Blind fools! To-day the envoys came to me,
And talked with me in secret. Promises,
Great promises! For every noble house
That urges peace, a noble recompense:
The King, submissive, kept in royal state
And splendour: most of all, honour and wealth
Shall crown the House of Rimmon, and his priest,--
Yea, and his priestess! For we two will rise
Upon the city's fall. The common folk
Shall suffer; Naaman shall sink with them
In wreck; but I shall rise, and you shall rise
Above me! You shall climb, through incense-smoke,
And days of pomp, and nights of revelry,
Unto the topmost room in Rimmon's tower,
The secret, lofty room, the couch of bliss,
And the divine embraces of the god.
TSARPI: [Throwing out her arms in exultation.]
All, all I wish! What must I do for this?
REZON:
Turn Naaman away from thoughts of war.
TSARPI:
But if I fail? His will is proof against
The lure of kisses and the wile of tears.
REZON:
Where woman fails, woman and priest succeed.
Before the King decides, he must consult
The oracle of Rimmon. This my hands
Prepare,--and you shall read the signs prepared
In words of fear to melt the brazen heart
Of Naaman.
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