Herodias

"Mr. Youssef al-Khal has all but finished a verse play in two acts, entitled 'Herodias,' and it pleases The Woman's Voice to present to its readers a small excerpt from this play, in which Herod tempts 'Salome,' the daughter of his wife 'Herodias,' with the robes, jewels, and perfumes in his treasuries, that she may dance a second time before him and before his guests on the night of his feast."

HEROD (addressing Salome)
Ask, then! In my treasuries are virgin pearls that have lent the firmament some of its stars;
the giants' diving in the deep sea, after the unattainable of its known treasure, went astray of them;
and necklaces strung with rubies...

ROMAN (1)
Take them, Salome!

ROMAN (2)
No. No. Leave them —
in Herod's hidden stores is what is more splendid still; so ask him — perhaps he will give it.

HEROD
Aye, by my Lord! Among them are of [...]
borne by [...]
red pearl, an eloquent troop, and jewels
of Bilqis, from Solomon's age — when eyes beheld them, they swerved;
and of wrought gold, light earrings, glittering, and bracelets:
should fair women deck themselves in them, they would turn morning to night, and night to morning...

ROMAN (1)
Then hasten and give them to her...

HEROD (continuing)
In my treasuries are robes crimson, comely as morning, fluttering, coquettish,
spun by the fingers of the jinn — and tonight is a wedding, and the ascent is by pairs;
upon them plays a lightning of delights, and from love's rapture an arousal.
Aye — and among them, Salome, are green and white, soft and fair, exultant, lilting;
Damascus embroidered them: soft damask, radiant of warp, ablaze;
and Shiraz wove them: velvety silk, and mantles of brocade.

ROMAN (1)
Oh, for Salome! Were she draped in them now, the dark would know no dawn —
no, nor would a lamp shine over Rome, nor a lamp incline short of her.
Oh, what a...

HEROD (continuing)
In my treasuries is ambergris that pours out drunkenness from the ancient wines,
and frankincense steeped in the phials, and musk journeying by night in the skins,
and perfumes of every fragrance, whose tress the fingertips of lovers have tinted,
in ivory towers, marble-wrought, that have bound their domes to the horizons.