VOLTAIRE: 60+ Works in One Volume - Philosophical Writings, Novels, Historical Works, Poetry, Plays & Letters. Вольтер
name of Mariamne
Escape his lips, he sighs, and raves: this moment
Gives secret orders, and the next revokes them:
Herod detests the race from whence she sprang,
And hates her more because he loved too well.
Perfidious Zares, by thy order stopped,
And by thy order freed, the artificer
Of calumny and fraud, will serve the cause
Of subtle Salome, whilst Mazael lends
His secret aid: the jealous Herod listens
To their suggestions; they besiege him closely;
And their officious hatred still keeps truth
At distance from him: this great conqueror,
Who made so many potent monarchs tremble,
This king, whose noble deeds even Rome admired,
Whose name yet fills all Asia with alarms,
In his own house beholds his glories fade:
Torn by suspicions, and o’erwhelmed with grief;
Led by his sister, hated by his wife:
I pity him, and fear for Mariamne.
Say, wilt thou not protect her?
varus.
’Tis enough:
Albinus, follow me, the queen’s in danger:
Away, for I must save the innocent.
idamas.
Will you not wait then for the king?
varus.
I know
I should receive him here: it is my duty,
For so the senate wills: but other cares
Inspire me now, and other interests guide:
’Tis my first duty to protect the wretched.
[Exit Varus.
idamas.
What storms do I foresee? what new distresses
Will soon o’ertake us? Now, O Israel’s God,
Change Herod’s heart!
SCENE IV.
herod, mazael, idamas, Attendants on herod.
herod.
Varus avoid me too!
What horrors meet me here on every side!
Good heaven! can Herod inspire naught but hatred
And terror to mankind? Is every heart
Thus shut against me? To myself disgustful,
My people, and my queen; with grief oppressed
I re-ascend my throne, and only come
To see the sorrows my own hand hath made.
O heaven!
mazael.
Be calm, my lord, let me entreat you.
herod.
Wretch that I am, what have I done!
mazael.
Ha! weeping!
Shall Herod weep, the great, the illustrious king,
The dread of Parthia, and the friend of Rome,
For wisdom and for valor long renowned!
O! think my lord, of those distinguished honors
Which Antony and victory bestowed;
Think of thy fame, when seen by great Augustus,
He chose thee from a crowd of conquered kings,
And marked thee for his friend: call back the time,
When great Jerusalem, by thee subdued,
Submitted to thy laws: by thee defended,
Once more she shines with all her ancient lustre,
And sees her sovereign crowned with fair success:
Never was king in peace or war more happy.
herod.
There is no happiness on earth for me;
Fate points its poisoned arrows at my breast;
And, to complete my woes, I have deserved them.
idamas.
Permit me, sir, the freedom to observe,
Your throne, by fears and jealousies surrounded,
Would stand more firmly on love’s nobler basis:
The king who makes his people’s happiness
Secures his own; thy soul, thus racked with tortures,
Might trace the poisoned waters to their spring.
O, my lord, suffer not malicious tongues
To wound the peace and honor of thy life;
Nor servile flatterers to estrange the hearts
Of those who long to serve their royal master:
Israel shall then enamored with thy virtues—
herod.
And thinkest thou Herod might again be loved?
mazael.
Zares, my lord, still faithful to his charge,
Burns with the same unwearied zeal to serve thee:
He comes from Salome, and begs admittance.
herod.
What! both forever persecute me! No!
Let not that monster e’er appear before me;
I’ve heard too much already: hence, begone,
And leave me to myself: what shall I do
To calm my troubled soul? Stay, Idamas,
And, Mazael, stay.
SCENE V.
herod, mazael, idamas.
herod.
Behold this dreadful monarch,
This mighty king, who made the nations tremble;
Who knew so well to conquer and to reign.
To break his chains, and make the world admire
His wisdom and his power: behold him now,
Alas! how little like his former self!
mazael.
All own thy greatness, and adore thy virtues.
idamas.
One heart alone resists, and that perhaps
May still be thine.
herod.
No: Herod’s a barbarian,
Unworthy of his throne.
idamas.
Thy grief is just,
And if for Mariamne—
herod.
Fatal name!
’Tis that condemns me; that reproaches still
My tortured soul with