Were I to name it I would make it greater. There was a secret I’d entrusted to him On which my All was hanging, and this secret He has betrayed; shall I then do the same? SALOME. Pitiful shuffling for my scare contrived! You think you can outwit me? You believe In all that I have said, and yet you are Too strengthless-willed your love to understifle And rather choose the shrine to overcloak That you’ll not stamp to nothing. But unless You murder me, your sister, with my husband, It will miscarry with you. (_To_ MARIAMNE.) He is dead! Now you can swear what pleases you; he will Not contradict you! [_Exit._ HEROD. Follow her, Soemus, And seek to win her to a calm! You know her And she ere now has given you willing ear. SOEMUS. Those times are now no longer; but I go! [_Exit._ MAR. (_aside_). For him who meant my murder I might well Be loath to supplicate; and yet I shudder That not the respite even for that was left me. HEROD (_aside_). ’Twas soon or late with him! In the next war He had been stationed in Uriah’s place! And yet I rue this hasty hotness now. [_Enter_ A COURIER. SCENE 6 HEROD. MARIAMNE. A COURIER. COURIER. I’m sent by Antony! HEROD. Ah, then I know What you are bringing me. I must make ready! The final feud of which he spoke begins. COURIER. Octavian, making course for Africa, Has taken ship; to meet him Antony Sets out in haste with Cleopatra joined Intending instant close at Actium---- HEROD. And I, I, Herod, am to make the third! ’Tis good! I make the march to-day. Soemus, For all this sorry plight of things, supplies me. Good that he came! MAR. Once more he marches forth! Eternal One, my thanks! HEROD (_observing her_). Ha! COURIER. Great King, no! He needs you not at Actium; he wills That the Arabians, who have raised rebellion, Be blocked by you from coupling with the foemen. This is the service he would have of you. HEROD. It lies with him that place to delegate Where I shall profit him. MAR. Once more! Then all Is fresh unravelled! HEROD (_as before_). How my wife is glad! (_To the_ COURIER.) Tell him--you know’t already-- (_Aside._) Brow unwrinkled And hands as though for thankful prayer enfolded-- That is her heart! COURIER. Have you naught else for me? MAR.