HEROD
I hear it no longer. But I heard it. It was the blowing of the wind, no doubt. It has passed away. But no, I hear it again. Do you not hear it? It is just like the beating of wings.
HERODIAS
I tell you there is nothing. You are ill. Let us go within.
HEROD
I am not ill. It is your daughter who is sick. She has the mien of a sick person. Never have I seen her so pale.
HERODIAS
I have told you not to look at her.
HEROD
Pour me forth wine [wine is brought]. Salomé, come drink a little wine with me. I have here a wine that is exquisite. Cæsar himself sent it me. Dip into it thy little red lips, that I may drain the cup.