Laodice, turning her head and looking up at
Danaë suddenly.
Why do you tremble, girl? There's nought to fear.
As she begins to speak Danaë's hair is shaken loose; a rose falls from it and breaks on Laodice's shoulder. Laodice laughs and plays with the petals, continuing without pause.
Laodice.
Do you drop me a sleepy kiss, maiden, my rare one?
But, O, you have so tumbled your hair to cull it—
Come hither, kneel, and I will bind it up.
Danaë, obeying.
Lady, I coiled it carelessly.... Indeed
Such ministration is my precious pardon.
Laodice.
Silk, silky silk so delicious to finger....
Rose I held; ruby-glows; then dark hair in my hands....
Nay, I am hot; I burn; stay there and fan me....
Dear, do not cease at all.
To Sophron.
Well, my captain?
Sophron.
You shall have men's minds searched in Ephesus.
Laodice.
I like your mind. Also, I have considered
You must shut up your port, let out no ship;
Then Ptolemy shall be more sure each night
That he has wiped the seas ... till you slip out.
Sophron, in stupefaction.
Slip ... out?
Laodice.
Ay, Sophron, fall on him.
Sophron, eagerly. Yes, yes:
These things shall be, and you shall not complain.
Laodice.
Nay, go not now; be my great guest this night.
The tide will take you not until more day,
And in the dawn, white hour of clearest thought,
I need more counsel from you for my deeds.
She claps her hands: Barsine, a Persian, enters.
Let this strong captain be well feasted now
In winy webs of my embroidering—
Or—no—a purple suits his temper best;
And send a slave to him for him to rule.
Sophron.
Graciousness, yours: let me but stay my seamen.
Laodice.
Haretas the Pisidian shall go down
Into the place of ships, but not my guest:
Entrust your ring to this, and she will bear it.
Barsine and Sophron go out. Laodice nods to herself.
I saw his ring: it was a new green scarab.
Danaë ceases fanning without Laodice heeding.
Rhodogune, outside.
She-dog, come back and you shall have but whips.
A dirty woman runs in, bearing a bundle within her ragged robe; Rhodogune follows her.