Place--Outer hall to throne room, curtain back.
Time--The following evening.
[_Enter Vashti and Esther from opposite sides of the stage._]
_Esther_
Ah, here already, Vashti, at my poor
Request, who dared defy a despot king's
Command to come before him and his lords?
Your beauty, radiant and spotless, grows
Each hour of exiled life more potent still
Than when it hurled an oriental crown,
With all its flashing jewels, in the face
Of brutal Xerxes rather than unveil
Unto a drunken court of lustful eyes.
Uncrowned, deposed, you are, yet thrice a queen!
_Vashti_
The sting, the sting of your envenomed words!
_Esther_
Forgive me, dear, I do not mock your fate;
No word of mine is spoke in scorn. I would
Exchange the royal robe and crown I wear
For just one hour of virtuous freedom that
Belongs to you.
_Vashti_
I can not understand!
_Esther_
I know; 'tis my misfortune, and I called
You to the palace that I might explain.
Yet every word seems cruel mockery.
I do not blame you that your cheek, as chaste
As lilies, blushes at my seeming shame.
Yet, Vashti, can you not believe I need
Your sympathy? I crave your high respect?
_Vashti_
You must an explanation.
_Esther_
Well, did you
Not sacrifice a queenship for the gem
That every woman holds above a throne?
How can we estimate your loss? The pomp
That follows majesty; the crooking knee;
Ten thousand minions at your beck and call;
A thousand sycophantic, fawning lords;
A hundred gleaming jeweled chandeliers;
The radiance and rich magnificence
Of court; long hours of revel and of wine;
And then above the splendor and the show
God's finger writing on the wall! Is this
The precious price that you have paid?
_Vashti_
This is
The price.
_Esther_
Sweet friend, I thank you. Yes, your loss
Has been my gain! Yet what reward have I?
How I do hate the crown that you did spurn!
O how I love the pearl of greatest price!
God pardon my great sin!
Vashti, I am
A daughter of Rebecca and the blood
Of Rachel pulses in my veins! Beyond
The northern hills, within a valley green,
A shepherd watches o'er his flocks to-night
Beside a starlit stream, and dreams of her
Who gave the promise of her hand when life
Was young and all the earth was pure and fair.
His love was constant as the northern star,
And mine was like the needle pointing true.
That day is but a sad remembrance now.
I never knew the ones who gave me life.
My uncle, Mordecai, who sits in state
Beside the king instructed me in love
And knowledge of my people. Every night,
As well as every day, like Daniel, I
Was taught to pray, my window open toward
Jerusalem. God softened Cyrus' heart
Because of Daniel's prayer. But, Vashti, you
Must know from Persian Gulf to Caspian Sea,
The sons of Jacob still in exile groan
Beneath a tyrant's yoke. I hear the wail
Of Rachel weeping for her children still;
I hear my lover playing on his flute,
Who waits the coming of a faithless bride!
_But Mordecai has stayed the hand of Death!_
_Vashti_
And you did eat your heart to save your blood?
_Esther_
You comprehend at last? Your sympathy,
O Vashti, I must have, if not respect,
Else can I not return unto the king. [_Vashti weeps._]
There, there, I thank you, sister, friend, proud queen!
The tears that glitter on your cheeks are worth
A diadem of sparkling Indian stones.
But weep no more--your hand--for Esther's heart
Can now endure, since Vashti understands!
The stars are twinkling in the northern skies;
They shimmer on the stream beyond the hills;
The shepherd's reed is wailing on the breeze;
The revels in the palace now begin;
The call has come; I must no longer stay.
The daughter of a Benjamite will lay
Her heart upon the altar of her blood.
Hear you the crimson riot in my veins?
'Tis Rachel's voice! I would that you could know!
. . . . . . . . . . . . .
Forgive me, Vashti, for my brain's distraught!
The lights die out beyond the palace walls.
The stars are hid.... I can no longer hear
The wailing flute.... Return unto your hut.
Ahasuerus calls with mantling wine.
My place is yonder by the king. I go!
[_Exeunt Esther and Vashti._]
[_Enter Ahafid and Smerdis._]
_Ahafid_
The last word has been spoken
The last true song been sung;
My country's heart is broken,
The poet's harp unstrung.
_Smerdis_
Ahafid seems to harp upon his strings.
_Ahafid_
It seems Ahasuerus means to drink
The cup of revel to its bitter lees.
_Smerdis_
The deeper in the cup he goes
The sweeter is the wine that flows;
The closer to the lees, he thinks,
The purer is the wine he drinks.
_Ahafid_
Messengers from every province bring
Reports of mutterings and dangerous
Revolt. But Xerxes, heedless still, declares
This night shall dim the glories of the past.
_Smerdis_
[_Sings._]
The lower in the lamp the oil
The fewer are the days of toil.
The brighter burns the wick of life,
The sooner end the days of strife.
'Tis not for oil that Xerxes cares,
But brilliancy of flame that flares.
_Ahafid_
I hate the Hebrews and their Jewish God;
I hate Jehovah for his jealous love,
But Mordecai refuses to attend
The feast. The God of Israel must save
Us now, or Persia perish utterly.
My hand will pen no ribald verse
This revel to adorn;
Ye gods, inspire my tongue to curse
The day the king was born.
[_Exit Ahafid._]
_Smerdis_
The more he swears the less he sings,
Then welcome is this news he brings;
For listening to his song is worse
Than hearing old Ahafid curse.
[_Exit Smerdis._]
[_Re-enter Ahafid._]
_Ahafid_
[_Sings._]
Persia's heart is beating low,
Thinking of the long ago,
When the king that wore the crown
Was a prince of great renown;
When her name without a peer
Did inspire the world with fear;
But to-night her sovereign's lust
Trails her banner in the dust.
Now my life is ebbing fast,
Dreaming of the glorious past;
Feeling all the shame and smart,
Dying of a broken heart.
[_Sinks to floor._]
[_Curtain._]