I know; 'tis my misfortune, and I called
You to the palace that I might explain.
Yet every word seems cruel mockery.
I do not blame you that your cheek, as chaste
As lilies, blushes at my seeming shame.
Yet, Vashti, can you not believe I need
Your sympathy? I crave your high respect?
Vashti
You must an explanation.
Esther
Well, did you
Not sacrifice a queenship for the gem
That every woman holds above a throne?
How can we estimate your loss? The pomp
That follows majesty; the crooking knee;
Ten thousand minions at your beck and call;
A thousand sycophantic, fawning lords;
A hundred gleaming jeweled chandeliers;
The radiance and rich magnificence
Of court; long hours of revel and of wine;
And then above the splendor and the show
God's finger writing on the wall! Is this
The precious price that you have paid?
Vashti
This is
The price.
Esther
Sweet friend, I thank you. Yes, your loss
Has been my gain! Yet what reward have I?
How I do hate the crown that you did spurn!
O how I love the pearl of greatest price!
God pardon my great sin!
Vashti, I am
A daughter of Rebecca and the blood
Of Rachel pulses in my veins! Beyond
The northern hills, within a valley green,
A shepherd watches o'er his flocks to-night
Beside a starlit stream, and dreams of her
Who gave the promise of her hand when life
Was young and all the earth was pure and fair.