The play begins not with David but with three women—Judith, Leah, and Zilla—lounging restively in Saul's cedar-and-ivory hall. Their banter about feasts, dancing, and henna immediately establishes a court stifled by the Philistine siege. Judith's cry, 'O for a feast! pomegranate wine and song!' contrasts with Zilla's sullen fear, setting a tone of suppressed energy. The women's gossip introduces David as a figure of joy and tension: 'A joy to rouse,' Judith says, while Ishui, Saul's son, is described as a 'jackal.' This opening frames David not as a hero entering stage, but as a name already charged with conflict.

Courtly Restlessness and Prophetic Weight

The first act's hall is described in ornate detail—carved serpents, pomegranates, cherubim in gold—yet the characters are listless. The timbrel-players Judith, Leah, and Zilla complain of boredom and fear. Their dialogue reveals a court where laughter is rare and the Philistine camp-fires glow on the hills. When Ishui enters with David, the mood shifts: David is 'a joy to rouse,' but Ishui's 'sallow, sour fury' suggests immediate antagonism. The scene establishes that David's presence disrupts the court's stagnant hierarchy, and that his anointing—already known to the audience—hangs over every interaction.

Exile and the Breaking of Loyalties

In a later excerpt, David is on a cliff, surrounded by followers who are losing faith. He gives away tokens: a bracelet from Saul, a ring from Jonathan. The third follower leaves after accepting a bracelet; the first takes a ring. But the second follower refuses a chain, speaking instead of a woman in Gibeah and the unfulfilled prophecy. David's response—'I understand'—is quiet, but his soliloquy reveals rage: 'Thou hast bereft me, Saul! thou hast bereft!' He kneels to pray, but his words oscillate between longing for oblivion and cries for revenge. The scene shows David stripped of followers and comfort, his inner turmoil laid bare.

Disguise and Recognition Withheld

Michal arrives in rags, disguised as a leper, with a lad who has been bringing David water. She cries 'Unclean!' to conceal her identity. David emerges, calling himself 'one more bitter outcast than yourself.' He offers his cloak, then a chain of Ophir—'Once was it dear.' Michal delays revealing herself, and the excerpt ends before recognition occurs. This sustained disguise heightens the dramatic irony: the audience knows who she is, but David does not. The scene emphasizes David's isolation and Michal's risk, as she has fled her betrothal to Phalti. The poetic dialogue—'The pale hours flow dead into eternity'—deepens the atmosphere of desolation.

Poetic Voice and Structural Choices

Rice writes in blank verse with frequent exclamations and dashes, creating a rhythm that shifts between colloquial banter and heightened soliloquy. The stage directions are elaborate: the hall's cedar and gold, the cliff's 'barren sea and bitterness as vast.' Characters often speak in fragmented lines, as when Judith says 'I'll dance' and Zilla retorts 'Until you're dead.' This style gives the drama a modern, psychological edge, even as it draws on biblical narrative. The excerpts suggest that Rice is less interested in epic action than in internal conflict—David's struggle with vengeance, Michal's desperate gamble, the court's ennui.

Readers approaching David: A Tragedy should attend to the interplay between public roles and private anguish. The play does not simply retell a biblical story; it uses verse to probe moments of waiting, disguise, and moral fracture. Pay attention to how objects—a bracelet, a ring, a chain—carry emotional weight, and how the setting (a stifling court, a barren cliff) mirrors the characters' inner states. The incomplete excerpts leave key questions open, but the work's power lies in its charged, elliptical dialogue.