 | Queen Mariamne |  |
15
ACT II
Scene I
Alexandria. The palace of the Ptolomies. Cleopatra sits on her throne, her chin deep in her hand, her eyes narrow as a crocodile's on the top of the water. Charmian fans her. In the foreground, to the left and right, groups of women and eunuchs are just seen.Charmian.
Madam, what is it you are coveting?
[Cleopatra is silent. Charmian fans for a while in silence.
Madam, your sighs are for the world? Such sighs!
Not as the winds that rise and fall again
On their own breath, but rather hurricanes
That go forth over provinces and kingdoms!
16
[Cleopatra does not answer.
No—then Araby,
The desert-brazier, sand and spice together? . . .
For Ethiopia and the amber streams,
Or Syria's merchant coasts? . . .
Or for Judæa's milk and honey, Egypt
Has ever coveted?
Ah, madam, madam!
They are for Jericho. So often laying
Your myrrhs and balsams to your flesh, you quarrel
With the poor jars that are your sole possession,
While the myrrh-bearing, balsam-scented city
Stands alien by its waters. Jericho!
[Cleopatra slides her eyes towards Charmian.
You are grown still, you do not eat. I fear you.
Cleopatra.
Seleucus!
[Her eyes wake and glitter as her treasurer enters.
17
And had the goddess jewels?
Seleucus.
Tremblingly
We crept about the temple in the dusk,
Sepulchral hours, between the nadir darkness
And dawn—we dared not light a lamp.
Cleopatra.
You found?
Seleucus.
This gold.
Cleopatra
(trying it in her hand).
Loaden with joy—Seleucus! And the jewels?
Seleucus
(untying a striped silk).
These rubies—pearls from off their string. . . .
Cleopatra.
The gold
Build up in your rock-treasuries and seal.
These in my lap to feed me as with music!
[Exit Seleucus.
See my red roses, Charmian; see
My lilies in this basket . . .
[The gems lie in the hollow of her knees.
And my dew
Of a whole daydreak. Ha, what pilfering
Of Heaven! Poor Isis!
[She covers the jewels with her hands.
18
Have you no alarm?
Madam . . . the goddess! It is daylight now—
Her ravaged image . . .
Cleopatra.
Blasphemy!—
Her image!
This veil embraces me, and it is mine,
To the finest dint of the temples—I am Isis,
Soothing her jewels with my hands. Behold them!
[Plunging her hands into the mass.
These do not faint, nor fleet, nor fade—behold,
Pale are my fingers from this luxury
And contact as they pat the crystal flesh
Of all this light and bloom a-dangle.
(Settling herself.)
Peace
To one desire—but one!
Charmian.
Unbosom, Queen!
I fear you . . .
The passion of some great aggrandisement
Contracts your face.
19
Chick, I will not unbosom.
I will be wary as the very young,
Who speak aside in tremblings of the blood,
And change the jewels in their eyes, and let
Their love sweep past in havoc on their cheeks,
Leaving all clean.
Alexas
(advancing).
The Tetrarch of Judæa!
[Cleopatra motions he shall be admitted.
Herod enters and salutes her.
Herod.
I come with a petition
To your great Majesty. I crave a ship
To bear me swift to Rome.
[Cleopatra is silent.
Cassius was mine,
My friend, and dearly favouring me. I go
To seek my pardon of his conqueror,
Now Cassius is dead . . .
You are mute, madam.
I speak as kings to kings . . .
(With a changed voice.)
I crave a ship
To seek my pardon of Mark Antony.
Will you not speed my sails?
Cleopatra.
You crave a ship.
20
Oh, you are easily content! I thought
You had ambition.
Herod.
I must sail to Rome:
My fortunes hang upon my speed.
Cleopatra.
O puppet,
Frank-spoken babe! And how will you achieve?
Will you malign dead Cassius?
Herod.
My terms
Are proffer of a service of the girth
I stretched to my dear friend, dead Cassius.
My prelude will be praise of Cassius.
Cleopatra
(to Charmian and her women).
Have you considered him—this lofty Idumæan,
This Tetrarch who is Tetrarch on the ruins
Of the old royal house? How soaringly
Composed the bushy blackness of his hair!
How he aspires!
Behold him
Suppliant to me and suppliant for a ship!
[She rises suddenly, and all the goddess's
21
'Tis death to touch one droplet.
Call Seleucus
To number them and dress them on a dish.
(To Herod.)
If I should give you a full-freighted vessel . . .
I will not: you must take another boon.
For you shall be the Captain of my forces,
My Ethiopians, Numidian bands,
My varied hosts from Syria and from Gaul.
My hosts with intermingled tongues shall learn
Your watchwords, your command.
Now ask as greatly
As I confer. Be level with us, Herod.
The sports of royalties are royal sports.
So modest—so the Jew!
[Caressingly catching at one of the chains hung about his neck.
And Mariamne
Despises you, O Splendour of the Desert!
22
Who can take ship, reluctant as Æneas,
Swift ship to Rome?
Will you not stay awhile,
My cavaliering Herod? This impatience
Is of the wilds. . . . Will you not stay
With Cleopatra? This is her petition,
Coupled with angry and forbidding tears.
Herod.
Queen, I must follow, where your heart is gone,
To Antony. I am unfortunate
In such deep need of pardon.
[Seleucus re-enters.
Cleopatra.
Antony
Is here, and all your grace.
Herod.
You are all bounty, all forgiveness, madam!
For you and your august protection, tribute!
The honey of a province—for the ship
That you will grant my need, since I must sail.
[He lays a heavy purse in her hands.
23
(holding it out).
Seleucus, tribute!
[She lays it on the great dish amid the pearls and rubies. Exit Seleucus.
I will send my letter
By post as swift as Auster. Have no fear.
Mark Antony to kiss the manuscript
Would diadem you king of all Judæa. . . .
Come, closer. . . . All your secrets
Are cherished in my bosom. Alexandra
Has wept me all her wrongs. . . . Herod, there are
Soft deaths that buoy our rule—a priest's, my brother's—
Scarcely fifteen. And on your side a priest,
Almost a brother, in the dawn of youth,
They say, has died from you. . . .
Are you so angry?
Do not be angry! Hush!
Out of the clay of Nile our lotus-flower
Lifts a perfumed and mitred face.
Fear me not—I can cover many sins.
24
Why should I fear you? I have naught to fear
From women's machinations or their wiles.
If you will grant no ship—my way to Rome
Is by the sea. . . . Farewell!
[He turns to the door.
Cleopatra
(to Charmian).
He does not fire; he is a beast and slow,
A sullen beast—an elephant
Of drowsy mood. . . . What shall I put before him,
What blood of mulberries, what blood of grapes,
To rouse his blood to answerable tides?
Herod, come back!
My Captain Herod. . . .
Do you see the storm?
Even as a sorceress I know our winds;
This storm will wreck you.
Herod.
I am bound for Rome,
No peril on that voyage! What command,
What message shall I bear to Antony?
Cleopatra.
Is Antony away?
Herod, my fleets shall dance into the port,
25
As the air floats again: you shall have choice
Of all my painted sails.
Embark not now,
Not now . . .
[Herod flees.
[A whirlwind enters the palace.
(Calling after him.)
Æneas! Nay,
No Roman! Cæsar, Antony, Pompeius!—
No Roman!—Gone
Away, as from the wife of Potiphar,
From me, from Egypt—me!
Alexas! heigh, Alexas!
[He comes to her.
Have they yet strangled us the Jewish slave
Of Antony's, who spurned our image? No?
Then strangle us the slave as with our hands.
[She shrieks.
Light! Swing the curtains! Light!
[The curtains are swung wide.
Am I turned owl? It hurts me . . .
Nakedness!
My ceremonies gone!
[The curtains are drawn round.
26
(In a whisper.)
Bid them fetch snow
From the Moon-mountains, where I may conceive
The snow eternal. Let my coursers strain
South to the mountains, and should any fall,
Leave them to starve! Snow from the mountains, snow!
Charmian, if I fail . . . Time is so slack. . . .
Bring me cyprinum-oil to turn my senses
Hard, lest I faint and die . . .
A strong scent! . . . Jasminum!
[She lies back among her cushions, covering with each hand the gold stars embroidered on each breast.
Scene II
RomeHerod, with Mark Antony and Octavius Cæsar, stands on the steps outside the Capitol.
Octavius.
Have no disquiet.
Your simple speech of love for Cassius
27
Should faith be nurtured, and a feeling brain.
Antipater, your father, was the friend
Of Rome through a whole lifetime; and your faith
Has not removed from Rome, though Cassius shed
The noblest Roman blood.
Antony.
But, Herod, letters
Are come from Cleopatra that attaint
Your virtue and your mercy.
Herod.
Wah!—what charge?
Antony.
That tacitly you killed Aristobulus.
Sweet-lipped, assailing boy—why, his rose-picture
Had pleaded to old Fate.
Herod.
And you believe it?
A mother's grief darkened and spread
Out of its night this dream—as women show
Ever a pregnant grief.
The child was drowned
In sport with others, challenged headily
By emulation. I had clothed him priest—
High-priest of Israel.
28
He was the last
Of kingly breeding.
Herod.
Mariamne's brother.
Antony.
By heaven! their dam sent me their portraits once—
A girl and boy to smite their sorcery
On the taut senses. Herod, you are crowned
In Mariamne.
Herod.
She is royal.
Antony.
She is fairer
Than any breathing.
Octavius.
Cleopatra, hear!
Antony.
Let her be deaf as ostrich of the sands!
She is not fair, ye gods—she is complete,
And fast as Circe on her worshippers.
(To Herod.)
You paused in Egypt?
Herod.
True;
But did not know the queen my enemy.
Anthony.
She wants Judæa.
Herod,
You shall not, on my word, be dispossessed.
And, if Octavius smile, your Tetrarchy,
Since you aver Aristobulus' death
29
Shall be returned to you a kingdom.
Octavius.
Ay,
King of Judæa!
Antony.
Give to Mariamne
A king for her embraces—women glow
Their arms round sovereignty.
Herod.
My faith is sure.
And it is great to know where greatness sways,
To take its current. All magnificence
Is—journeying with the greatness of oneself,
Or destiny's or God's. Fair-valed Judæa
Shall become Roman and attain the world.
Octavius.
A compeer, Herod! Well that Cleopatra,
Behind the lasting walls of Egypt, drew you
Into no sunned captivity. Ha, ha!
She is a mighty idler.
Antony.
She so covets
Fair-valed Judæa, you, it seems, had welcome
Of bitter flavour . . . so the letter vouches.
But I shall value faith and governance
30
Ah! has she faith or governance, this queen,
Save as a dusky Venus?
(To Herod.)
Well?
Herod.
Mark Antony, the truth I gave dead Cassius
I plight you in the East: arms, treasure, victuals,
Beyond my kingdom's tribute, shall be yours.
[They join hands.
Octavius.
Come down with me!
You have been asking for the webs of Cos,
Tissues of Indian byssus. We have stalls
In the Forum Pacis and the Via Sacra
Worth a king's visit.
[Lepidus comes out of the Capitol.
Ay, there, Lepidus.
This is the daybreak of a sovereignty;
Herod is monarch of the Jews.
Lepidus.
Brave Herod!
Salve, Herodes! Then we must banquet him.
[They move down the steps, leaving Antony.
31
We are going to buy stuffs.
Lepidus.
Not Antony?
Octavius.
No, Herod—where I bought but yesterday . . .
Lepidus.
Not for Scribonia; for Nero's wife,
Livia Drusilla . . .
Octavius.
Where I bought a veil.
Herod.
This broad and pillared Rome!—
My Jewish cities
Are lowly scattered . . .
Antony
(calling).
Herod!
(To Octavius and Lepidus.)
Go your way;
Herod will follow—he is swift of foot,
An antelope.
[They descend.
Herod!
Herod.
What would you?
Antony.
See,
I have given you a realm to gild the pleasure
Of Mariamne . . . and have seen your eyes
Travel in royal progress far away.
I know . . . but, man, I have displeased a queen,
32
And incense to appease. . . . Necessity
Shears you of Jericho.
Herod.
The plots of balm!—
There only in the world?
Antony.
And you must lose
The towns within the river Eleutherus.
I am ashamed, but the necessity
Is hotter than my blush.
Herod.
Your will!
[He walks abruptly away.
Antony.
A man
Of the Lions' Country! . . .
She shall have six cities.
Six?—Seven; two pearls from Persia—and a letter!
Scene III
A hall in the royal house of the Asmoneans at AlexandriumSalome is seated, weaving a scarlet girdle. Herod enters. Taking Salome's hand, he sweeps her along with him as he crosses the apartment.
33
There is a pearl, as somewhere in the sea
There is a pearl the diver does not find,
Strains for in blindness, gropes for in the dark!
The diver rises bleeding for the air . . .
Sweet, will you aid me? Sweet, there is no treasure
I lacked in boyhood that your love attained not.
Win me her love,
This Mariamne, till she love as thou,
Down where there is no speech. She is withholden.
Salome, I beseech her at your hands!
[Pushing her away.
Salome, I so fear to look on her . . .
(After a pause.)
Oh, it would kill her
To spread before her vision, even in cleft,
The wealth she owns—for gold we toss about
As merchandise, for gold we twist in chains
What is it to the lumps of heavy gold
Stored hidden under river-beds, beneath
Fountains, the roots of crags?
34
I shut her in my fort, no element
Around but the Dead Sea, that she might gather
My vision on its glass, and dream my dream—
A nest of phœnix not less full of life,
Of comforting, of cheer
Or perfume than to die with him she loves.
Salome, can she learn
That she must die with me, beside my death,
That I must feel her drawing close to me,
To the same quiet, side by side? Salome,
I have such fear she of herself would rather,
I being dead, 'mid changes, far apart,
Spend all my wealth on some Mark Antony,
Some sharp-set prodigal of Rome . . .
[Joseph opens the curtain and Mariamne enters, dressed in mourning.
But this . . .
Joseph, you lead our queen
Forth in this sombre, grave attire?
Joseph
(with deep obeisance).
Her pleasure;
35
Swift as a heron she would speed to you.
[Herod dismisses Salome and Joseph with a wave of his hand; he looks long at Mariamne for recognition; she gives none.
Herod.
So swift to draw to me, my bird . . . Mariamne,
And you have journeyed day and night?
So far—
We come from very far . . . it startles us.
And you were so in haste you would not stay
To robe you for your crown? Queen Mariamne,
The kingdom of the Jews is thine—King David
Wore of God's oil, thy fathers of their sword.
I have won it for you: it is all my bliss,
I am a king to you. No salutation?
But will you make me an idolater,
Thus kneeling to an image? Mariamne,
So to repulse! . . . Nor speech that is my bread,
36
Conscious with knowledge of my watching eyes,
Nor any preparation of your beauty,
No forethought, nor misgiving. I forget—
You are born royal, and these added titles
Tease you contemptuous . . .
Lo, what is this?
You are weeping!
[He springs to her and kisses her repeatedly.
Mariamne.
Stay!
Herod.
Mariamne,
Think not to stay my kisses. By thy life . . .
Mariamne.
My life! If you had not been here—
Herod.
Thou mad one,
What hadst thou done?
Wouldst thou have loosed a blade and smitten thee,
Should I have found thee earth-long in thy blood?
Mariamne.
No.
Herod.
Thy wild words—
What were they?
Mariamne.
You commanded I should fall
37
Or, chained about your tomb, I had been treated
As your camel or your horse, if you had died
While journeying from home.
Herod.
Eyes of the topazes!
What dream is this, what dream? Is it because
I shut thee in Masada? I had fears,
My dove, I had such fears for thee, I shut thee
Away as thou hadst not been living. Scarcely
I thought, save of the peril. At Masada
By the Dead Sea, and girt by sterile land,
I knew none could attain to ravish thee.
It was the haste—
It was the care—
You suffered?
Sick fancies haunted you? O sweet, but queens
In jeopardy are often thus shut up—
Or underground, in towers, or over sea.
But you are fallen very white in hue.
Your health . . .
38
I have full health. I would not die,
I would not be cut off, and all my race
Cut off in me. It is not just my thread
Of life—there are so many! While I live
They live a little with me: they are warmed
A little of my blood: I comfort them.
You gave command to Joseph—
Herod.
Ha!
Mariamne.
He told me
You gave him that commandment, and he swore—
[He turns violently from her, drawing his hands back.
Herod.
Could he have said it of himself alone?
Could he have dared so break his oath? My silence—
Was it unsealed by him? He broke the seal,
He thawed the rigour, and, in little words
Of love and of caress, that have no meaning,
As in a fairy-tale he told my grief
Of how I loved so jealous? . . . and his oath
Floating before him as a wisp of straw
One laughs to follow as it floats along!
. . . He told her, and her lids dropt very deep,
39
The quiet, growing rose as at the dusk . . .
[Turning again and facing Mariamne.
Mariamne, so you pleaded for your life,
And you prevailed. Will you not plead with me?
Will you not recollect and feign again
To me, your husband, with the words you feigned,
The love you feigned to love . . . or was the man
Beloved, who was your lover?
[Mariamne stands quite still.
Is this pride?
You are a Maccabee, an Israelite,
King Alexander's daughter—I of Edom,
Descended from a slave of Ascalon,
Not to be answered by your royal lips.
[Mariamne sighs a little: then, raising her eyes, speaks quietly.
Mariamne.
How was it drawn from him?
As the night comes up into the evening-tide.
I was sad, and he was sorrowful to death
40
So unavailing to repent, if done.
Spare him, lord, in belief of my clear words.
[Herod gazes at her with awe, then muffles his face in his robe, and speaks slowly.
Herod.
Were you so sad at dying, when to die
Was but to rise up at my bidding, Come!
Was but to quicken to my cry, Receive me
Back in your arms? Oh, you are slow of heart!
When I was dying of the pest in Rome,
And knew not I should look upon you more,
Death was not cold, death glowed with Mariamne.
I had prepared her welcome on that shore!
[She flashes one rapid glance at him.
Mariamne.
I will wait you on that shore, my lord the king.
Herod
(dropping the folds of his mantle).
O my gazelle, my noble distance-keeper,
Wilt thou indeed await me?
Then why tarry?
[He strains her to his heart.
41
But do not cast between us any more
One that is dead. Spare Joseph, merciful!
Herod.
The dead between us, Mariamne? Doe
Of the high places . . . How?
Mariamne.
My grandfather . . .
[He grips her wrist.
(In a whisper.)
My brother . . .
Herod.
Peace! Were you drowning in my arms,
Your voice would sink before me so, your thoughts
Would drop bewildered so . . .
Mariamne
(drawing back from him at arm's length).
My grandfather—
My brother!
[He watches her as if she were working a spell.
. . . I am ready for my death.
I have often dreamed it—death or sleep, one pillow.
Why should I speak of the great ancestors?
42
Lord Herod, of my state
And purpose as your wife?
(Hanging on his hand.)
Spare Joseph—merciful!
Herod
(still speaking gently, as he draws her closer).
Mariamne, I would reason with you. Speak!
I would question the great blood in you: a servant
False to his oath, a soldier in accord
With foes, a sentinel
Who to the nearing spy betrays the path—
Can such men live? Are they for kings to use?
[He has loosed her and she moves away, looking out over the tombs of her ancestors. He follows.
Flesh of their dust, pronounce: can such men live?
| Queen Mariamne | |