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