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My lord, your goodness but augments her hatred;
She loathes your sight, and flies from your embraces.
herod.
I courted hers.
mazael.
Indeed, my lord?
herod.
I did:
This sudden change, this grief that hangs upon me,
These shameful tears, do they not all declare
That Herod is returned from Mariamne?
With love and hatred mingled in my soul,
I left the crowd of flatterers in my court,
And flew to her: but what was my reward?
How did we meet! in anger, frowns, and strife:
In her indignant eyes I read my fate,
And my injustice: she scarce deigned to cast
A look upon me; even my tears availed not;
They only served to make her scorn me more.
mazael.
You see, my lord, her soul’s implacable,
And never will be softened by indulgence;
It but inflames her pride.
herod.
I know she hates me;
But I’ve deserved it, and I must forgive her:
She has but too much cause from one so guilty.
mazael.
Guilty, my lord? hast thou forgot her flights,
Contempt, and pride, and wrath, and fierce resentment;
Her father’s plot, her own designs against thee,
And all her race thy mortal foes? Hircanus
Had oft betrayed thee; the Asmonæan league
Was firmly knit; and by such dangerous powers,
That nothing but a master-stroke could save—
herod.
No matter: that Hircanus was her father,
I should have spared him; but I only listened
To proud ambition, and the love of empire:
My cruel policy destroyed her race;
I killed the father, and proscribed his daughter:
I wanted but to hate and to oppress,
And heaven, to punish me, hath made me love her.
idamas.
To feel a passion for a worthy object
Is not a weakness in us, but a virtue,
Worthy of every good which heaven hath given thee;
Esteem thy love amongst its choicest blessings.
herod.
What hath my rashness done! ye sacred manes,
Hircanus, Oh!
mazael.
Banish the sad remembrance,
And grant, kind heaven, the queen too may forget it!
herod.
Unhappy father! more unhappy husband!
The injuries I have done my Mariamne
Make her more dear: O! if her heart—her faith—
But I have stayed too long: now, Idamas,
I’ll make amends for all; go, haste, and tell her,
My soul, obedient to her will, shall lay
My throne, my life, my glory at her feet:
Amongst her sons I’ll choose a successor.
She has accused my sister as the cause
Of her misfortunes, henceforth I disclaim her;
A nearer tie demands the sacrifice,
And Salome must yield to Mariamne:
My queen shall rule with power unlimited!
mazael.
My lord, you will not—
herod.
Yes: I am resolved:
I know her now; she is the choicest gift
Of bounteous heaven; as such I shall revere her:
What cannot love, the mighty conqueror, do?
To Mariamne I shall owe my virtue.
In savage pomp, and barbarous majesty,
Too long hath Asia seen her sovereign rule
Respected by his people; feared, admired,
Yet hated still; with crowds of worshippers,
But not one friend. My sister, whom long time
This foolish heart believed, hath ne’er consulted
My happiness, my interest, or my fame:
For Salome, more cruel than myself,
And more revengeful, dipped her hands in blood,
And ruled my subjects with a rod of iron:
Whilst Mariamne felt for the unhappy,
Forgot her own distress to pity theirs,
And told me all their sorrows: but ’tis past:
Henceforth I will be just, but not severe;
I’ll strive to please her by promoting still
The public weal: Judah shall bless my reign,
For I am changed. From this auspicious hour,
Far from my throne, shall every jealous fear
Be now removed: I will dry up the tears
Of the oppressed, and reign o’er Palestine,
Not as a tyrant, but a citizen;
Gain every heart to merit Mariamne’s.
O seek her, tell her how my soul repents;
That my remorse is equal to my rashness.
Run, fly, begone, and instantly return.
What do I see? my sister? hence: O heaven,
Finish the woes of my unhappy life!
SCENE VI.
herod, salome.
salome.
Well, sir, you’ve seen your dear deceitful foe,
And suffered more affronts; I know you have.
herod.
Madam, permit me to inform you, this
Is not a time to add to my misfortunes;
I would remove them: my imperious temper
Made me more feared indeed, but more unhappy:
Too long already o’er this house of sorrow
Hath vengeance poured her black and deadly poison:
The queen and you, thus at perpetual variance,
Would be a spring of endless misery; therefore,
My sister, for our mutual happiness,
For thy repose and mine, ’tis best to part;
Immediately, away: it must be so.
salome.