Scene 3

Herod. Titus.

Herod.

Well, Titus, well?

Admits Soemus——?

Titus.

What you know. Not more.

Herod.

Naught of——?

Titus.

Oh no! He leapt to feet as raving

If I but cast the lightest hint thereat.

Herod.

I could expect it.

Titus.

“Never could,” he answered,

“A wife like yours have lived, and never was

A man so little worth the precious jewel

That God vouchsafed to him——”

Herod.

As I myself!

Yes, yes! “He did not know the worth of pearls

Wherefore I took them from him,” said the thief.

I know not if that helped.

Titus.

“Her heart was nobler

Than gold.”

Herod.

And so he knows it! Swimming-brained

He lauds the wine. Does not that furnish proof

That he has drunk.[14] And what veneer used he

To coat it? Why betrayed he my commission

To her?

Titus.

From loathing, as he said.

Herod.

From loathing?

And he ne’er gave the loathing words to me?

Titus.

Would not the event have been his bane? Could you

Have granted life unto the stockish servant

If once he had received from you command

And pushed it from him?

Herod.

Why, in such a case,

Was’t not enough to leave it unfruitioned?

Titus.

Yes; but if he went further he has done it

Perchance because he deemed you as one lost

And now was fain to have the Queen’s good grace

A bargain at your cost for his own profit,

Since it was in her hands his future lay.

Herod.

No, Titus, no! Soemus was the man

To risk the daring bid in his own person

That makes another’s grace a needless prop.

For that sole cause I gave it him. I thought:—

“’Tis done for self if ’tis not done for you.”

Yes, had he been a lesser than he is

And had he not in Rome friends in such plenty

I could have thought it true. But now—no, no,

There was one only ground.

Titus.

And yet he’ll not

Confess that one.

Herod.

He were not what he is

If he should do it, for he knows full well

What follows that, and hopes now through his lying

To waken in my breast one last misdoubting

Such as will guard, if not perchance his head,

Then hers before the coming bulk of death.

He errs, though. That misdoubting lacks its sting.

Had I no cause to punish what she did

I’d punish that which she became and is.

Ha, had she ever been what she has seemed

She never could have donned this shifting slough

And I’ll take vengeance on the duplex Thing.

Yes, Titus, yes, I swear it by the key

Of Paradise that she holds in her hands,

By all beatitude that she erewhile

Has granted me, that she can grant me still,

Yea, by this instant’s shudder which monitions

That I in her will blot myself to nothing,

I make an end howe’er the matter stand.

Titus.

It is too late to make the cry of warning

“Give not the order!” and I know myself

No means of leading this to issue clear

And therefore cannot dare to say “Hold! Hold!”

[Enter Joab.