Salome: How beautiful I look tonight Look at the moon! How strange the moon seems! She is like a woman rising from a tomb. She is like a dead woman. You would fancy she was looking for dead things. I have a strange look.  I am like a little princess who wears a yellow veil and whose feet are of silver.  I am like a princess who has little white doves for feet. You should fancy I was dancing. I am like a woman who is dead. I move very slowly. How beautiful am I tonight! You are always looking at yourself. You look at yourself too much. It is dangerous to look at people in such fashion. Something terrible may happen.

How pale I am! Never have I seen myself so pale. I am like the shadow of a white rose in a mirror of silver.
I must not look at myself. I look too much at myself...

Salome: I hide my face behind my fan! My little white hands are fluttering like doves that fly to their dovecots. They are like white butterflies. They are just like white butterflies.What is that to me? Why do you look at yourself? I must not look at myself...Something terrible may happen.I am like a dove that has strayed…I am like a narcissus trembling in the wind…I am like a silver flower.

Judith: You will not stay.  You cannot stay. Why does the Tetrach look at you all the while with his mole’s eyes under his shaking eyeids?  It is strange that the husband of your mother looks at you like that. You know not what it means. In truth, yes, you know it. How sweet the air is here! You can breathe here! How good to see the moon. She is like a little piece of money, you would think she was a little silver flower. The moon is cold and chaste. I am sure she is a virgin, she has a virgin’s beauty.  Yes, she is a virgin. She has never defiled herself. She has never abandoned herself to men, like the other goddesses. He says terrible things about your mother, does he not! Yes; he says terrible things about your mother. You desire to speak with him. You will speak with him. Bring forth the prophet. How wasted he is! He is like a thin ivory statue. He is like an image of silver. You are sure he is chaste as the moon is. He is like a moonbeam, like a shaft of silver.  His flesh must be cool like ivory. You would look closer at him. You must look at him closer.

Judith: His hair is horrible. It is covered with mire and dust. It is like a crown of thorns which they have placed on his forehead. It is like a knot of black serpents writhing round thy neck. You love not his hair. ... It is his mouth that you desire. His mouth is like a thread of scarlet on a tower of ivory. It is like a pomegranate cut with a knife of ivory. The pomegranate flowers that blossom in the gardens of Tyre, and are redder than roses, are not so red. The red blasts of trumpets that herald the approach of kings, and make afraid the enemy, are not so red. His mouth is redder than the feet of those who tread the wine in the wine-press. His mouth is redder than the feet of the doves that haunt the temples and are fed by the priests. It is redder than the feet of him who cometh from a forest where he hath slain a lion and seen gilded tigers. His mouth is like a branch of coral that the fishers have found in the twilight of the sea, the coral that they keep for kings! . . . It is like the vermilion that the Moabites find in the mines of Moab, the vermilion that the kings take from them. It is like the bow of the King of the Persians, that is painted with vermilion and is tipped with coral. There is nothing in the world so red as his mouth. . . . Let yourself kiss his mouth.

Salome: Well, I knew that I was seeking a dead thing, but I knew not that it was he whom I sought. Ah! Why did I not hide him from myself? If I had hidden him in a cavern I would not have seen him.

I have a strange look tonight. Have I not a strange look? I am like a mad woman, a mad woman who is seeking everywhere for lovers. I am naked, too. I am quite naked. The clouds are seeking to clothe my nakedness, but I will not let them. I show myself naked in the sky. I reel through the clouds like a drunken woman…He is sure I am looking for lovers. Do I not reel like a drunken woman? I am like a mad woman, am I not?

Mother: No; the moon is like the moon, that is all. Let us go within… You have nothing to do here.

Judith:  His body is hideous. It is like the body of a leper. It is like a plastered wall where vipershave crawled; like a plastered wall where the scorpions have made their nest. It is like a whitened sepulchre full of loathsome things. It is horrible, his body is horrible. It is of his hair that you are enamored. His hair is like clusters of grapes, like the clusters of black grapes that hang from the vine-trees of Edom in the land of the Edomites. His hair is like the cedars of Lebanon, like the great cedars of Lebanon that give their shade to the lions and to the robbers who would hide themselves by day. The long black nights, the nights when the moon hides her face, when the stars are afraid, are not so black. The silence that dwells in the forest is not so black. There is nothing in the world so black as his hair. . . . Let yourself touch his hair.

Judith: There is no sound. You hear nothing. Why does he not cry out, this man? Ah! If any man sought to kill you, you would cry out, you would struggle, you would not suffer. . . . No, you hear nothing. There is a silence, a terrible silence. Ah! something has fallen upon the ground. I heard something fall. It is the sword of the headsman. He is afraid, this slave! He has let his sword fall. He dare not kill him. He is a coward, this slave! Let soldiers be sent.

[Salome sees the Page of Herodias and addresses him.]

Come hither! He was the friend of him who is dead, is it not so? Well, tell him, there are not dead men enough. Tell him, go to the soldiers and bid them go down and bring me the thing you ask, the thing the Tetrarch has promised you, the thing that is yours.

[The Page recoils. Salome turns to the soldiers.]

Hither, ye soldiers. Get them down into the cistern to bring you the head of this man.

[The soldiers recoil.]

Command your soldiers that they bring you his head.

Judith: Ah! He wouldst not suffer me to kiss your mouth, Prophet. Well! You will kiss it now. You will bite it with your teeth as one bites a ripe fruit. Yes, you will kiss his mouth, I said it; did you not say it ? You said it. Ah! You will kiss it now. . . . But, why won’t he not look at me, this Prophet? His eyes that were so terrible, so full of rage and scorn, are shut now. Why are they shut ? Lift up his eyelids! Why doesn’t he look at me? Is he afraid of me, this Prophet, that he will not look at me? . . . And his tongue, that was like a red snake darting poison, it moves no more, it says nothing now, this Prophet, that scarlet viper that spat its venom upon you. It is strange, is it not  How is it that the red viper stirs no longer? . . . He wouldst have none of you, this Prophet. He did reject you. He did speak evil words against you. He did treat you as a harlot, as a wanton, you, Salome, daughter of Herodias, Princess of Judaea! Well, despite this Prophet, you still live, but he, he is dead, and his head belongs to you. You can do with it what you will. You can throw it to the dogs and to the birds of the air. That which the dogs leave, the birds of the air shall devour. . . . Ah, this Prophet, he was the only man that you have loved. All other men are hateful to you. But he, he was beautiful! His body was a column of ivory set on a silver socle. It was a garden full of doves and of silver lilies. It was a tower of silver decked with shields of ivory. There was nothing in the world so white as his body. There was nothing in the world so black as his hair. In the whole world there was nothing so red as his mouth. His voice was a censer that scattered strange perfumes, and when I looked on him I heard a strange music. Ah! Why did he not look at me, this Prophet? Behind his hands and his curses he did hide his face. He did put upon his eyes the covering of him who would see his God. Well, he hast seen his God, this Prophet, but you, you, he did never see. If he had seen you he would have loved you. You, you saw him, this Prophet, and you loved him. Oh, how you loved him! You love him yet, this Prophet. You love him only ... You are athirst for his beauty; You are hungry for his body; and neither wine nor fruits can appease your desire. What shall you do now? Neither the floods nor the great waters can quench your passion. You were a princess, and he did scorn me. You were a virgin, and he did take your virginity from you. You were chaste, and he did fill your veins with fire. . . . Ah! ah! why did he not look at you, this Prophet? If he had looked at you he had loved you. Well you know that he would have loved you, and the mystery of love is greater than the mystery of death. Love only should one consider.

Mother: I approve of what my daughter has done. And I will stay here now.

Salome: Ah! There speaks the incestuous wife! Come I will not stay here. Come, I tell thee. Surely some terrible thing will befall. Put out the torches. Iw ill not look at things, I will not suffer things to look at me.  Put out the torches!  Hide me! Hide the stars! Let us hide ourselves in our palace, Mother. I begin to be afraid.

[The slaves put out the torches. The stars disappear. A great black cloud crosses the moon and conceals it completely. The stage becomes very dark.]

Judith: Ah! You have kissed his mouth, this Prophet. You have kissed his mouth. There was a bitter taste on his lips.  Was it the taste of blood…? But perchance it was the taste of love…They say that love has a bitter taste…but what of that? What of that? You have kissed thy mouth, Prophet.

Salome walks away.