ACT II.

SCENE I.

SALOME, MAZAEL.

SALOME.

Thou seest we are ruined; Mariamne triumphs,

And Salome’s undone: that lingering Zares,

How tedious was his voyage, as if the sea

Unwillingly transported him! whilst Herod

Flies with the winds to empire and to love:

But sea and land, the elements, the heavens,

All, all conspire with Varus, to destroy me.

Ambition, thou hast plunged me deep in woe;

Why did I listen to thy fatal voice?

I knew his foolish heart would soon relent;

Even now I fear he has revoked the mandate,

And all the harvest of my toil is grief

And danger, that still wait on high condition

Stripped of its power: already fawning crowds

Adore my rival, and insult my fall:

My feeble glories, all eclipsed by her,

Shall shine no more, for this new deity

Must now be worshipped: but this is not all,

My death, I know, must crown the triumph; she

Can never reign whilst Salome survives;

She will not spare a life so fatal to her.

And yet, O shame, O infamous submission!

My pride must stoop to vile dissimulation,

To soothe her vanity with feigned respect,

And give her joy of — Salome’s destruction.

MAZAEL.

Despair not, Madam, arms may yet be found

To conquer this proud queen: I ever feared

Her powerful charms, and Herod’s weakness for her;

But if I may depend on Zares, still

In the king’s bosom dwells determined hate,

And he has sworn that she shall die: the blow

Is but suspended till he comes himself

To execute his vengeance; but, meantime,

Whether his heart be sharpened by resentment,

Or moved by love, it is enough his hand

Once signed the mandate: Mariamne soon

Will swell the tempest, and eternal discord

Shall rankle in their hearts: I know them well:

Soon will she light again the torch of hatred,

Revive his doubts, and work her own destruction:

With new disdain will irritate his soul:

Rely upon herself, and mark her ruin.

SALOME.

O! ‘tis uncertain; I can never wait

Such tardy vengeance; I have surer means;

Danger has taught me wisdom: this loud rage,

These violent transports of the impassioned Varus,

If I observe aright, can never flow

From generosity alone, and pity

Is seldom known by marks like these: the queen

Has charms, and Varus may have charms for her.

I know the power of Mariamne’s beauty,

Nor envy her the crowd of gazing fools,

Who throw their flattering incense at her feet;

The dangerous happiness may cost her dear:

Whether she listens to the Roman’s vows,

Or with the conquest only means to soothe

Her fickle pride, it is enough for me,

If it preserves that power I must not lose

O’er Herod’s heart. Take care my faithful spies

Perform their office; let them be rewarded,

And sell me precious secrets. — Ha! she comes,

Must I then see her?

SCENE II.

MARIAMNE, ELIZA, SALOME, MAZAEL, NABAL.

SALOME.

Joy to Mariamne:

Herod returns, and Rome this day restores

To me a brother, and to thee a husband.

Thy cruel scorn had raised his just resentment,

Which now subsides, and love has quenched the flame

Which love alone inspired: his triumphs past,

His future glories, all the senate’s rights

Reposed in him, the titles he has gained,

All brought to lay at Mariamne’s feet,

Proclaim thy happiness: enjoy his heart;

Enjoy his empire; I am pleased to see

Thy virtues thus rewarded; Salome

Shall lend her aid to join your hands together.

MARIAMNE.

I neither looked for, nor desired your friendship:

I know you, madam, and shall do you justice;

I know by what mean arts, and treacherous falsehood,

Your powerless malice has pursued my life.

Perhaps thou thinkest my heart is like thy own,

And therefore tremblest; but thou knowest me not:

Fear nothing, for thy crimes and punishment

Are both beneath my notice: I have seen

Thy base designs, and have forgiven them:

I leave thee to thy conscience, if a heart

Guilty as thine is capable of feeling.

SALOME.

I’ve not deserved this bitterness and wrath

From Mariamne: to my honest zeal,

My conduct, and my brother, I appeal

From thy suspicions.

MARIAMNE.

I’ve already told thee,

All is forgotten, I am satisfied,

And I can pardon, though I can’t believe thee.

MAZAEL.

Now, by the power supreme, my royal mistress,

Scarce could my pains —

MARIAMNE.

Stop, Mazael, excuse

Is added injury; obey the king,

That is thy duty: sold to my oppressors,

Thou art their instrument; perform thy office,

I shall not stoop to make complaints of thee.

Thou, Salome, mayest hence, and tell the king

[To Salome.

The secrets of my soul; inflame his heart

Once more with rage; I shall not strive to calm it:

Instruct your creatures to deal forth their slander,

I’ve left their vile attempts unpunished still;

Content to use no arms against my foes,

But blameless virtue, and a just disdain.

MAZAEL.

What haughtiness!

SALOME.

‘Twill meet with its reward:

It is the pride of art to punish folly.

SCENE III.

MARIAMNE, ELIZA, NABAL.

ELIZA.

Why, my loved mistress, would you thus provoke

A foe who burns with ardor to destroy you?

Perhaps the rage of Herod is suspended

But for a time, and yet may burst upon you.

Death was departing, and thou callest him back,

When thou shouldst strive to turn his dart aside:

Thou hast no friend to guard or to defend thee;

Varus, thy kind protector, must obey

The senate’s orders, and to distant realms

Convey its high commands: at his request,

And by thy kind assistance, Herod gained

His power, and now the tyrant will return

With double terror: thou hast furnished him

With arms against thyself, and must depend

On this proud master, to be dreaded more

Because he loves, because his passion soured

By thy disdain —

MARIAMNE.

My dear Eliza, fly,

Bring Varus hither: thou art in the right;

I see it all; but I have other cares;

My soul is filled with more important business:

Let Varus come: Nabal, stay thou with me.

SCENE IV.

MARIAMNE, NABAL.

MARIAMNE.

Thy virtues, thy experience, and thy zeal

For Mariamne’s welfare, have long since

Deserved my confidence: thou knowest my heart,

And all its purposes; the woes I feel,

And those I fear: thou sawest my wretched mother,

Driven to despair, with tears imploring me

To share her flight: her mind, replete with terror,

Sees every moment the impetuous Herod,

Yet reeking with the blood of half her race,

Assassinate her dearest Mariamne.

Still she entreats me, with my helpless children,

To fly his wrath, and leave this hated clime;

The Roman vessels might transport us soon

From Syria’s borders to the Italian shore;

From Varus I might hope some kind protection,

And from Augustus; fortune points the way

For my escape, the only path of safety:

And yet, from virtue or from weakness, which

I know not, but my foolish heart recoils

At flying from a husband’s arms, and keeps,

Spite of myself, my lingering footsteps here.

NABAL.

Thy fears are groundless; yet I must admire them,

Because they flow from virtue: thy brave heart,

That fears not death, yet trembles at the thought

Even of imaginary guilt: but cease

Your causeless doubts; consider where you are;

Open your eyes, and mark this fatal palace,

Wet with a father’s and a brother’s blood.

In vain the king denies the horrid deed;

Cæsar in vain absolves him from the crime,

Whilst the whole East pronounce him guilty of it.

Think of thy mother’s fears, thy injured sons,

Thy murdered father, the king’s cruelty,

Thy sister’s hatred, and what scarce my tongue

Can mention without horror, though thy virtue

Regardless smiles, thy death this day determined.

If, undismayed by such a scene of woe,

Thou art resolved to meet and brave thy fate,

O still remember, still defend thy children:

The king hath taken away their hopes of empire,

And well thou knowest what dreadful oracles

Long since alarmed thy fears, when heaven foretold,

That a strange hand should one day join thy sons

To their unhappy father. A wild Arab,

Implacable and pitiless, already

Hath half fulfilled the terrible prediction:

After a deed so horrid, may he not

Accomplish all the rest? From Herod’s rage

Nothing is sacred; who can tell but now,

Even now he comes to act his bloody purpose,

And blot out all our Asmonæan race?

‘Tis time to guard against him, to prevent

His guilt, and stop his murderous hand; to save

Those tender victims from a tyrant’s sword,

And hide them from the sight of such examples.

Within thy palace from my earliest years

Brought up, and by thy ancestors beloved,

Thou seest me ready to partake thy fortunes

Where’er thou goest: away then; break thy chains;

Fly to the justice of a Roman senate;

Implore them to adopt thy injured sons,

And shelter their distress: such innocence

And virtue will astonish great Augustus.

If just and happy is his reign, as fame

Reports, and conquered worlds in rapture bend

The knee before him, if he merits all

The honors he has gained, he must protect thee.

MARIAMNE.

My doubts are vanished, and I yield to thee;

To thy advice, and to a mother’s tears;

To my son’s danger, to my own hard fate;

Which dooms me yet perhaps to greater ills

Than I have suffered. Go thou to my mother;

When night shall throw her sable mantle o’er

This seat of guilt, let some one give me notice

That all is ready; since it must be done,

I am prepared.

SCENE V.

MARIAMNE, VARUS, ELIZA.

VARUS.

I come, great queen, to know

Your last commands; which, as the law of heaven.

Shall be revered: say, must this arm avenge thee?

Speak, and ‘tis done: command, and I obey.

MARIAMNE.

Varus, I’m much indebted to thy goodness,

And, but my sorrows plead their own excuse,

Should not be thus importunate; I know

Thou lovest to help the wretched, therefore ask

Thy generous aid: whilst Herod’s doubtful fate

Hung in the balance, and he knew not which

Awaited him, a prison or a throne,

I did solicit Varus in his favor;

Spite of his cruelties, against my peace,

Against my interest, I performed my duty.

Now Mariamne for herself implores

Thy kind protection; begs thee to preserve

From most inhuman laws, her hapless sons,

The poor remains of Syria’s royal race.

Long since I should have left these guilty walls,

And asked the senate for some safe retreat;

But whilst the sword of war filled half the world

With blood and slaughter, ‘twas in vain to seek

For refuge in the scene of wild destruction:

Augustus now hath given the nations peace,

And spread his bounties o’er the face of nature:

After the toils of hateful war, resolved

To make the world, which he had conquered, happy:

He sits supreme o’er tributary kings,

And takes the poor and injured to his care:

Who has so fair a title to his justice,

As my unhappy, my defenceless children?

Brought by their weeping mother from afar

To ask his succor; he will shelter them,

His generous hand will wipe off all our tears.

I shall not ask him to revenge my cause,

Or punish my proud foes; it is enough

If my loved children, formed by his example,

And by his justice taught, true Romans soon,

Shall learn to rule of those who rule mankind.

A mother’s comfort, and her children’s safety,

Depend on thee: my woes will vanish all

If thou wilt hear me; and thy noble heart

Hath ever been the friend of injured virtue:

To thee I owe my life: assist me now,

Remove me, Varus, from this fatal palace;

Grant my benighted steps a friendly guide

To Sidon’s ports, where now thy vessels lie.

Not answer me! what means that look of sorrow?

Why art thou silent? O! too well I see

Thou wilt not hear the voice of wretchedness.

VARUS.

It is not so: I hear, and will obey thee:

My guards shall follow thee to Rome: dispose

Of them, of me; my heart, my life is thine.

Flee from the tyrant, break the fatal tie;

‘Tis punishment enough to be forsaken

By Mariamne: never shall he behold thee;

Thanks to his own injustice; and I feel

Too well there cannot be a fate more cruel.

Forgive me, but the thought of losing thee

Hath drawn the fatal secret from my breast;

I own my crime: but, spite of all my weakness,

Know, my respect is equal to my love:

Varus but wishes to protect thy virtue,

But to avenge thy injuries, and die.

MARIAMNE.

I hoped the great preserver of my life

Would prove the guardian of my honor too;

And to his pity only thought I owed

His kind assistance; ne’er did I expect

That he, of all men, should increase my sorrows;

Or that, to crown the woes of Mariamne,

I should be forced to tremble at thy goodness,

And blush for every favor I received:

Yet, think not, Varus, that thy passion, thus

Declared, shall rob thee of my gratitude:

My constant friendship shall be ever thine;

I will forget thy love, but not thy virtues:

Thou hadst my praise and my esteem till now,

But longer converse may deprive thee of it;

For thy sake therefore, Varus, I must leave thee.

SCENE VI.

VARUS, ALBINUS.

ALBINUS.

I fear you’re troubled, sir; your color changes.

VARUS.

Albinus, I must own, my spirits droop;

Pity, my friend, the weakness of a heart

That never loved before: alas! I knew not

How strong my fetters were, but now I feel,

Nor can I break them: with what sweet demeanor,

And lovely softness, did she chide my passion;

Calm and unruffled, how her tranquil prudence

Taught me my duty, and enforced her own;

How I adored her even when she repulsed me!

I’ve lost all hope, yet love her more than ever:

Gods! for what dreadful trial of my faith

Am I reserved?

ALBINUS.

Wilt thou then aid her flight?

VARUS.

‘Tis a sad office.

ALBINUS.

Art thou pleased so well

With her disdain, as thus to make thyself

Unhappy, and promote thy own destruction?

What dost thou purpose?

VARUS.

Can I e’er forsake her?

Can I rebel against her laws? my heart

Were then unworthy of her. Hence my doubts.

‘Twas Mariamne spoke, and I obey:

Quick, let her leave the tyrant; let her seek

Augustus; she has cause to fly, and Varus

Has none to murmur or complain; at least

She leaves me the sweet pleasure to reflect,

That I have lived and acted but for her;

Have broke her chains, have saved her precious life:

Nay more: for I will sacrifice my love,

Fly from those dangerous charms that would betray me,

And imitate the virtue I adore.

End of the Second Act.