John the Baptist: A Play

by Hermann Sudermann

[Passing her hand through Salome's hair.] Verily thou hast never felt hate to boil in thy breast, like love on a night in May?

SALOME

[Feigning innocence.] No, mother. How should I?

HERODIAS

Thou hast never felt an insult coursing through thee, like burning, liquid fire?

SALOME

[In the same tone.] No, mother; really I have not.

HERODIAS

Thou shalt demand no mirror, no hair-ornament, and no velvet shoes. But that the head of him they call John the Baptist shall be brought to thee on a dish.

SALOME