Another.  I saw them coming in:  O horrible!  With broken limbs creeping along the ground—­

Judith.  Were I a man among you, I would not stay Behind the walls to weep this insolence; I’ld take a sword in my hand and God in my mind, And seek under the friendship of the night That tent where Holofernes’ crimes and hate Sleep in his devilish brain.

A Citizen. 
     There is no night
Where Holofernes sleeps, as thou couldst tell.  Didst thou not shut thyself up in thine ease Away from the noise and tears of common woe.  Come to the walls this evening, and I’ll show thee The golden place of light, the little world Of triumphing glory framed in midst of the dark, Pillar’d on four great bonfires fed with spice, Enclosing in a globe of flame the tent Wherein the sleepless lusts of Holofernes Madden themselves all night, a revel-rout Of naked girls luring him as he lies Filling his blood with wine, the scented air Injur’d marvellously with piping shrills Of lechery made music, and small drums That with a dancing throb drive his swell’d heart Into desires beyond the strength of man.

Judith.  And this beast is thine enemy, God!

Another Citizen. 
     Nor beast,
Nor man, but one of those lascivious gods
Our lonely God detests, Chemosh or Baal
Or Peor who goes whoring among women.

Another.  And now come down braving in God’s own land, Pitching the glory of his fearful heaven All night among God’s hills.

Judith. 
     You fools, he is
A life our God could snap as a woman snaps
Thread of her sewing.

A Citizen. 
     Who shall break him off,
Who on the earth, from his huge twisted power?

Another. 
For in his brain, as in a burning-glass
Wide glow of sun drawn to a pin of fire,
Are gathered into incredible fierceness all
The rays of the dark heat of heathen strength.

Another.  His eyes, they say, can kill a man.

Another. 
     And sure
No murder could approach his naming nights.

Another. 
Unless it came as a woman at whose beauty
His lust hath never sipt; for into his flesh
To drink unknown desirable limbs as wine
Torments him still, like a thirst when fever pours
A man’s life out in drenching sweats.

Judith. 
     Peace, peace;
The siege hath given you shameless tongues, and minds
No more your own:  yea, the foul Ninevite
Hath mastered you already, for your thoughts
Dwell in his wickedness and marvel at it. 
Hate not a thing too much, lest you be drawn
Wry from yourselves and close to the thing ye hate.

A Citizen. 
We know thy wisdom, Judith; but our lives
Belong to death; and wisdom to a man
Dying, is water in a broken jar.

Judith.  Yea, if thou wilt die of a parching mouth.