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THE TRAGEDY OF MARIAMHerod's Soliloquy, Act V, lines 153-25810. Herod. Her hand? her hands;She had not singly one of beauty rare, But such a pair as here where Herod stands, He dares the world to make to both compare. Accursed Salome, hadst thou been still, My Mariam had been breathing by my side: Oh, never had I, had I had my will, Sent forth command, that Mariam should have died. But, Salome, thou didst with envy vex, To see thyself outmatched in thy sex: Upon your sex's forehead Mariam sat, To grace you all like an inperial crown, But you, fond fool, have rudely push'd thereat, And proudly pull'd your proper glory down. One smile of hers -- nay, not so much -- a look Was worth a hundred thousand such as you. Judea, how canst thou the wretches brook, That robb'd from thee the fairest of the crew? You dwellers in the now deprived land, Wherein the matchless Mariam was bred; Why grasp not each of you a sword in hand, To aim at me your cruel sovereign's head? Oh, when you think of Herod as your king, And owner of the pride of Palestine, This act to your rememberance likewise bring: 'Tis I have overthrown your royal line Within her purer veins the blood did run, That from her gramdam Sara she deriv'd, Whose bedlame age the love of kings hath won; Oh, that her issue had as long been liv'd. But can her eye be made by death obscure? I cannot think but it must sparkle still: Foul sacrilege to rob those lights so pure, From out a temple made by heav'nly skill. I am the villian that have done the deed, The curel deed, though by another's hand; My word, though not my sword, made Mariam bleed, Hircanus' grandchild [died] at my command -- That Mariam that once I loved so dear, The partner of my now detested bed. Why shine you, sun, with an aspect so clear? I tell you once again my Mariam's dead. You could but shine, if some Egyptian blowse, Or Aethiopian dowdy lose her life: This was -- then wherefore bend you not your brows? -- The King of Jewry's fair and spotless wife. Deny thy beams, and, moon, refuse thy light, Let all the stars be dark, let Jewry's eye No more distinguish which is day and night: Since her best birth did in her bosom die. Those fond idolaters, the men of Greece, Maintain these orbs are safely governed: That each within themselves hace gods apiece, By whom their steadfast course is justly led. But were it so, as so it cannot be, They all would put their mourning garments on: Not one of them would yeild a light to me, To me that is the cause that Mariam's gone. For though they feign their Saturn melancholy, Of sour behaviors, and of angry mood: They feign him likewise to be just and holy, And justice needs must seek revenge for blood. Their Jove, if Jove he were, would sure desire, To punich him that slew so fair a lass: For Leda's beauty set his heart on fire, Yet she not half so fair as Mariam was. And Mars would deem his Venus had been slain; Sol to recover her would never stick: For if he want the power her life to gain: Then physic's god is but an empiric; The queen of love would storm for beauty's sake; And Hermes too, since he bestow'd her wit; The night's pale light for angry grief would shake, To see chaste Mariam die in age unfit. But, oh, I am deceiv'd, she pass'd them all In every gift, in every property: Her excellencies wrought her timeless fall, And they rejoic'd, not greiv'd, to see her die. The Paphian goddess did repent her waste, When she to one such beauty did allow: Mercurius thought her wit his wit surpass'd, And Cinthia envi'd Mariam's brighter brow. But these are fictions, they are void of sense; The Greeks but dram, and dreaming falsehoods tell: They neither can offend nor give defense, And not by them it was my Mariam fell. If she had been like an Egyptian black, And not so fair, she had been longer liv's: Her overflow of beauty tured back, And drown'd the spring from whence it was deriv'd. Her heav'nly beauty 'twas that made me think That it with chastity could never dwell: But now I see that Heav'n in her did link A spirit and a person to excel. I'll muffle up myself in endless night, And never let mine eyes behold the light. Retire thyself, vile monster, worse than he That stain'd the virgin earth with brother's blood. Still in some vault or den enclosed be, Where with thy tears thou may'st beget a flood, Which flood in time may drown thee: happy day When thou at once shalt die and find a grave; A stone upon the vault someone shall lay, Which monument shall an inscription have, And these shall be the words it shall contain: Here Herod lies, that hath his Mariam slain. [exit] Text taken from
Continuing pages on Elizabeth Cary's Tragedy of Mariam:
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