Queen, is it well to be so sorrowful?
_2nd Woman_.
And when the King our lord spendeth on us
This festival out of his rich heart, to shoot
Thy looks upon us as thou wouldst rebuke us?
_Vashti_.
Your pardon: do I trouble your greed?
_1st Woman_.
Our greed?
Rather our gratitude----
_2nd Woman_.
That we have share
In these devices of the King's own cooks,
These costly breads,--
_1st Woman_.
And these delicious meats,
These sauces mixt of spicy treacle and balm.
_3rd Woman_.
And wines, purple and blue and like gold fire,
Made of the colours of the morning sea
And fragrance wild as woman's need of love.
_Vashti_.
Enjoy them then: who lets you?
_3rd Woman_.
Thou dost, Queen.
Thou sittest with hands folded in thy robe,
And in the midst of delicacies wilt fast.
_1st Woman_.
We see thine eyes upon them as they were
Wickedness.
_2nd Woman_.
'Tis rare bounty that we women
Halve with the King his festival.
_3rd Woman_.
And thou,
It seems, scarce findest it thankworthy.
_Vashti_.
Again,
Your pardon: but ye need not gaze on me.--
And yet, why am I sorrowful? In truth,
Is it a sorrow that so leans upon me?
I know not. But my soul knoweth right well
That I am watched.
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