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coward as thou art,
Go, see her, pardon, sigh again, and court
Your haughty tyrant. No: to-night she dies:
I’ve sworn it; the Asmonæan blood shall flow;
I hate the race, and am abhorred by them.
But see, she comes; heaven! what a mournful sight!
SCENE IV.
mariamne, herod, eliza, Guards.
eliza.
Rouse up your spirits, madam, ’tis the king.
mariamne.
Where am I; whither do you lead me? O
’Tis death to look upon him.
herod.
How my soul
Shudders at sight of her!
mariamne.
Eliza, help,
Support me, I grow faint.
eliza.
This way.
mariamne.
What torment.
herod.
What shall I say to her? O heaven!
mariamne.
Well, sir,
Your pleasure: wherefore am I ordered here?
Is it to yield thee up the poor remains
Of hated life, destructive to us both?
Take it; strike here; I’ll thank thee for the blow;
The only gift I would accept from thee.
herod.
Then thou shalt have it: but first speak, defend,
If possible, thy shameful flight, and tell me wherefore,
When Herod’s heart to thee alone indulgent,
So oft offended, yet as oft forgave thee,
The partner of my empire and my glory,
What couldst thou purpose by so black a crime?
mariamne.
Is that a question fit for thee to ask?
But ’tis not now a time for vain reproaches;
Yet sure, my lord, if wretched Mariamne,
Far from these walls had sought some kind retreat,
If she for once had dared to violate
A husband’s rights, and swerve from her obedience,
Think of my royal ancestors; remember
My sufferings past, my present danger; think
On these, my lord, and blame me if thou darest.
herod.
But when thy guilty passion for a traitor,
For Varus—
mariamne.
Stop thy bold licentious tongue:
My life is thine: but do not cover me
With foul dishonor; let me pass at least
Without a blush unspotted to the grave:
Do not forget the sacred tie that bound us,
That joined my honor and my fame with thine,
As such I have preserved them: look on me;
Strike here; thou art welcome: but remember still
I am thy wife; pay some respect to me,
And to thyself.
herod.
O! it becomes thee well
To talk of sacred ties which thou hast broken:
Perfidious woman! would not the proud scorn
And hatred thou hast shown alone condemn thee?
mariamne.
Since thou already hast decreed my fate,
What would avail my hatred or my love?
What right hast thou to Mariamne’s heart,
Which thou hast filled with sorrow, and despair,
And anguish: thou who, for these five years past,
Hast marked my days with bitterness and woe;
Thou fell destroyer of my guiltless parents.
Where is my murdered father? cruel Herod!
O! if thy rage had sought no blood but mine,
Heaven be my witness, I had loved thee still,
And blessed thee in my latest hour: but O!
Do not pursue me, Herod, after death;
Do not extend my woes beyond the grave,
Preserve my children; do not punish them,
Because they are mine, but act a father’s part:
Perhaps hereafter thou wilt know their mother;
Perhaps shalt one day pity, when too late,
The heart, which, never but by thee suspected,
Could not disguise its griefs; the heart which still
Preserved its virtue, and, but for thyself,
Had loved thee, Herod.
herod.
Ha! what do I hear!
What charm, what secret power controls my rage,
And steals me from myself? O Mariamne!
mariamne.
O cruel Herod!
herod.
O my foolish heart!
mariamne.
For pity’s sake behold my wretchedness,
And take this hated life.
herod.
My own is thine,
Forever thine; thou art my Mariamne:
Banish thy fears; O thou wert sure to triumph
When I beheld thee; make no more excuses,
Thou art, thou must be innocent: I now
Must tremble in my turn, and ask forgiveness:
Wilt thou not pardon him who pardoned thee?
Were our hearts made but to detest each other,
To persecute ourselves? Let us at once
End all our fears and all our pains together;
Give me thy love, give me thy hand again.
mariamne.
Canst thou desire this hand? O heaven, thou knowest
Herod’s is stained with blood.
herod.
It is: I slew
Thy father, and my king; but wherefore did it?
To reign with thee: and what was my reward?
Thy hatred; a reward I well deserved:
I have no right to murmur or complain;
Thy father’s death, and the injustice done
To thy unhappy children, are the least
Of Herod’s guilt; it reached even Mariamne,
And for a moment I detested