HEROD. I should Have done more than I have, done all I could, Healed the raw wound between the land and Rome, Helped you to make this hellish town a home, Not left it, as I fear it has been, hell To you and yours cooped in a citadel Above rebellion brewing. For the past I offer deep regret, grief that will last, And shame; your generous mind leaves me ashamed. PILATE. Really, my lord. PROCULA. These things must not be named. PILATE. It is generous of you to speak like this, But, Herod, hark. PROCULA. If things have been amiss, The fault was ours. HEROD. No, the fault was mine. Your generous act this morning was a sign Of scrupulous justice done to me by you For all these years, unnoticed hitherto, Unrecognized, unthanked. I thank you now. Give me your hand ... so ... thus. PILATE. Herod, I bow To what you say. To think that I have done Something (I know not what) that has begun A kindlier bond between us, touches home. I have long grieved lest I have injured Rome By failing towards yourself, where other men Might have been wiser.... That is over, then? Our differences henceforth may be discussed In friendly talk together; HEROD. So I trust. PILATE. Give me your hand; I have long hoped for this. I need your help, and you, perhaps, need mine. The tribes are restless on the border-line, The whole land seethes: the news from Rome is bad. But this atones. PROCULA. O, fully. HEROD. I am glad. PILATE. Let us go in. HEROD. You lead. PROCULA. A moment, one.... You named a generous act that he had done....? HEROD. This morning, yes; you sent that man to me Because his crime was laid in Galilee. A little thing, but still it touched me close; It made me think how our disputes arose When thieves out of your province brought to me Were punished with a fine, perhaps set free, Not sent to you to judge, as you sent him. In future you will find me more a friend. Or so I hope. PILATE. Thanks. May the gods so send That this may lead to happier days for us. VOICES OF THE CROWD [_who are now flocking in, among them_ THE MADMAN]. Herod the good, Herod the glorious. Long life to Herod. PILATE. Come, the crowd begin.... VOICES. Herod for ever. PILATE. Let us go within.... HEROD. Yes. By the by, what happened to the man? I sent him back to you; a rumor ran That he was crucified. PILATE. He was. HEROD. The priests Rage upon points of doctrine at the feasts. VOICES. God bless you, Herod; give you length of days, Herod. HEROD [_to the_ CROWD]. Go home. To God alone give praise. This is Deliverance Night; go home, for soon Over the dusty hill will come the moon, And you must feast, with prayer to the Adored. [_To_ PILATE.] He well deserved his death. VOICES. God bless you, Lord. PILATE. I'll lead the way.... VOICES. Herod. HEROD [_to_ PROCULA]. Lady, your hand.