Part 8

ESTHER

When woman loves one born of lowly state, Her thought gives crown and sceptre to her mate; Yet be he king, or chief of some great clan, She loves him but as woman loves a man. Monarch or peasant, ’tis the same, I wis When once she gives him love’s surrendering kiss.

HONEYMOON SCENE (FROM THE DRAMA OF MIZPAH)

AHASUERAS

What were thy thoughts, sweet Esther? Something passed Across thy face, that for a moment veiled Thy soul from mine, and left me desolate. Thy thoughts were not of me?

ESTHER

Ay, all of thee! I wondered, if in truth, thou wert content With me—thy choice. Was there no other one Of all who passed before thee at thy court Whose memory pursues thee with regret?

AHASUERAS

I do confess I much regret that day And wish I could relive it.

ESTHER

Oh! My lord!

AHASUERAS

Yea! I regret those hours I wasted on The poor procession that preceded thee. Hadst thou come first, then all the added wealth

Of one long day of loving thee were mine— A boundless fortune squandered. Though I live To three score years and ten, as I do hope, In wedded love beside thee, that one day Was filched from me and cannot be restored.

ESTHER

And then to think how frightened and abashed I hung outside thy gates from early morn, Not daring to go in and meet thine eyes, Till pitying twilight clothed me in her veil, And evening walked beside me to thy door.

AHASUERAS

So it was thou, fair thief, who stole that day, And made me poorer, by—how many hours?

ESTHER

Full eight, I think. They seemed a hundred then, And now time flies a hundred times too fast.

AHASUERAS

Then eight more kisses do I claim from thee, This very hour—first tithes of many due. I shall exact these payments as I will, And if they be not ready on demand, I’ll lock thee in the prison of my arms, Like this—and take them so—and so—and so!

ESTHER

But kings must think of other things than love And live for other aims than happiness. I would not drag thee from thy altitude Of mighty ruler and great conqueror To chain thee by my side.

AHASUERAS

Such slavery Would please me better than to conquer earth Without thee, Esther. I have stood on heights And heard the cheers of multitudes below; Have known the loneliness of being great. Now, let me live and love thee, like a man, Forgetting I am king— I am content.

ESTHER

Content is not the pathway to great deeds. As man, I hold thee higher than all kings; As king, thou must stand higher than all men In other eyes. Let no one say of me: ‘She spoiled his greatness by her littleness; She made a languorous lover of a king, And silenced war-cries on commanding lips— With honeyed kisses; made her woman’s arms Preferred to armour, and her couch to tents, Until the kingdom, with no guiding hand, Plunged down to ruin.’