No More Learning

He burns with us alone, so fragrantly
His noblest vigour swoons delighted. Yea,
Women, I tell you, not far now is man
From hating us, so passionate the joy
Of loving us, so mightily drawing down
Into the service of his pleasure here
All forces of his being. The pleasure soon
Becomes a shame, scarce to be spoken aloud;
And in best minds, either detested doting
Man's joy in woman's beauty will become;
Or a strict binding fire, holding him down
In lust of beauty where no beauty is.

[_The_ KING'S MESSENGER _comes in_.

_Messenger_.
To Vashti, to the Queen of the world, to her
In whom the striving beauty of the world
Hath made perfection, from the King I come.
And the King bids me say, Rise from thy feast;
For thou must be to-night thyself a feast:
The vision of thy loveliness must now
Feed with astonishment my vassals' hearts.
Therefore thou art to come.

_Vashti_.
And tell the King
I will not come.

_Messenger_.
What was there in my words
Thou dost not understand? --I say, the King
Would show thy beauty to his under-kings,
That with this also they may be amazed
And utterly fear his fortune.

_Vashti_.
So.
Go back,
Tell the King I have hearkened to his message,
And tell him I will not come.

_Messenger_.
What sickness shall I say has lighted on thee,
So that thou canst not come?

_Vashti_.
Thou weariest me.
Say this to the King, Vashti will not come.
Are they not plain, my words? Canst thou not learn
them?

_Messenger_.
Give me some softer speech. Must I not fear
I shall earn whipping if I take these words?

_Vashti_.
I pray thee, go. Thou art a trouble here;
Seest thou not how all these feasting women
Pause, and the pleasure is distrest in them?
Thou hast thy message: say, She will not come. --
Back to the King, now!