not to you;
Because 'tis what your Councel can't remove:
'Tis—O that I live to tell it—Sir, 'tis Love!—
Look not so strange, you'l be surpriz'd much more
When you shall see her shadow I adore.

[Shews a Picture.
Pol.
Oh Gods! What see I here?—It cannot be!

Tyr.
Is Homage strange to such Divinity?

Arsa.
Sir, Then 'tis Herods Queen whom you adore.

Tyrid.
You tell me what I Knew too well before:
I through your Eyes Polites see your fear;
And 'tis but just those Dubious thoughts I clear.
You fear that Noble Vertue is Betrayd
Which rul'd my Actions whilst your Precepts swa'yd:
But though I Love, 'tis with so pure a flame,
As will not Innocence, nor Vertue shame!
To say, I Love her more than Life, is poor,
But I love Mine, and Her bright Honour more.

Pol.
In Love you to rewards of Love pretend.

Tyrid.
No, no: My Love has neither Hopes nor End;
She is a Vertue that no Mortal dares
Pretend to Love; unless he Vertue wears.
Could I transform to any shape; yet she
Cannot be tempted by a Deity.
Lock up this Secret closely in your Breast.

Arsa.
Without your Leave it ne're shall be exprest.

Pol.
But Sir, does Mariamne know your flame?

Tyrid.
My Tongue as yet durst never giv't a name.

Pol.
Sir, since I doubt, it were in vain to try
To reason you into a remedy:
That which I can't remove, I will defend:
Yet many dangers may your Love attend.
Herod, a Man is of that Temper known,
As Jealous of his Wife as of his Crown.
He spares no blood, that He may this secure,
Think not in Love, a Rival Hee'l endure.

Tyrid.
You can't say more than Tyridates knows,
But for her sake I will my life expose.

Arsa.
And we with you will the same Hazard share.

Tyrid.
But in discourse I do my Joys defer.
'Tis the highest Tryumph that my Armes obtain,
Ending the War to see the Queen again.

[Exeunt.

Third Scene

A Chamber.
Enter Mariamne, Alexandra, Cleophe, &c.
Mar.
Mother, the force wherewith you me Invade,
To a Rebellious Thought can ne're perswade.
Though I no Passion for that Tyrant know,
Nor Obligation to his Merits owe;
I by the Sacred Law of Heav'n am taught,
To habour against Herod, no ill thought.

Alexand.
He is a Monster, and deserves that ill.

Mar.
But yet that Monster is my Husband still.

Alexand.
He then did forfeit both the Name and Place;
When He began to Murder all your Race:
'Tis He that Murder'd the Asmonean Seed;
And the last Relicks of that Race made bleed.
And now He has Imprison'd You and Me,
For what; unless He does our Deaths decree?

Mar.
Death is the last of ills that he can do.

Alexand.
But I wou'd first that Monsters death pursue;
And have the Pride before my life depart,
To strike my Dagger to the Tyrants Heart.

Mar.
May Heav'n defend my Innocence from guilt:
His blood alone shou'd by just Heav'n be spilt.
I'le neither act, nor wish so great a Crime.

Cleop.
Who ever saw a Vertue more sublime?

Alexand.
Now He is gone to Rhodes, it is not hard
For you to gain to our just side the Guard.
You in the Peoples Love so great are grown,
That for your sake they Herod wou'd Dethrone:
Besides, We may by speedy Letters send
For Valiant Tyridates, who's our Freind.
The Army wee'l call home, and all those Powers
Will be as well as Tyridates, Yours.

Mar.
The very hearing this in me's a Crime.

Alexan.
Why then you dote on him, and wish his good?
Can you love Tyrants stain'd with your own blood?

Mar.
What now I do; you did at first command,
When forc'd by You, to him I gave my Hand.
Whilst that you urg'd no Crime, I did obey:
With me, to Him, you gave your Power away.
These Tears I shed, to Murder'd Friends I owe;
[Weeps.
This to weak Nature I must needs allow.

Alexand.
Those Tears th'Asmonians-Valiant-Race disown,
And Mariamne is a Coward grown.
Sit down so tamely with your Sexes fears?
No marks of Courage are those foolish Tears.

Mar.
Though hateful Crimes I like a Coward fly,
I have a Heart that's not afraid to dye.
Where I may Honour, and my Duty save,
I have a Courage dares the Tyrant brave.

Enter Sohemus.
Cleoph.
See Madam, one of your Gardians, Sohemus come.

Alexan.
Perhaps he's come to let us know our Doom.

Sohem.
Madam, dry up those Tears, and Weep no more,
Put this Imprisonment on safety's score:
The King a Passion has so great and just;
He dares to none but Us your safety trust.
His Jealousie the issue is of Love.

Mar.
What act of mine did that base humour move?

Sohem.
Lovers have oft without cause Jealous been.

Mar.
He might have yet remembred me his Queen.

Sohem.
Madam, you nothing want, but Liberty.

Mar.
Denying that, what does he not deny?

Alexan.
From guilty Souls, such Jealousies arise;
Herod can't live unless he Tyrannize.

Mar.
Sohemus knows my Husbands foul intent,
When he his Voyage to Antonius went.
And now he is to great Augustus gone,
If he miscarries—must he go alone?

Sohem.
Your Pardon Madam, if I tell you more;
And 'tis a Warrant which he Sign'd before.
Seems to Whisper.
He must enjoy you in another World,
Thus into Crimes, by Jealousie he's hurld?

Mar.
This Jealousie from Malice springs, not Love—

Sohem.
It is your Vertue makes me thus your Friend:
And that you may suppose my Friendship true,
The power of my Head I give to you.
For if this Secret from your Lips does come,
Herod will make me sharer in your Doom.

Mar.
I weigh your kindness, you shall find me true.

Sohem.
Herod does not mistrust the Queen, nor You.

Alexan.
Why are we Prisoners then?—

Sohem.
It is his Care.
'Twill not be long e're Herod will return,
You'l then no longer your lost Freedom mourn.

Enter Philon.
Mariam.
Philon, thy looks speak News; what is't?

Philon.
They say
The Valiant Prince of Parthia comes this Day,
Into Jerusalem.—
The City and the Court their Joys express,
To see him come Crown'd with so great success.
With swifter wings arriv'd his greater Fame,
And told his glorious acts before he came.

Mar.
What are they Philon?—

Philon.
He has such conduct, and such valour shown;
Those Storms which threatn'd us are all o're-blown:
Th'Arabians are out of Judea fled;
But left behind them 13 thousand dead.
Twice by his Valour, He the Battle won;
And twice unhors'd the King, and once his Son.
He brake their Troops like lightening as he flew;
Where e're he went with him, He Conquest drew.
Th'Arabian King from place to place he chas'd,
Till to his Country He return'd disgrac'd.

Mar.
I have already heard of his great Name.

Philon.
And yet I speak it lesser then his Fame.

Mar.
That Princes Vertues I did ever prize,
And his praise now with my own Interest lies:
If to the Kingdoms Interest I am true,
I must his Vertues Love, and praise 'em too.

[Exeunt.

Fourth Scene

the City Jerusalem.
Enter Tyridates and Polites.
Tyrid.
Oh Gods! how can you thus unmov'd behold
The best peice ever made of humane mold;
The work of your own hands, giv'n up to be
A subject for a Monsters Cruelty.
She to whose eyes, my freedom I resign:
And she has right to all the Worlds, as mine.
Can she a Captive be?—

Pol.
Call in your Passion Sir, and give it Law.

Tyrid.
Of Thee Mariamne 'tis I stand in awe.
Great Queen! it is thy Vertue makes me fear—

Pol.
Sir stop your Passion till Arsanes come.
His news may calm't, or give it farther room.

Tyrid.
Now Herod is her Persecutor grown,
I him no longer my Protector own;
His Cruelties my Brothers have out-done;
I from one mischief to another run;
From Parthia bring my Life to lose it here:
And that which is a thousand times more dear.

Herod.
Herod in your distress has given you ayde.

Tyrid.
My Conquests have that Obligation payd.
I in Mariamne's wrongs am injur'd more
Then e're his Kindness had oblig'd before.
My thoughts no longer shall my mind divide:
Both against him, and the whole World beside,
I'le draw this Sword in the Queens just defence:
And succour Vertue and wrong'd Innocence.

Pol.
These thoughts disclos'd, wou'd Sir your self undo,
Bring certain Ruine to Mariamne too.
But see Arsanes is return'd again—

[Enter Arsanes.
Tyrid.
Quick, dear Arsanes, ease me of my pain.
What says Sohemes, is he still our Friend?

Arsan.
I judge him so, for so he does pretend.
He quickly granted part of your Request;
But a long time he did debate the rest:
He on Mariamnes anger did demur,
Not on the Dangers that she might incur.
At last the Friendship that he had for you
Prevail'd; and overcome that scruple too.
Now Night has spread her Sables, he does wait
Alone your coming at the Castle Gate.

Tyrid.
This is a Kindness I can ne're requite;
Assist me Darkness! Loves best Friend, is Night.

Enter Sohemes with a Disguise.
Sohem.
Put on this Souldiers Casque for your Disguise;
Thus Habited, you need not fear surprize.
Tyrid. dresses in a Disguise.
Philon is now to his Apartment gone,
And I have newly set the Watch alone.
Wee'l shun the Main-Guard lest your Face be spy'd,
At this back Gate you'l enter undiscry'd.
You two without, for our return must wait,
But at a little distance from the Gate.

[aside.
Tyrid.
What Tumult's this within my Breast appears!
There is a strugling 'twixt my Joys and Fears.
That Heart which Death and Horror did not daunt,
At its approaching Bliss begins to faint.

Arsan.
Let's find some shelter, that's not out of Call.

[Exeunt.

Sixth Scene

a Chamber.
Mariamne's discover'd lying on a Couch.
Enter Tyridates.
Tyrid.
See where She is! how her affections move!
She thinks on nothing but the Gods above.
What force of Men can such a Pow'r withstand,
Whose Piety does Gods themselves Command:

Mar.
Defend me Heav'n; what's this I here behold!
Tyr. running to her Kneels.
One of my Guard so Impudent and Bold!
Tyridates, ha! what does your rashness mean?
Do not you know 'tis Death to see the Queen?

Tyrid.
Madam, I do: but dangers I defy,
And I could wish them far more great, and nigh.
I no occasion had till now to show
How little I do value Life for you.

Mar.
Rise Tyridates; I and Herod know,
How great a Debt we to your Valour owe.
But the Kings Cruel humour gives me fear:
Would your Compassion had not brought you here.

Tyrid.
That temper your Misfortunes do Create;
I neither with his Love, nor fear his Hate.
He gave me shelter in his Court—'tis true;
But Murders now the Life he sav'd in You.

Mar.
I know Compassion moves you to be kind:
'Tis the Effect of every gen'rous mind.

Tyrid.
Give me but leave, this Sword shall set you Free.

Mar.
My Thoughts you cannot to Revenge incline;
That is the bus'ness of the Gods, Not mine.

Tyr.
To do you Justice You may me permit.

Mar.
I Act Revenge, when I shall suffer it.

Tyr.
In Your Misfortunes I a share do Claim.

Mar.
I beg You won't that Dang'rous Claim pursue;
Lest gen'rous pitty Fatal prove to You.

Tyr.
Ah wou'd the Gods! that Tyridates cou'd
Buy off Your Sufferings Madam with his Blood:
Or end Your Troubles with his Punishment,
By all the Deaths that Herod could Invent.
How fair would be my Fate to pay to You
My Life; to whom all Hearts, all Lives, are due:

[aside.
Mar.
Sure this from Passion, not from Pitty flowes.
I wou'd not know what now I but suppose.
Sir, Do you well consider what You Say?

[to Tyrid.
Tyr.
If my rash Tongue my Passion does betray;
And unawares the Secret has Confest
Which has so long bin lock't within my Brest.
Madam, do you adjudg what paines are Due:
I'le gladly suffer what's Impos'd by You.
Yes, Tyridates does as guilty Plead,
Since in your clouded Brows I Anger read.

Mar.
You'ld not have licens'd thus your self to tell
Your Folly, had you Known Mariamne well:
I Herods bloody Injuries forgive;
Yet scarce can pardon this Offence—yet—Live
[Exit Mar.

Tyr.
Stay Mariamne! Gods! What have I done?
Tortures! To what Confusion am I Run!
She pardons me! And yet pronounc'd my Death!
She bid me Live, Yet Kil'd me with that Breath.
Herod, who blushes with her Kindred's Gore,
With all his Injuries ne're mov'd Her more.
And is't not hard that th'oversights of Love,
To Anger more then Cruelties should move?
My Rashness has my blasted Joyes o're-thrown,
And my distemper'd Soul melts at her Frown.
[Exit. Tyr.