SCENE 4

HEROD _alone_.

HEROD.

Not now! The next day then, the next day’s morrow! After my death she will be kind to me! What, speaks a woman thus? I know that oft When I have called her fair she’s marred her features With twistings till she was no longer fair. I know she cannot weep, that her drawn face Tells what in others finds the vent of tears. I know that she had quarrelled with her brother Not long before he found death in his bath, And then play-acted the disconsolate, And, to cap that, when he was now a corpse, Displayed another gift received from him And bought for her while he went to his bath! Yet speaks a woman thus in the very moment When he, the man she loves or at the least Is bound to love--She turned not round again As once when I--She left no kerchief back That she for pretext--No, she can endure it That I with this impression--Good! So be it! To Alexandria--the grave--all’s one! But one thing first! One! Earth and Heaven hear it! You swore me naught, I’ll swear a thing to you! I’ll put you under sword! And Antony, Should he command my fall on your account, E’en though he wrought it not to save your mother Shall be my dupe. How doubtful e’er it be Whether the robe that shrouds me at my death Follows me to my grave because some thief Can still purloin it, you shall follow me! That’s firm and fixed! Should I return no more You die! A stumpy point that trips the foot! What gives assurance I shall be obeyed When I’m no longer dreaded? Ha, I think There’s one to find who at her frown has cause For shivering!