King: It is surely permitted that I send for my priests, who tell by divination, having burnt strange herbs to the gods that guard the Golden Isles.
Ambassador: It is permitted.
King: Send for the priests.
King (mainly to himself): They shall discern. The priests shall make for me this dreadful choice. They shall burn herbs and discern it. (To Ambassador.) My priests are very subtle. They worship the gods that guard the Golden Isles.
Ambassador: The Emperor has other gods.
[Enter L. two priests of the Order of the Sun. Two acolytes follow. One carries a tripod and the other a gong.
[The priests abase themselves and the acolytes bow. The Ambassador stands with almost Mongolian calm by the door from which he has not moved since he entered.
[The impassive Nubian stands motionless near the King, holding up the cups on a tray.
King: The Emperor has honoured me with these two cups of wine that I may drink one of them to the grandeur of his throne. I bid you importune the gods that they may surely tell me which it were well to drink.
First Priest: We will importune the gods with the savour of rarest spices. We will send up to them the odour of herbs they love. We will commune with them in silence and they shall answer our thoughts, when they snuff the savour of the smoke of the burning on the tripod that is sacred to the Sun.