SCENE 3

HEROD. MARIAMNE.

[_Enter a_ SERVANT.

SERVANT.

The Queen!

[MARIAMNE _follows close on him_.

HEROD.

You’ve just outstripped my own desire! I wanted----

MAR.

Nay then, surely not to fetch My thanks in person for the pearls so wondrous? I waved you twice aside, but once again Make trial if I’d pleased to change my mood, That would have strained the patience of a man, And, past all doubt, the patience of a King. Nay, nay, I know my duty, and since you, After my gay-heart brother’s swift-sent death, Shower daily so rich gifts as though you courted My love anew, I come at last myself And show you I have gratitude in heart.

HEROD.

I see it!

MAR.

Faith, I cannot tell what trend Your bearing takes. You send for me the diver Deep, deep into the lightless sea, and if No one’s to find who for the gleaming guerdon Will dare disturb Leviathan’s repose, You fling your dungeons open and give back Some robber-varlet his devoted head To get you a pearl-fisherman for me.

HEROD.

That seems a maddish whim? Why, madder still, I’ve had a murderer cut down from the cross When need to snatch a child from out the brand Was urgent, and I’ve said to him:--“If you Return it to the mother, in my eyes That counterbalances your debt to death.” Ay, he was in with a plunge----

MAR.

And back again Unscathed?

HEROD.

It was too late, or otherwise My word kept, he’d have been dispatched to Rome A-soldiering. They call for tigers there! My policy is “Usury with all!” And why not drive the trade with forfeit lives? You have your junctures when they offer use.

MAR. (_aside_).

Oh that he did not have the bloody hand! What use are words? For whatsoe’er his deed, Once on his tongue, he paints it wisely done. And oh, revolting if he drove me, drove me To judge a brother-murder, like the rest, Compelled, inevitable, wisely done!

HEROD.

You’re silent?

MAR.

Shall I speak? Well then of pearls,[4] You know we only spoke of pearls till now, Of pearls that are so chaste and blanched as foam That even against a bloody hand they lose No clearness in their sparkle! And you heap Them high on me!

HEROD.

To vexing you?

MAR.

Not me! ’Tis sure your gift can never veil intent Some debt to cancel, and methinks I have As queen and woman uncontested right To pearls and precious jewels: I can speak About the noble stone like Cleopatra:-- “It is my slave to whom I grant my pardon For standing such ill vicar to the star, Since, for amends, it overblooms the flower.” And yet you have Salome for a sister.

HEROD.

And she?

MAR.

Come! If you’d have her murder me On with your work, and make the deep your plunder, Else--give the diver his meet rest. I stand Deep enough in her debt by now. You eye Me doubtful-scrutinous? Pah! When last year I lay nigh-dead, she touched me with her kiss; It was her very first and very last. I thought at once--“This is your dear reward For getting gone from the world!” and, faith, it was. Ah, but I tricked her loving hope, and rallied. And now I have her kiss for naught, and that She can’t forget. I’ve mortal fear she might Store it in mind were I to visit her With wonder-pearls upon my neck that show Your latest token of your deepest love.

HEROD (_aside_).

There’s nothing lacking but that my left hand Turn traitor to my right!

MAR.

I would at least Disdainfully reject the greeting-cup. And should she proffer ’stead of spicy wine E’en innocent water in the crystal bowl, I’d let that water lie without a touch. True, that were bare of meaning. No, ’twould be A natural thing enough; for water is No more to me what once I felt it was, Mild element that gives the flowers to drink, Mother of life to all the world and me. It thrills with shudders, brims me o’er with horror Since its jaws oped to gulf my brother down. Ever I think--“there’s life dwells in the drop, But in the billow dwells the bitter death!” To you it must be quite another.

HEROD.

Why?

MAR.

Since through a stream you suffer calumny. Its own, its dastard, its malicious deed It dares unload on you! But fear it not, I’ll give’t the lie!

HEROD.

In very truth?

MAR.

I can! To love the sister and the brother murder! What reason yokes that pair?

HEROD.

Yet if, perhaps, Himself this brother points his thoughts at murder, And if alone by breasting his advance, Nay, by outstripping, one could save his skin! (We speak here of the possible) and further, If, harmless in himself, he make a weapon In hands of foeman malleable, a weapon Whose bite must bring sure death unless its mark Shatter it well before it can be hurled (We speak here of the possible), and last If this same weapon threatened no sole head, Nay, but a whole Folk’s grand collective head And one for such a Folk imperative As is for any other trunk its head (We speak here of the possible), and yet In such a chain of chance I think the Sister, As wife from love she duly owes her husband, As daughter of her folk from holy bond, As Queen, from both, would have no choice but say:-- “What happened was the thing I dare not blame.”

[_He clasps_ MARIAMNE’S _hand_.

And if a Ruth be slow to catch my drift (How could she learn it at the gleaning hour?) The Maccabean daughter understands! In Jericho you could not give your kisses, You will be able in Jerusalem!

[_He kisses her_.

And if perchance the kiss bring after-grudging Then hear a reconcilement for us twain:-- I took it for a token of farewell And that farewell may be farewell eternal!

MAR.

Eternal!

HEROD.

Yes! Antony’s had me summoned But still I know not whether I return.

MAR.

You know not?

HEROD.

Since I know not how severe An accusation my--your mother’s lodged.

[MARIAMNE _makes to speak_.

That’s naught. I’ll bear it. But one thing alone I must learn from your lips. I say I must learn-- Whether and how I undertake defence.

MAR.

Whether----

HEROD.

O Mariamne, question not! You know the spell that knits me into you, You know that every day makes it more potent. Ah, but your heart must feel I have no strength To battle my own cause if you refuse Assurance that your heart-beats twin my own. Oh tell me, is that heart fiery or cold? And then I can tell you if Antony Will call me brother or condemn me straight To hunger-death in the earth-embowelled dungeon Whose blackness prisoned up Jugurtha’s death. You’re dumb? Oh be not dumb! How keen I feel That such confession scarce beseems a king; ’Tis not his part to yoke his neck beneath The common lot of man, ’tis not his part To bind his inmost on another’s life, He should be knit unto his God alone. I am not fashioned thus; when you last year Were sick to death, then I was busy too About self-slaughter that I might not live To see your death; and now that you know this Know yet another thing. If I should chance, Yes I, to be a-dying, I could do What you dread at Salome’s hands, I could A poison mix and give it you in wine, That even in death I might be sure of you.

MAR.

And were you to do that you would recover!

HEROD.

No, no! I would have shared the half with you! Now speak your heart. Were pardon in your grace For such o’erbrimming measure of love as this?

MAR.

If after quaffing such a drink I had Surviving breath to utter one last word, I’d call a curse on you with that last word. (_Aside._) Yea, all the sooner were it done the surer That I myself, if death should call you hence, Could in my pain stretch hands to grasp my dagger. That deed the heart can do, but suffer never!

HEROD.

In yester-evening’s fire there was a woman Consumed with her dead husband: ’gainst essay At rescue made she brindled up: this woman Of course meets your contempt?

MAR.

Who tells you that? She scorned at least to be an altar victim And sacrificed herself, a deed that proves She prized her dead love more than all the world.

HEROD.

And you, and I?

MAR.

If you dare tell yourself You’ve put me in the scales against the world, What could be left to keep me in the world?

HEROD.

The world! The world has many a sovereign still, And none among them but were fain to share His throne with you, not one who for your sake Would not abandon bride and oust his wife The very morn after his wedding-night.

MAR.

Is Cleopatra dead that you speak thus?

HEROD.

You are so fair that all who gaze upon you Nigh win a faith in immortality, That unctuous, flattering Pharisaic hope, Since none can realise your image e’er Should fade in him; so fair, that it would seem No wonder to me if with sudden travail The mountains yielded me some nobler metal Than gold and silver for your ornamenting, Some metal long enwombed against your coming; So fair that--ha! the knowledge that you die Hard on another’s death, from loving die That close upon his fore-flight you may hasten And in a sphere to hold you where one is And is no more (I picture such a heaven As latest breath with latest breath immingled), Ah, that were worth the self-dealt death, ’twould be Beyond the grave, that home where horror dwells, To find still one more rapture. Mariamne, Dare I hope such a thing, or must fear take me That you would--Antony has asked of you!

MAR.

Men do not issue notes of hand for acts, Much less for smartings and for sacrifice, Such as Despair can bring, I feel full well, Though love can never make demand on them.[5]

HEROD.

Farewell!

MAR.

Farewell! I know you will come back. Your slayer’s--He alone (_pointing to heaven_)----

HEROD.

So small the fear?

MAR.

So great the confidence!

HEROD.

Love is a-tremble, A-tremble even in a hero’s breast.

MAR.

But my love trembles not!

HEROD.

You tremble not?

MAR.

Now I begin. Can you no more trust self Since you--the brother of me--then woe to me And woe to you!

HEROD.

You hold that word in check, That simple word, when I had hoped of you An oath! What base is left whereon to build?

MAR.

And if I gave that oath, what surety yours I’d keep it? Always I and only I, My Being as you know it. Thus I think Since you must end, it seems, with hope and faith You make beginning where you end--with both! Go, go! I can no other! Not now, not yet!

[_Exit._