INGUR. What is thy name?
HAGGITH. Haggith.
INGUR. Thy name is as strange as thy errand, and as thyself; and surely
thou art a woman of the Hebrews, which is a race of lunatics, as I am
told.
HAGGITH. I have figs fit for a great king. (_Opens her sack and offers
some figs_.)
INGUR _(eating)._ Um! And what else hast thou? Let me touch thee,
Haggith. (_He touches her carefully_). Yes, thou art outlandish, and no
doubt mad, but comely. Comely! Thou hast the likeness and feel of a
woman. Always have I hankered after strange women, and now lo! one falls
ripe into my mouth. (Haggith _shrinks. Reassuringly._) In a way of
speaking! In a way speaking! For thou art not in my mouth. And so thou
earnest to slake thy thirst?
HAGGITH. Yes, my roaring lion.
INGUR. Listen! Thou hast saved thy life with water. But thou art lost.
HAGGITH. Lost?
INGUR. Ay! A woman in the camps of the Assyrians--she is undone. She is
a lamb in a den of terrible tigers. (_Comfortingly_.) No, no! I will
protect thee, but I warn thee that thou art undone. I am honest.
(_Caresses her_.)
HAGGITH (_clumsily returning his caress_). _Thou_ wilt not harm me.
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