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. 4. _After this line in the MS.:_-- 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. HEROD. Farewell. MARIAMNE. Farewell. I know you will come back. 5. _Insert:_-- HEROD (_aside_). I’ll do it--ay and must, though doubly sore It sting me that no more is in my power. 6. _Insert:_-- 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. 7. _The text runs:_-- _Es wär’ genug den Cäsar zu bezahlen_ _Und schätzt er selbst sich ab vorm Tode._ The words seem to mean “The tribute would be enough to pay Caesar if he (Herod) were assessing his own value to save himself from death.” The passage proved too much for me, and I owe this explanation to Mr. Nicholson. I translate:-- It were enough to quit his debt to Caesar Were he himself to rate his worth ’gainst death. 8. _Insert:_-- 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! 9. _Insert:_-- 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! 10. _Insert:_-- If it have weight for me, ’twill lie for me Self-manifest. 11. _Insert:_--