I have been faithful to you, little pullet, for 180 days and, what's more, 180 nights. How's that for morals? I defy you to find me a Christian to match it, at any weight. Think of it! Here am I, still in the prime of life, Emperor of Rome, Pontifex Maximus and all the rest of it, and yet I am as virtuous as a convict in the death-house. Here am I without a glass of schnapps for six months. Here am I with twelve wives, at least five of them charming, and I lock eleven of them out, and—
LUCIA
You must obey the Word.
HELIOGABALUS
Well, I have obeyed it. And what do I get for it? I still have my stomach-ache. And the one wife I have left rolls over about half a mile, and leaves me to shiver over bad poetry. [He throws the scroll on the floor] My dear, you must allow something to my training. I am used to society at night. Loneliness always starts up my dyspepsia. How many times have I suddenly wakened and cast my eye over that bed and watched the sweet girls as they slumbered, or whispered to one another, or nudged one another, or giggled in their more or less perfect innocence. There was always at least one awake. And when she saw me sitting up wearily, tortured by some business of state, she would crawl over and pour me out a drink of the real stuff, and then snuggle into bed with me, and stroke my hair, and—
LUCIA
There was always an Eye upon you. There was One who saw.
HELIOGABALUS
Well, if there was, then I call it damned bad form. Even the gods should have some decency.
LUCIA