_2nd Woman_.
We will not have thee disobedient.

_1st Woman_.
Here comes another: gentle words, my Queen,
Let him take from thee now, and swiftly follow
Contrite, and let the beauty of thy grief
Bend pleading against the King's furious eyes.

[_The_ POET _comes in, and kneels_.

_Poet_.
I will not ask thee what strange anger sent
That blaze of proud contempt in the King's face:
But ere the voice of the King seals up thy life
In an unalterable judgment, I
Am granted now to come as his last message:
And, as I will, to speak. Here then I am
Not as commanding, but on my knees beseeching,
And for myself beseeching.

_Vashti_.
What hast thou
To do with this? and wherefore wert thou chosen?

_Poet_.
I was to praise the splendour of the King;
And I made thee his splendour; and the King,
Knowing my truth, would have thee brought, to break