The destruction of Jerusalem by Titus Vespasian in two parts : as it is acted at the Theatre Royal / written by Mr. Crowne.

THE DESTRUCTION OF Jerusalem. The First PART. (Book 1)

ACT I.

SCENE I.

The Curtain drawn, the Brazen Gates of the Temple appear; Musick is heard within. Above, without the Temple as in the Womens Court, behind guilded Lettices, appear Queen Berenice and Clarona at their devotion.

Enter Phraartes and Monobazus.

Phra.

HA! at Devotion still? Can the tir'd Air Obtain no truce from Sacrifice and Prayer? They are importunate, with their great power They let him scarce enjoy one quiet hour; But ply him still with Sacrifice so fast, He's Cloy'd with new, er'e he disgests the last. These are gay Splendid follies!

Monob.

Something more, If we own Gods; we must those Gods adore.

Phraar.

'Tis true! And Heaven does in no place appear, Treated with such Magnificence as here.

Monob.

I like it well.

Phraar.

And I, for I confess Were I a God I would expect no less.

But this Romantick Tale of Gods and Fate, Takes well, and is a useful Art of State, Which the fond world into subjection brings.

Monob.

Since you dispute a Power supream to Kings, What Gods may in your Kingdom Worshipt be?

Phraar.

None—Or if any, the Slaves worship me, Though now a Villain does prophane my Throne; But his base blood shall soon his guilt attone: But you, who so devout and grave wou'd seem, With whom these Powers are in such great esteem, Who are your heavenly Lords?

Monob.

We prostrate fall To our own Gods alone; but rev'rence all. And if we erre 'tis on the safest hand; All own some Power that does the world Command: Even mighty Rome bows to Celestial Powers.

Phraar.

She does—but lower to her Emperors. But (ah! my Friend!) thou hast reviv'd my shame, My blood is fir'd at that insulting name. But all her Idols shall my Chains repent, I'le make her Gods and her less insolent.

Monob.

Since to this place you did your Fortunes guide, Your envious Stars have seem'd to Change their side: The glorious things you in short time have done Have this throng'd City's Admiration wone. They Idolize your name, and boast with pride, To their great Race of Kings you are ally'd. Exalted hopes they on your valour build, Look to have Prophecies in you fulfill'd.

Phraar.

I small respects shou'd to my Kindred pay, Did not imperious Love command my stay.

Monob.

The same insulting power confines me here, And see, Our lovely Goddesses appear.

[Both turn towards the Temple.

Phraar.

Divine Clarona!

Monob.

And the beautious Queen!—

Phraar.

Kneel, to whom Gods might on their Knees be seen. Ill-manner'd Powers; with a regardless Eye, Can you behold such beauty prostrate lye?

Monob.

How bright a Vision entertains my Eyes,

[Aside.

Whilst I am doom'd to endless miseries? Like one shut out from Heav'n, the glories there Torment his sight, and add to his despair.

Phraar.

I'le raise 'em up; for I resentments feel, That Creatures so Divine so long should kneel.

[Proffers to go, and is stopt by Monobarus.

Monob.

Hold! they are now on some uncommon Rite, To which this Evening they their Gods invite: Queen Berenice (who not by birth alone, As their Kings Daughter, claims the Jewish Throne; But as successour to her Brother slain, O're many neighbouring Provinces does Reign; And by her beauty rules both them and Rome!) Is lately from Vespasions Army come, In part to tender her lost Nation peace, And take their humble State in its distress, To the protection of her conquering Eyes, And partly for the great Solemnities These devout Tribes to their dead Kindred pay, If their own Laws and Customes they'l obey.

Phraar.

'Tis fit they should, chiefly when Princes dye, Kings should not sleep without Solemnity.

Monob.

For this some time sh' as in Jerus'lem staid; Mean while the Crowd, by frantick Rebels swai'd, From their own Governors and Priests revolt, And every moment the Queens life assault. This, Royal Sir, you by experience know, For to your Sword she does her safety owe.

Phraar.

Rather to yours, brave Friend, that honour's due! I only seek in Fame to Rival you.

Monob.

You're to your own unjust. But now the Queen, Who the whole time has rudely treated been, Weary'd with Clamours and Devotion too, Has thoughts of bidding them and Heav'n adieu: Some say to Night she'll towards the Camp repair, And take her leave of Sacrifice and Prayer. Howe're she now does her last Offerings make, Whilst from their Oracles they Counsel take.

Phraar.

Valour's the only Oracle of War! Let 'em ask that, and their vain Altars spare.

But the great Ceremony does conclude; When Gods retire, poor Mortals may intrude:

The Gates open, and Matthias, Sagan, and another Priest come out of the Sanctuary. Loud Musique plays. Phineas, John, Pharisees enter on one side of the Stage, Queen Berenice and Clarona on the other. Matthias whispers John and the Pharisees, who immediately after go off. Phraartes and Monobarus address themselves in dumb shew to Clarona and Berenice. The Musique at length ceases, and Mat∣thias thus speaks to the Queen.

Matth.

Now, Madam, we with solemn thanks must own, The royal pity to your Nation shown: You from the stormy Cloud that hovers o're This Town, descend like a relenting Power, Into your sacred Guardianship to take A distrest place, which Earth and Heaven forsake: But oft, as when the fatal hour draws nigh of some great Man, whom pain compels to dye, His strugling powers with scorn their sentence take, And 'mongst themselves do a Rebellion make: Then on his own distorted Limbs does seize, And there chastise weak Natures Cowardise: But thinks the while, he has with Monsters fought, And horrid shapes are in his Fancy wrought; So in distracting pangs our Nation lyes, As if depriv'd of sence with Miseries. Tearing it self, and haunted with a Fiend That does to Zeal and Piety pretend; And fills their cheated thoughts with Axes, Rods, Chains, Death, and all the List of Heathen Gods: That every thing is a false God they see, And all they do is Zeal and Piety; But if the hated Name of Rome they hear, Then they in frantique Agonies appear: Rending the Air with a fanattick Cry Of Tyrants, Rome, new Gods, Idolatry.

Phine.

Yes, Madam, this is our unhappy state; Nay, all that Rome adores they so much hate,

They fly at you, 'cause your commanding Eyes, Are great Vespasian's Gods and Destinies: And if what he adores they can prophane, They boast as if they had a Dagon slain.

Q. Bere.

Yes, I their zeal to my dishonour prove, They boldly would prescribe me whom to love: I not alone must quit a glorious State, And all the Crowns that on my passion wait; But the whole power of Love I must repeal, To please I know not what fantastique zeal. I love, and long have lov'd; nor count it shame If to the World my passion I proclaim, For the renown of him I love, may hide A Princess blushes, and excuse her pride.

Monob.

Oh! my stab'd heart! what killing words I hear! What torturing pangs must I in silence bear?

[Aside.

Phraar.

Oh! Divine Musique! hearken fairest Saint!

[To Clarona.

When will your Angel-voice my Ears enchant With such a Song might ravish Gods or Kings, And make the Crowing Cupids clap their Wings?

Claro.

When from all goodness I my thoughts remove, Then Heav'n perhaps may punish me with Love.

Phraar.

Oh! may you 〈◊〉〈◊〉 to such a height with speed, The Gods may in your punishment exceed! Be so severe, no heart that e're despis'd The sacred power of Love was so chastis'd.

Q. Bere.

And now their frenzy at a passion flies, In which, more than in Arms, their safety lies: One smile of mine can Caesar more subdue, Than the whole Universe in Arms can do: Yet is my Life in so much danger here, Each hour some barbarous assault I fear; Nay, coming guarded with a slender train, I had, on my approach to Town, been slain By a fierce Ambush for my Chariot laid, Had not my Angel guided to my aid This generous Prince unknown, who ever since,

[To Monob.

Has still employ'd his Sword in my defence; And to the King I grateful must appear,

[Turning to Phraar.

Whose Sword obliges me with safety here.

Sag.

To King Phraartes's Sword our lives, our Town, Altars and Temples their protection own!

Phraar.

Beauty and Gods to worship men pretend, And what they worship they should still defend; And they alike in my protection share, Because they equally defenceless are.

Matth.

Well, Madam, since our Crowds thus rude appear, We are unworthy of your presence here. But now the Feast of Passeover draws nigh, The yearly triumph of Divinity; When to his Temple all our Tribes repair From every Nation, where they scatter'd are; To sound his praise, and at his Altars wait, The old Deliverance to commemorate: When our good Angel Egypt's first-born slew, And all our Tribes from bondage drew: And through retiring Seas a passage made, Whilst Kings and Elements our Powers obey'd; This Feast we hope you'll with your presence grace, The chief remain of all our Royal Race.

Q. Beren.

I gladly would to Heav'n my Tribute pay, But great Affairs will not admit my stay: Part of my solemn Invitation here Was the due honour I the memory bear Of King Agrippa, my dear Brother slain, Of our high blood the hope and great remain; Whose royal life by fatal honour lost, Your State a Friend, and me this sorrow cost.

Monob.

Gods! how I tremble at the words I hear,

[Aside.

Little thinks she his Murd'rer stands so near: And less that her fair Eyes revenge his blood, Ev'n on his heart by whom he was subdu'd.

Q. Beren.

When I the Royal Body can obtain, From those with whom it Captive does remain, Here in some Tomb, that does devoutly keep Our Fathers sacred Ashes, it shall sleep: Mean while in honour of his royal Name, To pay my Vows and Offerings here I came; And now my publique mourning days expire, My own affairs command me to retire:

But wheresoe're I shall my Progress bend, Your Laws and State have an eternal Friend.

Phraar.

And wheresoe're I this bright Beauty see,

[to Clarona.

That place shall more than sacred be to me.

Matth.

My Daughter, Sir, you too much honour show.

[to Phraar.

For what your bounty, Madam, would bestow, We pay our thanks, but we have all decreed, We in Jerusalems defence will bleed. We think we War against the Gods of Rome, And all that dye have Crowns of Martyrdome: But though we Roman Gods and Tyrants hate, To your Commands we gladly bow our State: And the small time you stay command as Queen, With all the state our Kings have treated been.

Ex. Phraar. Monob. Beren. and Clarona.

[Guards for the King and Queen,

Matth.

Now with Heavens praises we the day have clos'd, Some hours in Counsel might be well dispos'd; For though we have supprest the Rebels powers, And close confin'd them in their Vaults and Towers, 'Tis said to Edom they've for aid addrest, To save poor Saints by Tyranny opprest. And fifteen thousand Arbiters of State Are on their March, the bus'ness to debate: But though we slight these Advocates defence, We yet may fear our Pris'ners Insolence: Therefore their angry minds a while to please, I sent a Train of devout Pharisees, The only Men the Zealots now adore, Led too by John our new-made Counsellor, To ask with mildness, what is their intent?

Phin.

Yes, but I wish you better Men had sent: For, Sir, in short, your Counsels are betray'd, John and the Pharisees unite their Aid To undermine your power; the Pharisees Their own revengeful humour to appease, Because of late you wisely, Sir, have checkt The pride and growth of that usurping Sect.

Sag.

And th' other Traytor by designs like these To creep in power by unperceiv'd degrees: For which he does all Villany contemn.

He fawns on us, and then he prays with them. To every Art and subtlety he flies, Them he deludes with Prayers, and us with lies. The Holy Place he visits every hour, But 'tis to whisper in the Rebels Tower; What we consult, where to deceive the Rout, He is at once both perjur'd and devout: And does at once both Parties cheat and please, Out-faces us, out-whines the Pharisees; Who see his subtle Crafts, yet trust him still, In love to falshood and his dextrous skill.

Matth.

All these Mysterious Characters I've read, And seen the lurking Treachery that's hid In humble fawnings, and in fierce pretence To each punctilio of obedience. For I'm assur'd their Treacheries infus'd Those false surmises, which the Crowd abus'd; But they shall find I so much Treason hate, From Foes and Traytors too I'le guard the State: But they return—

[Enter John and two or three Pharisees.

John.

No hopes or means their furies to disswade?

Phin.

Dissembling Villain, we're by thee betray'd.

John.

I'th' name of injur'd Piety I'd know On whom you all these foul reproaches throw?

Phin.

On thee, and that false Tribe, who on pretence Of rigorous Piety and nice Innocence, Craftily all our Interests devour, And whine themselves into Esteem and Power; Casting such Mists before the peoples eyes, That none but they are thought devout or wise: Then when they have made the Crowd our pow'r contemn, We must be silent, or depend on them.

John.

Sir, such has bin my Service to the State, That I disdain to bring it in debate, And therefore shall not offer a reply To such a false injurious Calumny. But though my wrongs I can with patience bear, Methinks my zeal's a little mov'd to hear These good and pious Men reproacht—nay more, Zeal and Religion wounded on their score.

1. Phari.

You're bold and know not whom you dis-respect,

Phin.

Yes; pious Sir, 'Tis an Imperious Sect, Wherewith our Land has swarm'd Three hundred years, Whose pride in your dividing name appears: You by the Stile of Pharisees are known; Proud Separatists who common Saints disown: And (as if you were of Diviner Birth) The rest you Stile the people of the Earth.

Sag.

From these in proud contempt your Sect with-draw, For your Seraphick lives correct the Law: And your Complexions are so Nice and Fair, You 're sick, if you but tast a sinners Prayer. But Gentiles with such Nauseous Zeal you fly, As if the sight of them defil'd your eye: And thus our Peoples hearts and wealths you steal; Murder and Rob with Loyalty and Zeal; And the fond Crowd into Rebellion draw; Abuse our State, our Altars, and our Law.

Phin.

And thou, false Traytor, dost us all delude,

[To John.

Both us, the Rebels, and the Multitude.

John.

How! I delude!

Phin.

Yes; we have Read the sense Of all your Fawnings, Pray'rs and Diligence: Such as false Fiends in active Duty pay To cheated Souls, on whom they hope to prey. Most wondrous kind and ready at each call, Intending to betray and Dam 'em all.

Matth.

Yes; you have not alone your trust betray'd, But false Constructions on my Councils made, As if to Rome I would my Country yield, That by its fall I might my Greatness build: A Crime I so much scorn— I would not sell the Stones on which I tread, For all the Crowns upon Vespasian's head: And now lest Justice should your Crimes prevent, You to the Edomites for Aid have sent: But if they shall press arm'd within the Gate, I'le treat e'm here, as Enemies to th' State. And then to shew how I their force despise, I will the Rebells in their sight Chastise.

John.

Ha! are my Arts and Policies descry'd? I must defend what 'tis in vain to hide. Have I in your assistance wept and pray'd? And now must all your guilt on me be lay'd? This I deserve from Providence, 'tis true, But 'tis ingrateful wickedness in you. Yet I, Heaven knows, did truth and peace intend, But means should be as Holy as the end: But in this Treason I'le no longer share, I'le to my shame the Mystery declare. 'Tis truth, my Friends, what these bad men have said,

[To the Pha∣risees.

I'm an Impostor, you are all betray'd: I promis'd Peace; but you are sold to Rome, Defend your Altars, Lives, the Romans come. Dark Compacts with Idolaters are made, And they are hast'ning to these Tyrants aide. Who to secure the Power they so much prize, To all the Roman Gods will Sacrifice.

Matth.

Unheard of Impudence! the Friends that fly I'th' Air will shout at this amazing lye.

1 Phar.

'Tis truth! and in the Holy Cause we'll dye.

[All draw.

To Arms! to Arms! Tyrants! Idolatry!

Matth.

Hold, you deluded men! what frantick Rage Has seiz'd you all? for what would you engage?

2. Phar.

We to our Laws and Altars will be true.

Matth.

And to the Gold about the Altars too.

1. Phar.

That falshood soon shall by our Swords be shewn.

Matth.

You'll guard it from all Rapine but your own.

[An Alarm without.

But Hark! the Citys fill'd with new Alarms! Close all the Gates.—The news?

[Enter a Levite.

Levit.

To Arms, to Arms! The Edomites are come! we're all in blood, Queen Berenice is assaulted by the Crowd, Who as she past beset her Chariot round, Where your fair Daughter has receiv'd a Wound. At which the Parthian King made all give way, And had his God entreated would not stay; But with Five hundred followers of his own, Assisted by his Friend the brave Unknown,

Plung'd in the Throng, whilst both from Tow'rs and Walls To the Idumean Troops a Rabble calls, Crying save us, save Jerusalem, and assist Your Brethren, 'gainst a proud usurping Priest.

Phin.

The Treason's out! now let's the Traytors seize.

Matth.

These are the Grand Seducers! fall on these.

[Phineas and the Guard chace John and the Pharisees off the Stage.

Matth.

Now, haste to th' Edomites without the Gate,

[To Sagan.

And tell 'em they the impious pleasures wait Of Thieves, who Rob what they pretend to Guard; And would their Aid with Sacriledge reward: If on fair Terms they to depart deny, Defend the Gates and with your Darts reply.

[Ex. Sagan.

And now I, guarded by the sole defence Of these blest Robes and my own Innocence, Will to these Favourites of Heav'n, to know What new Credentials they have now to show. For these proud Men their own Commissions Seal, And place their sole Authority on Zeal.

Matthias goes out, and the Temple Gates are clos'd, and a Guard plac'd

ACT II.

SCENE I.

After Clashing and Shouts without.

Enter Phineas and a Levite. Scene a Street.

Phin.

TRiumphant News!—Let us our voices raise, And fill the Steets with Joyful sounds of Praise. The Parthian King, with the brave unknown Prince, Men that seem dropt from Heav'n for our defence, Have chas'd the Rebels to their Vaults and Towers; As storms drive flying Billows to the Shores.

Lev.

The Kings great Soul wants but the light Divine, To make it every way with Glory shine.

But see, the Train approach the Pallace Gate, Whilst joyful Crowds on their Preserver wait.

Enter Phraartes, Monobazus, Matthias, Queen Berenice, Clarona, Semandra, Phedra, Guards. Two or Three Prisoners.

Phraar.

You lift your Swords against a King; from whence Has your base Spirits all this Insolence?

[To Prisoners

You sordid Villains at the best are made For the low Earth, on which a King should tread. By the mean Victory my Sword has gain'd, I have my self and Dignity profan'd: And can my self no Expiation make, Less on their Altars I revenge should take: Which I forgive!—but Drag these Slaves away, With speed out of your Monarchs sight, and lay Their servile Necks beneath the High Priests Feet, Let him dispose of 'em, as he thinks meet.

Guard Carries them to Matthias, whilst Phraartes turns to Clarona.

Phraar.

Fair injur'd Power! what Offering shall I make? These I disdain to give, and you to take; 'Twere Sacriledge designing to appease Your Anger with whole Hecatombs of these: So many Princes at your Feet should lye, And at your Sentence either live or dye. Howe're a Royal Sacrifice I bring, The Flaming Soul of a Love-wounded King.

Claro.

Great Prince! the Joy I in your Triumphs find Has more already than appeas'd my mind. For though I know not love, and any Flame, But that of pure Devotion, must disclaim; Yet for the Gen'rous and truly brave Of all Religions I a Friendship have; And as for others I my Pray'rs employ, For your great Soul I'd be content to dye, And oh!—how rich an offering would it be To Heaven, which you thus vainly make to me.

Phraar.

Oh! tell not me of Heav'n and Powers above, There's no Elizium but Clarona's Love.

Claro.

To a poor Shrine you offer your regard, Where you must take Devotion for reward.

Monob.

Madam, you Crown with undeserved Praise, A courage you did both inspire and raise.

Qu. Beren.

I but my sense of Gratitude would shew, For what your Valour, Sir, did twice bestow; Nor can the breath by your defence enjoy'd, Be better sure then in your Praise employ'd.

Matth.

Go; and abuse the Liberty I give,

[To the Prisoners.

'Gainst him, by whose indulgence now you live. Not all the wrong I from your hate indure, Shall one Revengeful deed from me procure; As fellow Servants of one Lord above, You shall enjoy my pity and my Love. But yet I will empale my Masters ground, And from the rotten Sheep protect the sound.

1. Phar.

We'll do the same, and Guard them from the Power Of wicked Shepherds, who the Flock devour.

Matth.

These men Heaven's Favourites themselves repute, And then as such none must their Power dispute.

[Prisoners are dismist, and Matth. turns to Phraar. and Monob.

Now, valiant Princes, we must pay to you The publick Triumphs which to both are due; And to the Mighty Parthian King, who springs Of Jewish blood by a long Race of Kings, Let the great Shades of all who wore this Crown, For their sav'd Monuments his Valour own. And now the Stars their twinckling Fires disclose, And night approaching summons to repose, Let Guards these Royal Persons wait with care, Who both my Guests and my Protectors are.

[They all go out attended with a Guard, except Matthias and Phineas, who stay—and Enter the Sagan.

Matth.

Now, what from Edom? will they stay or Fly? And our Indulgence or our Valour try?

Sag.

They are resolv'd to guard the Rebel Crue: Till you free them, or else the Romans you.

Matth.

And do they know on whose designs they wait?

Sag.

They Stile 'em Saints and Guardians of the State: Till they are free'd they'l not our Walls forsake,

But send for Wives and a Plantation make. Set Javelins till they grow, whose Martial shade Shall serve for Shelter, and for Ambuscade.

Matth.

Now it is plain, these Idumeans came To adde fresh Brands to our domestick flame; And on pretence our Tumults to appease, To share with Thieves in publick Robberies. But I'le see well to all the Guards to night, And if to morrow the bold Edemite, In Thieves defence, to face our walls shall dare, Their Martial Plants unpleasant Fruit shall bear.

[Ex. omnes.

SCENE II.

The Pallace.

Enter Queen Berenice and Semandra.

Seman.

Come, Madam, please to rest, this silent Night Kind sleep does to her Bowers our sense invite.

Q. Ber.

Let the soft thing to dying Lovers go, And on despairing Minds her Balm bestow. The Joy the happy hour's approaching near, When I must leave my dull Devotion here, And on Loves wings to my Vespasian fly, Transports my Soul to such an Extasie, That with an Empires price should not be bought, The single pleasure of one flying thought. Tell me, Semandra, dost thou not espy A New delightful Spirit in my eye? Does not my chearful blood its Revels take, And often in my Cheeks fresh Sallies make?

Semand.

Ah, Madam! your triumphant Beauties wear Glories too bright for my weak eyes to bear.

Q. Beren.

Be gone! thou Paint'st me in a Flattering Dress.

Semand.

Rather, no Tongue your Beauties can express.

[Queen Beren. pulls out a Glass and looks in it.

Q. Beren.

Indeed my Glass will needs obliging be, I fear th' unfaithful thing takes part with thee.

Semand.

By all that's fair it does its trust betray, Nor half the Beauties it receives repay.

Q. Ber.

Nay, I confess I'm pleas'd: for I must own I was half weary of Devotion grown, What with the grief for my dear Brothers blood! What with the Clamours of the foolish Crowd; Who their own safety madly will oppose: What with Impatience too at length to close These seven long Weeks of grave Devotion here, Which did to me a tedious Age appear, I was so tir'd—that now the time is gone, Methinks my eyes another Air put on; And lay their Penetential looks aside, With all the Joy of a young smiling Bride.

Semand.

Nay! Madam! never yet in any Face, Triumphing Love appear'd with so much Grace. But you have often promis'd to relate Your Loves; how long shall my Impatience wait?

Q. Ber.

I have not Fancy rich enough t' explain, Half the Delights that Story does Contain. 'T was on a great Triumphant Day at Rome, When all the Adoration Gods assume, Or Flattering Priests ascribe to Powers Divine, When with uncommon Flames their Altars shine, Was to the young Victorious Titus paid, When he through Rome a pompous Entry made. It were too dull and tedious to display The bright and various splendors of that Day, Young Titus Fame ne're spoke him half so fair! Men Gaz'd with envy, Women with Despair. We who, the King our Father lately dead, By Rebels chac't, to Rome's protection fled, Were then Spectators there—

Semand.

Your Stars were kind; For to this mighty Fate you were design'd.

Q. Ber.

And from us all this vote his meen did gain, That we had never seen a braver man: I felt my heart a secret Flame possess, But thought my Eyes secur'd my Heart success. Tho Roman Ladies did my Rank contemn, At least my Beauty might contend with them. And so it prov'd; for the whole time he staid, His sole Address was at my Altars made:

Which they resented with such scorn, and Pride, Some rag'd with madness, some with envy dy'd. But, oh my Stars! how pleas'd was I to see My Beauty thus revenge my Qualitie.

Semand.

Oh Heaven! that I that Victory had seen! And from that time your Joys have dated been?

Q. Ber.

Not to relate how oft th' imperial Groves And Gardens have been Witness of our Loves, Eternal Vows in their delightful shade, With an entire Exchange of Hearts, were made.

Semand.

Since which your Stars, propitious to your Love, Did in few Months two Emperors remove, That old Vespasian to that Glory chose, No rigorous Laws your passion might oppose; And if those Rites he'll stubbornly Maintain, Few Months will period the old Monarchs reign.

Q. Ber.

Name not the Empire; Power I contemn, 'Tis Love I seek, I scorn the Diadem.

Semand.

But hark! Delicious sounds that way descend, The Parthian King's fair Mistress they attend.

[Musick within.

Q. Ber.

Sent by the King, no question, and design'd To chase sad thoughts from her too Pensive mind. That Divine Creature always is above, Nothing below can her attention move.

Semand.

Madam, she always like a Flame ascends, From Heaven she came, and towards Heav'n she tends; And has so small concerns for things below She never yet was seen to change her Brow. Somtimes indeed she has let fall a tear, But 'twas when others griefs she chance't to hear. Her own are into Bowers and Temples made, And there she sings as in some pleasant shade.

Q. Ber.

She far excels the happy Minds above: But cannot her fair soul descend to Love?

Semand.

Yes, as the Saints do in the other state; Or Guardian Angels those on whom they wait?

Q. Ber.

Such sublime Friendships may Devotion please: But is the brave young King content with these?

Semand.

Madam, I doubt he aims at somthing more, Though it is said he ne're lov'd so before;

He looks upon her as some Heavenly thing, And doubts if he should Love or Incense bring?

Q. Beren.

Well; my Complexion is not so Divine, More of this drossy Earth is mixt with mine— But King Phraartes comes, let us away, And strive to hasten on th' approaching Day. Which with the View of him shall Feast my sight, Who is both mine and all the Worlds delight.

[Exit.

SONG sung within.

HEnce, hence, thou vain fantastick fear Of Ills to come, we know not where; Stand not with thy infernal face To fright my Love from my embrace; To what a height shou'd we love on, Wert thou and all thy Shadows gone?

Sigh, sigh no more, nor cry forbear 'Tis sin, I neither must nor dare; If sin can in these pleasures dwell, If this can be the Gate of Hell, No flesh can hold from entring in; Heaven must forgive so sweet a sin.

Down, down she does begin to fall, And now the Shadows vanish all; And now the Gate is ope to bliss, And now I'm enter'd Paradise; Whilst envying Angels flock to view, And wonder what it is we doe.

Enter Phraartes, Monobazus.

Phraar.

Ah Friend! my heart here in an Ambush lyes, I'm wounded by a Spirit in Disguise. A thing compos'd of Prayer, whom if I wed, Some Incense cloud must be our Nuptial bed.

[Mon. is Pensive, and seems not to regard Phra.

Phraar.

But Ha! my Friend in grief! shall I complain, Of his unkind retirements still in vain?

Monob.

Sir, you have many sorrows of your own, And to add mine would be unkindly done.

Phraar.

I many sorrows? thou mistak'st the name, Too fierce resentments of my injur'd Fame. That after many a glorious Victory, When Rome with Terrour did my Valour try, That a bold Villain should his King betray, And bolder Rome should give my Crown away; Are wrongs for which not I, but Rome shall grieve, Who soon severe Correction shall receive.

Monob.

I do not doubt but your great Soul's above The Power of Fate, but can you conquer Love?

Phraar.

Thou find'st the only weakness of my mind There I must own some tenderness I find. An unknown passion makes my spirit bow; Whose insolence I never felt till now. I've seen, admir'd, ador'd, yes and enjoy'd, Till both my Eyes and Appetite were Cloy'd, Beauties of all Complexions, Nations, Graces, Hourly attended once on my Embraces. Each hour to different pleasures I could go; Now cool my blood in the European Snow, Then heat it at the Asian Fires again, Then boil it o're a Sun-burnt African. But this one Beauty has subdu'd me more, Than all the Armies of 'em did before.

Monob.

But to her Captive she will mercy shew.

Phra.

Oh! she is colder than the Mountains Snow. To such a subtile purity she's wrought, She's prayed and fasted to a walking thought. She's an inchanted Feast, most fair to sight, But starves the appetite she does invite; Flyes from the touch of sense, and if you dare To name but love, she vanishes to air. Ten days has this bright flame confin'd me here, Ruling my soul with tyranny severe. But too much talk on my own griefs I spend:

Now let me hear the sorrows of my Friend.

Monob.

Reservedness to so great a Prince were rude, And to so brave a Friend ingratitude. Have you not heard of Monobazus name?

Phra.

Yes, Prince, and am acquainted with your fame. The valiant Brother of the Adiabenan King.

[Embraces him.

What wandring Fortunes cou'd thee hither bring? I've heard how thou didst guard his life and Crown, When Slaves wou'd have depos'd him from the Throne, Because some Merchant Jews, 'mongst other Wares, Had made him change his own Belief for theirs.

Monob.

Service beyond the gratitude of Kings, Like Crimes, Misfortune on the Subject brings. So he the least acknowledgments disdain'd, And sought the life of him by whom he Reign'd. Thrice I his Armies beat in open Field, Making his strugling Fate entirely yield: Subjecting Kings that to his aid he drew, One in the head of all his Troops I slew. Then gave him back his vanquish'd Crown, and went By my own doom to willing Banishment. Roving the world I hither chanc't to stray, And drawing nigh this Town in close of day, It was my fate, by an old shady wood, To see a Chariot with arm'd Troops pursu'd. With my own Train to its relief I made, And came not much untimely to its aid. But for my own repose with too much speed, For scarce I had th' assaulted freed, But streight a Goddess, or a thing more bright, With murdering Beauties charg'd my dazl'd sight.

Phra.

And 'twas the Queen.

Monob.

It wounds my heart to tell, It was the Sister of the King who fell By my curst Sword; and she was going then To mourn the death of him, whom I had slain.

Phra.

Killing surprize! I pity now thy flame, And shall no more thy sad Retirements blame.

Clarona appears above in the Balcony in her Night-dress, with a Taper in one hand, and a Book in another.

But ha! whence comes this golden dart of light, Which on the sudden wounds the breast of night?

Monob.

See, some new wonder, Sir, invites our eyes.

[Shews Clar.

Phra.

The chief indeed of Jewish Prodigies. Young, fair, and woman, and without desire, The only Miracle I can admire.

Monob.

She's at Devotion sure, for it is said, Thrice in the night she from her downy bed, And soft repose, does her fair body raise, And from her window towards the Temple prays.

Phra.

Nay, from above she certainly dropt down, And like some Syren in a Tempest thrown From her own Element, and place of birth, Can relish none of all the Joys on Earth. I am all flame at sight of one so fair.

Mon.

I am all shade, and wander in despair.

Phra.

She's giving audience to some Angel now, I must disturb 'em, for I jealous grow.

Monob.

May your fair Goddess to your Prayers be kind, I'le go relate my sorrows to the wind.

[Exit

Phra.

Clarona!

Clar.

Ha! who calls?

Phra.

A wretched thing That begs your pity.

Clar.

The great Parthian King: What is it creeps into his Royal breast This stormy night, and drives away his rest?

Phra.

What shou'd, or can disturb my rest, but love? That bearded Shaft which nothing can remove. But you are still engag'd in heav'nly things, And have no pity for poor mortal Kings.

Clar.

Alas, Sir! do you my compassion crave? Your glorious Acts my admiration have.

Phra.

And yet not love where admiration's due?

Clar.

Oh yes! my love does the whole world pursue With all the blessings of my hourly Prayer, And you, the noblest part, have sure your share.

Phra.

Blessings and Prayers, and at a common Feast, Where the whole world is an invited Guest; Do not crowd me among the sordid rout,

Where all your Charity is dol'd about. But me to Noble Entertainments bring, And treat me like a Lover and a King: Nor shall the saucy world sit down with me, Gods at this Feast shall my Attendants be.

Clar.

Religion is a Feast of true delight, To which might I your glorious Soul invite, You never wou'd repent your happy state, And I with joy wou'd at your Table wait.

Phra.

My relish no Camelions food endures, My love I long to entertain with yours: Let Souls like Planets be with Vapours fed, Invite my senses to the Nuptial bed.

Clar.

I merit not so great a Monarch's Throne: But were I worthy, I am not my own. I am the Child of Sacrifice and Prayer, Born when the Womb did totally despair. My Soul was kindled at an Altar flame; Religion gave instructions for my frame: And Nature punctually her Rules obey'd, And me exactly for Religion made. And from my birth I've educated been A Maid of Honour to that mighty Queen. And now am Heaven's adopted Daughter grown, And, like some Virgin Heiress of a Throne, Guarded and waited on by Spirits, fed By Prayer and Contemplation, Angels bread. Inclos'd from all the world, and scarcely dare Mix my devoted breath with common air. And in this state I ever must remain, And not in thought my Virgin-whiteness stain.

Phra.

Blest news! the only glory I design: Now you are fit for no embrace but mine. And I have long desir'd to mix my blood with some Celestial Daughter of a God.

Clar.

Your mortal Deities, Sir, may bestow Their Daughters on you, yet your Match below. The King I hope will these expressions bear? But yet if I of his Religion were, I in the same condition would remain;

For I wou'd be of chaste Diana's Train; In Woods and Forests breathe untainted air, And against love an open War declare. And e're your little God shou'd conquer me, With Daphne, I'd be turn'd into a Tree.

[Exit.

Phra.

You shou'd not long within your bark remain, I wou'd embrace you into life again.

[Enter a Gentleman.

But ha! here's one with News.

Gen.

Haste, Sir, and see The stormy Air all fill'd with Prodigy; A numerous Army in the Skye appears, And every Troop a bloody Banner bears. They march along in the Moons timerous light, Then dive in air and vanish from our sight.

Phra.

This is some charm'd and visionary Land, I scarce can trust the ground on which I stand. Their Earth oft trembles, and their Buildings groan, Built like the Theban Walls of living stone. Their Stars grow Comets, Clouds arm'd Legions breed, Each has more Warriours than the Trojan Steed: Wonders, not Fishes, spawn within their Seas, And all the winds that blow breathe Prophecies. Nor are their People of a Kind entire, But got betwixt Devotion and Desire. But let us see if Nature with a grace Can shew her tricks, and cheat me to my face.

[Exeunt.

ACT III.

SCENE I.

Enter Matthias, Phineas, Sagan, Guard.

Matth.

AN Army in the Air.

Sag.

I saw it move.

Phin.

And round the Skye Troops of Iron Chariots drove.

Sag.

Through all the Air they scattered Rays so bright, As if their prancing Steeds were shod with Light.

Phin.

Straight of the sudden all the Shapes were flown, The war-like Imagery was taken down;

Folded in pitchy Clouds, and roll'd with care Into the Wardrobe of the wealthy Air.

Sag.

The Martial Atoms, from their noble form Dissolv'd in Clouds, now combat in a Storm.

Phin.

The Air ungovern'd by its Prince the Sun, Like factious States, to Anarchy does run; Wind, Thunder, Rain, and Lightning strive to share, Like Rebels, all the Provinces o'th Air. See! how the Clouds like angry surges fly, And dash the Crystal beaches of the Skye!

Sag.

The stormy night now she her period knows, Cruel and fierce, like an old Tyrant, grows; Whilst all her Train, before her Mistress dyes, Revel about, and ransack all the Skyes.

Matth.

This Tempest comes from Heaven's dispensive hand, These Divine Riddles who can understand? What means that fiery Sword's mysterious Ray, Which o're our shaking Towers night and day, In Heaven's bright Canopy does proudly shine, As brandisht by the Majesty Divine?

Sag.

Methinks Jerusalem, at her solemn Feast, Seems treated like the Tyrants trembling Guest, In Purple clad, her Table richly spread, But death and horrour hanging o're her head.

Phin.

Heaven's Arch ne're shone with such a light before, It seems as if some Angel lictour bore The blazing Fasces, at the passing by Of some Divine Procession in the Skye.

Matth.

Alas! we in Jerusalem daily see A greater, and a living Prodigie. A man-like Eccho pin'd into a Sound, A walking Vault that does one tone rebound; And night and day does in our Streets proclaim, With restless Soul, Woes to Jerusalem; And nor for Prayers nor Racks concern'd will be, But senseless as Dodona's vocal Tree. But ha! the wrestling winds are out of breath, And all is silent now, like sleep or death.

Phin.

The tilting winds have stopt in full career, And the fierce Lightning now has broke his Spear.

Sag.

The appeas'd Clouds now mildly kiss the shore, Of that bright Skye they did assault before.

[Noise is heard like an Earthquake.

Matth.

What frightful noise is that?

Sag.

In the Earth's Womb The four imprison'd winds contend for room.

Matth.

The shaking Earth is seiz'd with trembling pangs, And on thin air the vaulting City hangs.

[A small voice is heard.

Phin.

Hark! a shrill voice beneath the Altar cries.

Sag.

Some ominous Bird sure through the Temple flies.

[The Prophet is discover'd asleep by the Altar.

But ha! see where the restless Prophet's thrown: That is the ominous Bird, whose frightful tone Fills all Jerusalem with pannick fear. What pow'rful Demon has convey'd him there?

Phin.

The Spirit of Ob, that in the Wizard cries, From whence he has his lying Prophecies. Seize on the shrieking Owl; shall he alone Have rest, that let's Jerusalem have none?

Matth.

Forbear—This Creature, like a Trumpet, knows No sound he gives, it is Heaven's breath that blows.

[Prophet wakes and rises.

Proph.

From the bright dwellings of the rising Sun, And from his resting place when day is done, From the four winds and the Earth's hollow womb A Voice, a Voice—a dreadful Voice is come; A Voice against our Elders, Priests, and Scribes, Our City, Temple, and our holy Tribes; Against the Bridegroom, and the joyful Bride, And all that in Jerusalem reside. Woe, woe, woe.—

Phin.

Stop, stop the Witch.

Matth.

Hold! let him pass secure, His raving Soul does pain enough endure. And his unconquer'd flesh no torment lacks, H'as weary'd Torturers and torn the Racks; As if unsoul'd, and acted by some Power That sent him here, as Fate's Ambassador.

Phin.

No Law of Nations shou'd be his defence, He seems an Agent for some Pestilence.

Matth.

Begone, poor wretch, and seek thy own repose, And Heaven prepare us for these threaten'd Woes.

Proph.

Woe, woe, woe.

[Ex. Prophet.

Phin.

He grates my Ears with this unpleasant sound: But heark! a Voice does from the Vault rebound.

[A great Voice is heard from under the Stage like a Tube.

Matth.

A Voice! 'tis Thunder, or some Pagan God Groans here tormented, chace't from his abode.

[The Voice cryes—Let us depart.

Let us depart, the horrid Voice does cry! What art that call'st? and whither shou'd we fly?

Phin.

The Temple lives! it mov'd before and broke The bars that fetter'd it, and now it spoke.

Matth.

It rather dyes! and these affrightful groans Are its departing Soul's contending moans.

[The Vale flies open, and shews the Sanctum Sanctorum.

Matth.

But oh! retire, the sacred Curtain tears, And all the Temple's bright third Heaven appears; And, to the prophanation of our Eyes, Exposes all the Divine Mysteries.

Sag.

It seems as if the starry Heaven were rent, And Angels shone through the torn Firmament.

Matth.

And see—one of that bright and heavenly Quire Appears above, all clad in Robes of fire; And now does from the golden Roof descend, Whilst the Vaults groan, and yielding Arches bend.

Sag.

Let's fall upon our faces, lest we dye.

Phin.

Haste to the Incense Altar! let us flye.

Matth.

You may—but I fix'd here will boldly stay, And hear what this strange Messenger will say.

[An Angel descends over the Altar, and speaks.

Ang.

Stay, stay; your flight, fond men, Heav'n does despise, All your vain Incense, Prayers, and Sacrifice. Now is arriv'd Jerusalem's fatal Hour, When She and Sacrifice must be no more. Long against Heaven hast thou, Rebellious Town, Thy publick Trumpets of Defiance blown; Didst open Wars against thy Lord maintain, And all his Messengers of Peace hast slain: And now the Hour of his Revenge is come,

Thy Weeks are finish'd, and thy slumbring doom, Which long has laid in the Divine Decree, Is now arous'd from his dull Lethargie; His Army's rais'd, and his Commission seal'd, His Order's given, and cannot be repeal'd: And now thy People, Temple, Altars, all Must in one total Desolation fall. Heav'n will in sad Procession walk the round, And level all thy Buildings with the ground; And from the Soil, enrich'd with humane blood, Shall Grass spring up where Palaces have stood: Where Beasts shall feed, and a revenge obtain, For all the thousands at thy Altars slain. And this once blessed House, where Angels came To bathe their aiery wings in holy flame, Like a swift Vision or a flash of light, All wrapt in Fire, shall vanish in thy sight; And thrown aside amongst the common store, Sink down in Times Abyss, and rise no more.

[The Angel ascends.

Matth.

Oh, wondrous Vision! Oh, I faint with fear! Was it a humane Voice that fill'd my Ear? A real sight that entertain'd my Eye, Or was I snatch'd into some Extasie?

Sag.

Whether I dream't or dy'd I cannot tell, For yet more life does in a Statue dwell.

Phin.

I liv'd and wak'd, and with these stedfast Eyes Saw the strange Vision both descend and rise; And with a Voice, that cou'd no Ears deceive, Heard it speak wonders more than I'le believe.

Matth.

Did he not tell us, in a threatning tone, Jerusalem's fatal Hour was hast'ning on? As if that ours and Truths eternal Sun Had but few Minutes of his Race to run, And this bright Heaven shou'd then be taken down, And among all Time's common Trophies thrown?

Phin.

It did.

Matth.

It must be some illusion then! The Starry Heav'n shall not so long remain. Its Basis cannot so much strength afford, That stands on Nature, this on Nature's Lord.

Nay, that depends on this—For d'ye suppose Th' unweary'd Sun his daily progress goes, And the Earth's Womb her various Off-spring bears, Only as Vassals to Idolaters; And yields her Gums and Spices to maintain Some Glutton's Table, or some Idols Fane; And Heaven and Earth round in a yoke should draw, To grind for those that break their Makers Law?

Phin.

No, 'tis for us that wait on his Commands: For us the world was made, for us it stands.

Mat.

Yes, on these Columns the whole Arch is bent, This Golden Roof supports the Firmament. The Sun with Altar-Flames adorns his head, And from this Oyl the heav'nly Lamps are fed; And all the Order which in Nature dwells But dances to the sound of Aaron's Bells. That to say Heav'n will ruine on us send, Is to declare the world is at an end; And Nature is disbanding all her Powers, Then falls the Temple of the world, and ours.

Sag.

If to Tradition we may credit give, Ages will rowl about e're that arrive, For yet two thousand years e're we are blest With the Sabatick thousand years of rest.

Phin.

Besides, we yet expect our promis'd King, At whose approach a Golden Age must spring; And a long train of smiling years ensue, When joyful Nature shall her youth renew: And all the Powers that now the Earth invade, Shall vanish each like a Gigantick shade. And the whole Globe shall but two Monarchs have, Him, and the Sun his tributary Slave.

Matth.

Those things lye safe in Promises Divine, As the rich Gold lies ripening in the Mine. And like the Babylonian Pensile Bowers, They are born aloft on never yielding Towers: Towers of firm truth which may our Faith delight, Tho the fair Gardens are above our sight. Then whatsoe're these things portend, we know, Though Famine, Plague, and Wars may lay us low,

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The world may sink, but not one Stone of these, 'Till faithful Heav'n performs his Promises. But come—No sleep to night shall close my Eyes, Go summon all the Sanhedrim to rise. We'll find what fit Constructions there can be Of this strange sight, and stranger Prophesie.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

The Palace.

Enter Phraartes and Monobazus.

Monob.

Things of more wonder never fill'd my Eye.

Phraar.

Nor ever mine a prettier Novelty.

Monob.

Novelty!

Phraar.

Why? must I astonisht prove, To see by Moon-light a few Shadows move?

Mon.

No, Sir: but these no common Shadows are.

Phra.

And that's the only cause you think them rare. Were Thunder, Lightning, an Eclipse o'th' Sun, And all the feats by light and shadow done, But once or twice in several Ages shewn, Mankind would all of 'em for wonders own. Think Gods appear'd, and fall upon the knee, Each time, perhaps, they did a Rain-bow see.

Mon.

Nature frames those, these Nature's works surpass.

Phra.

Why more than Shadows in a Looking-glass? At first, no doubt, they did Mankind surprise, And they were judg'd stupendious Prodigies. There are strange Births peculiar to each Clime, Monsters are bred out of Aegyptian slime. These may be Natives of the Jewish air, Bred of the Fumes of Sacrifice and Prayer.

Mon.

Yes, did they slaughter men, we might presume Their Souls might for revenge those shapes assume: But the poor Beast does perish in the flame, And has no Soul to play an after-game.

Phra.

But may not Atoms meet which Flames disperse? Revelling Atoms made the Universe. Or may not num'rous Heaps of Victims slain,

Dislodge the transmigrated Souls of men? Which stript of the warm flesh they love to wear, Get for the present some thin Rags of air? Or rather, spight of all our wisdom knows, These may be real men, we shapes suppose? For all these spacious Regions of the Skye, Can never waste like Lybian Desarts lye? Nature frames nothing for a vain intent, And no doubt Peoples every Element. The Sea has Mermaids, and the purer Air May Nimphs of a more fine complexion bear; And these were jolly Youths, who in our sight Might celebrate some Festival to night: For round the aiery Plains their Chariots drove, As if they kept Olympian Games above.

Mon.

All this is raillery; for if a throng Of wandring Tribes had there been planted long, The busie people of our Globe below Had found, perhaps had conquer'd 'em e're now. No, they are Bubbles and have no abode, And only speak the greatness of that God Who guards this State, and do so strange appear, I would my own weak little God casheer, And this more mighty Jewish one adore, But when I once have offered to a Power, To him, as to my King, I loyal prove, Or to the Friend or Mistress that I love.

Phra.

And I to these so little credit give, I scorn a God that by his Tricks must live. I from all Shadows set my Vassals free, And plainly bid 'em fear no Power but me. But ha! kind fortune to my arms does flye, Th' accesses to the Gardens open lye, Where oft Clarona on the Gods bestows The Hours design'd by Nature for repose. Some happiness is near, my heart forebodes, I'le in and chace away my Rival Gods.

[Exit.

Mon.

Oh! that my Rivals were as weak as they; The great the brave Vespasian bars my way.

Glory and Empire are to Female blood More tempting dang'rous Rivals than a God.

[Exit.

[The Scene changes to a Garden, Clarona 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Enter Phraartes.

Phra.

Oh! whither Love hast thou thy wand'rer led? My feet profane the ground on which they tread. All the abstracted sweets in Nature found, Lye here together in a slumber bound. No Mortal can resist the charming bliss; This hand does ravish from my lips a Kiss.

[Clarona 〈◊〉〈◊〉

Clar.

Save me, good Spirits! what Shade is that so nigh?

[Starts at the sight of Phraartes.

Phra.

No Ghost, or Shadow, but substantial I.

Clar.

The King!

Phra.

Your Slave; may I your pardon gain, That I your sacred privacy profane? Wandring in solitude the Gardens round, I all accesses hither open found. Coming to sigh away the hours of night Under your window;—by the Moon's pale light, Who o're your Face her Silver Garment spread, I found you slumbring on this Rosie Bed. It was impossible from hence to go, With wonder fixt to Earth, I here might grow, My Root wou'd wantonly beneath you creep, To suck the sweets of earth on which you sleep. This I might do, shou'd I here longer stay, Yet then as easily be torn away.

Clar.

On the Night's wonders gazing all alone, Weary and pensive here I sate me down, And to a gentle sleep resign'd my sense, Not fearing this my Servants negligence.

Phra.

My Stars contriv'd it thus to crown my love, And I their noble kindness will improve. Now is the Golden Minute come at last, The rich Extraction of a thousand past, Which like the patient Chymist I have spent In toil, and many a vain Experiment. And (oh! my Stars!) if now I let it go, Never this blessing on me more bestow.

Clar.

What does the King by this discourse design?

Phra.

Oh! Youth and Love will help you to divine. What meaning did young Troylus display, When to the Grecian Tents where Cresseid lay, From Troy in such kind conspiring Night And Hour as this, he stole to his delight? What meant Leander, when at such an Hour He labour'd through the Waves to Hero's Tower, Whilst on the shore to ravish him she stood, From the Embraces of the faithless stood?

Clar.

Are you the King?

Phra.

Exalted by such bliss, I am God, and you my Paradise. Where e're I wander pleasures crowd my way, And I with every one a life cou'd stay. Oh! I cou'd dwell an Age upon this Hand; But shou'd I to those Cheeks or Lips ascend, Such numerous delights my senses court, To gather all, Eternity's too short.

Clar.

What has this change in King Phraartes made? Will he my Ears with such discourse invade? He who approacht me with so great an awe, Priests with less reverence near Altars draw; That any thing was sacred did deny, On Earth, in Nature, or in Heaven, but I? What have I done that has my Honour stain'd, And made me now deserve to be profan'd?

Phra.

Can any Temples be profan'd by Prayer, Or Altars by the Victims which they bear?

Clar.

By Victims sinful and impure they may: And only such you at my Altars lay.

Phra.

You wrong my innocent and spotless love.

Clar.

Convince me of it, and from hence remove. Him who my ruine did attempt to night, I mean your self, for ever from my sight.

Phra.

From their Foundations bid me Mountains tear, Or hale a fixed Star out of his Sphere, Remove the world, assoon I could obey, As take my self from hence, whilst here you stay.

This is my Heav'n, which I with toil attain, And shall I now leap down to Earth again? My arms for safety I around you spread, Throw me from this high happiness I'm dead.

Clar.

You on a Precipice wou'd safely dwell, But you wou'd strive to throw me down to Hell. You for my ruine are by Hell design'd, And chosen for it out of all Mankind. As having all their excellence and more, By whom he thousands had subdu'd before: The Serpent in your Figure (I believe) Stole into Paradise and ruin'd Eve: With such a pleasing Tongue he spoke his suit, And with such Hands bestow'd the fatal Fruit. That to put all his Troops at once to flight, I must for ever banish you my sight.

Phra.

Hell and his Troops into destruction go, My love of their designs does nothing know: My love's intentions generous have been; But if for you to love again be sin, Be sav'd, pursue the Joys you call divine; Attain your Heav'n, though I despair of mine. But pray let me be sav'd a little too, The Heav'n I cannot compass, let me view.

Clar.

No, Sir, in pity I deny your Prayer, Why shou'd I keep you in a scorching air, When I no ease or pleasure can bestow? If to a cooler Clime you will not go, The Sun whose heat does your Diseases breed, Tan your fair Vertues, and your Torments feed, Thus, Sir, I will for ever cloud from you; This I am bound in Charity to do.

Phra.

Share your compassion, and unvail'd remain, I am your Enemy and beg for pain. Let not so great a Sinner torment want.

Clar.

Beg nothing of me, for I'le nothing grant.

Phra.

What not to see you! are those Beauties made To pine and wither in a barren shade?

Clar.

Ask me no more, I will no more reply.—

Phra.

And will you then one parting view deny? Sun rise no more, for ever quench thy light, For now the world has nothing worth our sight.

[Ex.

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

A Room in the Tower.

Enter John, Eleazar, Pharisees, &c.

Eleaz.

HOW, for these several hours in Council sate?

John.

Close in a Tower with Guards at every Gate: All their Designs they hide; but it is said, Some tender Lambs must be to slaughter laid.

1 Phar.

With blood of Saints he stains the holy Chair, He is a Tyrant and Idolater.

John.

I fear through frailty he too much inclines, And am in doubt some impious thing designs; Nay am assur'd—Nay, since it must be known, The horrid Villany's already done!— Vespasian is our Soveraign Lord declar'd, And Crowns of Gold are for his head prepar'd. Nay, at an hour when all in sleep lay drown'd, A Guard in secret brought an Image Crown'd: His head a guilded wreath of Laurel wore, His face Vespasian's proud resemblance bore. 'Tis in the Palace hid, but they design At his approach it shall in publick shine; Stand in the Temple, and our Laws defie, And all that will not bow to it shall dye.

Eleaz.

Oh horrid! horrid! well, oh stormy Air! For Divine Vengeance may'st thou Troops prepare.

2. Phar.

It is a Plot I plainly understand, To murder all the Zealous of the Land.

John.

Heav'n knows with grief I stain his Mitred Hairs: Who lays me near him as the Robes he wears. But in my Soul it did impatience 〈◊〉〈◊〉, To think the Sheep should by the Shepheard bleed▪

To see the Temple by the Priest defil'd: Nay more, to see the Father kill the Child. And if my self unfaithful I proclaim, In saving it, I'le glory in my shame.

Eleaz.

Appease your Soul, if this can Treason be, 'Tis holy falshood, pious treachery.

John.

But yet all falshood has the face of ill.

1. Phar.

In a good Cause 'tis but Religious Skill.

John.

Nay to preserve the Choice Ones of the Land, I'd be the Earth on which their Tower should stand: For though our Lights by various Names we call, Like Jewels still there's Beauty in us all. And though like Brethren 'mongst our selves we fight, 'Gainst Foster-Fathers we can all unite.

Eleaz.

No more! we'll have his blood, the Tyrant dyes, The Priest shall be the Morning Sacrifice.

2. Phar.

He does the Priestly Diadem defile, And we'll revenge the consecrated Oyl.

John.

Nay, since your Zeal's inflam'd, I'le lead you on, And with my aid my former guilt attone; For friendship's sake I did the Cause betray, But now I will the heavenly Call obey. A Brazen Image stands before my eyes; Revenge! revenge! a Voice within me cries, Kill, kill these curst Apostates, who design To set Hell's Standard 'midst the Camp Divine. Spare not a man who in his List is found, Who spares a Traytor does Religion wound.

Eleaz.

I'm thirsty for their blood.

1. Phar.

And I.

2. Phar.

And I.

3. Phar.

To eat their flesh were holy gluttony.

John.

It were! and Heaven no doubt would bless the Meal, Such unclean Beasts we might devour with zeal. But their foul flesh shall not be so preferr'd; In Craws and Paunches it shall be interr'd. They have no right to any other Tomb, Nor shall defile Jerusalem's sacred Womb.

Eleaz.

Their Souls renounce the Gardens of the just, Nor shall their Bodies here pollute their dust.

1. Phar.

But when shall we attempt this blessed deed▪ How many Swords! what Forces do we need?

2. Phar.

For they are strong, and keep an hourly guard. And our poor 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Friends, debarr'd From aiding us, under their 〈◊〉〈◊〉 lye. Besieg'd by all the fury of the Skye.

John.

Ask you for aid when you Heav'ns service do▪ We are too strong, th' Idolaters too few▪ We have our Cause, our Innocence, and Prayer▪ Nay, we have Armies mustering in the Air▪ And are to Arms invited from above, The Winds are join'd to represent our Love▪ Troops rendezvous'd in Clouds to shew from whence, In our distress, we may expect defence. A fire shone round the Temple to declare. Pure Reformation is enkindled there▪ The Brazen Gates untouch'd were seen to move, To let us know the Gates of Divine Love Were opening to us, if we'll enter in▪ And now Jerusalem's glory does begin.

Eleaz.

Oh! blessed hour! and yet more blessed we▪ Who in this work the Instruments shall be.

1. Phar.

We are too few the sweet rewards to share.

2. Phar.

They will be more than humane strength can bear.

Eleaz.

Nay, we to farther aid have no pretence, But yet our Friends that come for our defence, May, of our mighty deeds, Spectators be.

John.

They shall admittance have in Charity. Not that in such a Cause their Swords we need. A Cause that will reward each drop we bleed. Sinners who dye in it, may at the price Of a few Traytors heads, buy Paradise. Has any here— Defil'd a Sister, or a Father slain, A Traytor's blood will wash away the stain. And if to Sinners such Rewards accrew, What Joys what Pleasures will be showr'd on you, Who are all Saints?

Omn.

All, all.

Eleaz.

I am in pain!

My breast cannot my furious zeal contain.

John.

And now, my Friends, when Providence shall deal Rewards and Blessings to your faithful zeal; And you shall make division as you please, O'th' hoorded wealth of richest Palaces; Oh do not cast a hot and lustful eye Upon the Temple, if she naked lye, And her bright Gold should on your fingers smile; Take heed—for that will all the rest defile.

1. Phar.

Oh doubt us not!

John.

Still barring all Constraint; For nothing is so sacred as a Saint. And in our own defence we may make bold, Serving our Master, with our Master's Gold.

[One Enter

But see the Spye we at the Palace plac'd, To watch the Sanhedrim, returns in haste.

Mess.

O, Sirs! to Arms! a Voice from Heaven calls! From foggy Clouds a sleepy Unguent falls: And some good Angel round the Palace flyes, And with it has annointed all their Eyes; But to the Priests does double Portions give, That nothing in the Palace seems to live; But a few pining Lamps, that burn so dim, They seem as drousie as the Sanhedrim.

John.

'Tis plain, Heav'n aids our holy Cause, and sends A Spirit to bind their hands, and help his Friends.

2. Phar.

If we with speed these Traytors not destroy, Angels will do't, and rob us of the joy.

3. Phar.

Haste, haste, let us go fire the Palace straight.

John.

No—first assist our Friends without the Gate. Both shelter and revenge will now be good.

Eleaz.

Yes—let them warm themselves with Travtors blood.

3. Phar.

But will not the strong Gate despise our pains? 'Tis clad in Iron, and girded round with Chains?

John.

Fear not, I can the sacred Tools produce, Kept in the Tower for the Temple's use. And they can force it open in a trice With as much ease as Prayer does Paradise.

Eleaz.

Haste, haste, the Cocks have thrice alarm'd the dawn, And Night's black Chariot, as by Whirle-winds drawn,

Drives on to its last Stage in solemn state, Whilst raging Storms on her Retinue wait. Now whilst the Tempest rocks the drowsie Town, Oh! let the heavenly work with speed be done.

2. Phar.

Now is the time, their Souls, like Flocks of Sheep, Are kept for Sacrifice in Folds of sleep.

1. Phar.

The talking Ecchoes can conveigh no noise, The busie Tempest all the air employs.

[Enter one with Iron Bars and Tools.

John.

See! see! the blessed Instruments are come! Now Sinners hastens your eternal doom. Hell will be crowded with the numerous flight Of unclean Birds we shall unpearch to night. To Arms!

All.

To Arms, to Arms!

John.

But first let's swear, That each shall equally the danger share. By Jerusalem.

[All lift up their hands.

All.

By Jerusalem.

John.

By the Temple.

All.

By the Temple.

John.

By the Altar.

All.

By the Altar.

John.

By the most binding Oath which we can swear, By Corban, the Divine Oblation there.

All.

By Corban.

John.

Now let each draw his consecrated Sword, Corban's the Oath, and Liberty the Word. So if I now succeed in this design,

[Aside.

One more Religious Lye, the Mitre's mine.

[Exeunt.

[A noise of breaking Locks and forcing Gates.

The Scene is drawn, and Matthias, Sagan, Phineas, and the whole Sanhedrim are represented sitting asleep, Lamps burn∣ing, and the Guards asleep at the Gate.

The Ghost of Herod arises.

Ghost.

Cries, shrieks, and groans from a lamenting Crowd, Th'air fill'd with wandring Souls, the Streets with blood! In Seas of Fire the falling Buildings drown'd;

In Chains of sleep the Priests for slaughter bound, Fit pleasure for a Tyrant's Ghost, like me:— Worthy my Pilgrimage from Hell to see. Sleep on, you damn'd Tormentors of Mankind, That humane Souls in aiery Fetters bind, And all their little pleasures dearly sell, And will not let 'em go in peace to Hell. And thou, proud Town, who stil'st thy self Divine, Queen of the world, Heav'ns earthly Concubine, Who all his favour to thy self hast gain'd, Art at th' expence of Miracles maintain'd, And fill'st the gazing world with pannick fears, Tremble—for see within thy Walls appears, The brightest Vision of this threatning Night, The Ghost of Herod the great Edomite: Greatest of all abandon'd Esau's Line, Who in thy Throne once Royally did shine, Ravish thy Beauty and thy Lord disgrace, And took his Mistress to my own embrace; And not contented to defile his Bed, His Altars rob'd, and on his Victims fed; Revell'd in blood, and did his power despise, And in contempt of all his Prophesies, Plac'd Esau's Chains of slavery on Thee, And soundly scourg'd old Jacob's Treachery: Then with mock penitence for all my guilt, To my own glory I thy Temple built: Now all the Ills in life I could not do, La malicious tortur'd Ghost pursue. Lash me, ye Furies, blow th' infernal fire!— Fill me with rage, that I may now inspire My Nation with the Spirit on't refin'd, And pour it scalding into every mind. And (you gull'd Priests) invoke no more Heav'ns aid, He has you all into my power betray'd; And He go whet the Idumean Swords, And nobly banquet the infernal Birds. They flock about, and heaps of Carrion smell, I'le make to night a Jubilee in Hell.

[Exit,

The Ghost goes out, and noise of clashing of Swords shricking and knocking at the Gate is heard, at which they all awake.

Matth.

In what dark Cave has all our Souls been bound?

Phin.

Or in what drousie Labyrinth wandring round?

Sag.

Rather to what infernal Dungeon lead, Guarded with Fiends, and haunted with the Dead; For I have been with droves of Souls pursu'd, Chac'd hot, and reeking from warm Flesh and Blood.

Phin.

I nothing dream'd but was securely laid, As void of sense as e're my Soul was made; Yet as my dawning Soul began to rise, Methoughts I knocking heard, and distant cries: And from the Ground a sulph'rous Vapour broke, That form'd it self into a shape, and spoke.

Matth.

A Guard of Spirits walk'd to night the round, And all our Souls in sleepy-fetters bound, Benum'd with fatal slumbers by degrees, We seem'd like an old Grove of Sapless-Trees, Whose Vegetative Souls in Winter creep To their warm Roots, and there securely sleep.

[A noise within.

But hark! a Martial noise begins to rise!

Phin.

Loud knockings at the Gate.

They all as amaz'd look out several ways, and return.

Sag.

And horrid cries! Arm! Arm! The Court's beset; a furious Tide Of fighting Crowds beat up on every side.

Phin.

The Streets with glittering Spears are planted round, And Bloody Rivers water all the ground.

Math.

And see where Esau's Son's proud Banners fly, And from the Temple Walls the Town defie.

Sag.

We are betray'd, and the Angelick Pow'rs Forsook their guard to night about these Towers. What shall be done in a distress so great?

Phin.

What else, but fly with speed to some retreat?

Matth.

How? shall I fear of these vile Rebels shew? Rather to meet their impious rage I'le go.

Sag.

Alas! they seek your Life, nor can y' oblige Men, whose Devotion lies in Sacriledge.

Matth.

Heav'ns Will be done! But better I were slain, Than I my self my Diadem prophane;

Whose Glory should I stain with sordid fears, My Sacriledge wou'd be as great as theirs.

Phin.

I see no cause why we should vainly fight, To guard those Sacred things Heav'n seems to slight.

Math.

If Heav'n 's pleas'd t' abandon their defence, I'le guard them in the room of Providence.

John, Eleazar, and their party now break into the Room 〈◊〉〈◊〉 drawn Sw••rds, and chace Matthias, &c. o•• the Stage, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 re∣treat fighting as into some other Rooms of the Palace, and at the door to hinder John's pursuit.

Matth.

My Guards!

[Exit Matth. Sag. Phin. &c.

Omnes.

Pursue.

Joh.

So quick retreat have 〈◊〉〈◊〉

Eleaz.

Fire this accursed 〈◊〉〈◊〉 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the ground: This filthy Nest that does all lewdness hide, Ambition, Avarice, hot Lust, and Pride, The Earth no longer shall this burden bear.

Joh.

And greater Lewdnesses are harbour'd here; Vespasian's Image, and his Goddess both, Queen Berenice, that Romish-Ashtaroth. That fair Abomination, to whose eyes The Tyrant offers Daily-sacrifice.

Eleaz.

Burn 'em together, let their dust repair To play and dally in the wanton Air.

1. Phar.

Fire it; our time let us no longer lose.

2. Phar.

And see, his traytrous head the Tyrant shews.

Matth. Sag. Phi. appear in the Balcony.

Matth.

You, Impious Rebels all, which here I see, Sons of Confusion, Blood and Cruelty; Born for our Nations and Religion's shame, That would extirpate your own Tribe and Name, Have wrought such ills, that even the Rising Sun Startles to see the villanies y' have done: What Cruel Devil does your hearts inspire To all these ills? what is it you desire?

Eleaz.

Traytor! Our Countreys Freedom and thy Blood.

1. Phar.

And Caesar's Image here, thy Molten-god.

Matth.

What Molten-god?—what Image?

Phin.

This is plain,

The cursed Image of some lying Brain.

Eleaz.

This pious Man can all your doubts remove, And, Tyrant, to thy face thy Treasons prove.

Matth.

Villain, more false than Hell,—Dost thou at last Add this bold Lye to all thy Treasons past?

To John.

John.

Oh, dares this man thus confidently plead? Merciful Heav'n that will not strike him dead?

Eleaz.

Boldly reply.

To John.

John.

Now impudence thy aid.

Aside.

And are you not (bad man!) of Heav'n afraid? Do you not every hour expect at least Heav'n with your Tribe the hungry Earth shou'd feast? Its qualmish stomach with cold meat is cloy'd, Not one warm Meal since Corah's time enjoy'd. But now a Dish is drest, and I should fear, But for these holy men, to stand so near. Into my Soul what great Disorders creep! Zeal makes me rage, and Pity makes me weep. An aged man, a Priest, and once my Friend; But in Truth's Cause all these distinctions end.

Matth.

And dar'st thou with so little fear or shame Thy Predecessor Rebel Corah name? And not expect his fate should be thy own, Whose Treasons are so much by thine out-done. Oh, hungry Earth! to thy repast with speed! But spare your tears, and to your proofs proceed.

John.

Then did not I in several persons sight, In the first Month, on the third Watch of night? But was it I? that I should e're descend To so much frailty to oblige a Friend? To my own goodness I am made a Prey; I am too meek, too ready to obey! But did not I, to all the Guards unknown, Conveigh by night an Image into Town? And when I wept, and did the thing oppose, You smil'd, and said, let us delude our Foes, And play with that Leviathan a while, We by these Arts shall all his Pow'r beguile. But shall not we deceive our selves, said I? No strength or wisdom like integrity!—

Then weeping, you reply'd, Alas! 'tis true: But yet the Foe is strong; what shall we do? Good Heav'n I hope will no advantage take, If we should sin a little for his sake; Then as I trembling stood, and wept and pray'd, You are too tender, humble John, you said. But ah said I again!—

Matth.

No more, no more!— In pity to thy injur'd Soul give o're;— Thy shameless Lyes has Manhood so defam'd, Of humane Nature I am almost asham'd; And did not some the port of it maintain, We might conceive Mankind were made in vain. Nay even admire why Heaven such pains shou'd take, Mischievous Tools of dirty Clay to make. But to thy impudent unmanly Lye, My Guards and Javelins shall with speed reply.

Matthias, &c. go out of the Balcony, and John, &c. break open the door, after which a noise of fighting is heard; then Enter Phraartes and Monobazus as disturb'd with the neise, and newly waked.

Phra.

What fierce and horrid founds thus early fill My deafned Ears? or am I dreaming still? For snatch'd by sleep into an Ambuscade, I've all this night with Charms and Visions plaid.

Monob.

And mighty Weights my Soul a Pris'ner kept, As if beneath some Mountain I had slept.

Phra.

This is some Magick place, where Spirits flye, Where every night the Trees all blasted dye; And men like Watches are in pieces tane, And set together in the morn again. Well might the almost immortal Natives here Preserve their vigour to the thousandth year; Since every night their Bodies were not worn, But gently lapt and folded up till morn. But what bold Spirits durst so sawey be, To try these damn'd Experiments on me? But hark! a Noise within, like clash of Arms!

Monob.

Palace and City fill'd with strange Alarms.

[Monobazus looks within.

What Vision's that presented to my Eyes, The Court with bleeding Bodies cover'd lyes! The brave High-Priest amidst a Guard does stand, Offering Victims up with his own hand To this fair Palace's offended Gods, By impious Slaves disturb'd in their abodes.

Phra.

They are some warlike shapes in Masquerade.

Monob.

Now toward the Temple they retreat have made.

Phra.

Fortune my Sword's fair Concubine does prove As false to me as Juno does to Jove! Entice with sleepy Charms my sense away, Whilst she with others does the Strumpet play. So Jove on Ida charm'd, the Trojan's fled, But when the God rose from his flowry bed, And look'd abroad out of his Golden Tent, The Greeks their saucy Valour did repent: The wanton Sorceress, now I am awake, Shall to my injur'd Sword again give back The stoln favours she to every Slave, During the Minutes of my slumb'ring gave.

[Exit.

Monob.

Yes, Fortune shall repent her Clownish pride, In scorn of Princes thus with Slaves to side.

[Exit.

They go off, and after a little fighting without, Enter in their Night-Gowns, as in a fright, Queen Berenice, Clarona, Semandra, and Phedra.

Q. Beren.

Must I be murder'd then without delay? And do the Slaves my kindness thus repay? Did I, like some good Angel from above, Come from the Heav'n of Glory and of Love, To help these Wretches in their deep despair, And do the envious Fiends such malice bear? They rather trebly will augment their pain, Than I shall see my Paradise again.

Clar.

My Father to his Foes by Heav'n resign'd; This to contending Nature seems unkind: But I'le not dare to pass too harsh a sense

On any ways of Divine Providence, So many Crowns our Sufferings here attend, None for such interest wou'd refuse to lend. But See! the Sagan and Prince Phineas here! But oh, distractions in their looks appear.

Enter discoursing, and in great hasle, as escap'd from a Fight, Sagan and Phineas.

Sag.

Ah, Madam! all is lost! the sacred man, By Heav'n deserted, is a Pris'ner tane. Inspir'd with a devout and glorious pride To guard that Heav'n, who him its aid deny'd. A brave retreat he to the Temple made, To conquer there, or perish in its aid. A living Rampire for a while he stood, And moted round the sacred place with blood: The Temple trembl'd, and the Lamps burnt dim, Shook with the dangers that assaulted him; Whilst unconcern'd he on his Guard did wait, More fixt and stedfast than the Brazen Gate; Enduring thus a hot and furious Siege, And even sham'd the Heav'n he did oblige: But e're the King, who like a whirlewind slew, Tearing down Groves of the seditious Crue, Through thick and stubborn Crowds cou'd make his way, The Rebels had secur'd the Noble Prey.

Clar.

A fall like to his life renown'd and great, And does the story of his Fame compleat.

Q Beren.

Then we are lost, this cursed hour will prove The fatal period of my life and love.

Clar.

What I divin'd! now all my hopes are gone, And my great Father's glorious race is run. How fares the King?

Phin.

A Sea of armed Foes That Monarch like a flaming Isle inclose.

Sag.

Waste no more pretious time complaining here, But to our Friends our quick assistance bear.

[Ex. Phin. Sag.

Q. Beren.

And am I thrown into the Rebels power, And must I never see Vespasian more? It cannot be decreed! I rave, I rave! Nature no warning at our parting gave!

The Air wou'd sure have figh'd, the Caves have mourn'd, The Clouds have wept, the hollow Mountains groan'd; All Friends of love wou'd have exprest their fear Of two so kind, so constant, and so dear: Nature wou'd then have had convulsive pains, And blood have startled out from both our Veins.

Clar.

Alas! too little care you did express Of so much love, and so much happiness. Why wou'd you thrust your self into a Den Of Beasts, who only have the shapes of Men?

Q. Beren.

I came not here to offer you a Peace, The Roman power and glory to increase; To adde to Empire was not my design, Though I may hope one day it will be mine; All my ambitions do no higher rise, Than at a Smile from my Vespasian's Eyes: But 'twas from him all danger to remove, Danger, the mighty Rival to my love: Danger, that does enjoy him more than I, To whom from me he every hour does flye; Leaps to her arms, and I'm afraid one day The Harpy will devour the glorious Prey.

Clar.

Heaven's special Providence will watch to save, For universal good, a man so brave.

Q. Beren.

You are a Stranger to a Lover's fears, They dangers spye whose shadow scarce appears. In Camp how do I pass the day in frights, In horrid dreams and broken sleep the nights? With my own cryes my self I often wake, And waking, joy to find out my mistake: Then in a sound and pleasing sleep I fall; But in the morning for my Lord I call: How does my Lord, to every one I cry, If any look with a dejected eye, But sad or pale, for no reply I stay, Conclude my Lord is flain, and faint away.

Clar.

If such vain terrours so much torment breed, What wou'd you do, if he were hurt indeed?

Q. Beren.

What do the wounded and the dying do? Love joins in one, what are in Nature two:

The breasts of Lovers but one Soul contain, Which equally imparts delight or pain. Once he on danger did too strongly press; (For he has all great Vertues in excess; In gallant things endures no mean degree, But loves and fights still in extremity) When, oh! he wounded did return from sight, You may conceive th' effect of such a sight. My sorrows violence no tongue can tell, Thrice in my Womens arms all cold I fell; And only was to wretched life again Tormented, by the throbbing of his pain. Hourly I watch'd by him both night and day, And never mov'd, but when I swoon'd away. My eye for ever fixt on him I kept, Nor lost the sight of him, but when I wept: In all his pains I groan'd, his Fevers burn'd, Nor found I health or ease till his return'd.

Clar.

Are these the sympathies that kindness prove? I fear then I have the disease of love. At the brave King the Darts and Javelins flye, But it is I am hurt, and I that dye.

Q. Beren.

And has Victorious Love, so long supprest, Obtain'd at length Dominion in your breast?

Clar.

If Pity can be Love, then I confess I love that valiant Monarch to excess.

Q. Beren.

Under Compassion you wou'd Love disguise, There is no hiding Love from Lovers Eyes.

Clar.

Perhaps I love, I scarce the difference know, But Pity's all that I shall ever show.

Q. Beren.

Your Father's Fate requires so great a share Of grief and pity, you have none to spare.

Clar.

I rather triumph in my Father's Fate, Since Heavenly Glories on his Sufferings wait: But the poor King has no one to repay The Royal life for me he throws away.

Q. Beren.

Oh! did he know you lov'd, he could not dye, No more than those who enter heavenly joy.

Clar.

Know it he may, enjoy it never can; Twixt my embraces and that glorious man,

Religious Vows have wider distance made, Than if there were whole worlds betwixt us laid.

Q. Beren.

Were worlds betwixt you, bigger all than this, Love o're 'em all would mount, to flye to bliss. Millions of Leagues that Hawk his aiery spies, And wheresoe're you perch him, home he flyes.

Clar.

He must not flye within Religion's Grounds.

Q. Beren.

Nor ought Religion to invade his Bounds. Come, to some Tower let's our selves betake, Where each of us a brave defence will make, Less for her own, than for her Lover's sake.

[Ex. Omnes.

ACT V.

SCENE I. The Temple.

After a Noise of fighting, Enter John, Eleazar, and the Pharisees, leading Matthias bound.

Eleaz.

KIll, Kill the Priest! to save whose cursed head The blood of Saints is so profusely shed!

1. Phar.

Make the bold Heathen King his rage repent, Fix the Priests head upon the Battlement.

John.

Yes, Sir, you dye—You have a Tyrant bin.

Eleaz.

Bane of Religion—

2. Phar.

A support of sin!

John.

Greedy of wealth.

Eleaz.

Ambitious and profane!

3. Phar.

Enslaving us that you alone might raign.

1. Phar.

Despising all that our Traditions own.

John.

Hater of Zeal, because your self had none.

Eleaz.

Patron of all that to your side you gain, Proselyte, Gentile, or Samaritan.

2. Phar.

And that, for which you most deserve to dye, An open favourer of Idolatry.

3. Phar.

Yes, Sir, for power you would to Rome have sold Our Temple, Altars, and our sacred Gold; And plac'd their Idols here, provided you

Might have been made a mighty Idol too.

John.

Rome was the Idol which you worship'd here, Your Dagon, Ashtaroth, and Baal-Peor.

Eleaz.

You are her Priest, she plac'd you in the Chair.

1. Phar.

These are her Robes and Ornaments you wear.

2. Phar.

And to your mighty Moloch's bloody Shrine, You did our lives in Sacrifice design.

Matth.

Amazing Impudence!

John.

Come, do not flye To such vain trisles, but prepare to dye: They will not here so easily believe; Let not vain hopes of life your Soul deceive; For though I to your Crimes express some hate, I have a Jewish Charity for that.

Matth.

Oh Heavens!—

John.

What still in this disorder keep! Alas! the doleful Object makes me weep! An aged man!—nay more a reverend Priest! At his last hour in falshood thus persist.

Eleaz.

Tears for such sinners ought not to be spilt.

3. Phar.

His Age and Office aggravates his guilt.

1. Phar.

A Priest sell Heav'n a little power to gain?

Eleaz.

A Priest so proud?

John.

An aged man so vain?

Matth.

Oh! Divine goodness lend my spirit power, To rule it self in this tempestuous hour.

Eleaz.

Come, bind his Eyes.

Matth.

What, in the Temple too? To Heav'n it self is there no reverence due?

2. Phar.

You talk of Heaven!

Eleaz.

You Sacriledge reprove, When if not hinder'd by the Power above, A Tyrant's Image had defil'd this place?

John.

So much dissembling in that aged face!

3. Phar.

Mock Heav'n the instant you expect to dye!

John.

Do you the Being of that Power deny? Methinks if Conscience no respect can gain; Shame before me a little should restrain. Do not I know?—Oh, that I ne're had known; It costs me many a most bitter groan.

Eleaz.

Grieve not your self, your Cause needs no defence.

John.

Oh! Divine Gift! of useful impudence.

[Aside.

Matth.

Oh! glorious Being! for thy Honour's sake, Some swift revenge on these Apostates take.

Eleaz.

Come to the work—Let us no longer wait: But see! the Gentile King has forc'd the Gate.

Omnes.

We are betray'd!

Phraartes, Guard, enter and pursue the Rebels, who re∣tire and shut the door after them.

Phra.

What horrid sight is this?

Sees Matthias bound ready to dye.

To what curst Demon is this Sacrifice? Pursue, pursue the Dogs—

Phin.

This cursed Tower Secures the bloody Rebels from our power.

Phra.

Fire it, let Flames the savage Villains chace.

Phin.

It lodges, Sir, too near this sacred place.

Phra.

The sacred place! there can be no such thing; The world has nothing sacred but a King. I am prophan'd, and I revenge will have.

Matth.

O Truth! why dwell'st thou not in Souls so brave? Calm, Sir, your Royal Soul! your just desire Heav'n will pursue, with swifter wings than fire. Their crying sins that sleepy Vengeance wake, Which mounted, soon their Troops shall overtake. But oh what Crowns in Heav'n are forming now, By Angels hands, for our Preserver's brow?

Phra.

Oh! my good Father! there was once an hour, When you had greater Treasure in your power: Now you may turn me off to Heav'n for pay, For all this Treasure you have given away.

Matth.

When I enjoy'd this Wealth I do not know, Nor yet to whom I did this bounty show?

Phra.

Nay it is that that makes my grief extreme, You have bestow'd it on a Cloud, a Dream. An empty Shadow does my hopes destroy: Were he a Mortal did the Gift enjoy, With Kingdoms I would hire him to resign, Or spight of him my Sword should make it mine.

But like Cambyses here I madly stand, To fight with winds, and conquer flying Sand: Roving imaginations of the mind, That flye around the world, and Reason blind. Forgive my words, forc't from me by my pain; 'Tis of Religion (Father) I complain, And your fair Daughter is the Gift I mean.

Matth.

Has she the subject of this wonder been? Is that the Prize shou'd be so dearly bought, A poor and humble Maid below your thought? She to Religion may her self bestow, Who has no taste of any thing below. And say Religion, Sir, shou'd nothing be, Then nothing best with nothing will agree; And she so little feels the joys of sense, She's next to nothing in indifference. What shou'd she do with Subjects, and a Throne, Who half her life is on her knees alone? She to a Lover will give small delight, Who wastes in Prayer two Watches of the night. Besides, she beauty wants a Throne to grace, And fill with pleasures such a Kings embrace.

Phra.

Good Father, you are skill'd in things above, Leave Beauty to be judg'd by Youth and Love.

[Enter Clarona, Phedra, Women, attended with a Guard.

Clar.

Are my Prayers heard, do I my Father see? And is he safe from Rebels Cruelty?

Matth.

By this great King's protection yet I live, To whom next Heav'n thou must thy praises give, And, wou'd Religion with her title part, On whom thou oughtest to bestow thy heart. Oh! Daughter, we his kindness ill repay; He gives us joy; and we take his away.

Phra.

Yes, Madam, I in insolence improve; For now in spight of your Commands I love. Sentence of Banishment on me you laid, And I some tryals of obedience made: But all my strife with mighty Love was vain, It did compel me to return again, And fix my self on you, my place of rest;

You I must love, and in your love be blest.

Clar.

Still do those thoughts your mighty mind pursue? Alas! they torture me now more than you. Before it was the Parthian King did crave, But now the Prince who did my Father save. He asks my love, to whom my life I owe; Sir, ask me any thing I can bestow, If then I prove to your entreaties rude, Call me a Monster of ingratitude.

Phra.

For the too cruel doom to me decreed, I know you Nature and Religion plead; That both have firmly against love combin'd, Nature has made it hateful to your mind, Religion has deform'd it into sin: But, Madam, I am all a storm within: My Reason cannot hear one word you say; My raging love blows all the sound away.

Matth.

Pity such stormy Passions, Sir, shou'd blow In a brave heart, where such great Vertues grow.

Clar.

With love so generous I cou'd comply, Did not Religion and my Vows deny.

Phra.

No more to me that Dream Religion name, On more substantial Causes lay the blame: Say I have something does your hatred move, Or that I am not worthy of your love: That I'm a banish'd King, and want a Crown, And have not yet reveng'd my wrong'd Renown. Say this, and I will satisfied remain, 'Till I my Honour right, my Empire gain, 'Till Rome, nay 'till the Captive world I bring To beg you to have pity on their King.

Clar.

Sir, for your love, no Beauty upon earth But might adore the Stars that rul'd their birth. In you, Sir, all their longings may be crown'd: Do they love Glory, here 'tis to be found; If Valour, never was a man so brave; If Love, here's all that they can wish to have; If Noble Form, here they may please their sight, With all that is in Nature exquisite.

Phra.

Say all these things, and love deny?

Clar.

I at this Price Eternal Glory buy.

Phra.

Eternal Glory!—Oh! that sounding word! Did it the joy of one hour's love afford, Or what a minute's pleasing Dream bestows, Then you gain'd something for the joys you lose; But do not sacrifice me to a sound, Where no delight or meaning can be found.

Matth.

Your Royal Soul has only yet perus'd The Book of Nature, which is all confus'd: Religion shews you more of heavenly good, Than ever Nature taught or understood.

Clar.

Or truth or falshood which so e're it be, If I believe it, it is truth to me. Then, Sir, forgive me if I dare not love, I dare not to Religion faithless prove. Suppose, Sir, I had vow'd my self to you, Wou'd you be willing I shou'd prove untrue? And if I break my Vows with Powers above, Consider I may then prove false to Love.

Phra.

Then give to Heav'n the Soul which you have vow'd, But let these Beauties be on Love bestow'd. Let me enjoy those Hands, those Lips, those Eyes, Which only flesh and blood know how to prize, And will not Heaven's estate at all impair, And I will be contented with my share.

Clar.

All is Religion's.

Phra.

Do not tell me, all!—

Clar.

It is too late my Vows, Sir, to recall.

Phra.

All or not all, Heaven's right retain or give; Love must have something that he may but live.

Clar.

What, Father, can be done?

Matth.

I do not know, Fain wou'd I pay the mighty debt we owe.

Clar.

Me from my birth your self to Altars vowed.

Matth.

But by the Law Redemption is allowed.

Phra.

Oh! blessed News! some hope is drawing nigh! Can I her freedom with my Kingdom buy?

Matth.

Much lower price will do it—keep your Crown, Heav'n needs it not, the world is all his own.

Clar.

I've vow'd my self,

Matth.

That is as I allow: Subjects and Children have no right to vow. When Kings or Parents their consent deny, A Solemn League is solemn Villany. But oh! I gave you my consent with joy.

Matth.

Oh! do not now my infant hopes destroy!

Matth.

Alas! my Reason no more aid can lend.

Phra.

How long shall I with Shadows here contend? I'm kept a Pris'ner in religious Rules,

[Aside.

And holy Laws the common Jail of Fools. That I cou'd travel to some happy Star, Or other worlds remov'd from this so far, Where the great Bell Religion is not heard, Nor men out of the use of Reason scar'd; Where happy Souls enjoy unbroken rests, And have not their delights disturb'd by Priests, Who dayly tolling of this Bell are found, And no man lives out of the frightful sound.

Matth.

I see I'm thrust on ill, deny or grant, I must rob Heaven, or let you starve for want. Men are all cruelty, but Heav'n will spare, I'le trust him, and religious sufferings bear. Take her, but know I steal from wealth divine, And for your use the Gold of Altars coin.

Clar.

Who gave my being, may of me dispose, I yield the Gift a Fathers right bestows.

Phra.

Soul summon all thy force thy joy to bear, Whilst on this hand eternal love I swear.

Clar.

Now I am wholly at the Kings Commands, I kneel and beg most humbly at his hands, My joy, my peace, my everlasting Crown, All which I've humbly at his feet laid down.

Phra.

What means my Queen? what is it she wou'd have?

Clar.

What I have sworn to carry to my Grave, And must, or perish in its just defence, I mean my spotless Virgin innocence.

Phra.

Was e're such a request to Lover made? Think you that such Commands can be obey'd?

Clar.

Yes, or for ever I must wretched prove.

Phra.

Ask not, unless you think I do not love.

Clar.

Sir, if you do, then let your love be seen.

Phra.

It quickly shall—I'le make you such a Queen—

Clar.

You may, the happiest that did ever Reign, By your restoring Heaven to me again.

Phra.

To night I'le give it in your Bridal Bed.

Clar.

First round the world let me in Chains be led.

Phra.

These are not sure your thoughts, think once again.

Clar.

The resolution I'le to death retain.

Phra.

Is this my Bridal Song? a sweeter sound Should in that heavenly voice methinks be found. Altars, to your omnipotence I bow, From me you force what Armies cou'd not do: What you will have, no power can retain. Fair Saint! I give you to your Vows again. Sleep on and dream of mighty things above, I will not wake you any more with love.

Matth.

Live, King Phraartes, let Jerusalem ring.

Clar.

All chaste and holy Maids his praises sing.

All.

Long live King Phraartes!

Phra.

But must I all of you to Heaven resign? May not this Hand, those charming Eyes be mine?

Clar.

I'le grant the King, sure, any modest Prayer.

Phra.

Pray give me all of you that Heaven can spare.

Clar.

You shall have all the joys in friendship's store.

Phra.

I'le be content, since I must have no more. You shall remain my sacred Maiden Queen, A glorious Treasure only to be seen.

All.

Long live King Phraartes.

[Enter Messenger, Sagan, and Phineas▪

Mess.

Ah, Sir, new terrour the whole City fills, An Army covers all the Neighbouring Hills; A dreadful shadow o're each Valley falls, And Roman Eagles hover near our Walls. Queen Berenice, transported with the sight, Prepares her Chariots to be gone to night; The raging People rouz'd with these Alarms, In wild distractions all betake to Arms.

Phra.

Friend thou dost glorious tydings to me bring, Now there is business worthy of a King.

Matth.

Arriv'd e're we are fitted for defence.

Phin.

We have been wrong'd with false Intelligence.

Sag.

Sure all our Scouts have been surpriz'd, or slain!

Matth.

Haste, lest the Thieves by this advantage gain, Shut all the Gates, and guard the outward Courts, But chiefly watch the Rebels strong resorts: Then place our Standard by the Camp Divine, And there in Arms let all the People join.

Phin.

Sure they a resolute defence will make, Since in the Town our Nation lies at stake; Hither our Tribes are from all places come, Fear has drove thousands, and devotion some. Some for the Passeover that's drawing nigh, But thousands only here for refuge flye. These Buildings harbour, on a various score, Two hundred Legions of our Race and more. But on what e're intent they here prepare, They to their wealth and lives devotion bear.

Matth.

Let 'em all Arm—for though the Foe is brave, I on no terms a Peace with Rome will have. The Cause is Heaven's, and let the Power Divine Relinquish me, if I his right resign.

Phra.

Father, your Foes already have their doom; Triumph this moment for the fall of Rome: Her slaughter'd Legions feed your Beasts and Fowls, Dung Earth with Carcases, and Hell with Souls; The Chains of all the Captive Kings, and States Their Power oppress, are fallen at your Gates: Hither by Fate is all their Glory hurl'd, Stoop and take up the Empire of the World. For he who Being to Clarona gave, Ought the World's Empire in reward to have.

[Exeunt omnes,