SCENE 1

_The Castle on Zion._ ALEXANDRA’S _Apartments_. ALEXANDRA. JOSEPH. SALOME.

_Enter_ HEROD, SOEMUS, _and Retinue_.

HEROD.

I’m home again. (_To_ SOEMUS.) Does it stil bleed? The stone, Though meant for me, hit you because in just That nick of time you came to tell me something. Your head for this time made your King a shield, But had you stayed at post----

SOEMUS.

I had not then Received the wound nor rendered you the service, If it be worth the name. In Galilee That man is stoned at least who’s so foolhardy To get at loggerheads with you and me, Since I’m your shadow or your speaking-trumpet Or what you will.

HEROD.

Yes, there the men are true-- That is, to ends of theirs; and since these ends With mine go hand in hand, to mine as well.

SOEMUS.

How true this token shows you--that you find Myself in your chief city.

HEROD.

Ay, indeed I had not thought that I would meet you here, For when the King is far there’s double need Among the stiff-necked provinces for watchers. What was it then that drove you from your post? ’Twas sure some other impulse than the wish To prove me that it might unjeopardised Lie tenantless; or thought’s instinctive feel That a flung stone was here to intercept.

SOEMUS.

I was come here to advertise the viceroy Touching disclosures of a wondrous kind, And tell them orally in all due haste. I would apprise him that the Pharisees Seek even the stubborn soil of Galilee, Although their work is vain, to underburrow. But all too late my warning came; I found Jerusalem in flames by then, and could But help extinguish them.

HEROD (_giving him his hand_).

And that you did With blood of yours!--Ah, Joseph! you? Good-day! I thought to find you other here; but good; Yet, for the nonce, go bring me Sameas The Pharisee, who’s held by Captain Titus A prisoner in the mode the Scythians use. The ironside Roman drags him, fastly bounden Unto the tail of the war-horse he rides, Hither and thither, since the holy zealot Spat after him i’ the open market-place. Now he must run as he may ne’er before Have run if he’s no mind to have a tumble And go a-draggling. Then and there ’twere better That I had rescued him as I went past. I’ faith, ’tis sure I owe him thanks alone That all the serpents who until to-day Crawled stilly from my foot, are known to me. Now I can stamp them piecemeal when I will.

[_Exit_ JOSEPH.

(_To_ ALEXANDRA.) I give you greeting, and from Antony I am to make announcement that a river Cannot be brought to judgment; and a King Within whose land it flows with less of right Because he did not earth it in. (_To_ SOEMUS.) I were Long since again come hither, but when friends Together meet who seldom see each other, They hold them fast. And so ’twill be with you (I treat you with a foretaste) now I’m host And have you at the longed-for last again. And you with me must set the figs a-shaking Just as, perforce, I aided Antony, Pah, gluttony! in stream of old Falernian To smother lampreys and call many a prank From out our bygone times to jog remembrance With freshening fillip. So, resolve your mind To do like service. If I scarce may have Enough of the triumphant hero in me To have you so commanded to my presence As he commanded me to his, with show Of hearing me on some insipid charge, His brow like Cæsar’s wrinkled and his arm With lightning and with thunderbolt beweaponed, And all to be assured--this was the ground On which he did it--that I came for certain, If such be so, at least to-day’s good chance That puts you in my hands I’ll use to profit And say, as he, when speeches on your office Begin--“If you conduct it as you should It does not need your every wink o’ the eye. You come so seldom that it seems you’re loath To be here!”

SOEMUS.

Lord, you do me an injustice; And yet I have no cause to come too often.

HEROD (_to_ SALOME).

And you here too? So you have learnt at last To trick your wits, when you meet Mariamne, With fancy-thoughts that you look in a mirror And spy your own reflected counterpart? ’Twas oft my counsel when you eyed her sourly; It never pleased. Take not the jest amiss. There is no evil doing in the hour When friends are come a-meeting. But where is she? I heard it said that she was with her mother And so came here.

SALOME.

She went when she had learnt That you were nearing.

HEROD.

Went? Impossible! But good. She did it since ’tis solitude Befits reunion. (_Aside._) Heart, will you bear her anger Nor rather make amends? (_Aloud._) I follow her; Her delicate feeling’s right.

SALOME.

Go, self-deceiver! The fright of seeing you recalled to life, The shame of having credited your death, The greater shame of her spoiled widowhood-- O’ersmooth it all with fondling gloss of shyness The maiden feels who ne’er has known a man Nor seen the shivering woman taken in sin! She went from fear!

HEROD.

From fear? Look round about you, We are not here alone.

SALOME.

That’s opportune! If before witnesses I bring my plaint It will be guaranteed your surer ear And crushed the harder underfoot.

HEROD.

You place Yourself twixt her and me? Have then a care! You may be trampled piecemeal.

SALOME.

This time, not! Although I know how small the sister counts When you are dealing with the Maccabean, This time----

HEROD.

I tell you one thing! If, the day On which she first was given to my sight, A man were risen in accusation ’gainst her, He had not easily obtained my hearing, But yet more easily than now. Take that for warning. I am so heavy in her debt that she Can owe no debt to me. I feel that deep.

SALOME.

Ah, so she has free charter?

HEROD.

Any mask To wear that she thinks well for your hoodwinking If she would kill the drive of time with you.

SALOME.

Then--then I must be mute. What use in speaking? For whatsoe’er I chose to tell you, ever Your answer would be ready--mummery! At least this mummery has had good luck. Not me alone but all the world with me It’s taken by the ear; it costs you honour And me my rest, however you may swear That Joseph’s only done what duty bade When he--see to’t if any man believe you!

HEROD.

When he--what underdrift is lurking? End it! But no--not yet----(_To a servant._) I bid the Queen be craved To grant to us her presence. Is it not As though the whole o’ the world were spider-clean And all had nested them within my house, That when for once I see the blue of Heaven They forthwith might o’erhang it with their webs And do the work of clouds? True, strange it is That she comes not. She should, sheer-forced, have kissed me Caught in the ungoverned all-compelling moment, And then she might have vexed her lips with biting When even at that the Ghost refused its quittance. (_To_ SALOME.) Know you what you have ventured? Know you, woman? I was rejoiced! D’you understand? And now-- Once on a day the Earth when I was thirsty Spilled from my hand a goblet filled with wine Because it fell to quaking ere my lips Could drain it; I forgave it since I must; On you I could avenge me.

[_Enter_ MARIAMNE.