John the Baptist: A Play

[_The same. Salome_ (_thickly veiled_) _led in by Herodias while the harps are tuned. A murmur of astonishment runs round the table._]

Vitellius. Are these thy Libyan----

Herod. [_Who has risen._] This is my wife, Exalted Highness.

Vitellius. [_Also rising._] Mistress, if thou wouldst grace this feast with thy smiles, I bid thee welcome.

Herodias. Pardon, noble Vitellius. The custom of the East, over which thou reignest so gloriously, doth not permit of my sitting beside thee at table. Yet we know how to entertain even when we are not merry. My lord and consort, zealous to please thee, hath commanded me to adorn myself and my little daughter to enter thy presence, therewith she may delight thy eyes with her maidenly art, trembling in maidenly modesty.

Vitellius. Hail to thee, Prince, and to thy noble wife! Rome will not be grudging where thou art so lavish. Hearest thou not?

Herod. [_With his eyes fixed on Salome._] Exalted, look!

Vitellius. Truly, he is right; let us look, Romans. Open your eyes wide, for what is coming is the art of all arts. And if thou tremblest, maiden, remember that thou rulest because thou tremblest.

Marcellus. One is obliged to say that, Gabalos, to encourage her.

Gabalos. Ah, my brave Marcellus, see to it, is it fast on its neck?

Marcellus. Who? What?

Gabalos. The head! the head! Look at Herodias. That will cost some one his head! Only _whose_ has not yet transpired.

Marcellus. [_Pointing to Salome._] Silence!... See!...

Salome. [_Has extricated herself from the arms of Herodias and, accompanied by exclamations of admiration and delight, has begun to dance. Her dance becomes wilder and more abandoned; she gradually loosens her veil, then covers herself with it again in voluptuous playfulness, till at last, quite unveiled, she stands with the upper part of her body apparently unclothed. She sinks on her knees half exhausted, half in homage, before Herod, who stands on the right side of the table._]

[_All break into ecstasies of applause._]

Herod. [_Rushes forward to raise her._]

Herodias. [_Who has retreated as far as the proscenium on right, and has watched everything intently with a harassed expression playing on her face, now intervenes to prevent him. She and Herod exchange hostile glances._]

Herod. [_Hoarsely._] Salome!

Salome. Sire!

Herod. Stand up and speak.

Salome. [_Slowly rising._] What shall I say, Sire?

Herod. I am a poor man. Rome--who gave Herod's son, as if in mockery, the name of Herod--Rome has not left him much of his father's heritage. Yet enough is still his wherewith to thank thee. Speak, what wilt thou have? And by that God and Lord before whom we kneel in the dust, barefoot, at Jerusalem, I swear it shall be thine.

Salome. I beg and desire that thou wilt give me, on a dish, the head of John the Baptist.

Herod. Herodias--thou!

Vitellius. Dear friend, whose head doth she want?

Herod. The head of a man, great legate, who lies in my prison, whom I have there learnt to respect, I had almost said, to love.

Vitellius. Oh, oh!... And is he on view, this man for whose head daughters of princes dance before thee?

Herod. Fetch him. [_Exit servant._] Damsel, thy mother led thee into this. Thou knowest not what thou askest.... Take back thy request.

Salome. I beg and desire that thou wilt give me the head of John the Baptist on a golden dish. [_Silence._]

Herod. And if I refuse?

Herodias. [_Drawing herself erect._] Thou hast sworn, Sire.

Vitellius. [_Laughing._] Of course, my friend, thou hast sworn. We are all witnesses of that. Ah! What a wood-god they are bringing in over there.