Thou
troubled
with such whimsy!
Lascelle Abercrombie
But it is I am the punisht one.
Is there no man, is there none,
In whom my beauty will but move
The lust of a delighted love;
In whom some spirit of God so thrives
That we may wed our lonely lives?
Is there no man, is there none? "--
She said, "I will go to Solomon. "
_Holofernes_.
I shall not bear it: dreamed, it hath made my life
Fail almost, like a storm broken in heaven
By its internal fire; and now I feel
Love like a dreadful god coming to do
His pleasure on me, to tear me with his joy
And shred my flesh-wove strength with merciless
Utterance through me of inhuman bliss. --
I must have more divinity within me. --
Come to me, slave! [_Calling out to his attendants_.
_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!