it to the people: The King is dead and now his son is King; King Joram is the King in Israel. 
PASHUR. You are too quick. Joram is not the King. Jehu, anointed by the Prophet’s oil, Has killed your Joram with an arrow shot Under his arm, and out right through his heart, Killing him in his chariot as he drove. And he has killed his ally, and has flung Your Joram’s body, bloody as it is, Down into Naboth’s vineyard, to the dogs. Now Bidkar, captain of the charioteers, Drives the good Jehu hither to be crowned. Jehu is King, and you, you scarlet whore, Abominable in the face of God, You manless, soulless, crownless foreigner, Shall taste the wrath of God and of God’s people. Now for your spicery there shall be stink, And where the delicate hair has known the comb There shall be baldness, and where silk has lain There shall be nakedness. And where the red lips mocked God delicately There shall be broken teeth biting on dust: It shall be done to you ere this day passes. 
JEZEBEL. My King, my sons, are killed! So Jehu wins. Thus in an hour the world slips from the feet. What change beyond this world summons us home? What conclave of the spirits? Dead: all three. Bring me my jewels from the tiring-room. 
(_The_ MAIDS _go, then return with casket_.) You women, who were with me from the first, Jehu is coming here to murder me. He will be here in some few minutes now. Yet there may still be time for you to go. 
ROSE-FLOWER. And time for you, O Queen; you could fly too. Put on these veils. Oh, hurry! We will take The door the woman told of, and the horses, And be in safety on the coast by dawn. 
JEZEBEL. I am the daughter of a Queen, my friends. My life has been here and my death shall be Near to my dead. But one task more, my friends. Swift, from within, my cases of cosmetics, My crownets and the settings for my hair, The purple chlamys with the spangs of gold That long ago my father won at Rhodes, The robe that once the great Queen Helen had When she was beauty’s self, and gave her beauty To buy a little love in windy Troy. That is the last task you shall do for me. 
(_Gives jewels._) And this the last least gift that I can give, With all my thanks for service you have done me, Year in, year out, for many bitter years. I think no Queen has ever been so served. Courage. Here is the key; draw your veils close. 
ROSE-FLOWER. O mistress, come with us! 
MOON-BLOSSOM. Beloved mistress! What will they do to us, what will they do? 
JEZEBEL. Nothing. They will not find you. You will go Down through the secret door and so away. Master your tears. You, take her by the arm. You will be sailing up the coast to Sidon By sunrise; think. 
MOON-BLOSSOM. And where will you be, lady? 
JEZEBEL. As it is written for me. 
(_To_ ROSE-FLOWER.) Sister. Friend. When you reach Sidon, 

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