The Duquesne Christmas mysteryStevens, Thomas Wood
Religion
The Duquesne Christmas mystery
Stevens, Thomas Wood
Christmas plays
JASPAR
Stay, brothers and princes. The star is lost.
BALTHASAR
Now for twelve nights it hath burned clear.
MELCHOIR
And floated on before to guide our steps.
Here is some evil thing that it should fade.
BALTHASAR
Some evil near. Stay we our course. The star
That westward we have trailed from Araby
And your bright orient kingdoms, will not fail
Until the prophecies we read of old
Be new fulfilled. But peril to the Child
Might dim its fire.
JASPAR
Yea, in the ancient scrolls
Are dangers written deep. The star-flame blows
Back at the heavy tread of mailed feet.
_Below, on the stairway, Herod
appears, and comes slowly up
followed by guards and counsellors._
MELCHOIR
What gleam of helmets yonder, and of gold?
BALTHASAR
Some lord is this, whose rule is not as ours.
JASPAR
Hail, Prince, and peace, and light unto thy path!
HEROD
What stranger kings are these who come unknown,
Unbidden, to my realm?
BALTHASAR
From out the East
We come, Melchoir, and Jaspar, King of Taurus,
And he who speaks you here, Balthasar
Prince of Araby. We are come to seek
A Child new-born whose mystic star we found
As prophets had foretold from long ago,
A Child born to be King of the Jews. We come
With gifts to greet and worship Him. Say thou
Where is this Child?
HEROD
King of the Jews, ye say.
I know Him not.
JASPAR
Who art thou, good my lord?
HEROD
Forgive mine evil courtesy, sir princes,
But I am troubled.... Herod is my name, a king
In this lean land of Judah. Speak you fair,
And say again--this star--these prophecies?
JASPAR
The star hath led us westward, wondering on;
The prophecies name Bethlehem, a town
Little in Judah, whence shall come a King
To rule in Israel, anoint of God.
HEROD
I knew it not. I have no child.... But when
First saw ye this new star?
BALTHASAR
Twelve nights ago.
’Tis like the Child was born that night.
HEROD
Yea, very like, and have ye told me all?
BALTHASAR
All that hath been revealed. We wait
Here with our gifts. The star may burn again.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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