_Judith_.
Thou callest someone? Alas!
O, where's my veil?--Cry him to stay awhile!--
_Holofernes_.
Thou troubled with such whimsy!--But 'tis no one,
A mere sexless thing of mine.
_Judith_.
He is coming!
I threw my veil--where?--I must bow my face
Close to the ground, or his eyes will find me out;
And--O my lord, hold him back with thy voice!
[_She has knelt down_.
Hold him in doubt to enter a moment, while
I loosen my hair into some manner of safety
Against his prying.
_Holofernes_.
Slave, dost thou hear me? Come!--
I marvel, room for such a paltering mood
Should be within thy mind, now so nearly
Deified with the first sense of my love.
[_A Eunuch comes in_.
_Holofernes_.
Wine! The mightiest wine my sutlers have;
Wine with the sun's own grandeur in it, and all
The wildness of the earth conceiving Spring
From the sun's golden lust: wine for us twain!
And when thou hast brought it, burn anear my bed
Storax and cassia; and let wealth be found
To cover my bed with such strife of colour,
Crimson and tawny and purple-inspired gold,
That eyes beholding it may take therefrom
Splendid imagination of the strife
Of love with love's implacable desire.
_Judith (still kneeling)_.
I must lean on thee now, my God! A weight
Of pitiable weakness thou must bear
And move as it were thine own strength; tell my heart
How not to sicken in abomination,
Show me the way to loathe this vile man's rage,
Now close to seize me into the use of his pleasure,
With the loathing that is terrible delight.
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