The Collected Works of Oscar Wilde: 250+ Titles in One Edition. ОÑкар Уайльд
Cappadocian What ring?
Second Soldier The death-ring. So he was not afraid.
The Cappadocian Yet it is a terrible thing to strangle a king.
First Soldier Why? Kings have but one neck, like other folk.
The Cappadocian I think it terrible.
The Young Syrian The Princess rises! She is leaving the table! She looks very troubled. Ah, she is coming this way. Yes, she is coming towards us. How pale she is! Never have I seen her so pale.
The Page of Herodias Do not look at her. I pray you not to look at her.
The Young Syrian She is like a dove that has strayed. . . . She is like a narcissus trembling in the wind. . . . She is like a silver flower.
[Enter Salomé.]
Salomé I will not stay. I cannot stay. Why does the Tetrarch look at me all the while with his mole’s eyes under his shaking eyelids? It is strange that the husband of my mother looks at me like that. I know not what it means. . . . In truth, yes I know it.
The Young Syrian You have just left the feast, Princess?
Salomé How sweet the air is here! I can breathe here! Within there are Jews from Jerusalem who are tearing each other in pieces over their foolish ceremonies, and barbarians who drink and drink, and spill their wine on the pavement, and Greeks from Smyrna with painted eyes and painted cheeks, and frizzed hair curled in twisted coils, and silent, subtle Egyptians, with long nails of jade and russet cloaks, and Romans brutal and coarse, with their uncouth jargon. Ah! how I loathe the Romans! They are rough and common, and they give themselves the airs of noble lords.
The Young Syrian Will you be seated, Princess?
The Page of Herodias Why do you speak to her? Why do you look at her? Oh! something terrible will happen.
Salomé How good to see the moon! She is like a little piece of money. You would think she was a little silver flower. The moon is cold and chaste. I am sure she is a virgin, she has a virgin’s beauty. Yes, she is a virgin. She has never defiled herself. She has never abandoned herself to men, like the other goddesses.
The Voice of Jokanaan The Lord hath come. The Son of Man hath come. The centaurs have hidden themselves in the rivers, and the sirens have left the rivers, and are lying beneath the leaves in the forests.
Salomé Who was that who cried out?
Second Soldier The prophet, Princess.
Salomé Ah, the prophet! He of whom the Tetrarch is afraid?
Second Soldier We know nothing of that, Princess. It was the prophet Jokanaan who cried out.
The Young Syrian Is it your pleasure that I bid them bring your litter, Princess? The night is fair in the garden.
Salomé He says terrible things about my mother, does he not?
Second Soldier We never understand what he says, Princess.
Salomé Yes; he says terrible things about her. [Enter a Slave.]
The Slave Princess, the Tetrarch prays you to return to the feast.
Salomé I will not go back.
The Young Syrian Pardon me, Princess, but if you do not return some misfortune may happen.
Salomé Js he an old man, this prophet?
The Young Syrian Princess, it were better to return. Suffer me to lead you in.
Salomé This prophet . . . is he an old man?
First Soldier No, Princess, he is quite a young man.
Second Soldier You cannot be sure. There are those who say he is Elias.
Salomé Who is Elias?
Second Soldier A very ancient prophet of this country, Princess.
The Slave What answer may I give the Tetrarch from the Princess?
The Voice of Jokanaan Rejoice not thou, land of Palestine, because the rod of him who smote thee is broken. For from the seed of the serpent shall come forth a basilisk, and that which is born of it shall devour the birds.
Salomé What a strange voice I would speak with him.
First Soldier I fear it is impossible, Princess. The Tetrarch does not wish any one to speak with him. He has even forbidden the high priest to speak with him.
Salomé I desire to speak with him.
First Soldier It is impossible, Princess.
Salomé I will speak with him.
The Young Syrian Would it not be better to return to the banquet?
Salomé Bring forth this prophet. [Exit the slave.]
First Soldier We dare not, Princess.
Salomé [approaching the cistern and looking down into it] How black it is, down there! It must be terrible to be in so black a pit! It is like a tomb. . . . [To the soldiers] Did you not hear me? Bring out the prophet. I wish to see him.
Second Soldier Princess, I beg you do not require this of us.
Salomé You keep me waiting!
First Soldier Princess, our lives belong to you, but we cannot do what you have asked of us. And indeed, it is not of us that you should ask this thing.
[looking at the young Syrian] Ah!.
The Page of Herodias Oh! what is going to happen? I am sure that some misfortune will happen.
Salomé [going up to the young Syrian] You will do this thing for me, will you not, Narraboth? You will do this thing for me. I have always been kind to you. You will do it for me. I would but look at this strange prophet. Men have talked so much of him. Often have I heard the Tetrarch talk of him. I think the Tetrarch is afraid of him. Are you, even you, also afraid of him, Narraboth?
The Young Syrian I fear him not, Princess; there is no man I fear. But the Tetrarch has formally forbidden that any man should raise the cover of this well.
Salomé You will do this thing for me, Narraboth, and tomorrow when I pass in my litter beneath the gateway of the idol-sellers 1 will let fall for you a little flower, a little green flower.
The Young Syrian Princess, I cannot, I cannot.
Salomé [smiling] You will do this thing for me, Narraboth. You know that you will do this thing for me. And tomorrow when I pass in my litter by the bridge of the idol-buyers, I will look at you through the muslin veils, I will look at you, Narraboth, it may be I will smile at you. Look at me, Narraboth, look at me. Ah! you know that you will do what I ask of you. You know it well. . . . I know that you will do this thing.
The Young Syrian [signing to the third soldier] Let the prophet come forth . . ., The Princess Salomé desires to see him.
Salomé Ah!
The Page of Herodias Oh! How strange the moon looks. You would think it was the hand of a dead woman who is seeking to cover herself with a shroud.
The Young Syrian The moon has a strange look! She is like a little princess, whose eyes are eyes of amber. Through the clouds of muslin she is smiling like a little princess.
[The prophet comes out of the cistern. Salomé looks at him and steps slowly back.]
Jokanaan Where is he whose cup of abominations is now full? Where is he, who in a robe of silver shall one day die in the face of all the people? Bid him come forth, that he may hear the voice of him who hath cried in the waste places and in the houses of kings.
Salomé Of whom is he speaking?
The Young Syrian You can never tell, Princess.
Jokanaan