_1st Woman_.
Queen, is it well to be so sorrowful?

_2nd Woman_.
And when the King our lord spendeth on us
This festival out of his rich heart, to shoot
Thy looks upon us as thou wouldst rebuke us?

_Vashti_.
Your pardon: do I trouble your greed?

_1st Woman_.
Our greed?
Rather our gratitude----

_2nd Woman_.
That we have share
In these devices of the King's own cooks,
These costly breads,--

_1st Woman_.
And these delicious meats,
These sauces mixt of spicy treacle and balm.

_3rd Woman_.
And wines, purple and blue and like gold fire,
Made of the colours of the morning sea
And fragrance wild as woman's need of love.

_Vashti_.