Act 5 — APPENDIX

I’ve no more use for him; behind the plough To trapse is ’gainst his stomach; as to music, For that he’s over-restive; then the trumpet, I tried some blowing-lessons—wasted all! Fists, ay and fine ones too, are his equipment, Fear he knows none, not e’en the fear of me. And since the day you scoured the mountains clean There’s never brigand gives himself to glimpse. So he’s with us a lack-use, and perchance Will be the first to get a kink in his ways And spoil our maiden’s pleasure in the woods. If you’ll not—(To his son.) Now then, Blacklooks, clear your brow! The word was not ill-meant; and if the King Forgives the jest, why you can do it too! So then you’ll take him, Sire? Before the gate I saw the Roman cohort in your service And thought this raw-hide lad was just their fellow, In all, I mean, that touches form and fashion, As though, within the very mother-womb, He’d had the thought to stop a gap therein. No single one I saw gave me the notion He might have had a bent or finger-knack For sandal-cobbling or for garment-stitching, But in each mother’s son I thought I marked That straight upon the Captain’s uttered word He’d spit his very sire without a qualm, —Just what this sprig of mine were ripe to do! The worser else, for soldiering the better.

If this lad be not true to me, why then His mother was no better toward his father. At least he’ll be so for an eight-days’ space For he knows none here. That’s a point worth while!

Of pearls we spoke our latest word. But pearls Are white and blood is red. How came I then From white of pearls upon the red of blood? ’Tis naught; the wearing’s sweet, nor long the question Whether the diver, even to arm and leg, Paid a forced reckoning to the snatching polyp. For if his fate be such to go a-seeking And fight therefore the Things o’ the underwaters, ’Tis mine to have them for the necklet-winding And make myself a mark for every arrow Winged by wry hearts and hate—worse lot than his! Who has a head believes him worth a crown, Who has a neck wants pearls as well thereon.

Believe my word, natures there are in life That put deceit, and must, on all whose trusting Is not a wholeheart thing. Not in the testing, Nay, through the testing’s self they topple groundward Being too high therefor, too fine of feel. Woe then to you if you’ve no heart for trusting, Since you—Forgive me! This is the last time.

Farewell.

Farewell. I know you will come back.

I’ll do it—ay and must, though doubly sore It sting me that no more is in my power.

Ay, and for us as well ’twill serve a turn, Henceforth through all Judaea ’twill be ours To fare at night-time and without our torches. You see the King knows well what he’s about.

Es wär’ genug den Cäsar zu bezahlen Und schätzt er selbst sich ab vorm Tode.

It were enough to quit his debt to Caesar Were he himself to rate his worth ’gainst death.

Herod, if it were mine with one mere word To pluck me from my death, never would I Seek such abjection as that word to utter; If I were strong to tell me that my life, My whole-of-blemish life itself had spoken, Then would I rather die than let misthought Of meaner mould by such a word be stifled. Forget not that!

That you deny. Now ere the time I know, If death be overhasty on my footsteps, What thing will make me quail in my last hour. I saw, now years agone, a dying man Upon a field of fight, on whom an insect Had crept and stung. One twitch he still could give And straight thereon yielded the final breath. I felt its horror. For his wounds, I scarce Set eyes upon them, but the insect-sting I see even now. And thus ’twill go with me. That sense-repelling, spirit-sickening thing Is my last torture. Take my prepaid thanks!

If it have weight for me, ’twill lie for me Self-manifest.

To-night a feast! I’ll shape me to the image That he must bear in heart, deeming it me! He sees me ever dancing, that is clear, E’en when I’m weeping and dissolved in anguish. Dance then I shall!—set on the cymbal’s clashing That at my sight he be not put to blush!

Then stood I not before you. Then on me Had fallen his death-hand, as, when he returns, That death-hand will and must soon as it may. That lay and lies i’ the order. Even as I Was but his limb, I had alone ’twixt death And life the simple choice. My bow was forced And forced the hypocriting—have your word. Albeit my inmost soul before him froze.

He hoodwinked me not for a moment’s space. And all the less for this, that Joseph’s death To me was less a riddle than to all Who saw him not upon his latest path. ’Twill shock you to recoil—but there was like Injunction laid on him, and he kept dumb Lest aught should slip his guard. Thus much at least I must believe, for in the very dying He swore he’d naught committed worthy death.

I know it all—yes!

What?

And gave’t your pardon?

And, that despite, extolled him and defended? Then the mere harboured thought upon your hurt Was a more heinous thing than the wrought deed On any woman else!

Come to my feast! etc.

If so be your physician Gave him assurance that from Africa You brought a fever, then (so ran his words) He’d pardon your misthought, but else——

So speaks he Knowing full well the aftermath, and fain To be her shield before my vengeance. That I understand. And what veneer, etc.

If so be your physician——

What were his grounds?

The thing you hug so close.

And how was that?

He gave me half-light hints. “You laid on him an outrage passing nature In whose compare to set into a blaze The Temple even, were none.”

And, not content To leave it undischarged, whereby enough Were expiated the most ticklesome Of consciences to mollify, he went Flying to her with my command, and made His bid—no guess you know it—

Naught!

He kept Concealed from you what he laid bare to her? Oh had he changed his rôle about! Nay, never! He must have given to you what stood for him Within her payment. Learn it then from me— I laid on him—ask me not why—command Whereby he was to kill her if myself Should have no home-return. That thus I did Proves you how deep I trusted him. Believe me I had good ground therefor, and if the iron, Whereof the man is mettled, flagged and flowed, It proves but this, that he was in the fire.

Yes, yes, and yet—’tis not what I’d have done.

Had she but loved me as I her, then were she After my death all out of love with life. What the heart’s out of love with lets a man Begone, nor rues it. No one holds it fast. What was the point to ponder? Had she not Tripped me behind my back, she’d gladly die; Whereas if she did trip me, then were hers A well-earned death for such a double front. Then let the friend of twilight blame my step, The light’s my choice, and now I see full clear, I see what health there is within her heart. Why fret my soul with this and that? why question If, after swearing deathless love to me, In such or such a way she made the breach? Granted that she were pure, granted Soemus Made her his head away—I cannot think it But grant ’twere so—that Joseph did the same, Was it my cue, before her spite’s stiff neck, To sink my own, and like a milksop let her Twist her to sheer negation of her soul? Oh nay, Oh nay! I swear it by the key Of Paradise that she holds in her hands. By all beatitude that she erewhile Has granted me, that she can grant me still, I lash what she became, not what she did. You eye me doubtfully, you think I reach Myself in her. I do it, oh I do it! If it may hap that men can die of wounds They give and not receive, then even now ’Twill come to pass—and yet to my content.

And this is now the second time. Then hear— By your stark stubbornness, upon an earth Where all’s in flux, the only rigid thing; By every day of loveliness I lived With you to share, each day that now no more I dare remember; by my future, which Can never bring to me such days again; Yea, by the very shudder which were fain E’en now to choke this oath; this day, this hour I’ll have it out, whether my life is one With life of yours, and if it be that Nature In mock and gibe enknots me with a creature For ever—one to whom I’m naught, who can Avenge her thus, nay stand here as you do! Away! (To The Judges.) You halt? My sentence will no jot Admit retraction! (Seeing they still hesitate.) Or have I missed the point?

Since you are not for me nor yet against.