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.
ACT III.
SCENE I.
varus, nabal, albinus, Attendants on varus.
nabal.
The king, my lord, the happy Herod, comes
Triumphant, and the Hebrews flock in crowds
To meet him: Salome, alarmed and fearful
Of her declining interest, joins his train
Of fawning courtiers, soothes his pride, and strives
By every art to gain him to her purpose;
The priests attend, and strew their palms before him.
With Herod comes the faithful Idamas,
Deputed by his sovereign to attend
The noble Varus; he will soon be here.
Still hath he proved himself the constant friend
Of Mariamne, and by wholesome counsels
Softened the rage of his impetuous master:
The queen, still wavering and irresolute,
Condemns herself; her rigid virtue fears
To do what danger tells her must be done:
She quits the palace, then returns; meanwhile
Her anxious mother, falling at her feet,
Bathes them in tears, points to her weeping children,
And trembling begs her to depart: she stops,
And doubts, and much I fear will stay too long:
’Tis thou must hasten her; on thee alone
Depends the safety of the noblest being
Heaven e’er gave birth to. O preserve her; save
The race august sprung from a line of kings;
Save Mariamne. Are your guards all ready?
May I inform her of it?
varus.
All’s prepared:
I gave them orders: she may go this moment.
nabal.
And wilt thou too permit a faithful servant
To follow his loved mistress?
varus.
Go with her,
Wait on her steps, and guard her as thy life:
This hateful place deserves her not: may heaven,
In pity to her sorrows, smile upon her;
Light up a fairer sun to gild her journey,
And bid the waves in smoother currents flow,
Obedient to the sacred charge they bear!
Thou, good old man, mayest follow and attend her;
Thou art too happy, but thou hast deserved it.
SCENE II.
varus, albinus, Attendants on varus.
varus.
Already Herod comes; the trumpet’s sound
Speaks his return; unwelcome sound to me!
I dread his presence: cruel as he is,
Instant his wrath may fall on Mariamne:
Would she had left forever these sad seats
Of guilt and horror! would I might partake
Her flight! but O! the more I love, the more
I must avoid her: ’twere in me a crime
To follow her; and all that Varus can—
But Idamas approaches.
SCENE III.
varus, idamas, albinus, Attendants on varus.
idamas.
Ere the king,
My royal master, comes, with gratitude
To pay thy bounties, and receive from thee
The holy sceptre, say, wilt thou permit me?—
varus.
No more: your king may spare this idle homage,
These practised arts of visionary friendship
Amongst the great, drawn forth with pompous splendor
But to amuse the gaping multitude
And foreign to the heart: but say, at length
Rome has consented; Herod is your king;
Doth he deserve to reign? Is the queen safe,
And will he spare the blood of innocence.
idamas.
May the just gods, who hate the perjured man,
Open his eyes, now blinded by imposture!
But who shall dive into his secret thoughts,
Or trace the emotions of his troubled soul?
Naught can we draw from him but sullen silence;