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Автор: Вольтер
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What do I hear! O fatal enemy!

      herod.

       A king commands, a brother begs it of thee:

       O may he ne’er again be forced to give

       One cruel order, ne’er take vengeance more,

       Nourish suspicions, or shed guiltless blood!

       Thou shalt no longer make my life a burden;

       Complain of me, lament thyself, but go.

      salome.

       Alas! my lord, I shall make no complaints;

       Since I am doomed to banishment by thee,

       It must be just, and fitting that I should be;

       For I have ever learned to make thy will

       My law: if thou commandest, I must obey;

       I never shall resent the injury,

       Or call on nature and the ties of blood,

       Or to attest, or vindicate my wrongs;

       The voice of nature’s seldom heard by kings,

       The ties of blood are much too weak to bind them:

       I will not boast that tender friendship now

       Whose zeal offends thee; much less would I call

       To thy remembrance all my service past;

       One look I see from Mariamne soon

       Effaces all: but canst thou ever think

       She will forget the attempt upon her life

       Which Herod made? thee she must fear: thou therefore

       Shouldst dread her more: thou knowest her vows, her thoughts

       Are bent against thee, and whose counsels now

       Shall stay her vengeance? Where’s the faithful heart

       Devoted to thee? where’s the watchful eye,

       Ever awake, to guard the life of Herod?

       Who shall unravel all her subtle plots,

       Or who restrain her wrath? Dost thou believe,

       When thou hast put thy life within her power,

       That love will plead for thee? O no! such hate,

       Such scorn as hers, such desperate resentment—

      herod.

       Permit me, Salome, at least to doubt,

       At least delude me with the flattering hopes

       I may regain her heart: in this alone

       I wish to be deceived: show some regard,

       Some kind compassion for a brother’s weakness:

       I must believe, thou knowest I’ve too much reason.

       Thy hatred was a barrier to our love:

       Thy malice hardened Mariamne’s heart,

       And, but for thee, I had been less detested.

      salome.

       Couldst thou but know, O! couldst thou but conceive

       To what excess—

      herod.

       Sister, I’ll hear no more:

       Let Mariamne threaten; let her take

       This loathesome life, for I am weary of it;

       So shall I perish by the hand I love.

      salome.

       It would be cruel to deceive you longer

       By guilty silence, or conceal her crimes:

       I know the dangerous hazard that I run

       By serving you; but I must speak, though death

       Were my reward: poor, blind, deluded husband,

       Enslaved by love for a vile worthless woman;

       Know Mariamne now, and know thy shame:

       ’Tis not her pride, her hatred, and disdain,

       Should make thee loathe her, but that—she is false;

       She loves another.

      herod.

       Mariamne love

       Another! barbarous sister! to suspect

       Her spotless virtue! Is it thus thou meanest

       To murder Herod? Are these poisoned darts

       The best farewell that thou canst leave thy brother?

       To light up discord, shame, and rage, and horror,

       In my distracted mind! Could Mariamne—

       But thou already hast too oft deceived me;

       Too long have I given credit to thy falsehood:

       Now heaven has punished my credulity,

       But it has ever been my fate to love

       Those who abhor me. You are all my foes;

       All sworn to persecute the wretched Herod.

      salome.

       Far from thy sight then—

      herod.

       Stir not hence, I charge thee;

       Another is beloved? Speak, tell me, who

       Must fall a sacrifice to Herod’s vengeance?

       Pursue thy work, and make my woes complete.

      salome.

       Since I must speak—

      herod.

       Strike here: behold my heart:

       Who has dishonored me? Whoe’er he be,

       Thou, Salome, perhaps mayest answer for it,

       For thou art guilty: thou hast undeceived me:

       Now at thy peril speak.

      salome.

       No matter.

      herod.

       Well—

      salome.

       ’Tis—

      SCENE VII.

       Table of Contents

      herod, salome, mazael.

      mazael.

       Bear not this indignity, my lord,

       The queen is fled, accompanied by Varus.

      herod.

       Varus, and Mariamne! gods! where am I?

      mazael.

       Varus, my lord, and all his troops have left

       The palace, and a secret band is placed

       About the walls to favor her retreat;

       Your Mariamne will be lost forever.

      herod.

       The charm is broke, and day shines full upon me:

       Come, Salome, acknowledge now thy brother,

       And know him by his wrath; let us surprise

       The infidel: now judge if Herod still

       Acts like himself, and like himself revenges.

      End of the Third Act.

      ACT IV.

      SCENE I.

       Table