University of Virginia Library

Scene the First

The Scene without the City.
Enter Tyridates and Arsanes.
Tyrid.
To Rome I now my wand'ring steps must lead;
I've sworn, and my great Saint must be obey'd:
Doom'd from her sight, he now Judea flyes,
Who in Devotion to Mariamne's eyes,
Liv'd an Adorer, and a Pilgrim Dies.
But what high Bliss my Vowes to me deny;
Hast my Arsanes, to the City fly.
Enquire her health; I fear she's in distress,
The trembling of my Soul her ills express.
By secret Concord Lutes when tun'd alike;
One trembling moves, if you the other strike.
Thus my tun'd Heart by sympathy of Love
Does at those ills she feels, though distant, move.
Not Death, nor Herod's Cruelties I fear,
But the Queens last command that keeps me here.

Arsa.
I'le put on the Disguise I have within.

Tyrid.
Here I will lye till you return agen;
And with my own sad thoughts I will converse,
Whose Clouds the Queens Health only can disperse.

[Lyes down.
Enter Salome in Mans Habit.
Salom.
This is the place I'm sure; hither last Night,
I'm told he and Arsanes took their flight:
Blest Chance! yonder he is! Revenge arise!
And make to thee and Love one Sacrifice.

Tyrid.
What man is this? I'le ask him whence he came?

[He rises
Salom.
So, so! I have already rous'd the Game.

Tyrid.
Sir, from the City came you?

Salom.
Yes, to you!

Tyrid.
Your pleasure!

Salom.
'Tis a bus'ness strange and new.
The Queen—

Tyrid.
Oh that blest name!

Salom.
Has found too late—

Tyrid.
You raise my fears.

Salom.
A sence of her hard fate!
Though from her kindness you did once receive,
All that so strict a Vertue had to give.
Yet;—
With a Womans kindness sh'has a Womans fear,
And dreads her Dangers now she finds 'em near.
And though a while unmov'd;
She stood the Tyrants first, and easier frowns,
Who floats above weak streams, in rougher, drowns.
Her nearer Ruine (though no doubt she still
Esteems yee) does her breast with horror fill.
She raves, and wishes that black hour accurst,
In which she saw, and knew, and lov'd you first.
And all that storm still falls on Cruel you,
Who her to these unjust Misfortunes drew.—
She wishes you—

Tyrid.
Hold! here's enough to Kill.
Since I am curst by my fair Queen! yet still
She's just, were she more cruel—

Salom.
Sir, the ill
She undergoes by you, has brought me here;
That since such Beauty suffers for your sake,
My Sword may of your Crimes expiation make:
Draw and defend your Life—

Tyrid.
No, kind Sir, I
Have guilty liv'd, but will not guilty dye.
Should I defend that Life which she condemns,
I justifie her sufferings, and my Crimes.
No, grant one Grace, the greatest man can give,
Here let my Breast that welcome guest receive.

Salom.
This I expected—
[aside.
Oh my hand does shake;
And foolish fear doe my Souls fortress take!

Tyrid.
Why are you slow? dear Sir make hast—

Salom.
Base fears be gone—Well, now I am prepar'd!
Against Revenge in Love there is no guard.

Enter Arsanes who stops her Sword.
Arsa.
Hold Villain! Murderer!

Tyrid.
Why do you stop that hand that is so kind,
Sent by the Queen, who has this grace design'd.

Arsa.
Oh Gods! your Passion Sir, has made you blind.
He's some Impostor would your Life betray—
You nothing of the Queen in this can see,
Nor with her Vertue does this act agree.
I the Imposture quickly will explain.

offers a pass at Salome.
Salom.
Hold, hold! 'tis not by thee I will be slain.
I come not hither by the Queens command,
Yet still this Traytor falls by my just hand.
By Princess Salome I'm sent—
[offers at Tyrid.
Her and her Brothers honour I must right:
It is in both their Causes that I fight.

Arsa.
Why from the Queen did you pretend before?

Salom.
The Prince I knew did her so much adore,
That calmely then he would his life resigne,
And so I might take his, not hazard mine.

Arsa.
Oh Monster—

[offers at her.
Tyrid.
Stay! the Cause is chang'd, and I'le dispute my Fate;
And give you what you ask; Herod I hate,
But Salome much more—

Salom.
Hates he her more—
Then Herod?—my Revenge swell'd high before:
But now to kill or dye's an equal part:
False & Perfidious Traytor! at thy heart:

[Her Perriwig falls off in making a Pass at Tyrid.
Tyrid.
Ha! 'Tis her self.

Salom.
Oh Curs't discovery! yes Sir! 'tis I,
And once again I thee to Death defy!

Tyrid.
What Vision's this? you have disarm'd me now.
Why, Madam, all this Cruelty from you?

Salom.
Oh my false Heart! I feel my rage expire,
At one kind breath my new-blown Love takes fire.
Sir, I'le forgive; if you'le return and Love,
I Herod's wrath, your dangers will remove,
And bring you back agen to his esteem.

Tyrid.
Yes, I will Love!—

Salom.
How Sir!

Tyrid.
My Charming Queen—

Salom.
Your Charming Queen! your Charming Queen shall dye!
I instantly will to her Tyrant flye:
Accuse her of all Treasons, false, or true;
All is too little that Revenge can do:
She dies to Morrow, nay to Night, to Day:
I cannot soon enough her life betray.
And since no other way will do't, I will
Torment thy Heart through Mariamne still.
And thou shalt live to hear this news Proclaim'd,
She's Dead: and if my pow'r can do it, Damn'd.

[offers to go.
Tyr.
Stay, Salome; dear Salome!

Salom.
Your will.

Tyrid.
If blood's your ayme; here Tyridates kill,
Let her but live—

Salom.
No, loving Fool, she dies.

Tyrid.
Oh thou black malice! wert thou but a man,
I by thy Death would my Queens safety gain.
But Curse she is a Woman! oh 'tis hard,
That Justice should by honour be debarr'd:
The greatest weakness is the strongest guard.

Salom.
Sir, 'Tis not yet too late your Queen to save,
Could you but—

Tyrid.
But—what is it you would have?

Salom.
Your Love!

Tyrid.
Love, Madam, has Variety!
What Love is't you would have? to what degree:

Salom.
I'd have you—Oh your blindness and my shame!
Can you not guess the thing without the name?

Tyrid.
Ah, Madam! if you Lawless thoughts pursue,
The ills you save her from will fall on you—
Horrors will haunt yee!—

Salom.
You do not understand
A Lovers sence. In Love we are not pain'd
With th'ills we've acted, but in those we miss.
Repentance there's less Torment, then a wish.
Try but to Love me, 'tis an easie grant:
Speak some kind things; or if new words you want
T'express a Passion by; oblige my Ear,
And repeat somthing that you said to her.

Tyrid.
Madam! what would your abused fancy get
If I that do not Love should Counterfeit.
The first I cannot, and the last I scorn:
My thoughts are never in Disguises worne.
I cannot tell yee—

Salom.
No, nor can I hear?
I've said too much for a return so small:
But here once more my Fury I recal.
Since Plots on Tyridates vain do prove,
To take away thy Life, or gain thy Love:
Thy Heart I yet have one way left to break;
My Vengeance at the Queen its ayme shall take:
There I will stab thee in a tender part,
And through her Breast strike thy ungrateful heart.

[Ex. Sal.
Tyrid.
Thy kindness and thy threats I both despise;
But oh her rage at Mariamne flyes.
I'le to the Court, and instantly informe
My Queen, and be her guard against this storme.
What if I'de sworn a thousand Oaths and broke
Them all, her certain Ruine to revoke?
Yet Perjury's no sin in such a Case;
Kind Salome! thy Malice is a Grace:
Thy Cruelty has done an act so brave,
It gives me pow'r my Queen to see, and save.
By such a hand so great a Bounty given!
An Instrument of Hell has lent me Heav'n.

[Exit.