_Ahasuerus_

[_Impetuously._]

Smerdis, charm These serpents, if you will, your glittering words Are meaningless to me. Carshena, let The Jewish Esther come in Tyrian robe, In such a gown as never Vashti wore!

_Smerdis_

[_Aside._]

His orders have not always been obeyed.

_Ahasuerus_

And I would have my queen adorned with gems, That diamond cl.u.s.ter from beyond the Ind, Which, sparkling in her aureole of gold, bedims The constellation of the Southern Cross.

_Smerdis_

[_Aside._]

And makes the Persian peasants mourn their loss!

_Ahasuerus_

I say, Meheuman, this shall be a night In which Ahasuerus feasts his friends-- A banquet for the soul, as well as flesh.

_Smerdis_

[_Aside._]

A famished soul such feasting would refresh!

_Ahasuerus_

For who does not delight to look upon The rhythmic beauty of voluptuous form?

_Smerdis_

[_Aside._]

Cold-blooded heart a writhing snake can warm!

_Ahasuerus_

Whose ear is not enthralled by luscious lute, Whose heart is not inspired by festive song!

_Smerdis_

[_Aside._]

The one bowed down by tyranny and wrong!

_Ahasuerus_

But why has Mordecai delayed to come?

The hated sons of Haman are no more; That reprobate who would have slain the queen Herself to gratify his wounded pride Has long since festered in the rain and sun.

No enemy remains alive who dares To touch the people of the Jew that saved The life of Persia's king. He wears my ring; The purple of my empire is a shield Against the world. I do not understand Why Mordecai is late. He should be here; The tabor and tymbrel sound anon.

_Smerdis_

[_Dances and capers before the king, then speaks solemnly._]

O king, I know why Mordecai is late, He sits once more beside the palace gate, In sackcloth and bemoans his fate.

He sits and dreams of hills and streams That flow through pasture lands and fields.

He sees a child of golden hair, As happy as the vibrant air, And hears the notes and pulse of song Where birds and sheep and shepherds throng.

And then he turns to banquet halls And scenes like this in palace walls, Where lords and queens and fools and kings, And concubines and underlings, Made one with wine and pa.s.sion's thrall, Throw dice with Death, nor heed the call That comes from Persia's bleeding heart, [_Aside_] (A fool that can not play his part).

And this explains why he is late, The Jew beside the palace gate.

_Ahasuerus_

You are a jester, not a bard. Your cap And bells, or else Death wins his throw with you.

Meheuman, call the poet of the court, The great Ahafid. Let him celebrate This feast in song. This rhyming fool presumes Too much upon the patience of the king.

_Smerdis_

Your majesty, I did but rhyme because Ahafid's dead.

_Ahasuerus_

Ahafid dead? What caused His death?

_Smerdis_

[_Aside._]

A broken heart. [_Aloud._] He broke his harp And died of grief. [_Aside again._] The good gray poet could Remember real kings.

_Ahasuerus_

Of grief? The fool!

Well, let the younger minstrel, Saadi sing.

_Saadi_

[_Sings._]

Lift the voice and let us sing, The monarch's on his throne; Xerxes is the greatest king The world has ever known.

Women, wine and happy song, Let the revels ring, Lift your voices loud and long, For Xerxes is our king.

[_Much revel and dancing. The trumpet sounds._]