Elizabeth Cary - The Tragedy of Mariam, Act 2, Scene 3 lyrics

scene 3 [DORIS and ANTIPATER.] DORIS You royal buildings, bow your lofty side, And scope to her that is by right your queen: Let your humility upbraid the pride Of those in whom no due respect is seen: Nine times have we with trumpets' haughty sound, And banishing sour leaven from our taste, Observed the feast that takes the fruit from ground. Since I, fair city, did behold thee last, So long it is since Mariam's purer cheek Did rob from mine the glory, and so long Since I returned my native town to seek: And with me nothing but the sense of wrong, And thee, my boy, whose birth, though great it were, Yet have thy after fortunes proved but poor: When thou wert born, how little did I fear hou should'st be thrust from forth thy father's door! Art thou not Herod's right begotten son? Was not the hapless Doris Herod's wife? Yes: ere he had the Hebrew kingdom won, I was companion to his private life. Was I not fair enough to be a queen? Why, ere thou wert to me, false monarch, tied, My lack of beauty might as well be seen, As after I had lived five years thy bride. Yet then thine oath came pouring like the rain, Which all affirmed my face without compare: And that if thou might'st Doris' love obtain, For all the world besides thou didst not care. Then was I young, and rich, and nobly born, And therefore worthy to be Herod's mate: Yet thou ungrateful cast me off with scorn, When Heaven's purpose raised your meaner fate. Oft have I begged for vengeance for this fact, And with dejected knees, aspiring hands Have prayed the highest power to enact The fall of her that on my trophy stands. Revenge I have according to my will, Yet where I wished this vengeance did not light: I wished it should high-hearted Mariam k**, But it against my whilom lord did fight. With thee, sweet boy, I came, and came to try If thou before his ba*tards might be placed In Herod's royal seat and dignity. But Mariam's infants here are only graced, And now for us there doth no hope remain: Yet we will not return till Herod's end Be more confirmed. Perchance he is not slain; So glorious fortunes may my boy attend. For if he live, he'll think it doth suffice, That he to Doris shows such cruelty: For as he did my wretched life despise, So do I know I shall despisèd die. Let him but prove as natural to thee, As cruel to thy miserable mother: His cruelty shall not upbraided be But in thy fortunes. I his faults will smother. ANTIPATER Each mouth within the city loudly cries That Herod's d**h is certain: therefore we Had best some subtle hidden plot devise, That Mariam's children might subverted be, By poison's drink, or else by murderous knife, So we may be advanced, it sk**s not how: They are but ba*tards, you were Herod's wife, And foul adultery blotteth Mariam's brow. DORIS They are too strong to be by us removed, Or else revenge's foulest spotted face By our detested wrongs might be approved, But weakness must to greater power give place. But let us now retire to grieve alone, For solitariness best fitteth moan. [Exeunt.]