Than this—to say, “He gets his turn like me!
I grudge it not! And when he mounts his throne
Fresh from a field o’erstrewn with graves in thousands
I’ll praise him for’t: it chokes his covetous mood!”
Ah, but my Herod lives and he will live!
So says my heart to me. Death flings a shadow
And that falls on me here! (pointing to her heart).
Scene 4
The Same. Joseph.
[Enter a Servant.