Ay, Death for you in truth! You feel’t yourself? My brother! [_Offers to embrace_ HEROD; _he thrusts her back_. HEROD. Mariamne! MAR. (_repulsing him with a violent gesture_). Draw the sword! Give me the poison-goblet! You are Death, Death gives embrace and kiss with sword and poison! HEROD (_turning round to_ SALOME). And what means this? A thousand candles called From distant regions through the night to me-- “Your courier did not fall in Arab hands A captive. He arrived; you are awaited!” And now---- SALOME. The candles lyingly deceived you, The jubilation here was for your death! Your courier arrived not, and your mother Has rent her raiment over you. [HEROD _looks round about_; _sees_ TITUS _and beckons to him_. TITUS (_advancing_). It is so. No single soul here could have thought, myself The least of all, that you before the fight At Actium would turn from Antony And, as I grant, at prudence’ call give Caesar Transferred allegiance. But that you have done it Is proved by your returning here. Then good. My--gratulations. MAR. (_approaching him_). And my deep regrets That no occasion offered you the chance To slay Mark Antony with your own hand. ’Twas this way you would show your new Lord best You had no further dealings with the old one. You would have brought your own friend’s head to him, He would have recompensed you with the crown. HEROD. Pooh, Titus, pooh! Even you think thus of me? I made my southward march to Araby Pursuing orders Antony had given. But there I found no foe, so I made ready To start for Actium, and there’s no blame Attaints me if I came too late. Had he Maintained the attitude I thought he would, In such a case (_to_ MARIAMNE) occasion had been sought To make him present of Octavian’s head As payment for the crown. (_To_ TITUS.) He did it not. He was long dead ere I appeared, nor was there A further need for friend, and I set out To see Octavian, not indeed as King-- I laid the crown aside--but all the more For that, no beggar. Drawing sword I spoke:-- “This I’d have used against you, and perchance I would have dyed it with your very blood If things here had gone better. That is o’er. I sink it at your feet and lay it by. Weigh then in mind the sort of friend I was And not whose friend. The Dead has set me free And now, if so you will, I can be yours.” TITUS. And he? HEROD.