Part 6 (1/2)

_3rd Woman_.

What glory can her wondrous eyes behold?

_4th Woman_.

Seemeth her flesh to glow! and her throat pants As one who feels a G.o.d within her, come Out of his heaven to enjoy her.

_2nd Woman_.

Ay, Now it is true, the Queen is beautiful; She could, so looking, enrage love in one Whose blood a hundred years had frozen dry.

_1st Woman_.

Ah, but I fear thee, Queen: this dreadful mood Will break the pleasantness of friends.h.i.+p thou Hast kept for me, as a s.h.i.+p in a gale is broken.

_Vashti_.

Ay, very like: and the event will rouse Such work in the water where your comfort sails, More than my fortune will to pieces blow; You too I think will get some perilous tossing From what proves my destruction.

_2nd Woman_.

And, so knowing, For mere insane delight in violent things, Wilt thou awake in the fickle mood of men Again that ancient ignominy which once, Till beauty freed them, loaded the souls of women?

_3rd Woman_.

Truly, long time will work what now thou doest.

_Vashti_.

I know not rightly what I here begin; No more than one, who stands in midst of wind On a tall mountain, knows what breaking down The earth must have ere the wind's speed is done, And it hath drawn out of the drenched soil The clinging vapours, and made bright the air.

_2nd Woman_.

But we'll not have thee disobedient.

The King's mind is a summer over us; Thou with a storm wilt fill him, and the hail That shatters thee will leave us bruised and weeping.

_Vashti_.

Be sulky in his arms: the weather soon Will pleasantly favour thee again.

_4th Woman_.

No, no; Not because from our heaven of man's mind Thou wilt bring down on us a rain of scorn, But because thou art wicked, thou must go And tell the King the wine was rash in thee.

_Vashti_.

I must!

_3rd Woman_.

Thou must indeed: words such as thine Never were impudent in men's ears before.

_2nd Woman_.

We will not have thee disobedient.

_1st Woman_.

Here comes another: gentle words, my Queen, Let him take from thee now, and swiftly follow Contrite, and let the beauty of thy grief Bend pleading against the King's furious eyes.

[_The_ POET _comes in, and kneels_.

_Poet_.

I will not ask thee what strange anger sent That blaze of proud contempt in the King's face: But ere the voice of the King seals up thy life In an unalterable judgment, I Am granted now to come as his last message: And, as I will, to speak. Here then I am Not as commanding, but on my knees beseeching, And for myself beseeching.

_Vashti_.

What hast thou To do with this? and wherefore wert thou chosen?

_Poet_.