How oft have I with publike voyce runne on?

To censure Romes last Hero for deceit:

Because he wept when Pompeis life was gone,

Yet when he liv’d, hee thought his Name too great.

But now I doe recant, and Roman Lord

Excuse too rash a judgement in a woman:

My Sexe pleads pardon, pardon then afford,

Mistaking is with us, but too too common.

Now doe I finde by selfe Experience taught,

One Object yeelds both griefe and joy:

You wept indeed, when on his worth you thought,

But joyd that slaughter did your Fœ destroy.

So at his death your Eyes true droppes did raine,

Whom dead, you did not wish alive againe.

When Herod livd, that now is done to death,

Oft have I wisht that I from him were free:

Oft have I wisht that he might lose his breath,

Oft have I wisht his Carkas dead to see.

Then Rage and Scorne had put my love to flight,

That Love which once on him was firmely set:

Hate hid his true affection from my sight,

And kept my heart from paying him his debt.

And blame me not, for Herods Jealousie

Had power even constancie itselfe to change:

For hee by barring me from libertie,

To shunne my ranging, taught me first to range.

But yet too chast a Scholler was my hart,

To learne to love another then my Lord:

To leave his Love, my lessons former part,

A3 I A3v

I quickly learn’d, the other I abhord.

But now his death to memorie doth call,

The tender love, that he to Mariam bare:

And mine to him, this makes those rivers fall,

Which by an other thought unmoistned are.

For Aristobolus the lowlyest youth

That ever did in Angels shape appeare:

The cruell Herod was not mov’d to ruth,

Then why grieves Mariam Herods death to heare?

Why joy I not the tongue no more shall speake,

That yeelded forth my brothers latest dome:

Both youth and beautie might thy furie breake,

And both in him did ill befit a Tombe.

And worthy Grandsire ill did he requite,

His high Assent alone by thee procur’d,

Except he murdred thee to free the spright

Which still he thought on earth too long immur’d.

How happie was it that Sohemus maide

Was mov’d to pittie my distrest estate:

Might Herods life a trustie servant finde,

My death to his had bene unseparate.

These thoughts have power, his death to make me
beare,

Nay more, to wish the newes may firmely hold:

Yet cannot this repulse some falling teare,

That will against my will some griefe unfold.

And more I owe him for his love to me,

The deepest love that ever yet was seene:

Yet had I rather much a milke-maide bee,

Then be the Monarke of Judeas Queene.

It was for nought but love, he wisht his end

Might to my death, but the vaunt-currier prove:

But I had rather still be foe then friend,

To him that saves for hate, and kills for love.

Hard-hearted Mariam, at thy discontent,

What flouds of teares have drencht his manly face?

How canst thou then so faintly now lament,

Thy truest lovers death, a deaths disgrace:

I now mine eyes you do begin to right

Th A4r

The wrongs of your admirer: And my Lord,

Long since you should have put your smiles to flight,

Ill doth a widowed eye with joy accord.

Why now me thinkes the love I bare him then,

When virgin freedome left me unrestraind:

Doth to my heart begin to creepe agen,

My passion now is far from being faind.

But teares flie backe, and hide you in your bankes,

You must not be to Alexandra seene:

For if my mone be spide, but little thankes

Shall Mariam have, from that incensed Queene.

What meanes these teares? my Mariam doth
mistake,

The newes we heard did tell the Tyrants end:

What weepst thou for thy brothers murthers sake,

Will ever wight a teare for Herod spend?

My curse pursue his breathles trunke and spirit,

Base Edomite the damned Esaus heire:

Must he ere Jacobs child the crowne inherit?

Must he vile wretch be set in Davids chaire?

No Davids soule within the bosome plac’te,

Of our forefather Abram was asham’d:

To see his seat with such a toade disgrac’te,

That seat that hath by Judas race bene fain’d.

Thou fatall enemie to royall blood,

Did not the murther of my boy suffice,

To stop thy cruell mouth that gaping stood?

But must thou dim the milde Hercanus eyes?

My gratious father, whose too readie hand

Did lift this Idumean from the dust:

And he ungratefull catiffe did withstand,

The man that did in him most friendly trust.

What kingdomes right could cruell Herod claime,

Was he not Esaus Issue, heyre of hell?

Then what succession can he have but shame?

Did not his Ancestor his birth-right sell?

O A4v

O yes, he doth from Edoms name derive,

His cruell nature which with blood is fed:

That made him me of Sire and sonne deprive,

He ever thirsts for blood, and blood is red.

Weepst thou because his love to thee was bent?

And readst thou love in crimson caracters?

Slew he thy friends to worke thy hearts content?

No: hate may Justly call that action hers.

He gave the sacred Priesthood for thy sake,

To Aristobolus. Yet doomde him dead:

Before his backe the Ephod warme could make,

And ere the Myter setled on his head.

Oh had he given my boy no lesse then right,

The double oyle should to his forehead bring:

A double honour, shining doubly bright,

His birth annoynted him both Priest and King.

And say my father, and my sonne he slewe,

To royalize by right your Prince borne breath:

Was love the cause, can Mariam deeme it true,

That Mariam gave commandment for her death?

I know by fits, he shewd some signes of love,

And yet not love, but raging lunacie:

And this his hate to thee may justly prove,

That sure he hates Hercanus familie.

Who knowes if he unconstant wavering Lord,

His love to Doris had renew’d againe?

And that he might his bed to her afford,

Perchance he wisht that Mariam might be slaine.

Doris, Alas her time of love was past,

Those coales were rakte in embers long agoe:

If Mariams love and she was now disgrast,

Nor did I glorie in her overthrowe.

He not a whit his first borne sonne esteem’d,

Because as well as his he was not mine:

My children onely for his owne he deem’d,

These boyes that did descend from royall line.

These did he stile his heyres to Davids throne,

My Alexander if he live, shall sit

In B1r

In the Majesticke seat of Salomon,

To will it so, did Herod thinke it fit.

Why? who can claime from Alexanders brood

That Gold adorned Lyon-guarded Chaire?

Was Alexander not of Davids blood?

And was not Mariam Alexanders heire?

What more then right could Herod then bestow,

And who will thinke except for more then right,

He did not raise them, for they were not low,

But borne to weare the Crowne in his despight:

Then send those teares away that are not sent

To thee by reason, but by passions power:

Thine eyes to cheere, thy cheekes to smiles be bent,

And entertaine with joy this happy houre.

Felicitie, if when shee comes, she findes

A mourning habite, and a cheerlesse looke,

Will thinke she is not welcome to thy minde,

And so perchance her lodging will not brooke.

Oh keepe her whilest thou hast her, if she goe

She will not easily returne againe:

Full many a yeere have I indur’d in woe,

Yet still have sude her presence to obtaine:

And did not I to her as presents send

A Table, that best Art did beautifie

Of two, to whom Heaven did best feature lend,

To woe her love by winning Anthony:

For when a Princes favour we doe crave,

We first their Mynions loves do seeke to winne:

So I, that sought Felicitie to have,

Did with her Mynion Anthony beginne,

With double flight I sought to captivate

The warlike lover, but I did not right:

For if my gift had borne but halfe the rate,

The Roman had beene over-taken quite.

But now he fared like a hungry guest,

That to some plenteous festivall is gone,

Now this, now that, hee deems to eate were best,

Such choice doth make him let them all alone.

B The B1v

The boyes large forehead first did fayrest seeme

Then glaunst his eye upon my Mariams cheeke:

And that without comparison did deeme,

What was in eyther but he most did seeke.

And thus distracted, eythers beauties might

Within the others excellence was drown’d:

Too much delight did bare him from delight,

For eithers love, the others did confound.

Where if thy portraiture had onely gone,

His life from Herod, Anthony had taken:

He would have loved thee, and thee alone,

And left the browne Egyptian cleane forsaken.

And Cleopatra then to seeke had bene,

So firme a lover of her wayned face:

Then great Anthonius fall we had not seene,

By her that fled to have him holde the chase.

Then Mariam in a Romans Chariot set,

In place of Cleopatra might have showne:

A mart of Beauties in her visage met,

And part in this, that they were all her owne.

Not to be Emprise of aspiring Rome,

Would Mariam like to Cleopatra live:

With purest body will I presse my Toome,

And wish no favours Anthony could give.

Let us retire us, that we may resolve

How now to deale in this reversed state:

Great are th’affaires that we must now revolve,

And great affaires must not be taken late.

More plotting yet? Why? now you have the thing

For which so oft you spent your supliant breath:

And Mariam hopes to have another King,

Her eyes doe sparkle joy for Herods death.

Alex. B2r

If she desir’d another King to have,

She might before she came in Herods bed

Have had her wish. More Kings then one did crave,

For leave to set a Crowne upon her head.

I thinke with more then reason she laments,

That she is freed from such a sad annoy:

Who ist will weepe to part from discontent,

And if she joy, she did not cause lesse joy.

You durst not thus have given your tongue the
raine,

If noble Herod still remaind in life:

Your daughters betters farre I dare maintaine,

Might have rejoyc’d to be my brothers wife.

My betters farre, base woman t’is untrue,

You scarce have ever my superiors seene:

For Mariams servants were as good as you,

Before she came to be Judeas Queene.

Now stirs the tongue that is so quickly mov’d,

But more then once your collor have I borne:

Your fumish words are sooner sayd then prov’d,

And Salomes reply is onely scorne.

Scorne those that are for thy companions
held,

Though I thy brothers face had never seene,

My birth, thy baser birth so farre exceld,

I had to both of you the Princesse bene.

Thou party Jew, and party Edomite,

Thou Mongrell: issu’d from rejected race,

Thy Ancestors against the Heavens did fight,

And thou like them wilt heavenly birth disgrace.

Still twit you me with nothing but my birth,

What ods betwixt your ancestors and mine?

Both borne of Adam, both were made of Earth,

And both did come from holy Abrahams line.

I favour thee when nothing else I say,

With thy blacke acts ile not pollute my breath:

Else to thy charge I mightfull justly lay

A shamefull life, besides a husbands death.

Tis true indeed, I did the plots reveale,

That past betwixt your favorites and you:

I ment not I, a traytor to conceale.

B2 Thus B2v

Thus Salome your Mynion Joseph slue.

Heaven, dost thou meane this Infamy to smother?

Let slandred Mariam ope thy closed eare:

Selfe-guilt hath ever bene suspitious mother,

And therefore I this speech with patience beare.

No, had not Salome unstedfast heart,

In Josephes stead her Constabarus plast,

To free her selfe, she had not usde the art,

To slander haplesse Mariam for unchast.

Come Mariam, let us goe: it is no boote

To let the head contend against the foote.

Lives Salome, to get so base a stile

As foote, to the proud Mariam Herods spirit:

In happy time for her endured exile,

For did he live she should not misse her merit:

But he is dead: and though he were my Brother,

His death such store of Cinders cannot cast

My Coales of love to quench: for though they smother

The flames a while, yet will they out at last.

Oh blest Arabia, in best climate plast,

I by the Fruit will censure of the Tree:

Tis not in vaine, thy happy name thou hast,

If all Arabians like Silleus bee:

Had not my Fate bene too too contrary,

When I on Constabarus first did gaze,

Silleus had beene object to mine eye:

Whose lookes and personage must allyes amaze.

But now ill Fated Salome, thy tongue

To Constabarus by it selfe is tide:

And now except I doe the Ebrew wrong

I cannot be the faire Arabian Bride:

What childish lets are these? Why stand I now

On honourable points? Tis long agoe

Since B3r

Since shame was written on my tainted brow:

And certaine tis, that shame is honours foe.

Had I upon my reputation stood,

Had I affected an unspotted life,

Josephus vaines had still bene stuft with blood,

And I to him had liv’d a sober wife.

Then had I never cast an eye of love,

On Constabarus now detested face,

Then had I kept my thoughts without remove:

And blusht at motion of the least disgrace:

But shame is gone, and honour wipt away,

And Impudencie on my forehead sits:

She bids me worke my will without delay,

And for my will I will imploy my wits.

He loves, I love; what then can be the cause,

Keepes me for being the Arabians wife?

It is the principles of Moses lawes,

For Constabarus still remaines in life,

If he to me did beare as Earnest hate,

As I to him, for him there were an ease,

A separating bill might free his fate:

From such a yoke that did so much displease.

Why should such priviledge to man be given?

Or given to them, why bard from women then?

Are men then we in greater grace with Heaven?

Or cannot women hate as well as men?

Ile be the custome-breaker: and beginne

To shew my Sexe the way to freedomes doore,

And with an offring will I purge my sinne,

The lawe was made for none but who are poore.

If Herod had liv’d, I might to him accuse

My present Lord. But for the futures sake

Then would I tell the King he did refuse

The sonnes of Baba in his power to take.

But now I must divorse him from my bed,

That my Seilleus may possesse his roome:

Had I not begd his life he had bene dead,

I curse my tongue the hindrer of his doome,

B3 But B3v

But then my wandring heart to him was fast,

Nor did I dreame of chaunge: Silleus said,

He would be here, and see he comes at last,

Had I not nam’d him longer had he staid.

Well found faire Salome Judeas pride,

Hath my innated wisedome found
the way

To make Silleus deeme him deified,

By gaining thee a more then precious pray?

I have devisde the best I can devise,

A more imperfect meanes was never found:

But what cares Salome, it doth suffice

If our indevours with their end be crown’d.

In this our land we have an ancient use,

Permitted first by our law-givers head:

Who hates his wife, though for no just abuse,

May with a bill divorce her from his bed.

But in this custome women are not free,

Yet I for once will wrest it, blame not thou

The ill I doe, since what I do’es for thee,

Though others blame, Silleus should allow.

Thinkes Salome, Silleus hath a tongue

To censure her faire actions: let thy blood

Bedash my proper brow, for such a wrong,

The being yours, can make even vices good:

Arabia joy, prepare thy earth with greene,

Thou never happie were indeed till now:

Now shall thy ground be trod by beauties Queene,

Her foote is destin’d to depresse thy brow.

Thou shalt faire Salome commaund as much

As if the royall ornament were thine:

The weaknes of Arabias King is such,

The kingdome is not his so much as mine:

My mouth is our Obodas oracle,

Who thinkes not ought but what Silleus will?

And B4r

And thou rare creature. Asias miracle,

Shalt be to me as It: Obodas still.

Tis not for glory I thy love accept,

Judea yeelds me honours worthy store:

Had not affection in my bosome crept,

My native country should my life deplore.

Were not Silleus he with home I goe,

I would not change my Palastine for Rome:

Much lesse would I a glorious state to shew,

Goe far to purchase an Arabian toome.

Far be it from Silleus so to thinke,

I know it is thy gratitude requites

The love that is in me, and shall not shrinke

Till death doe sever me from earths delights.

But whist; me thinkes the wolfe is in our
talke,

Be gone Silleus, who doth here arrive?

Tis Constabarus that doth hither walke,

Ile find a quarrell, him from me to drive.

Farewell, but were it not for thy commaund,

In his despight Silleus here would stand.

Oh Salome, how much you wrōong your name,

Your race, your country, and your husband
most?

A straungers private conference is shame,

I blush for you, that have your blushing lost.

Oft have I found, and found you to my griefe,

Consorted with this base Arabian heere:

Heaven knowes that you have bin my comfort chiefe,

Then doe not now my greater plague appeare.

Now by the stately Carved edifice

That on Mount Sion makes so faire a show,

And by the Altar fit for sacrifice,

I love thee more then thou thy selfe doest know.

Oft with a silent sorrow have I heard

How ill Judeas mouth doth censure thee:

And B4v

And did I not thine honour much regard,

Thou shouldst not be exhorted thus for mee.

Didst thou but know the worth of honest fame,

How much a vertuous woman is esteem’d,

Thou wouldest like hell eschew deserved shame,

And seeke to be both chast and chastly deem’d.

Our wisest Prince did say, and true he said,

A vertuous woman crownes her husbands head.

Did I for this, upreare thy lowe estate?

Did I for this requitall begge thy life,

That thou hadst forfeited haples fate?

To be to such a thankles wretch the wife.

This hand of mine hath lifted up thy head,

Which many a day agoe had falne full lowe,

Because the sonnes of Baba are not dead,

To me thou doest both life and fortune owe.

You have my patience often exercisde,

Use make my choller keepe within the bankes:

Yet boast no more, but be by me advisde.

A benefit upbraided, forfeits thankes:

I prethy Salome dismisse this mood,

Thou doest not know how ill it fits thy place:

My words were all intended for thy good,

To raise thine honour and to stop disgrace.

To stop disgrace? take thou no care for mee,

Nay do thy worst, thy worst I set not by:

No shame of mine is like to light on thee,

Thy love and admonitions I defie.

Thou shalt no hower longer call me wife,

Thy Jealousie procures my hate so deepe:

That I from thee doe meane to free my life,

By a divorcing bill before I sleepe.

Are Hebrew women now trasform’d to men?

Why do’ you not as well our battels fight,

And weare our armour? suffer this, and then

Let all the world be topsie turuned quite.

Let fishes graze, beastes, swine, and birds descend,

Let fire burne downewards whilst the earth aspires:

Let C1r

Let Winters heat and Summers cold offend,

Let Thistels growe on Vines, and Grapes on Briers,

Set us to Spinne or Sowe, or at the best

Make us Wood-hewers, Waters-bearing wights:

For sacred service let us take no rest,

Use us as Joshua did the Gibonites.

Hold on your talke, till it be time to end,

For me I am resolv’d it shall be so:

Though I be first that to this course do bend,

I shall not be the last full well I know.

Why then be witnesse Heav’n, the Judge of
sinnes,

Be witnesse Spirits that eschew the darke:

Be witnesse Angels, witnesse Cherubins,

Whose semblance sits upon the holy Arke:

Be witnesse earth, be witnesse Palestine,

Be witnesse Davids Citie, if my heart

Did ever merit such an act of thine:

Or if the fault be mine that makes us part,

Since mildest Moses friend unto the Lord,

Did worke his wonders in the land of Ham,

And slew the first-borne Babes without a sword,

In signe whereof we eate the holy Lambe:

Till now that foureteene hundred yeeres are past,

Since first the Law with us hath beene in force:

You are the first, and will I hope, be last,

That ever sought her husband to divorce.

I meane not to be led by president,

My will shall be to me in stead of Law.

I feare me much you will too late repent,

That you have ever liv’d so void of awe:

This is Silleus love that makes you thus

Reverse all order: you must next be his.

But if my thoughts aright the cause discusse,

In winning you, he gaines no lasting blisse,

I was Silleus and not long agoe

Josephus then was Constabarus now:

When you became my friend you prov’d his foe,

As now for him you breake to me your vowd.

C Salom. C1v

If once I lov’d you, greater is your debt:

For certaine tis that you deserved it not.

And undeserved love we soone forget,

And therefore that to me can be no blot.

But now fare ill my once beloved Lord,

Yet never more belov’d then now abhord.

Yet Constabarus biddeth thee farewell.

Farewell light creature. Heaven forgive thy sinne:

My prophecying spirit doth foretell

Thy wavering thoughts doe yet but new beginne.

Yet I have better scap’d then Joseph did,

But if our Herods death had bene delayd,

The valiant youths that I so long have hid,

Had bene by her, and I for them betrayd.

Therefore in happy houre did Caesar give

The fatall blow to wanton Anthony:

For had he lived, our Herod then should live,

But great Anthonius death made Herod dye.

Had he enjoyed his breath, not I alone

Had beene in danger of a deadly fall:

But Mariam had the way of perill gone,

Though by the Tyrant most belov’d of all.

The sweet fac’d Mariam as free from guilt

As Heaven from spots, yet had her Lord come backe

Her purest blood had bene unjustly spilt.

And Salome it was would worke her wracke.

Though all Judea yeeld her innocent,

She often hath bene neere to punishment.

Then C2r

Tis time Graphina, now the time drawes nye

Wherein the holy Priest with hallowed right,

C2 The C2v

The happy long desired knot shall tie,

Pheroras and Graphina to unite:

How oft have I with lifted hands implor’d

This blessed houre, till now implord in vaine,

Which hath my wished libertie restor’d,

And made my subject selfe my owne againe.

Thy love faire Mayd upon mine eye doth sit,

Whose nature hot doth dry the moysture all,

Which were in nature, and in reason fit

For my monachall Brothers death to fall:

Had Herod liv’d, he would have pluckt my hand

From faire Graphinas Palme perforce: and tide

The same in hatefull and despised band,

For I had had a Baby to my Bride:

Scarce can her Infant tongue with easie voice

Her name distinguish to anothers eare:

Yet had he liv’d, his power, and not my choise

Had made me solembly the contract sweare.

Have I not cause in such a change to joy?

What? though she be my Neece, a Princesse borne:

Neere bloods without respect: high birth a toy.

Since Love can teach blood and kindreds scorne.

What booted it that he did raise my head,

To be his Realmes Copartner, Kingdomes mate,

Withall, he kept Graphina from my bed,

More wisht by me then thrice Judeas state.

Oh, could not he be skilfull Judge in love,

That doted so upon his Mariams face?

He, for his passion, Doris did remove.

I needed not a lawfull Wife displace,

It could not be but he had power to judge,

But he that never grudg’d a Kingdomes share,

This well knowne happinesse to me did grudge:

And ment to be therein without compare.

Else had I bene his equall in loves hoast,

For though the Diadem on Mariams head

Corrupt the vulgar judgements, I will boast

Graphina: brow’s as white, her cheekes as red.

Why C3r

Why speaks thou not faire creature? move thy tongue,

For Silence is a signe of discontent:

It were to both our loves too great a wrong

If now this hower do find thee sadly bent.

Mistake me not my Lord, too oft have I

Desir’d this time to come with winged feete,

To be inwrapt with griefe when tis too nie,

You know my wishes ever yours did meete:

If I be silent, tis no more but feare

That I should say too little when I speake:

But since you will my imperfections beare,

In spight of doubt I will my silence breake:

Yet might amazement tie my moving tongue,

But that I know before Pheroras minde,

I have admired your affection long:

And cannot yet therein a reason finde.

Your hand hath lifted me from lowest state,

To highest eminencie wondrous grace,

And me your hand-maid have you made your mate,

Though all but you alone doe count me base.

You have preserved me pure at my request,

Though you so weake a vassaile might constraine

To yeeld to your high will, then last not best

In my respect a Princesse you disdaine,

Then need not all these favours studie crave,

To be requited by a simple maide:

And studie still you know must silence have,

Then be my cause for silence justly waide,

But studie cannot boote nor I requite,

Except your lowly hand-maides steadfast love

And fast obedience may your mind delight,

I will not promise more then I can prove.

That studie needs not let Graphina smile,

And I desire no greater recompence:

I cannot vaunt me in a glorious stile,

Nor shew my love in far-fetcht eloquence:

But this beleeve me, never Herods heart

Hath held his Prince-borne beautie famed wife

C3 In C3v

In neerer place then thou faire virgin art,

To him that holds the glory of his life.

Should Herods body leave the Sepulcher,

And entertaine the sever’d ghost againe:

He should not be my nuptiall hinderer,

Except he hindred it with dying paine.

Come faire Graphina, let us goe in state,

This wish-indeered time to celebrate.

Now valiant friend you have our lives redeem’d,

Which lives as sav’d by you, to you are due:

Command and you shall see your selfe esteem’d,

Our lives and liberties belong to you.

This twice sixe yeares with hazard of your life,

You have conceal’d us from the tyrants sword:

Though cruell Herods sister were your wife,

You durst in scorne of feare this grace afford.

In recompence we know not what to say,

A poore reward were thankes for such a merit,

Our truest friendship at your feete we lay,

The best requitall to a noble spirit.

Oh how you wrong our friendship valiant
youth,

With friends there is not such a word as det:

Where amitie is tide with bond of truth,

All benefits are there in common set.

Then is the golden age with them renew’d,

All names of properties are banisht quite:

Division, and distinction, are eschew’d:

Each hath to what belongs to others right.

And tis not sure so full a benefit,

Freely to give, as freely to requite:

A bountious act hath glory following it,

They cause the glory that the act desire.

All C4r

All friendship should the patterne imitate,

Of Jesses Sonne and valiant Jonathane:

For neither Soveraignes nor fathers hate,

A friendship fixt on vertue sever can.

Too much of this, tis written in the heart,

And need no amplifying with the tongue:

Now may you from your living tombe depart,

Where Herods life hath kept you over long.

Too great an injury to a noble minde,

To be quicke buried, you had purchast fame,

Some yeares a goe, but that you were confinde.

While thousand meaner did advance their name.

Your best of life the prime of all your yeares,

Your time of action is from you bereft.

Twelve winters have you operpast in feares:

Yet if you use it well, enough is left.

And who can doubt but you will use it well?

The sonnes of Babus have it by descent:

In all their thoughts each action to excell,

Boldly to act, and wisely to invent.

Had it not like the hatefull cuckoe beene,

Whose riper age his infant nurse doth kill:

So long we had not kept our selves unseene,

But Constabarus safely crost our will:

For had the Tyrant fixt his cruell eye,

On our concealed faces wrath had swaide

His Justice so, that he had forst us die.

And dearer price then life we should have paid,

For you our truest friend had falne with us:

And we much like a house on pillers set,

Had cleane deprest our prop, and therefore thus

Our readie will with our concealement met.

But now that you faire Lord are daungerlesse,

The Sonnes of Baba shall their rigor show:

And prove it was not basenes did oppresse

Our hearts so long, but honour kept them low.

Yet do I feare this tale of Herods death,

At last will prove a very tale indeed:

It C4v

It gives me strongly in my minde, his breath

Will be preserv’d to make a number bleed:

I wish not therefore to be set at large,

Yet perill to my selfe I do not leare:

Let us for some daies longer be your charge,

Till we of Herods state the truth do heare.

What art thou turn’d a coward noble youth,

That thou beginst to doubt, undoubted truth?

Were it my brothers tongue that cast
this doubt,

I frōom his hart would have the question out:

With this keene fauchion, but tis you my Lord

Against whose head I must not lift a sword:

I am so tide in gratitude

believe

You have no cause to take it ill,

If any word of mine your heart did grieve

The word discented from the speakers will,

I know it was not feare the doubt begun,

But rather valour and your care of me,

A coward could not be your fathers sonne,

Yet know I doubts unnecessarie be:

For who can thinke that in Anthonius fall,

Herod his bosome friend should scape unbrusde:

Then Cæsar we might thee an idiot call,

If thou by him should’st be so farre abusde.

Lord Constab: let me tell you this,

Upon submission Cæsar will forgive:

And therefore though the tyrant did amisse,

It may fall out that he will let him live.

Not many yeares agone it is since I

Directed thither by my fathers care,

In famous Rome for twice twelve monthes did live,

My life from Hebrewes crueltie to spare,

There though I were but yet of boyish age,

I bent mine eye to marke, mine eares to heare.

Where I did see Octavious then a page,

When first he did to Julious sight appeare:

Me thought I saw such mildnes in his face,

And such a sweetnes in his lookes did grow,

Withall D1r

Withall, commixt with so majesticke grace,

His Phismony his Fortune did foreshow:

For this I am indebted to mine eye,

But then mine eare receiv’d more evidence,

By that I knew his love to clemency,

How he with hottest choller could dispence.

But we have more then barely heard the news,

It hath bin twice confirm’d. And though some tongue

Might be so false, with false reporte t’abuse,

A false report hath never lasted long.

But be it so that Herod have his life,

Concealement would not then a whit availe:

For certaine t’is, that she that was my wife,

Would not to set her accusation faile.

And therefore now as good the venture give,

And free our selves from blot of cowardise:

As show a pittifull desire to live,

For, who can pittie but they must despise?

I yeeld, but to necessitie I yeeld,

I dare upon this doubt ingage mine arme:

That Herod shall againe this kingdome weeld,

And prove his death to be a false alarme.

I doubt it too: God grant it be an error,

Tis best without a cause to be in terror:

And rather had I, though my soule be mine,

My soule should lie, then prove a true divine.

Come, come, let feare goe seeke a dastards
nest,

Undanted courage lies in a noble brest.

Your royall buildings bow your loftie side,

And scope to her that is by right your Queene:

D Let D1v

Let your humilitie upbraid the pride

Of those in whom no due respect is seene:

Nine times have we with Trumpets haughtie sound,

And banishing sow’r Leaven from our taste:

Observ’d the feast that takes the fruit from ground.

Since I faire Citie did behold thee last,

So long it is since Mariams purer cheeke

Did rob from mine the glory. And so long

Since I returnd my native Towne to seeke:

And with me nothing but the sence of wrong.

And thee my Boy, whose birth though great it were,

Yet have thy after fortunes prov’d but poore:

When thou wert borne how little did I feare

Thou shouldst be thrust from forth thy Fathers doore.

Art thou not Herods right begotten Sonne?

Was not the haples Doris, Herods wife?

Yes: ere he had the Hebrew kingdome wonne,

I was companion to his private life.

Was I not faire enough to be a Queene?

Why ere thou wert to me false Monarch tide,

My lake of beauty might as well be seene,

As after I had liv’d five yeeres thy Bride.

Yet then thine oath came powring like the raine,

Which all affirm’d my face without compare:

And that if thou might’st Doris love obtaine,

For all the world besides thou didst not care.

Then was I yong, and rich, and nobly borne,

And therefore worthy to be Herods mate:

Yet thou ungratefull cast me off with scorne,

When Heavens purpose raisd your meaner fate.

Oft have I begd for vengeance for this fact,

And with dejected knees, aspiring hands

Have prayd the highest power to inact

The fall of her that on my Trophee stands.

Revenge I have according to my will,

Yet where I wisht this vengeance did not light:

I wisht it should high-hearted Mariam kill.

But it against my whilome Lord did fight

With D2r

With thee sweet Boy I came, and came to try

If thou before his bastards might be plac’d

In Herods royall seat and dignitie.

But Mariams infants here are onely grac’d,

And now for us there doth no hope remaine:

Yet we will not returne till Herods end

Be more confirmd, perchance he is not slaine.

So glorious Fortunes may my Boy attend,

For if he live, hee’ll thinke it doth suffice,

That he to Doris shows such crueltie:

For as he did my wretched life dispise,

So doe I know I shall despised die.

Let him but prove as naturall to thee,

As cruell to thy miserable mother:

His crueltie shall not upbraided bee

But in thy fortunes. I his faults will smother.

Each mouth within the Citie loudly cries

That Herods death is certaine: therefore wee

Had best some subtill hidden plot devise,

That Mariams children might subverted bee,

By poisons drinke, or else by murtherous Knife,

So we may be advanc’d, it skils not how:

They are but Bastards, you were Herods wife,

And foule adultery blotteth Mariams brow.

They are too strong to be by us remov’d,

Or else revenges foulest spotted face:

By our detested wrongs might be approv’d,

But weaknesse must to greater power give place.

But let us now retire to grieve alone,

For solitarines best fitteth mone.

Well met Judean Lord, the onely wight

Silleus wisht to see. I am to call

D2 Thy D2v

Thy tongue to strict account.

For what despight

I ready am to heare, and answere all.

But if directly at the cause I gesse

That breeds this challenge, you must pardon me:

And now some other ground of fight professe,

For I have vow’d, vowes must unbroken be.

What may be your expectation? let me know.

Why? ought concerning Salom, my sword

Shall not be welded for a cause so low,

A blow for her my arme will scorne t’afford.

It is for slandering her unspotted name,

And I will make thee in thy vowes despight,

Sucke up the breath that did my Mistris blame,

And swallow it againe to doe her right.

I prethee give some other quarrell ground

To finde beginning, rule against my name:

Or strike me first, or let some scarlet wound

Inflame my courage, give me words of shame,

Doe thou our Moses sacred Lawes disgrace,

Deprave our nation, doe me some despight:

I’m apt enough to fight in any case,

But yet for Salome I will not fight.

Nor I for ought but Salome: My sword

That owes his service to her sacred name:

Will not an edge for other cause afford,

In other fight I am not sure of fame.

For her, I pitty thee enough already,

For her, I therefore will not mangle thee:

A woman with a heart so most unsteady,

Will of her selfe sufficient torture bee.

I cannot envy for so light a gaine,

Her minde with such unconstancie doth runne:

As with a word thou didst her love obtaine,

So with a word she will from thee be wonne.

So light as her possessions for most day

Is her affections lost, to me tis knowne:

As good goe hold the winde as make her stay,

Shee never loves, but till she call her owne.

She D3r

She meerly is a painted sepulcher,

That is both faire, and vilely foule at once:

Though on her out-side graces garnish her,

Her mind is fild with worse then rotten bones.

And ever readie lifted is her hand,

To aime destruction at a husbands throat:

For proofes, Josephus and my selfe do stand,

Though once on both of us, she seem’d to doat.

Her mouth though serpent-like it never hisses,

Yet like a Serpent, poysons where it kisses.

Well Hebrew well, thou bark’st, but wilt not
bite.

I tell thee still for her I will not fight.

Why then I call thee coward.

From my
heart

I give thee thankes. A cowards hatefull name,

Cannot to valiant mindes a blot impart,

And therefore I with joy receive the fame.

Thou know’st I am no coward: thou wert by

At the Arabian battaile th’other day:

And saw’st my sword with daring valiancy,

Amongst the faint Arabians cut my way.

The blood of foes no more could let it shine,

And twas inameled with some of thine.

But now have at thee, not for Salome

I fight: but to discharge a cowards stile:

Here gins the fight that shall not parted be,

Before a soule or two indure exile.

Thy sword hath made some windowes for
my blood,

To shew a horred crimson phisnomie:

To breath for both of us me thinkes twere good,

The day will give us time enough to die.

With all my hart take breath, thou shalt have
time,

And if thou list a twelve month, let us end:

Into thy cheekes there doth a palenes clime,

Thou canst not from my sword thy selfe defend.

What needest thou for Salome to fight,

Thou hast her, and may’st keepe her, none strives for
her:

I willingly to thee resigne my right,

For in my very soule I do abhorre her.

D3 Thou D3v

Thou seest that I am fresh, unwounded yet,

Then not for feare I do this offer make:

Thou art with losse of blood, to fight unfit,

For here is one, and there another take.

I will not leave, as long as breath remaines

Within my wounded body: spare your words,

My heart in bloods stead, courage entertaines,

Salomes love no place for feare affords.

Oh could thy soule but prophesie like mine,

I would not wonder thou should’st long to die:

For Salome if I aright divine

Will be then death a greater miserie.

Then list, Ile breath no longer.

Do thy
will,

I hateles fight, and charitably kill. I, I, they fight,

Pittie thy selfe, Silleus, let not death

Intru’d before his time into thy hart:

Alas it is too late to feare, his breath

Is from his body now about to part.

How far’st thou brave Arabian? Silleus very well,

My legge is hurt, I can no longer fight:

It onely grieves me, that so soone I fell,

Before faire Salomes wrongs I came to right.

Thy wounds are lesse then mortall. Never
feare,

Thou shalt a safe and quicke recoverie finde:

Come, I will thee unto my lodging beare,

I hate thy body, but I love thy minde.

Thankes noble Jew, I see a courtious foe,

Sterne enmitie to friendship can no art:

Had not my heart and tongue engagde me so,

I would from thee no foe, but friend depart.

My heart to Salome is tide so fast,

To leave her love for friendship, yet my skill

Shall be imploy’d to make your favour last,

And I will honour Constabarus still.

I ope my bosome to thee, and will take

Thee in, as friend, and grieve for thy complaint:

But if we doe not expedition make,

Thy losse of blood I feare will make thee faint.

Chorus. D4r

Urge me no more Graphina to forsake,

Not twelve howers since I married her
for love:

And doe you thinke a sisters power cane mak

A resolute decree, so soone removed

Poore minds they are that honour not
affects.

Who hunts for honour, happines neglects.

You might have bene both of felicitie,

And honour too in equall measure seasde.

It is not you can tell so well as I,

What tis can make me happie, or displeasde.

To match for neither beautie nor respects

One meane of birth, but yet of meaner minde,

A woman full of naturall defects,

I wonder what your eye in her could finde.

Mine eye found lovelines, mine eare found
wit,

To please the one, and to enchant the other:

Grace on her eye, mirth on her tongue doth sit,

In lookes a child, in wisedomes house a mother.

But say you thought her faire, as none thinks
else,

Knowes not Pheroras, beautie is a blast:

Much like this flower which to day excels,

But longer then a day it will not last.

Her wit exceeds her beautie, Salo: Wit may
show

The way to ill, as well as good you know.

But wisedome is the porter of her head,

And bares all wicked words from issuing thence.

Salome. E1r

But of a porter, better were you sped,

If she against their entrance made defence.

But wherefore comes the sacred Ananell,

That hitherward his hastie steppes doth bend?

Great sacrificer y’are arrived well,

Ill newes from holy mouth I not attend.

My lippes, my sonne, with peacefull tidings blest,

Shall utter Honey to your listning eare:

A word of death comes not from Priestly brest,

I speake of life: in life there is no feare.

And for the newes I did the Heavens salute,

And fill’d the Temple with my thankfull voice:

For though that mourning may not me pollute,

At pleasing accidents I may rejoyce.

Is Herod then reviv’d from certaine death?

What? can your news restore my brothers breath?

Both so, and so, the King is safe and sound,

And did such grace in royall Cæsar meet:

That he with larger stile then ever crownd,

Within this houre Jerusalem will greet.

I did but come to tell you, and must backe

To make preparatives for sacrifice:

I knew his death, your hearts like mine did racke,

Though to conceale it, prov’d you wise.

How can my joy sufficiently appeare?

A heavier tale did never pierce mine eare.

Now Salome of happinesse may boast.

But now Pheroras is in danger most.

I shall enjoy the comfort of my life.

And I shall loose it, loosing of my wife. E Salome. E1v

Joy heart, for Constan: shall be slaine.

Grieve soule, Graphina shall from me be tane.

Smile cheekes, the faire Silleus shall be mine.

Weepe eyes, for I must with a child combine.

Well brother, cease your mones, on one condition

Ile undertake to winne the Kings consent:

Graphina still shall be in your tuition,

And her with you be nere the lesse content.

What’s the condition? let me quickly know,

That I as quickly your command may act:

Were it to see what Hearbs in Ophir grow,

Or that the lofty Tyrus might be sackt.

Tis no so hard a taske: It is no more,

But tell the King that Consta: hid

The sonnes of Baba, done to death before:

And tis no more then Consta. did.

And tell him more that he for Herods sake,

Not able to endure his brothers foe:

Did with a bill our separation make,

Though loth from Consta: else to goe.

Beleeve this tale for told, Ile goe from hence,

In Herods care the Hebrew to deface:

And I that never studied eloquence,

Doe meane with eloquence this tale to grace. [Exit.]

This will be Constabarus quicke dispatch,

Which from my mouth would lesser credit finde:

Yet shall he not decease without a match,

For Mariam shall not linger long behinde.

First Jealousie, if that availe not, feare

Shalbe my minister to worke her end:

A common error moves not Herods eare,

Which doth so firmly to his Mariam bend.

She shall be charged with so horrid crime,

As Herods feare shall turne his love to hate:

Ile make some sweare that she desires to clime,

And seekes to poyson him for his estate.

I scorne that she should live my birth t’vpbraid,

To call me base and hungry Edomite:

With E2r

With patient show her choller I betrayd,

And watcht the time to be reveng’d by flite.

Now tongue of mine with scandall load her name,

Turne hers to fountaines, Herods eyes to flame:

Yet first I will begin Pheroras suite,

That he my earnest businesse may effect:

And I of Mariam will keepe me mute,

Till first some other doth her name detect.

Who’s there, Silleus man? How fares your Lord?

That your aspects doe beare the badge of sorrow?

He hath the marks of Constabarus sword,

And for a while desires your sight to borrow.

My heavy curse the hatefull sword pursue,

My heavier curse on the more hatefull arme

That wounded my Silleus. But renew

Your tale againe. Hath he no mortall harme?

No signe of danger doth in him appeare,

Nor are his wounds in place of perill seene:

Hee bides you be assured you need not feare,

He hopes to make you yet Arabias Queene.

Commend my heart to be Silleus charge,

Tell him, my brothers suddaine comming now:

Will give my foote no roome to walke at large,

But I will see him yet ere night I vow.

Sohemus, tell me what the newes may be

That makes your eyes so full, your cheekes so blew?

I know not how to call them. Ill for me

Tis sure they are: not so I hope for you.

Herod.

Oh, what of Herod?

Herod lives.

How! lives? What in some Cave or forrest hid?

Nay, backe return’d with honor. Caesar gives

Him greater grace then ere Anthonius did.

Foretell the ruine of my family,

Tell me that I shall see our Citie burnd:

Tell me I shall a death disgracefull die,

But tell me not that Herod is returnd.

Be not impatient Madam, be but milde,

His love to you againe will soone be bred:

I will not to his love be reconcilde,

With solemne vowes I have forsworne his Bed.

But you must breake those vowes.

Ile rather breake

The heart of Mariam. Cursed is my Fate:

But speake no more to me, in vaine ye speake

To live with him I so profoundly hate.

Great Queene, you must to me your pardon
give,

Sohemus cannot now your will obey:

If your command should me to silence drive,

It were not to obey, but to betray.

Reject, and slight my speeches, mocke my faith,

Scorne my observance, call my counsell nought:

Though you regard not what Sohemus saith,

Yet will I ever freely speake my thought.

I feare ere long I shall faire Mariam see

In wofull state, and by her selfe undone:

Yet for your issues sake more temp’rate bee,

The heart by affabilitie is wonne.

And must I to my Prison turne againe?

Oh, now I see I was an hypocrite:

I did this morning for his death complaine,

And yet doe mourne, because he lives ere night.

When I his death beleev’d, compassion wrought,

And was the stickler twixt my heart and him:

But now that Curtaine’s drawne from off my thought,

Hate doth appeare againe with visage grim:

And paints the face of Herod in my heart,

In horred colours with detested looke:

Then feare would come, but scorne doth play her part,

And E3r

And saith that scorne with feare can never brooke.

I Know I could inchaine him with a smile:

And lead him captive with a gentle word,

I scorne my looke should ever man beguile,

Or other speech, then meaning to afford.

Else Salome in vaine might spend her winde,

In vaine might Herods mother whet her tongue:

In vaine had they complotted and combinde,

For I could overthrow them all ere long.

Oh what a shelter is mine innocence,

To shield me from the pangs of inward griefe:

Gainst all mishaps it is my faire defence,

And to my sorrowes yeelds a large reliefe.

To be commandresse of the triple earth,

And sit in safetie from a fall secure:

To have all nations celebrate my birth,

I would not that my spirit were impure.

Let my distressed state unpittied bee,

Mine innocence is hope enough for mee. [Exit.]

Poore guiltles Queene. Oh that my wish
might place

A little temper now about thy heart:

Unbridled speech is Mariams worst disgrace,

And will indanger her without desart.

I am in greater hazard. O’re my head,

The fattall axe doth hang unstedily:

My disobedience once discovered,

Will shake it downe: Sohemus so shall die.

For when the King shall find, we thought his death

Had bene as certaine as we see his life:

And markes withall I slighted so his breath,

As to preserve alive his matchles wife.

Nay more, to give to Alexanders hand

The regall dignitie. The soveraigne power,

How I had yeelded up at her command,

The strength of all the citie, Davids Tower.

What more then common death may I expect,

Since I too well do know his crueltie:

Twere death, a word of Herods to neglect,

E3 What E3v

What then to doe directly contrarie?

Yet life I quite thee with a willing spirit,

And thinke thou could’st not better be imploi’d:

I forfeit thee for her that more doth merit,

Ten such were better dead then she destroi’d.

But fare thee well chast Queene, well may I see

The darknes palpable, and rivers part:

The sunne stand still: Nay more retorted bee,

But never woman with so pure a heart.

Thine eyes grave majestie keepes all in awe,

And cuts the winges of every loose desire:

Thy brow is table to the modest lawe,

Yet though we dare not love, we may admire.

And if I die, it shall my soule content,

My breath in Mariams service shall be spent.

Haile happie citie, happie in thy store,

And happy that thy buildings such we see:

More happie in the Temple where w’adore,

But most of all that Mariam lives in thee.

Art thou return’d? how fares my Mariam? [Enter Nutio.]

She’s well my Lord, and will anon be here

As you commanded.