University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

HEROD
alone.
Again behold her!—Whither tends that purpose?
Oh, Herod, say, can thy bewildered heart
Answer the question? Hah! Glares not her guilt
Like broadest noon? Art thou not deeply wrong'd?
Completely injured? What hast thou to do
With ought besides? What canst thou hope to gain
From this dread converse? Will it stamp thy heart
With feelings such as her's! Ah! Well thou know'st
Her soul abhors thee. Dost thou seek revenge?
How? Why then lives she still? But thou wouldst fain
See her once more.—O abject wretch! O mind
Unworthy of a crown! Go, sigh before her,
Haste to pronounce her pardon. Go, contemplate
And gaze with fondness on the charms, so long
So fatally adored. No, she shall die—
The oath hath past my lips—her death is sworn.
It shall be spilt—my foe's detested blood—
The blood which flows from th'Asmonæan race,
And swells her veins; the blood which rankled ever
With hate t'ward me, with never-conquer'd hate
By me regarded. But she comes! O heaven!
A sight which blasts my vision!