He said he did.

LAODICE. And you?

DANAe. I said he did.

Thereon he made too sure of me too soon: It is unwise to let men be too sure, And for that reason I hung up my silks On a swart Nabataean, having smeared her With my rare private unguent, and concealed her In his choice corner--where she bit his lip, Then let her laughing teeth take light of moon.

There was no more of Sophron afterward....

Although I looked at him almost penitently....

LAODICE.

No more? Was there no more, my little one?

DANAe.

Ah, yes.... When he would never look at me I felt I could not live outside his arms.

I went to him at night in a slave's skirt, And by humiliating actions soothed His wincing mind, until he stooped to me.

I had him soon. And then I tired of him.

LAODICE.

And then, indeed, there was no more at all?

DANAe.

I have not seen him since. We left that city.

You have my faith. You know I am all yours.

LAODICE.

That is quite well. He has no years for you; He is found treasonous, and must be undone.

O, he goes out.... Dear, I am very cold.

Is it because my heart is cold? Men say it.

DANAe.

Your heart is warm to me.

LAODICE. What do men say?

DANAe.

They say you fled to Sardis and to Smyrna Because you poisoned him at Ephesus And heard his feet when a room echoed.

LAODICE. Him?

DANAe.

Antiochus the G.o.d, your king and spouse.

LAODICE.

Why do they so consider me the cause?

DANAe.

You hold the physician Smerdis in more favour.

LAODICE.

And did I poison him, my Danae?

DANAe.

Dear lady, surely.

LAODICE. Surely.... It is sure.

Was I not made the Sister, natural wife?

Did he not change me for a daughter of Egypt Robed with a satrapy, crowned by an isle?

She laved her body daily in Nile water, Which can make fruitful even stones and virgins; It soon brought forth the mud's accustomed sp.a.w.n, A valuable heir of all the lands.

How could she keep him? Needing me he turned: Was it not best for him to die still needing me And leave the amount of kingdoms to my boy, The climbing vine of gold up Shushan's front, The cedar palaces of Ecbatana, Though Berenice sits in Antioch Safe with her suckling, in her suckling's name?

Winds, bring to me a ship from Antioch.

Since that dread night when Mysta stept not down With all you speechless ones to disarray me, Have you not dreamed that I did poison her?

Her love is more than yours, for she had crept To Antioch to sell herself in bondage Where Berenice buys, that she may nurse The child for Berenice--and for me, While uncle Egypt plucks my crown for it.

DANAe.

Which fingers mixed the poison? See, I kiss them, Trust them ever to do their will with me.

There is no poison in a poppy-seed; The seedling draws its venom from the earth-- 'Tis the earth's natural need for such event.

LAODICE.

Ay, but the disposition is in the seed; I poison by a motion of the heart.

_RHODOGUNE, a Parthian waiting-woman, enters._

RHODOGUNE.

Madam, the governor of Ephesus Comes newly from the harbour to your will.

DANAe.

Sophron!

LAODICE. Lie still. _A silence._

RHODOGUNE. Madam, must I go down?

LAODICE.

Bid this Ephesian governor to me.

RHODOGUNE _goes out._ LAODICE _lays a hand on_ DANAe'S _heart._

_It is now twilight._ SOPHRON _enters._

SOPHRON.

Queen, am I swift enough to your commanding?

LAODICE.

I am ever rich in your discerning service.

Why came you by the sea?

_She sees that_ SOPHRON'S _gaze is fixed on_ DANAe, _who does not look at him._

Girl, stand behind me.