KING. What is't?
GARCERAN. An old man, Sire, is there,
A Jew, methinks, pursued by garden churls,
Two maidens with him, one of them, behold,
Is fleeing hither.
KING. Good! Protection's here,
And thunder strike who harms one hair of hers.
(Calling behind the scenes.)
Hither, here I say!
RACHEL comes in flight
RACHEL. They're killing me!
My father, too! Oh! is there none to help?
[She sees the QUEEN and kneels before her.]
Sublime one, shelter me from these. Stretch out
Thy hand and hold it over me, thy maid,
Not Jewess I to serve thee then, but slave.
[_She tries to take the hand of the _QUEEN who turns away.]