Scene 6
Herod. Mariamne. A Courier.
Courier.
I’m sent by Antony!
Herod.
Ah, then I know
What you are bringing me. I must make ready!
The final feud of which he spoke begins.
Courier.
Octavian, making course for Africa,
Has taken ship; to meet him Antony
Sets out in haste with Cleopatra joined
Intending instant close at Actium——
Herod.
And I, I, Herod, am to make the third!
’Tis good! I make the march to-day. Soemus,
For all this sorry plight of things, supplies me.
Good that he came!
Mar.
Once more he marches forth!
Eternal One, my thanks!
Herod (observing her).
Ha!
Courier.
Great King, no!
He needs you not at Actium; he wills
That the Arabians, who have raised rebellion,
Be blocked by you from coupling with the foemen.
This is the service he would have of you.
Herod.
It lies with him that place to delegate
Where I shall profit him.
Mar.
Once more! Then all
Is fresh unravelled!
Herod (as before).
How my wife is glad!
(To the Courier.) Tell him—you know’t already—
(Aside.) Brow unwrinkled
And hands as though for thankful prayer enfolded—
That is her heart!
Courier.
Have you naught else for me?
Mar.
Now will I know if it were but a fever,
The fever of a passion frenzy-fired
That madded his poised mind, or if I saw
His innermost in clear sane deed betrayed.
Now will I know!
Herod (to the Courier).
Naught, naught!
[Exit Courier.
(To Mariamne.) Your countenance
Has taken gladder glow! But do not hope
Too much. One does not always die in war.
I’ve cheated many a one ere now.
Mar.
(about to speak, but interrupting herself). No, no!
Herod.
The issue now involves a hotter fight
Than then, I grant you. Every fight beside
Was waged for something in the world, but this
Is waged for the world’s self; it makes decisive
Who’s destinied world-master—Antony,
Wencher and trencherman, or else Octavian
Who’s empty of his merit when he swears
That he was never drunken in his life.
There’ll be a pretty buffet-bout, and yet
It may be that your wish be not fulfilled,
That Death may pass me with unbloodied sword.
Mar.
My wish! ’Tis well! My wish—then it is good.
O Heart, be quelled! Betray you not! The proving
Is none if he should sense what quicks your throb.
If he stand proof how you will be rewarded!
And how you can reward him! Let him then
Misprise you. Prove him. Think upon the end,
And on the garland you dare reach to him—
When he has trod the Demon underfoot.
Herod.
I give you thanks; you now have brought my heart
A lightening. Though on the human in you
I may have done no outrage, this is clear—
That I have done no outrage on your love;
And, for this reason, by your love I beg you
Not for one final sacrifice, yet hope
That you will yield to me one final duty.
And this I hope not for my sake alone,
I hope it for your own sake even more,
You will not wish that, at this latest hour,
I see you mistily; you will for this—
That I myself the dead man’s mouth have locked,
Open your own and clear my wondering
How it has come he made his head your gift.
And you will do it for the human in you,
You’ll do it, too, because you honour Self.
Mar.
Because I honour Self I’ll do it not.
Herod.
So you yourself refuse the fair and fitting?
Mar.
The fair and fitting! So ’twere fair and fitting
That I, on knees before you in abjection,
Swear “Lord, your villein came me not anigh!
And that you may believe—for to your faith
I have no right, albeit I am your wife—
Hear this thing yet and that!” O fie, O fie![8]
No Herod! If your itching later ask
I answer you—perhaps. Now I am dumb.
Herod.
But if you had been large enough of loving
To grant me grace for all that, out of loving,
I did, I never would have asked you thus.
Now that I know how small your love is, now
I must re-ask the question; for whate’er
Your love vouchsafe me as a bond of surety
Cannot be greater than your love itself.
And Love to which Life is a treasure higher
Than the Beloved, is to me a nothing.
Mar.
Yet am I silent!
Herod.
Then I damn myself
The mouth whose overpride disdains to swear
No other one has kissed it, nevermore
Myself to kiss till such it lowly do.
Yea, if there were a means could give me potence
Your memory within my heart t’ extinguish,
And if the drastic stab that pierced my eyes,
Oblivioning the mirror of your beauty,
Could also give your image to oblivion,
Now at this very hour I’d stab them through.
Mar.
Be your mood’s master, Herod! For perhaps
Even in this Now you’ve Fate within your hands
And you can guide it wheresoe’er you will.
To every man there comes the point of time
When to himself the steerer of his star
Gives o’er the reins. And this alone is ill—
That he knows not the point of time; it may be
Each one that past him rolls. I have monition
For you ’tis this one; therefore keep a check!
The track of life your chart is now designing,
That track, perchance, unto the end you wander.
Will you do that in the wild rush of wrath?
Herod.
I fear but half the truth’s in your monition.
The turning-point is there, but ’tis for you.
For I, what wish I then? why this—naught further,
A means wherewith to frighten bogy-dreams.[9]
Mar.
I’ll understand you not! I’ve borne you children,
Have thought of them! Then you may ask yourself
What’s possible.
Herod.
Who’s silent, even as you,
Wakes the misthought he has no heart that dares
To say the truth, yet has no will to lie.
Mar.
No further!
Herod.
Nay, no further; and farewell!
And if I come again misgrudge it me
Not all too sorely.
Mar.
Herod!
Herod.
Be assured
I take no more the thing I took to-day,
A greeting wrested.
Mar.
Nay, ’twill be no more
A needful thing. (To Heaven.) Eternal, guide his heart!
I gave him pardon for a brother’s murder,
I was prepared his deathward way to follow,
I am so still; and can a mortal more?
Thou didst what ne’er before thou didst—Thou rolledst
The wheel of time aback; it stands once more
Even as it erewhile stood. Then let him now
Take other course, and I forget what’s happened.
Forget it even as if in heat of fever
He’d dealt me with his sword the stroke of death
And bound himself my wound that I grew whole.
(To Herod.) You’ll come again?
Herod.
If you should see me coming
Then call for fetters. Let it be your proof
That I have gotten crazy wits.
Mar.
You will
Repent that word—oh, Heart, be quelled!—you will!
[Exit.