depart?

HAGGITH. My mistress is attiring.

FIRST SOLDIER. Thou dost not attire her?

HAGGITH. I! I, who have charge over all that is hers! Wilt thou tell me,
then, what is the task of her tiring-women? Idle sluts!

FIRST SOLDIER. And this is thy baggage?

HAGGITH (_matter-of-fact_). A cruse of oil, a bag of parched corn, fine
bread, three lumps of figs--and a bottle of wine--yea, the last!

FIRST SOLDIER (_drawing in his lips_). Ah! But thou wilt need an ass for
this cargo.

HAGGITH (_drily_). I am the ass.

_Enter_ Judith, _magnificently dressed_.

(_The_ soldier _retires, back_.)

JUDITH. Is all prepared?

HAGGITH. All is prepared, mistress.

_Enter_ Ozias, _L_.

OZIAS (_ecstatic at the sight of_ Judith's _splendour_). O, loveliness!