David. Or perfume out of India jewel poured?
(He searches her eyes.)
Or than—I may believe?—a miracle
Of dew, were you a traveller upon
The illimitable desert's thirst? Or than—
(He draws his own dagger, pricks his wrist, and hands it her.)
Than this?
Merab. Shepherd!
David (quickly). Treachery? treachery, then?
Under a sham of tribute poison?
Michal. Poison?
David. And I of vanity should prick it in?
I a mere shepherd innocent of wile!
A singer music-maudled and no more?...
The daughter of King Saul has yet to learn.
(She goes. He turns to Michal.)