PHARAOH. Wherefore do ye murmur? Ansu, the magician, speak!
[ANSU comes forward. He carries a long wand.]
MENTHU: [Furious.] Am I dismissed, O King?
PHARAOH. I think Pesbes, the dwarf, would have spoken better sense.
PESBES: [With a cackling laugh.] Or had the sense to hold my peace!
[MENTHU goes back among the PRIESTS, in a rage.]
ANSU. The priest of Neith is wise; but in this matter his wisdom is clouded.
[Angry murmur from the PRIESTS.]
PHARAOH. How dost thou read the dream?
ANSU: [Draws cabalistic signs on the floor with his wand; a circle, and, within it, two triangles] O King, live forever. In the days to come thou shalt marry seven queens, and they shall die while thou livest. And thou shalt beget fourteen children.
[The PHARAOH sinks back in disgust. The PRIESTS and SOOTHSAYERS break into subdued laughter.]
PESBES. Thou must indeed live forever, O King!
[The CROWD laughs—respectfully. IRI, the SOOTHSAYER, strides forward.]
IRI. Is it given to me to speak, O King?
PHARAOH. Speak, Iri, the Soothsayer.
IRI. The foolishness of Ansu is greater than the foolishness of Menthu.
[ANSU retires, with a gesture of disgust.]
IRI. Behold! We only know the true answer.
