Act III: Scene III

NABAL.The children have already their fierce pride.But what doth Athaliah seek in this?What is this tumult born of in her councils?By overbearing Joad this morn offended,And in her dreams braved by a murderous child,She went to sacrifice the high-priest JoadUnto her wrath, and in the end to placeWithin that temple Baal and you. You hadTo me already testified your joy;I hoped, on my part, for so rich a prey.What changes thus her vacillating vows?

MATHAN.I have not known her, friend, for two days past.No more the queen of an enlightened spirit,Intrepid, raised beyond her timid sex,Who crushed, at first, her wondering enemies,And knew the value of occasion lost:The pangs of vain remorse whelm this great soul:She wavers, hesitates, is in a word,A woman. I, her heart, already wrungWith threats from heaven, had filled with bitternessAnd rancour; she, confiding to my careHer vengeance, had commanded me to bringAt once her guards together: but, indeed,Whether that brat before her brought, and saidTo be an outcast from his parents, hadDiminished the alarm of frightful dreams,Or she had seen in him some unknown charm,I found her anger reeling, undecided:She now puts off her vengeance till to-morrow.Her projects all appear to slay each other."Some knowledge I have gained of this boy's fate,"So did I say; "now of his ancestryThey have begun to boast: from time to timeJoad shows him to the factious, holds him up,As if another Moses, to the Jews,And lying oracles support his speech."These words did cause the blood to mount her brow:Ne'er lucky fable had such prompt effect."Must I drag on in this uncertainty?Let us escape," said she, "this restlessness.To Josabet declare you this resolve--'The fires are kindling, and the sword prepared,Nothing can save your temple from destruction,If hostage for your faith that child's not given.'"

NABAL.Why for a boy of whom they're ignorant,That chance, perhaps, has cast into their arms,Will they behold their temple tombed in weeds?

MATHAN.Ah! of all mortals known, the haughtiest!Sooner than yield a child into our hands,That Joad has consecrated to his God,He would endure the most terrific death.Besides 'tis plainly seen they love the child.If, from the queen, I heard a true report,Joad of his birth knows more than he imparts.However fatal it may be for them,I can foresee they will not give him up.On me the rest remains; and in the endI hope that fire and sword will free my eyesOf that obnoxious temple!

NABAL.What can inspire in you so fierce a hate?Is it your zeal for Baal inflames you thus?As for myself, you know of Ishmael blood,I neither worship Baal nor Israel's God.

MATHAN.Friend, canst thou think that I allow myselfTo be made blind by an unworthy zealFor a vain idol, fragile form of wood,Which, notwithstanding my support, the wormsUpon its altar every day consume?Born servant of the God that temple loves,It might be Mathan would adore Him still,If lust of greatness, thirst for dominance,Could be accommodated to His yoke.Nabal, what need repicture to thy mindThe noted quarrel of myself and Joad.When I 'gainst him the censor dared dispute,My factions, struggles, waitings, my despair?Vanquished by him I chose a new career,And wed my soul entirely to the court.I by degrees approached their royal honours,And soon my voice was made an oracle.I probed their heart, and flattered their caprice;Bestrewed with flowers the precipice's brink;Serving their passions, naught to me was sacred;Measure and weight I changed as they inclined.As much as Joad's unpliant humour painedThe softness of their supercilious ear,So much I pleased them with my dexterous art;Concealing from their eyes the bitter truth;Lending convenient colour to their rage;And, lavish, above all, of wretches' blood.At length, to Baal, whom she had introduced,By Athaliah was a temple reared.Jerusalem did weep to see herselfProfaned: The alarmed band of Levi's raceDid elevate to heaven appalling cries.Giving example to the timid Jews.Deserter from their law, myself approvedThe enterprise, and merited by thatBaal's priesthood: and I made myself withalA terror to my rival; I put onThe turban--walked his equal. Ne'erthelessI must avow, that in that glorious heightThe troublesome memory of the God I leftStill throws into my soul a shade of dread:Tis that which strengthens and supports my fury.Happy, if on the temple my revengeAccomplishing, I can at length contentHer petty spite, and lose amongst the wreckThe ravage and the slaughter, my remorse,By dint of those enormities. But hereIs Josabet.