Salome.
Pitiful shuffling for my scare contrived!
You think you can outwit me? You believe
In all that I have said, and yet you are
Too strengthless-willed your love to understifle
And rather choose the shrine to overcloak
That you’ll not stamp to nothing. But unless
You murder me, your sister, with my husband,
It will miscarry with you. (To Mariamne.) He is dead!
Now you can swear what pleases you; he will