University of Virginia Library

Scene I

Later. Herod's bedchamber. Nicholas has been reading to him
Herod.
Tie up your scroll. . . . The nettling dog-star reigns.
I am hot; I am distraught. . . .
The cactus-flowers
And roses! All one's life would fain lie out
Open as theirs. . . .
[Exit Nicholas.
Now tell me, Sohemus,
Did the queen speak of me?

Sohemus.
She is always silent.

Herod.
Of me—and was she silent of all else?

Sohemus.
Save of her captive breath. She longed for motion
And air in her captivity.

Herod.
And never
She looked upon my portrait?

Sohemus.
Once.
Bent forward from the waist, her neck outstretched,
Her hands bound back, she gazed on you; I passed
And I repassed the door; she did not move.

Herod.
Send me Bagoas. Wake him if he sleep.

Sohemus.
My lord . . .

Herod.
What, you demur? Send me Bagoas.
[Exit Sohemus.
Now in a ball of light she would approach me,
And in the levelness of light be mine.
She must come, nor dissemble with me more.
Enter Bagoas
Bagoas, rouse your mistress, I would see her.

Bagoas.
But she is laid asleep,
No day-dress girded on, the winnowing
Of fans above her—

Herod.
She is strewn with musk?

Bagoas.
It is a most sweet sleep.

Herod.
Bid her awake!

Bagoas.
My lord!—

Herod.
Bid her come forth to me!

Bagoas.
My lord!—

Herod.
Well, eunuch?

Bagoas.
I dare not wake the queen and stay the fans.
Her anger—the impertinence. . . .

Herod.
Go out;
Tell her she is commanded by her husband
To come to him.

Bagoas.
O my lord!—

Herod.
Tell her, further,
To wake her will at need, he is the king,
And by twofold obedience she must come.
But, fellow, do not look distractedly.
Wake her with dove-wing touches; do not scatter
The bountiful moments of her sleep. No harshness!
Nothing but this—that she must come to me.

Bagoas.
My lord!—

Herod.
Go, do your office.
[Exit Bagoas.
If she should disobey, the noon were not,
And the eternal opposite of noon
Fixed as a destiny. . . .
But she lies wide,
Musk-strewn—asleep. The great mansuetude!
Sleep is so warm,
So affable. . . . Do the dark bow-strings curve,
Strained at my summons wide to let fly passion
That the smooth hour is ended? Does she waken
Her lids, her flashing eyes? But she will come!
I wait to very pain; a gold confusion
Of many sunbeams takes away the sun.
Silence—but out of it some fuller spirit
Is ready. . . . Silence—no! Along the marble
A shuffling on of slippers. . . . Not Bagoas!
[Rising from his couch.
Mariamne—blessed! Thou art come.

[She stands at the door in girded dress and veil.
Mariamne.
You sent at noon for me and broke repose.
Is it ill news, or worse—that you are ill?

Herod.
I wanted you—

Mariamne.
My lord, you have awaked me.
What was your cause?

Herod.
Bagoas waked you gently?
I wanted you—
One of your cheeks is blowing
Sleep's own red rose.
Come to my couch, beloved.

Mariamne.
I will not.

Herod.
Ha!—defy me?
The sun could scorch up any life outside . . .
And you are witless with your slumber still.
Are you not mine? Am I not burning here
Awake? I was awake while you have slept. . . .
I could not bear it longer—very pain!
Have mercy on me, solace! Yea, have mercy!
Earth and the secret hour are but one flame—
We are enwrapt. . . .
Heed me, I say—give heed!

Mariamne.
How dared you send for me, your royal queen,
And from among my women—as a slave!

Herod.
If you are queen, of me
The title names you, being my wife. Remember,
Woman—there is the breaking-up of ties,
There are writings of divorce, and there are deaths
For treason to be suffered—violence, thunders
And lightnings that enthrall you in their actions
To the quick of their own ravage—

Mariamne.
But I fear
None of these ills, nor you.

Herod
(grasping her veil).
Am I your husband?
Am I your king?

Mariamne.
Loose me! Not now!—A slave,
Bred of the servant Esau. Let me loose!

[She yields her veil to his hand and moves away swiftly. He stands as if stunned; then beats his head against the column of the door.
Herod.
Her veil!
[A young Eunuch enters.
Send in my cupbearer with well-cooled wine.
[Exit the Eunuch.
[Herod drops on his couch.
Oh, the void nothing, oh, the dust of flesh—
Arrows upon the ground!
Enter his Cupbearer
My boy, a draught.
Why do you fumble? Taste the wine.

Cupbearer.
I drink it.
I dare to drink what I have mixed myself.
But, king, I have a potion that the queen
Gave me, and called in the Aramaic tongue
A love-charm: 'tis for you.

Herod.
For me, a love-charm!
No, reptile—no!

Cupbearer.
A potion that she called
A love-charm in the Aramaic tongue.

Herod.
The wife-adult'ress, who would be a widow,
Calls her snake-venoms in Egyptian phials
Love-charms! . . . You dare not drink, conceiving aspic
Is in the nectar? Bid my Gaulish guard
Seize old Bagoas: we will hear as strictly
As rack can tell of this attempt. Bagoas
Must be delivered to the torturer
For our swift satisfaction. Every door
Of the women's quarters bid the soldiers seize,
Treading with secrecy, their weapons loosened,
Before the march, from sheath. Bid Sohemus
Attend me—and the Princess
Salome and the Tetrarch Pheroras.
[Exit Cupbearer.
Will not this strike my chains apart?
(Suddenly breaking into sobs.)
Forsaken,
Betrayed, condemned . . . Terrible wilderness!

[He weeps long.
Re-enter Sohemus
Sohemus.
My lord—

Herod.
You have heard?

Sohemus.
The queen—the queen is true.
She is not one to deal with sorcery:
She is plain in action, and when still is safe.

Herod.
You guarded her, while I was far away,
And all her hours were frank—you hold her true?

Enter Salome and Pheroras
Salome.
O brother! . . .

Herod
(putting his hand in hers).
Hush, Salome! Sohemus
Is praising my fair culprit.

Pheroras.
Sohemus!
Brother, but Sohemus himself is charged
In this attempt.

Sohemus.
No!

Pheroras.
On Bagoas' oath.
Bagoas, stretched to spider on the wheel,
Knows nothing of the venom.
But of the queen's ill-will—has noted it
Due to some confidence this Sohemus
Dropped in her ear, before you came from Rome.

Sohemus.
The creature is in agony and weaving
A lie for relaxation of his pain.
What should I tell the queen?
A messenger came to the fortress rarely
As song-bird to the desert. What invent?
I heard no tidings, nor could weave her tales.
Bagoas prowled about his royal lady
If but my step was heard, if but its echo
From distant rooms.

Herod
(crying out).
Her paramour!

Sohemus.
My king—

Herod.
Call in the palace guard! . . .

Sohemus.
But if through pity—

The Guard enter
Herod.
Take this dishonoured officer to death.
What is it that astounds you? By confession,
Wrung from Bagoas on the rack, he loosed
A secret of my will to Mariamne
The queen.

Sohemus.
The queen is guiltless.

Herod.
Out! Begone! Begone!

Sohemus.
But hear me—

Herod.
Take him out!
[Exit Guard with Sohemus.
Gross transformations!
I have been struck
As thunder-struck, nor know what I have said.
Yet I remember
She rose to call me slave, and struck far back.
Slave! There is left
One vast perfecting: she shall surely die.

Salome.
Swift as her paramour.

Herod.
No. I am husband
Of Mariamne to condemn the traitor
Who won my rights as favours of her love. . . .
She is queen of Jewry, and must take her trial.
Salome, do you think I turn to mercy
In showing her to all—this murderess, this
Converser with familiars, twice a whore,
To Joseph, then to Sohemus!
. . . The judge
Who sat against the city-gate is in me,
As I were sitting there—men coming through,
And going forth, and cries, and camel-loads
Of burthens, and the country with big lights
And clouds from over it—and I the judge.
Brother, you know my friends
Within the Sanhedrin: convoke their numbers,
Convoke the council for to-morrow. . . . Send
A eunuch to prepare the bath . . . So hot!
Salome, go, sit down beside my mother,
And keep her from me. . . . All about the doors
Of the women's quarters there are sentries standing
With naked swords. . . . The hive stopped up! Salome,
Go, little sister!
[Exit Salome.
I shall lie an hour
Or longer in the bath; and meet to-night
The friendly Rabbis of the Sanhedrin;
Set on the scribes
With the accusation. We must leave excuse
For no regret. There are wide doors that others
Must open, not ourselves. There are wide doors,
Too heavy; and beyond them. . . .
Do you see,
It must be ruled to-night among us, judged
In court to-morrow?
[Exit Pheroras.
Is there night and day?
Black . . . white . . .
I have untressed my hair!
Am I not now untressing it?
No action!
She must be judged indifferent . . .

A Eunuch
(opening a curtain and bowing).
The bath!