Where is she who gave herself unto the Captains of Assyria, who have baldricks on their loins, and tiaras of divers colours on their heads? Where is she who hath given herself to the young men of Egypt, who are clothed in fine linen and purple, whose shields are of gold, whose helmets are of silver, whose bodies are mighty? Bid her rise up from the bed of her abominations, from the bed of her incestuousness, that she may hear the words of him who prepareth the way of the Lord, that she may repent her of her iniquities. Though she will never repent, but will stick fast in her abominations; bid her come, for the fan of the Lord is in His hand. SALOMÉ But he is terrible, he is terrible! THE YOUNG SYRIAN Do not stay here, Princess, I beseech you. SALOMÉ It is his eyes above all that are terrible. They are like black holes burned by torches in a Tyrian tapestry. They are like black caverns where dragons dwell. They are like the black caverns of Egypt in which the dragons make their lairs. They are like black lakes troubled by fantastic moons.... Do you think he will speak again? THE YOUNG SYRIAN Do not stay here, Princess. I pray you do not stay here. SALOMÉ How wasted he is! He is like a thin ivory statue. He is like an image of silver. I am sure he is chaste as the moon is. He is like a moonbeam, like a shaft of silver. His flesh must be cool like ivory. I would look closer at him. THE YOUNG SYRIAN No, no, Princess. SALOMÉ I must look at him closer. THE YOUNG SYRIAN Princess! Princess! JOKANAAN Who is this woman who is looking at me? I will not have her look at me. Wherefore doth she look at me with her golden eyes, under her gilded eyelids? I know not who she is. I do not wish to know who she is. Bid her begone. It is not to her that I would speak. SALOMÉ I am Salomé, daughter of Herodias, Princess of Judæa. JOKANAAN Back! daughter of Babylon! Come not near the chosen of the Lord. Thy mother hath filled the earth with the wine of her iniquities, and the cry of her sins hath come up to the ears of God. SALOMÉ Speak again, Jokanaan. Thy voice is wine to me. THE YOUNG SYRIAN Princess! Princess! Princess! SALOMÉ Speak again! Speak again, Jokanaan, and tell me what I must do. JOKANAAN Daughter of Sodom, come not near me! But cover thy face with a veil, and scatter ashes upon thine head, and get thee to the desert and seek out the Son of Man. SALOMÉ Who is he, the Son of Man? Is he as beautiful as thou art, Jokanaan? JOKANAAN Get thee behind me! I hear in the palace the beating of the wings of the angel of death. THE YOUNG SYRIAN Princess, I beseech thee to go within. JOKANAAN Angel of the Lord God, what dost thou here with thy sword? Whom seekest thou in this foul palace? The day of him who shall die in a robe of silver has not yet come. [Illustration: JOHN AND SALOMÉ] SALOMÉ Jokanaan! JOKANAAN Who speaketh? SALOMÉ