Your majesty,
The king does hold his queen a goddess.
Vashti
Well,
Perhaps he thinks himself divine. Go tell
The king I do not wish to be enrolled
Among divinities. I am the queen—
He must respect me as the one who wears
The Persian crown.
'Tis scarce three years since he
Began to reign. He was Darius' son—
A king of whom the world was proud. He wooed
Me as a prince of noble blood, and I
Received his hand with dignity as well
As love. I was a princess, but I had
A heart. Long since I found that he had none.
A hundred eighty days continuous feast
He has oppressed the people of his rule
With drunken revels and with wanton waste.
And now to crown his sensuality
He sends his vulgar chamberlains to bring
Me to his palace garden that his lords
May gaze with unchaste eyes upon my form.
Meheuman, Biztha, will you tell the king
That Vashti bids him come to her if he
Would see the queen.
Meheuman
You understand
The costly hangings of the garden court
Are blue and green and white?
Vashti
Now pray you what
Significance has that? What if each couch
Is gold and silver and each goblet set
With stones?
Meheuman
The king's great love for Vashti!