University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

The Festal Hall, as before. Salome dancing, with a tambourine in one hand, and amidst clouds of incense of changeful colours.
Herod
(in a wild rapture).
The priestess of Sol's Temple now hath sent
A goddess clad in nought but odorous clouds
To madden each delight! No more! no more!
Yet cease not—cease not—my brain whirls!—no more!
Her flying locks were golden! now they change
To gilded black, shot with a lightning blue!
Now, all of silver!—tossing flames! and now—
Her limbs are roseate, and a sparkling dew
Besprays her symmetry, as from the sea
Her feet came plashing thro' the bright-edged foam!
I say, no more! Oh, I do swear to give thee
Whatever thou shalt ask, thou wondrous sprite!
Yea, to my kingdom's half—hear it, ye Gods!
Ye great Lords, Captains all—all hear the King!

[Salome retires amidst clouds of incense, and the clash of cymbals.]
First Lord.
She could not answer—'tis too high a gift.
(Aside)
What emeralds!—pearls!

Second Lord.
(Aside)
The King hath lost his wits!

Herod.
Now breathe soft Lydian flutes with sweet accord
Of voice and dulcimer! I'll drink no more,
But let the fumes of wine give music shapes.
And visions of such forms as now we saw
Multiplied, passion-varied, intervolvent limbs!