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HEROD
I am not ill, It is your daughter who is sick to death. Never have I seen her so pale.
HERODIAS
I have told you not to look at her.
HEROD
Pour me forth wine [wine is brought.] Salomé, come drink a little wine with me. I have here a wine that is exquisite. Cæsar himself sent it me. Dip into it thy little red lips, that I may drain the cup.
SALOMÉ
I am not thirsty, Tetrarch.
HEROD
You hear how she answers me, this daughter of yours?
HERODIAS
She does right. Why are you always gazing at her?
HEROD
Bring me ripe fruits [fruits are brought.] Salomé, come and eat fruits with me. I love to see in a fruit the mark of thy little teeth. Bite but a little of this fruit that I may eat what is left.
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