The Devil. You might introduce her to Mrs. Warren. But I am afraid the Princess has taken rather too much upon herself this evening.
The Statue. Yes, she has taken too much; I am sure she has taken too much.
A Journalist. Is that the Princess Salomé who has Mexican opals in her teeth, and red eyebrows and green hair, and curious rock-crystal breasts?
The Devil. Yes, that is the Princess Salomé.
Shannon. I know the Princess quite well. Ricketts makes her frocks. Shall I ask her to dance?
The Devil. Yes, anything to distract her attention from the guests. These artistic English people are so easily shocked. They don’t understand Strauss, nor indeed anything
until it is quite out of date. I want to make Hell at least as attractive as it is painted; a place as well as a condition within the meaning of the Act. Full of wit, beauty, pleasure, freedom—
The Statue. Ugh—ugh.
Shannon. Will you dance for us, Princess?
Salomé. Anything for you, dear Mr. Shannon, only my ankles are a little sore to-night. How is dear Ricketts? I want new dresses so badly.